Page 43 of The Haunting of Lockton
Skyler:And in case it wasn’t clear, that was 10000% meant in a flirty way, Ichabod. I kind of like you.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and noticed the goofy smile on my face. One I quickly erased. As I continued getting dressed though, I felt it reform on my lips.
Maybe Alan was right. I wasn’t sure if Skyler made me happy, but he certainly made me something. Excited. Kind of giddy.
Which was silly. Despite his flirting, he’d never seriously go for a guy like me. He was miles out of my league. He was only bothering with me now because I helped with their investigation. There was no deeper meaning to it than that.
***
“The dead walk among us,” I told the large group of people gathered in the center of Bellview cemetery. I held a lantern and motioned to the surrounding tombstones. The golden light piercing the shadows only added to the eerie atmosphere. “Legends speak of those buried here rising up and wandering the grounds in search of the life that had been taken from them, some way too soon.”
It couldn’t have been a more perfect night for the tour.
Moonlight broke through areas of the partly cloudy sky, casting silver light on the grass and illuminating the graves. The smell of leaves and damp earth wafted in the crisp autumn air, joined by an underlying musk of mildew and the floral notes of the wildflowers springing from the soil that hadn’t yet wilted from the colder temperatures.
Bellview’s haunted history was the least dark and sinister of the places in Ivy Grove. No gruesome murders or torture. Justa collection of people’s lives who’d been buried there, some of them not quite ready to fully move on to the other side. There had been sightings of ghostly apparitions, disembodied voices, and children giggling.
One apparition had been dubbed the Tall Man because those who’d seen him reported his long, lanky limbs and towering height. Research on those buried in the cemetery pointed to a man named Edwin Morgan, who had died of a flu-like sickness in the late 1800s. People claimed to hear his rasping coughs.
I shared that story with the group, then told them another. “The Weeping Bride has been spotted near that tree.” I waved the lantern in that direction. “She appears in a white wedding gown and with a veil covering her face.” I walked forward and stopped beside a weathered tombstone. “Some have reported seeing her kneeling at this grave.”
“Whose grave is it?” a little boy in the front asked, maybe eight or nine years old. He clutched an older man’s hand.
“Bartholomew Higgins,” I answered. “He was supposed to marry a woman by the name of Mary Steele, but on their wedding day, Mary was found dead in her chambers moments before she was supposed to walk down the aisle. Some say she was poisoned by Bartholomew’s mistress, whom he later married. Definitely a motive for the killing. There was no evidence to prove this claim, however, so Mary’s death was ruled as a suicide.”
I continued the tour, reveling in the burst of adrenaline I got from it. Being in costume and giving a performance washed away the anxiety I normally felt when talking to people.
They seemed to hang onto my every word. It was too dark to see all their faces, but I surveyed the group. Some people glanced around nervously while others jabbed at each other and snickered. One person in the back wore neon green shoes with orange laces that could be seen a mile away.
Unlike the ride-along tour, where guests piled onto a bus and were whisked away to the various locations in Ivy Grove, people met me at the cemetery for the tour. Once finished, I stayed to make sure everyone left. It was my favorite part of the night, when I could decompress and be in the silence of the graveyard. I sometimes stayed for an hour or so after everyone cleared.
I sat on a bench facing the weeping willow where the ghostly bride was said to haunt. Wind whispered through the leaves, causing some to detach and float to the ground below. Graveyards didn’t freak me out like they did some people. I found them peaceful.
Footsteps sounded in the grass to my right, disrupting that peace.
“Hey, you,” Skyler said, hands shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie as he approached.
I was surprised to see him. “You’re not a ghost, right? I’m not sure if you’re aware, but they tend to walk around here.”
He cracked a smile that was a bit lopsided. “Don’t know. Guess you’ll have to touch me to find out.”
Little flutters swarmed my belly. “Ghosts can touch and be touched. So that has no bearing on the matter.”
“Wait. For real?” Skyler closed the distance between us and dropped down beside me on the bench. “I thought they could only touch you if they gathered enough energy. But even then, it’s more like a little pat or something, right? Then they go back to being like Casper.”
“Casper? Really?”
He flashed that crooked smile again. “What’cha doing out here?”
“I should be asking you that question.”
“I came for the tour,” Skyler answered. He wore jeans with frays in the thighs and neon green Vans with bright orange laces.The same ones I’d spotted in the crowd earlier. I just hadn’t known who they’d belonged to. “It was awesome, by the way. You’re really good at this. I like hearing you tell stories.”
“I didn’t know you were in the tour group.” My cheeks heated. Probably for the best I hadn’t noticed him. Knowing he was watching me would’ve been a massive distraction.
“Well, I said I wanted to see you soon.” He shrugged. “So, I made it happen.”
“You could’ve told me you were coming.”
