Page 20 of Giving Up The Ghost
“Why?” Oscar asked, a plaintive note in his tone. “Why would they be so afraid of my ancestors that they’d do that? What did they do to the townspeople?”
I squinted at the page still held carefully in my hands, scanning each word to decipher the handwriting. “Because,” I announced, “there were apparently rumors that these Fellowes, and some others, would and could cause the dead to rise from their graves and interfere with the eternal rest of the villagers.”
The drive back to the house was quiet but in a more thoughtful way than the drive out had been. “Your grandfather was French,” I said as Ezra navigated the narrow lane leading down the hill from the church. “How did you end up with so much family here?”
“A lucky fork,” Oscar said with a shrug. “My direct ancestors went to France in the late seventeenth century as part of some trade delegation or other, married a local woman, and stayed on. The Fellowes clan has run to sons as long as anyone can trace back—Charlotte and her daughter are a bit of an oddity in our family, truth be told—” He shot Ezra a glare when he snorted at that. “And over the years, a few more of the family ended up over in the same area. Most of them remained in England though.”
“And both branches have this mediumship ability,” I noted. “Hm.”
“Hm,” he agreed. “Oh! Ez! Pull over! That’s the south gate, where the stones are!”
Ezra jerked the car to the side of the road, pulling tight against the curb. “I don’t see anything,” he muttered, but Oscar was already out of the car and trotting across the grass towards the dilapidated gate that marked the south end of the churchyard. Ezra made an annoyed sound and climbed out after him.
“I guess I’ll just wait?” I muttered, fumbling with my cane. By the time I managed to get it situated and get my legs swung out to stand, they were heading back. “Well fuck me then…”
Oscar and Ezra didn’t seem to notice my annoyance. Oscar’s expression was contemplative, though, and a bit distant as Ezra buckled in and swung the car back out onto the lane.
For the rest of the drive back, Oscar was busily texting. I caught a glimpse of the screen at one point and saw it was Heinrich. Something ugly sparked in my chest—envy—because Oscar was talking to Heinrich about this rather than me? Or was it just annoyance, knowing Heinrich was likely still on the kick he’d started before we’d left, trying to convince Oscar to go on a speaking tour during our summer shooting break? Oscar hadn’t been interested, but Heinrich seemed to take that as a personal challenge.When we pulled up to the house, Oscar shoved his phone into his waistcoat pocket and bounded out of the car before freezing mid-step, turning slowly, and giving me an apologetic wave.
“Sorry,” he muttered, standing aside as I opened the door and got out of the car with some difficulty. “I forgot…”
“It’s fine,” I said, and mostly meant it. “I can get out on my own. But thanks for coming back.”
Oscar’s smile was nervous, and embarrassed as we headed up the steps towards the door. He paused on the top step and pointed out the glittering stone. “Like the standing stones.”
“Damn. I wish I’d been able to get out faster,” I muttered, poking at the stone with the tip of my cane. “I wonder if I can get a sample and send it?—”
“Send it where?” Ezra asked. “The Avesford Village Express Analysis Lab and Chip Shop? You’d have to take it into London and even then, it won’t be a quick turnaround.”
“Eh. Fair. I don’t like it, but fair,” I said. “It looks quartz heavy but I’m wondering what the surrounding stone is. More than that,” I added, nudging Oscar gently to make sure I had his attention, “Why would your family home be made of the same stone as the circle where they buried the other Fellowes?”
Oscar blew out a breath at that, raking his fingers through his curls and sending them askew. “When I was at the circle, I had the strangest feeling. Nothing.” Turning worried eyes towards me, he shook his head. “No ghosts, no traces of any sort of activity. Just… nothing.”
“It’s true,” Ezra agreed. “Somewhere like that, even with my weak-arse abilities, I should’ve been able to feel something. It was like stepping into a soundproof room in the middle of a party. Just suddenly zip.”
“Huh.” I turned, finding the nearest pillar supporting the porch roof, and touched the glittering stone, peering closer. “It’s smooth,” I murmured. “Cool to the touch. What happens if you guys touch it?”
“Are you experimenting on us, Doctor Weems?” Oscar asked, tone teasing. “Thought we’d save that for later.”
“Oh my god. Here.” Ezra slapped his hand on the stone, then, after a moment, shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Can you pick up on my feelings?” I asked, raising an expectant brow.
“Tired, annoyed, horny.”
“Sounds about baseline,” Oscar murmured and dodged my elbow with a laugh. Out of my reach, he touched another one of the pillars, his smile fading fast. “Nothing. Just… nothing. There are no spirits here for me to feel, either. It’s like this is just a null spot in the web or something. Like… like earlier in the summer. When I kept losing connections. It’s… it’s similar but not.” His smile was small and tight, eyes wide as he shrugged and stepped back. “Maybe I’m having a relapse.”
Oscar looked, I realized, scared.
“Oscar—”
Charlotte swept open the door before I could finish, her dour expression skipping over me and Ezra before settling on Oscar, where it slowly morphed into one of studied neutrality. “Oscar. I must apologize for my behavior this morning. It was uncalled for and, while it is not an excuse to say I was simply overwhelmed, it is a reason.”
“Oh. Well. I appreciate that, Charlotte, but I’m really not the one you need to apologize to.”
Lips pinched, she shifted to face Ezra and me. Ezra, for once, did not seize the opportunity to snark or snap. “I apologize,” she said stiffly “My behavior was… problematic.”
It was not an apology. Not even close. Ezra made a disgruntled noise beside me, anger radiating from his stiffly held form. On my other side, Oscar was starting to look miserable, brow furrowed and color lacking as he stared at some spot over Charlotte’s shoulder, his jaw working mutely like he had words caught in his throat, trying to get out. “Alright,” I said finally. “We agree. It was problematic. And we all understand that. So, we should just move forward. Oscar is here to get his answers about his past and we”—I gestured between me and Ezra— “want him to be able to have that. So, let’s just try to keep ourselves in hand.”
