Page 39 of Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places
“So, the cinnamon and the peppermint for me?” Lucky asked. “Anything else?”
“Much more than that,” Stephen said. “Being in this house will always produce unique experiences.”
“What about the flowers Hennessee gives me? What are those? Maverick has seen them, I took pictures,andmy collection is growing. The jar is almost half-full.”
An uncomfortable silence floated around the table until Maverick answered, “No one else reported receiving flowers.”
“I have a question.” Rebel cutely raised her hand—the one holding her fork speared with pancake.
“Yes?” Stephen asked.
“If I have a bad memory and my dad was there so he saw it too, and the house showed it to me, would he see it because he was there?”
Maverick attempted to clarify. “So, you were with me when something bad happened. If the house chose to show you that specific memory, you want to know if I could see it too?”
She nodded. “That’s what I said.”
“I know. It’s a very good question.” Maverick gave her such adadsmile, doting and amused. It made Lucky ache in a way she hadn’t felt in years…She crushed that feeling down, back to the dark corner of her mind from where it had risen.
“I suppose that’s possible,” Stephen said. “It’s not something we’ve tried before, but Xander might know for sure.”
“Bad memories? What does that mean?” Lucky asked, mind already shifting and spinning with new ideas.
“It means exactly what she said.” Stephen sighed, finally beaten. “We call that type of occurrencespecters.”
“Ghosts? That means ghosts.”
“Specter also means something unpleasant that can haunt you. That’s the form of the word we use.”
“Interesting.” Lucky took a sip of her orange juice. “This is really good. Is it from the orange trees outside?”
“It’s store-bought.” Maverick stared at her, unspoken questions in his eyes.
“Hmm,” she said. “Still good.”
The day continued much like the one before it. Lucky agreed to let Rebel tag along with her, filming their day. Maverick hovered around them, brooding and distractingly handsome. The other three waited in the wings for any supernatural signs.
Unfortunately, much to Lucky’s dismay, Hennessee House had gone quiet.
Night four, she dared to spend time in the orchard accompanied by Maverick on the phone. He still hadn’t told her why he’d been so upset but gave her a reason: he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Outside, she finally found a curious Gengar watching her from a tree branch. Smaller than she’d thought, with whitepaws and large, glowing yellow eyes, he had obvious bald patches and a snaggle-toothed grin, and his left ear had been clipped.
“You can come inside,” she said. “I don’t think Hennessee will mind.”
“Lucky?”
“I’m fine, Maverick. I’ll introduce you tomorrow.”
In the morning, she awoke to find Gengar fast asleep at the foot of her bed. No idea how he’d gotten in, but stranger things had already happened.
Night five, with nowhere else to explore, she stayed in her suite with the doors open. An invitation that went unanswered.
Or so she thought until she came up with an idea.
Night six she set up her camera on the dresser to film her suite through the night. She posited that Hennessee didn’t like round-the-clock monitoring, but intermittent filming appeared permissible. She’d previously noted the increasing length and refreshing quality of her sleep. In less than a week she’d gone from restless to unconscious, sleeping harder than she ever had in her life. It was wholly possible she’d been sleeping through Hennessee’s nighttime activity.
No dice. She’d been right the first time. Nothing was happening at night.
On her final morning with production, after Maverick finished her quick interview, he showed her how to self-tape. NQP issued her a laptop, a camera, several memory cards, and access to their server. She’d be required to upload her raw footage every twelve hours and back it up to an external drive.
