Sunblocked Summerhouse Read online

  He turned on Ghost Hunters, and he glanced at his cell. He was fully devoted to his interests in the afterlife. When he was just a kid, there were… these clowns. Quickly, he stood and started some hot water. Tea, that was what he needed. He had seen some things in life so far. Truly terrifying things. They made him wonder why exactly Wynne was interested in the afterlife. What had she seen?

  He had his own Ouija board, along with tarot cards, and every single religious book that he could find, including several long textbooks on exorcism. St. Peter's book was one of his most thorough. If they were real or if they were just made up stories of religious fanatics attacking the mentally ill, he would never know. He had plenty of doubts. Ghost Hunters, despite being his favorite show, was surely a farce. Most certainly, some cases of trying to remove a demon from a child were actually just abusing the mentally ill. Gregory clicked the television to mute, hopped up, and he walked to the shelf. Did he have anything on the eyes of cat? Any book? Perhaps he could find an explanation for Wynne's secret obsession and her cat's peculiar condition simultaneously.

  Gregory had a frightening theory about the state of the world. It seemed to him like something had changed, and apparitions were becoming more and more common. Could they be entering a new spiritual age? He was tempted to call his sister and asked her if she knew anything about cats. But since they weren’t talking, the only other person he could call was Miles. But Miles didn’t seem to remember anything about that time. He was young enough that it just blurred. So instead of calling either of them, he pulled out all the books he knew contained animals and looked for anything he could find about cats.

  Chapter Six

  Wynne awoke when there was a loud clicking sound. She could hear her own breathing, but other than that, the room had gone eerily silent.

  She had picked one of the generic rooms down the first hallway she had found. Wynne hadn't even bothered to explore the house. Instead, so exhausted from her travels, she simply slept. But now, she regretted that choice. Carefully, she stood in the dark, searching for the wall. It took her forever to find the light switch. With a huge sigh of relief, she flipped it.

  The room was still dark. Shit. She opened the door to the hallway. She had no idea how she would find the light in the hallway. Which end would it be in? She slipped back into her room and found her phone in her bag. Carefully, she checked the battery; it was only at fifteen percent. She tried to keep it off as much as possible but used it as a flashlight to guide her down the hallway. The floor was smooth under her bare feet, but dark. She flicked the light on again; nothing but hallway. Phone off.

  Fear was creeping under her skin. For a moment, while her phone was off, she saw a flicker up ahead. A ghastly flicker. Frantically, she flipped her phone up to see what it was, but she moved too fast and flung the phone by accident. She heard her precious device skittering down the hallway floor. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Shit.

  Carefully, she lay on the ground, scooting down the dark hall, trying to find the phone before she accidentally stepped on it. She was convinced she could see a pair of eyes up ahead. She kept trying not to look at them. She heard the soft beep of her phone, and thankfully, she got a text message. The tiny indicator light started to blink, and in seconds, she had her phone.

  “Chase bill due in three days. Payment due now.”

  Thirteen percent now.

  The fear that had been brewing started to relax a little. She shone her light towards the eyes and saw a very angry-looking Calleo. He was glaring at her and then turned around, licking his paws. "Are you forever going to be mad at me?" Wynne said softly. The cat made her think of Pear. She was half tempted to text Aurora and see how the child was doing. It had been one month since she talked to the girl. That seemed like an eternity.

  She found the kitchen. It was dark, and it seemed like not even the moonlight was creeping through the dusty windows. Somberly, she dug around in the drawers until she found a set of candles. She lit the first one with the matches that were in the same drawer. She didn't have a holder for them, so she was holding the wax stick with her hand. Quickly, she turned off and pocketed the phone. Who knew when she could charge it again, with the power off.

  She rummaged through the drawers further. She had many long, thin, blood-red candles. But without a candleholder, the dripping wax ran down her hand. She shouted when it burned her for the third time. She looked in the cupboard underneath the drawer and finally found several candleholders. They were tall, short, and some so big they held twelve candles at a time. She picked a medium height one that seemed like it would be easy to carry. The candles were all blood red. Her stomach turned when she looked at them. Her hand was covered in blood-colored drops and drips. It looked too much like violence. She was already ready to go home. She didn't know where home was anymore. She had been working for the Glasscos ever since she turned seventeen. She had been, back in her previous life, an actress. Full of adventure, full of excitement. She worked with Barnett on his second breakout film. She had a tiny microscopic part, and he was the lead. They chatted on a lunch break, that his wife was pregnant, and that they would need a nanny. She had thought to herself, in that moment, that her whole life would change for the better. And it did, but she never got another acting role again. She couldn't; she was a nanny now. She was a nanny then. Now she was a house sitter.

  Or candleholder. The blood-red liquid ran down the candle, searing her hand. She could feel tears threatening to trickle down her cheeks. This was not the life she had envisioned for herself; she wanted to be the rich and famous, not just work for them. Certainly not work for them in the dark shadows of the spooky old house.

  And that was when she first heard the scratching sound.

  She could hear the click, click, click of Calleo's sharp claws walking towards her. She looked around and didn't see him. Then she heard scratching and found it sounded nothing like a mouse, nothing like a cat's claws walking on hard wood. It sounded like something different, like a sharp knife slowly being slid across something metal. After the long slicing sound came a sharp tap.

  The long, thin slicing sound started up again. Metal screaming against metal in an orgasmic moan. Wynne could feel her insides vibrate and tighten. She started to worry that she would lose her bowels, right on the ground in the kitchen. Her insides had been twisted, gripped with fear.

  Maybe they had been. The unbidden image crawled back into her mind.

  Wasn't that what Pear did? Reach inside and twist that man's organs…

  She ran to her room, the path now nearly familiar. She found the bathroom seconds before it was too late. It was a long, disastrous night on the toilet. But by the morning, she couldn't remember if what she had heard was real. Maybe it was just a night of nightmares, no power, and a bit of food poisoning.

  At least, she could hope that was all it was.

  Chapter Seven

  Gregory drove up to the house on his motorcycle. From the outside, the house was a little dusty and worn-looking. He'd have to recommend hiring painters the following summer.

  There was a subtle hint of darkness when he showed up. That seemed unusual; the porch lights were typically bright, the way they were shaded by the porch canopy. He always noted the brightness, even during the day. It seemed particularly alarming that he couldn't see them. Especially since there was a guest inside.

  He rang the doorbell, but it made no sound. His stomach sank just a smidge.

  He checked the handle and it was locked. He used his key and went inside. "Hey, Wynne?" he shouted, but he heard nothing. Calleo came running up to him as if they were long lost friends. He picked up the male cat and gently patted his head. The cat cuddled his face with his own. There was a soft friendliness between the two of them. Gregory had never been particularly drawn to animals before, but Calleo was… different.

  "Hello, Calleo. It seems the power is off. Do you know how that could have happened?" He frowned and wondered where Wynne was. He went into the
basement to check the breakers. It took him an hour to figure out that the main breaker had blown; not just a couple of individual breakers, but the main breaker to the house. It was particularly unusual. In all the repairs in all the houses, he had never seen the main breaker blown. With power restored, the house came humming back to life.

  He went upstairs and checked to make sure the fridge was running, and it was. The groceries that he had bought for Wynne were all untouched. Had she not eaten dinner?

  "Wynne?" he hollered, looking around. Why hadn't she shown up? That was when he noticed the blood-red drops on the floor. He leaned down and touched it, surprised the blood-colored dots were hard to the touch. Wax.

  Eventually, he found her sleeping in one of the bedrooms, her suitcases piled near the bed. As soon as he saw her, he immediately started to silently back out of the bedroom because he didn't want to disturb her. She looked ill, her skin was pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes. It was absolutely inappropriate for him to have just wandered into her room like this. But as he backed up, he bumped the nightstand and the lamp teetered precariously.

  He caught it just before it crashed into the floor. With a huge sigh of relief, he set it back on the dresser, but she sat up in bed, her eyes wide open and bloodshot. "Get out of my room," she hissed, her hair sticking out crazily.

  Gregory died. Heart stopped, dead. In a fit of embarrassment, he rushed out of her room.

  About a half hour later, she came down. He was working on one of the doors on the main floor. It didn't particularly need attention, but he took off the hinges anyway so it would look like he was doing something. He really wanted to apologize for frightening her, twice now.

  "Hi, Greg. I'm sorry," she started. Her hair was perfectly combed, and she had on the softest tangerine lip gloss. She was beautiful.

  "No, it's my fault," he said, interrupting her.

  "The power went out last night, and I've been totally…" Before she could say something further, the light flickered twice and then went off.

  "What?" He was staring at her. The dark circles under her eyes had been erased with makeup, and her earrings sparkled slightly. But the expression of wondrous fear on her face held him. His heart was pounding, just staring at her.

  The hairs on the back of her neck were starting to stand tall like wheat in a field. "Do you think…" She paused, and he wondered what the end of her sentence would have been. The fear was running rampant through her. He could swear he could taste it in the air.

  "I’ll get the power back on, okay?" He almost offered her a hug, but instead secretly inhaled the scent of her perfume when he slipped past her and back down the basement. The main breaker had blown again, but this time along with two smaller breakers. He quickly flipped the breaker back on. The house come back to life. Why was this happening?

  Yesterday, he had worked on the security system. He had been checking to make sure it was operating smoothly before Wynne moved in. It was a different room in the basement, so he stepped over and looked at the security system and routers. It was a large, quiet room filled with electrical equipment. There was a humming sound coming from the routers. This was definitely the problem. He put his hand on the side of the router box, and it nearly seared off his fingertips. It was running hot, way too hot. The fans were starting to turn on, one after another, as if they had all decided to create a whirlwind in the room. The room was getting louder and louder as each fan spun to life. Lights were blinking absolutely everywhere. Quickly, he scanned all of the things that were plugged in, then sat down at the little desk he had been working on the night before. It was immediately evident to him what the problem was: the coffee that he had been drinking had been spilled over some wires, and when he had looked upon them further realized there was a slice in the wire. Meaning the cables were shorting, causing the parts to spin too fast, then all the fans to turn on to dissipate the heat, and eventually would blow the breaker.

  A little bit of coffee and a sliced wire had caused so much grief. He repaired the wire and cleaned up his mess, and went back up to see if he could coax another conversation from Wynne.

  Chapter Eight

  "So you're absolutely certain that you know why the power went off?" asked Wynne, her lips trembling. She could feel nervous tears of relief starting to form, so she hopped up and started to fill the teakettle. Tea would give her something to hold, and maybe he wouldn’t notice how frazzled she still was.

  "Yes," Gregory said with a smile. He seemed very calm about the whole thing. Little did he understand how rough her night had been. "Did you think it was a ghost?" he said jokingly.

  A tear trickled down her cheek, and then another one. Wynne took a deep breath to compose herself. "Forget it," she said, desperately trying to regain control of her voice, even though the tears were still trickling down her face, still leaking from her eyes. But her tone was calm and calculated. If she had been capable of stopping the tears, they would have been as stony as her voice.

  His eyes narrowed at her. "Can I have a cup?"

  A tiny flicker of her eyes showed relief that he was going to stay a few more minutes. Wynne didn’t want to be alone in this house if she didn’t have to be. She nodded and took her time getting another teabag out of the cupboard. When she had managed to control her emotions, she turned back to him with a smile. "So, what do you do for fun around here?"

  "Want to play with that Ouija board?" he said with a smirk.

  His attempt at humor inflamed her rage. "Are you done?" she said, gesturing at the door off its hinges. There was a sudden sharpness to her tone. Forget what she had been thinking earlier. Better to be alone than with this nitwit.

  "Okay," he said, suddenly slumping his shoulders. He made himself scarce not fifteen minutes later, as soon as he rehung the door, his tea cooling and untouched.

  Wynne watched him slink away and wished he would stay, suddenly afraid to be alone again.

  Chapter Nine

  Wynne waited until he left and then took a shower. There was no light flickering the rest of the day. But nerves took over, and Wynne turned on every single light she could find before she went to sleep.

  Wynne sat on her bed. Calleo was nowhere to be found, and that was just fine with the girl. It was too hard to look at him; she'd just think about Pear. She flipped through her copy of An Exorcist's Tale. This was supposed to be a true eyewitness account of a priest removing a ghost/demon from a child. Despair seemed to sink in the further she read. Each chapter of the child's head twisting around in circles nauseated Wynne further. Would this happen to Pear? Could they even rescue the child?

  Wynne had the idea lingering in her mind that girls might be easier to possess than men. She scanned her piles of books and didn't see any with a man being possessed. Curious. Always a little girl getting a taste of the devil.

  She tried to put it out of her mind and texted Aurora.

  W: How is Pear today?

  A: She asks about you, but I told her that you are gone. That you are never coming back. She will learn to cope.

  W: Her eyes?

  A: Same.

  W: Okay.

  Aurora's texts with Wynne were terse. She wasn't particularly sure what she could do about that. After all, she wasn't the child's mother. Aurora was, and if Aurora thought it was best for Pear to no longer see Calleo and Wynne, then who was Wynne to interfere?

  But she missed that little girl.

  Chapter Ten

  Gregory sat in his little apartment eating Ramen noodles. He was thinking about the girl at the big house. He got into this line of work with the intention of taking care of abandoned homes and finding a ghost. The supernatural fascinated him. He was watching another season of Ghost Hunters but decided to swap it for Paranormal Activity. The decision to seek out another ghost experience was one of the many reasons why he and Lorelei hadn’t been speaking.

  He was kicking himself for causing the power to go out on the very first night that Wynne was in the building. As the m
ovie started to play, he stood and ran his fingertips along the books on his bookshelf. After a moment's thought, he picked a few more books to search through. Carefully, he looked for stories about cats and irises. Colorless eyes.

  It didn't appear to be any kind of medical condition that he could find. If it wasn't a medical condition, then what had happened to the cat? But at the reference section in one of the books, he found a section about cats. It described the afterlife in layers, and that cats could see through these layers better than any other species. The bleed-through. This particular section he had read before; it was one of the most interesting ideas about ghosts. Some of them were just one layer away, and there was bleed-through. Sound or touch or some sort of senses would come through. Depending on how many layers away they were, different amounts of sensory would bleed through. If you were in the midst of a… situation with a ghost, an ordinary person could sometimes be trapped in the layers.

  This well-read section only caught his eye because he never noticed that it mentioned cats before. Cats could see through the layers, could see the bleed-through better than a human could. Like when a cat walks into a room, stares at something behind you, and then runs, terrified… It could be a ghost. It was just that… being a human and stuck with human limitations, Gregory could never see what the cat was seeing.

  This was a common phenomenon in a cat and not in other animals. This was because of the bleed-through, because of the layers. Cats were more susceptible to the layers, and experienced more bleed-through phenomenon than any other animal or species.

  All this information made Gregory quite curious about getting a cat, but it didn't explain Calleo's eyes. What happened to the cat? Or was this a rare component caused by genetics?