Page 93 of Real Fake Hauntings

With another huff, he turned and disappeared into the darkness of the corridor leading out of the entrance.

“Go that way,” Jim’s employee said, pointing toward a cordoned path. “The last tour just started. You’ll catch up fast.”

Sudden screams followed by nervous laughter erupted from deeper inside the house.

“See?” he said with a grin.

“Thanks.” I followed the path. It led into a small parlor full to the rafters with odd knickknacks and paintings right out of the Cabinet of Curiosities, all barely illuminated to invite your imagination to run wild. One specific photograph of a man in full Victorian suit stared at me in a way that made shivers run down my spine.

Not all ghosts were as nice as my tiny kraken.

I hurried through the room and entered what must’ve been a visitors’ dining room. A long table occupied the center, three life-sized dolls or mannequins occupying chairs and slumped over the surface, blood running out of their mouths and pooling under their heads. Plates with half eaten food littered the table—chunks of roasts and meats in different hues of green crawling with maggots. A head biting its own blackened tongue was served on a platter in the middle of the feast.

Very inspiring.

Swallowing hard, I hurried past the table.

One of the mannequins sprung straight and shrieked.

I screamed. Fluffy barked. The mannequin laughed viciously, then stopped abruptly and said, “Aww. Cute dog.”

An actor. Not a corpse come back to eat me. I hugged Fluffy close to my wildly beating heart and gave the actor a weak thumbs up. “Great job.”

He winked. “Thanks, man.” Then slumped theatrically down on the table again.

Good Mother Earth. And I thought dealing with Vicky had been scary. Clearly, I still had much to learn.

The dining room opened into another small parlor where a coat of arms bearing two swords was said to have killed the family heir when one of the swords dislodged and fell straight down.

Just because I was here to catch a murderer, it didn’t mean I couldn’t take five seconds to read a piece of interesting history.

Ahead of us, I saw the tail end of the tour. The guide was talking about the history of the house, and privately, I thought Key was a much better speaker.

My phone began ringing as I spotted a second door in the small room with the murdering coat of arms. I hurried to answer, hoping nobody had noticed me. “Hello?”

“I saw your texts,” Ian said.

“Ian,” I whispered enthusiastically. He brought a dose of solid reality that was sorely needed right now. I put Fluffy down and approached the second door. It opened without so much as a squeak.

“Where are you?” he asked in a worried tone. Fluffy let out a soft whine and pawed my leg, as if aware of who was on the other side of the call.

“At Jim’s haunted house.” I came into a hallway illuminated by emergency lights low on the walls. I needed to find a way down into the basement, where the whole dark magic spell had supposedly happened.

If my guess was correct, the tour would make a trip around the first floor, then take the main stairs to the second floor, where they’d encounter the dead wife in the wall. But a house this grand had to have a second set of stairs, one for servants.

“Why are you at the haunted house?” Ian asked.

“I think the dark witch will try to use a location with a lot of dark magic history to try to transfer Bagley off Crane’s body. This seemed like the best spot after my shop and the coven house.”

“They might be waiting for midnight.”

“I still want to check.” I heard steps coming my way, and I tried the first door available. It led into a tiny restroom. “I need to stay quiet so they don’t kick me out.”

“Should I meet you there?”

“No, it won’t take long.” Hopefully.

“All right. Call me when you’re done.”

---