Cross My Heart by Natalie Vivien

Author:Natalie Vivien [Vivien, Natalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rose and Star Press
Published: 2015-09-22T22:00:00+00:00

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Funny how quickly you can get the hang of something new when you're thrust into an unfamiliar situation. By nine-thirty, I feel like a ghost-hunting pro, taking slow, quiet steps through the house with my EVP recorder in hand. Trudy taught me the basics: ask questions aloud, move as soundlessly as possible, and take account of any noises, natural or supernatural. So far, I haven't experienced a single ghostly encounter, but EVPs—electronic voice phenomena—according to Igor, are not always audible to the naked ear. Sometimes paranormal voices are picked up by the recorder only, so after tonight's investigation, the team is going to listen to the audio footage, watch the video footage, and report back to me with their findings.

I'm not optimistic: all in all, it's been a disappointing, uneventful night.

Hard to tell with a grumpy guy like Igor, but based upon the frustrated looks he's been assailing me with, I think he's beginning to suspect that I made everything up, that this old Victorian isn't haunted. After all, Ruby hasn't conversed with any lost souls, and Trudy's had no luck with her various and very complicated-looking electronic gadgets.

And we've only got half an hour left.

As of five minutes ago, the six of us split up, armed with voice recorders or video cameras. Trudy, Cordelia and I are inside of the house, and Ruby, Igor and Marisol are wandering around the exterior.

Right now, I'm sitting on my bed, feeling more than a little absurd as I talk to the empty air, asking Elizabeth and Victoria to “give me a sign” as I hold up my voice recorder and wait, listening hard for a spectral response.

Nothing. Not a whisper or a whine.

I have to admit, if I were a ghost, I'd bristle at being ordered to speak and perform on command. If I were a ghost, I'd hold my tongue until this investigation was over, playfully, stubbornly silent. Lurking, waiting, soundlessly laughing—

And, just then, someone does laugh.

“What the hell—”

I spring up from the mattress, wielding my voice recorder like a knife. Relax, Alex. Maybe the voice belonged to Trudy or Cordelia...though it didn't sound like either of them. It was a female voice but light, musical. Creepy. And right beside my ear.

I glance down at my arms, covered in goosebumps; a cool gust of air engulfs my body, just like it did the first time I entered this room, on my tour with Marie. Marisol mentioned something earlier about temperature change... Does this mean that a ghost is nearby?

I start to call out for Trudy but stop myself—or, rather, my tongue suddenly becomes a useless lump in my mouth—and my numb fingers drop the voice recorder to the floor.

Oh, my God...

The laughing hasn't stopped, and I can see my breath coming out in little puffs of fog, but these things hardly register in my mind; nothing else registers aside from the vision before me: Elizabeth the ghost. Full-length, down to her boots, which are faintly red in the dim light of the room.

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