Ironically, Bridget was skeptical. “We checked the sound three times,” she pointed out. “And no one else on my team heard your name being called.”
“We’re positive,” Zane said, more than a little irritated at this point. The woman expected everyone to think she’d been grabbed by a ghost, was willing to believe eyewitnesses when it was to her benefit, but she thought he was lying?
Bridget frowned. “You know, no one else but you two has ever mentioned the Gravemother calling for an Emmy. Believe me, I’d remember,” she said with a wink.
“That doesn’t mean we aren’t telling the truth!” Garrett exclaimed. “And you can talk to my team—they heard it, too!”
The woman held up her hands. “Hey, hey. I’m not saying that. I just want to have some more confirmation before we decide. You couldn’t tell where it came from, right? So let me at least take another crack at that room where they demolished the wall.”
“I didn’t come here to babysit kids, Bridge,” Zane heard one of her assistants mutter as they stepped away.
“Just bear with it for today,” Bridget hissed. “The other kid’s family owns this house, and I’d rather stay on their good side so we can keep our access to this place.”
“I’m not really sure I like your celebrity friend,” Zane told Garrett as the group proceeded to move down the hall. He’d tried calling Emma’s phone, but the network must have been congested or something, because he couldn’t get through and neither could Garrett. And Bridget’s assistant had informed them that they couldn’t use their phones because of company policy.
“I’m beginning to realize that I don’t like her much, either,” Garrett responded just as sourly.
“We’ll try Ginevra’s room next,” Bridget decided. “But I want to spice things up a little.”
Zane was confused when he saw a laptop being set up on another table, and so was Garrett. Bridget grinned mischievously. “We’re not using this to record anything.” She waved at the team for silence and then turned toward the cameraman as she began her spiel. “The Gravemother has always been one of the more recalcitrant ghosts that I’ve encountered, for all her infamy,” she announced. “We’ve done everything: asked, pleaded, screamed, and threatened, and she never gave us anything beyond whispers and half-garbled phrases. I think that’s about to change. Play it, Nathan.”
The man dutifully typed something on the keyboard. The sounds of clattering machinery filled the air.
“What are you doing?” Garrett asked, alarmed.
“Turns out they’re going to demolish Stilgarth Manor after all,” Bridget announced. “Do you hear that, Ginevra? They’re going to destroy the house and all your memories. I’d be surprised if there’ll be anything standing.”
At Bridget’s gesture, the man turned up the volume, the noises of walls being tore down even more apparent.
“Bet they’re gonna put up a Costco. At this point, the only thing you’ll be haunting are their deals for rotisserie chicken. This is your last chance, Ginevra. Tell us your story, and—”
A loud scream echoed from inside the room. Another followed, and this one sounded horrifyingly familiar.
“Did you get that?” Bridget asked excitedly. “That’s the best one we’ve gotten out of her so far! Hey, stop, where are you two going?”
But Zane wasn’t listening. He tore out of the room, Garrett hot on his heels, as he raced toward the sound of Emma’s voice. He could still hear her calling out, and for a moment it felt like her cries were coming from everywhere.
“Let them go, we’ve got more important things to do!” he heard Bridget call out, but she didn’t matter anymore.
Zane spotted a sudden movement just as he rounded the corner of the hallway, heading downstairs. He tore after it, racing past a few startled assistants, and found himself standing in the bedroom on the first floor, the one with the mantelpiece and the rattling pipes.
“What are you doing?” Garrett asked, panting, once he finally caught up.
“You heard Emma, too, didn’t you?”
“I—I think so. Are you sure that it’s your sister’s—”
“I’m positive. I’d recognize her voice anywhere.” Zane began to explore the room despite its bareness, knocking at the walls in the hope that there was some hidden panel somewhere. “She’s close. I know it!”
“There’s nothing here,” Garrett said, though he followed Zane’s lead, hands exploring the walls as well. “And I know you’re not Bridget’s fan, but she might have some ideas. They don’t usually bother with this room, though.”
“That’s pretty shoddy of them. I would have at least put in a camera or something just to be sure.”
“You can leave a one-star review on the show’s page later or whatever. Besides, the clicking noise gets in the way of all the audio.”
“But what if the clicking noise isn’t just because of the pipes?” Zane wondered aloud. “Don’t you ever hear any weird clicks when we see apparitions of the Gravemother sometimes?”
Garrett paused, eyes wide. “Now that you mention it, yeah!” And then he paled. “You’re saying the clicking might have something to do with her missing jaw? Is it somewhere in here, too? And all this time everyone’s been dismissing the sound as the house settling down?”
Zane wanted to laugh despite everything. “Kinda ironic if the one thing everyone thinks is just a logical explanation of the weird noises was actually supernatural activity all along.”
“Did you find anything about a secret room when the lawyer told you about inheriting the house?”
“Mr. Vink never said anything about that.” Zane frowned, mind racing. “You think Emma’s trapped in one?”
“Help!”
Garrett froze. “Okay, so I hear her, too. But where?”
“Emma?” Zane called out, banging harder on the wall. A muffled sob was his answer. “Emma, please let me know if you’re all right!”
“I’m okay!” Emma called back. “I’m just a little scared because it’s dark and I’m alone!”
“Where are you?”
“I’m not sure! I don’t think there’s an exit out!” Another sob. “I’m so sorry! I just—everyone at school was telling me how brave I was for owning a haunted house, and then I felt guilty for pretending I was, when I never even join you! So when I heard that you two were gonna be here with that ghost team, I snuck out. And I—I wanted to help her. She’s always so sad in my dreams.”
“Emma, there’s no way we would have let you come along—”
“And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you! But then there was no one inside when I entered, and I think I walked into one of the rooms, but now the door’s stuck and I don’t know how to get out!”
“Do you remember where you were?” Garrett asked uncertainly.
“I—I think the first floor? I don’t remember going up any stairs.”
“If she’s still on the first floor,” Garrett said to Zane, “then how did we hear her on the second?”
“Maybe it’s that broken pipe inside the wall. Maybe it runs through Ginevra’s room and then goes through here. We need to find her fast. If the Gravemother harms her—”
“She’s not harming me, she’s protecting me!” Emma protested.
“She? The Gravemother?”
“The lady with the funny mouth and the white dress. She said she couldn’t pull me out, but she’d do her best to make sure I’m not hurt. She’s nice. She’s not as bad as everyone says she is.”
“Do you know where you are? Can you remember what room you were in before you got stuck?”
“Um, I’m not sure? I think I was leaning my hand against the wall near the fireplace and then something opened beside it. I walked in to look around, but then I heard a strange clicking noise and the wall closed behind me, and now I can’t get out—” Her voice broke off abruptly.
“Emma?” Zane called, but his sister no longer responded. He pounded his fist against the wall again as he walked past the mantelpiece, hoping for a secret entrance—
Part of the wooden floor gave way without warning just as he placed his right foot on it. Zane found himself suspended in air without anything to cling on to to keep him from falling. He pitched forward, arms flailing wildly as he went through—
“Zane!” He felt someone grab his arm. Garrett braced himself against the edge of the hole, trying to pull him out, but Zane was already halfway in, and his weight was proving too much for the other boy.
“Hold on!” Garrett panted. “Don’t let go!”
“Let go of me,” Zane yelled back, “or you’ll fall in, too!”
Garrett’s mouth set itself in a hard line, and he doggedly held on. It was no use; Zane could feel himself slowly sliding farther down, even as his feet fought for purchase against the hole’s side. Zane tried to shake himself free from the other boy’s grasp, but Garrett only gave him a dirty look and dug in harder, even as he hollered at the top of his lungs for help.
But Zane wasn’t sure if the others were going to arrive in time.
Garrett’s foot slipped against the floor. With a grunt, they both tipped in—
And something picked them up and flung them mightily toward the other side of the room. Zane went sprawling onto the floor, but instead of the hard wood below, it felt like something had cushioned his body, acting as a buffer to keep him from being injured, even though there was nothing there.
He lay there, stunned, for several seconds, before pulling back up to a sitting position.
The hole was several feet away. They were safe. Zane looked up.
The Gravemother floated in the air, gazing down at him.
Zane scrambled back.
“Are you all right?” came Garrett’s shaky voice from behind him. “How did we end up here when we—oh . . .” He trailed off weakly, glancing up.
But the ghost didn’t attack. She seemed content to remain where she was.
Zane struggled to remember what had happened. He was falling—they were falling. But then—
“You saved us,” he said to the apparition. “But why? I thought you hated me.”
The Gravemother inclined her head thoughtfully, as if in thought. That did nothing to detract from her ghastly features.
“She pulled us out?” Garrett sounded shaky.
“Do you know where Emma is?” Zane asked.
Slowly, the Gravemother nodded her head.
“Is she safe?”
Another nod.
“Can you show us where she is?”
Emmy. It almost sounded like the Gravemother was speaking the name directly into his head. This time there was no anger or rage, only sorrow and a strange wistfulness.
The Gravemother moved closer. Garrett shrank back, but Zane remained where he was.
Gently, the Gravemother laid her skeletal hand against the side of his face.
Emmy? she asked tenderly.