Page 47 of Treasure and Tarot

A book fell from the bookshelf, slammed onto the ground making everybody jump, including Law, the camera swinging over to the book on the floor. “Did you see that?”

“I didn’t see it fall, no. Is that you, Abraham? Are you letting us know? Can you talk into the box and let us know if it’s you and how we can help you? All of this activity is really hard on little Abby.”

“That’s it,” Mason added. “Talk to us. You who threw the book. Because if you did that, you can talk to us. No one’s here that’s going to hurt you. You’re, you need to just?—”

Another book fell, then another in rapid succession, and Mason leaped to his feet, which was handy because Colton sure as hell couldn’t. “I’m going to see what the books are.”

Mason picked up the three books. “They look like old novels, boss. Like almost romances.”

“Bring them over here and let me see.” He flipped through the books, hoping to find a note or a clue, anything? But there didn’t seem to be a thing there that would tell them dick. “Mason’s right. The books were Gothic romances. Obviously well-read, well gone over.”

“Okay, so if it’s not the books, what is it?” Iago asked him and Mason. They all shrugged.

“Maybe they’re just using what they have. Like maybe they’re just saying yes; maybe that’s the only thing they can do.” Mason suggested, and Colton shook his head.

“No, I don’t think so. They seem to be pretty powerful, to be honest.”

“Come on, sit back down. Let’s get this card game started. If any of you are here.” He picked up his cards. “Come on. Play with us. Let us know what you’re thinking.” He looked at his hand. It wasn’t bad. Two pair. “I need one card.” He put one card down on the table.

Mason rolled his eyes. “I need three cards. You dealt me a shitty hand.”

He reached for the deck of cards, and it slid across the table, like someone was spreading them out in a fan. “Are you getting this, Law?”

“Got it, boss, no problem. I totally got it.”

“The man who owns this house now is a tarot card reader. I kind of wish he was here to tell us how he’d interpret any of this. Is there something you’re trying to say to us? Do you need help? Do you want to tell us who did this to you? Are you looking for your omega? Your children? You know one of your great, great, great-grandchildren owns this house now and lives here with his little girl.”

There was a huge slam from upstairs, someone stomping on the floor, and they stood, looked at each other, and then Colton got moving. “Come on, let’s go see what the fuck that was.”

Law chuckled. “You’ll have to bleep that, Boss.”

“Yeah, yeah, Gent will love me. Keep rolling. He’ll cut anything we can’t use.”

Mason took the lead up the stairs, bless him. “So, we heard what sounded like a real stompy boot up on the second floor, sowe’re headed up the stairs to see what we can see. I’m leading, because I want an EVP reading as we go, right, Colton?”

“Exactly.” Colton chuckled. “And you all know how I do with stairs. Why don’t haunted houses ever have chair lifts?”

“Or elevators. Though after that one old hotel we did in Boulder? No more elevators.” Iago chuckled.

“Mmm. True.” That had been…ew. And slimy. Colton clumped up the stairs, glad Law was focusing on Mason. He felt so damn ungainly.

This was really getting old.

“Now, here we are, and as you can see, there’s—” Mason trailed off. “Dude. There’s big black footprints all over the landing.”

“No shit.” Law pressed past him, filming the floor. “Wow. Look at that. That wasn’t here before. We didn’t do that.”

“Okay, so there are some large, black footprints on the landing here, and I think they’re definitely from a large, old-fashioned boot. Now, we did a walk-through of the house before we started filming to make sure no one else was in here, so I reckon we have more activity,” Colton said in his TV voice.

“It’s a little creepy,” Iago whispered.

“So if you’re the one with the boots, what is it you’re trying to tell us?” Mason asked. “Speak to us or show us a sign.”

The mirror above the console table on the landing started to wobble.

“Hey, no!” Mason snapped. “That’s bad luck. And you seem to have had plenty of that already.”

Colton chuckled. “Good point, Mason. Talk to us without breaking—whoa.” He stopped, playing his flashlight over the hallway. “That. Okay. Who put out the axe?”

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