Page 18 of Shadow Scorching

A silent house often brought out the latent spirits.

“When did he return from the war?” I asked.

“He didn’t,” Sophia said. “He was killed in action, in Germany. He was shot four days before V-E day. The house passed on to a cousin of his from the east coast, and she sold it, sight unseen. That took place in 1946, when a family named Burroughs bought it. I couldn’t find out anything about them. They owned it for eight years, until 1952, when the bank foreclosed on them.”

“The turnover on the house is pretty amazing,” Dante said. “When was it sold again?”

“The bank sold it as-is in 1955. This time, a family of four bought it. Suburban straights—realLeave It To Beavertypes. They lasted one year, and they sold it in 1956 to an eccentric artist named Ravel Johanson. He was a painter, and surprisingly, he lived there for forty-seven years until he died in 2003. Either the ghosts left him alone, or he knew how tohandle them.” Sophia sifted through her notes. “I have some information on him…I need to find it.

I’d heard of Ravel Johanson. He was well-known in avant-garde circles. His paintings were supposed to be brilliant, but the few times I’ve seen exhibits featuring his work, I left confused. His work was abstract and dark, leaving me with the disturbing suspicion that I had seen things I wished I hadn’t.

“Ravel, hmmm. Judging from the work that I’ve seen of his, I think he might have scared the ghosts,” I said.

“Or maybe, the ghosts influenced him,” Sophia said. “Here we go.” She found the references on her tablet she’d been searching for.

Ravel was well known for his gothic imagery, and his work often featured the torments of the soul, in abstract form. Often compared to Goya, Ravel was considered a modern-day spiritualist, and more than once he mentioned that he lived in a haunted house, and that he had ‘ectoplasm’ in his veins instead of blood. Tormented by memories of his childhood abuse, Ravel examined them through the motifs and imagery he used in his work.

Sophia looked up from the article. “Whatever he meant by that, the author didn’t say.”

“Sounds like he and the ghosts coexisted. They may well have played into his artistry. So, after he died, what happened to the house?”

Sophia laughed. “It increased in value—by 2003 it was worth eight times what he bought it for. At that point, it was left abandoned again, because there was a probate fight over possession. Two of his nephews both claimed it should go tothem. That lasted for seven years, and in the intervening years, the house fell into disrepair.”

“Did anybody win the case?” Orik asked.

“Eventually,” she said. “But he immediately sold the house to a landlord—Dwight Minor—who rented it out. I called him and talked to him. He recently retired and sold the house to Michael. But he said that it was the damnedest house to maintain. He couldn’t keep a renter for longer than seven months. He said he made most of his money on lease-breaking fees. He rented the house out on a yearly lease, and not once did anybody make it that long. Dwight got tired of hunting up new renters and decided to retire and unload the house.”

Dante leaned forward, pulling his coffee toward him. “So, it sounds like the house wasn’t good for anybody except for Ravel.”

“I would question whether it was good for him.” I thought for a moment. “Well, at least we’re armed with the background. I suggest we take all the equipment we have at our disposal. We might as well set up cameras and see what we can find. Orik, Sophia, you’ll come with Dante and me. Carson, do you mind holding down the fort?”

“Not at all,” Carson said with a grin. “The more I hear about this house, the less interested I am in meeting it.”

We gathered our things and headed back to our offices. I couldn’t get my mind off the painter. He had died in the house—though his death had been of old age, apparently—but what percentage of his depression and gloom had gone into feeding whatever was in those walls? Was his spirit mixed up with whatever else was there? And were we dealing with a ghost? A god? A jumble of everything suicidal and murderous that had passed through those walls? Whatever the case, as I settled in to journal my thoughts, it occurred to me this wasn’t going to be an easy fix.

CHAPTER SEVEN

We hadtwo hours until we needed to be at Michael’s, so I took the chance to look up Jet Shy, Tilly’s boyfriend. To my surprise, there were a number of matches. Most of them led to articles about a motivational speaker named Jet Shy. Turns out, he had originated in Singapore, and he owned a motivational enterprise named Live-Thrive Motivational Enterprises.

As I began diving into the articles, it occurred to me that I should ask Dante if he’d managed to find anything out, before I chased the rabbit down the research hole. I buzzed him on the intercom.

“Yo, dude. I wanted to check with you before I waste time mirroring your efforts. Come on in and let’s talk about your aunt.”

Dante grunted, then a moment later he peeked around the door. “I’m here.”

“I started to search on Jet Shy’s name, but thought I should consult you first. I don’t want to waste energy finding out the same thing as you.” I motioned to the computer. “Look at all the search results.”

He blinked. “I hadn’t even started on the research for him yet. So please, be my guest. What have you found?” He pulled a chair around my desk and sat next to me.

I motioned to the string of searches. “He’s a motivational speaker. Whether he’s legit or not, I don’t know yet. I haven’t had a chance to look at anything.”

“Well, let’s dive in.”

The first article wasn’t promising.

Jet Shy is the CEO and owner of several companies, including Live-Thrive Motivational Enterprises, Shy Speaker Round Table, The Crystal Antequarium, and Find Your Tongue Advancement Academy. His resume includes motivational speaker, life coach, crystal healer, talent agent, and numerous other occupations, though his credentials don’t seem to include the education to support these claims.

Rumors of cultism, pyramid schemes, and magical malpractice are rampant in his background, and he consistently seems to have several lawsuits going on at the same time—all against him. However, most of the lawsuits in the past have been dismissed, given the death of the instigators. Shy has an uncanny ability to evade prosecution and fines, and while he denies all wrongdoing, there seems to be a gap in credibility.

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