Harrow: Four Novels Box Set by Douglas Clegg

Author:Douglas Clegg [Clegg, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Harrow series, possession, ghost, hudson valley, series, 1920s, supernatural thriller, horror series, spirit, exorcism, new york, historical, haunting, paranormal activity, haunted house, horror, harrow, seance, suspense, coming of age, occult, school, paranormal, teen, student, hazing, fraternity, esp, psychometry, psi, psychic, night terrors, nightmares, ghosts
Publisher: Alkemara Press
Published: 2015-12-11T05:00:00+00:00

4

Cali tried to keep up with Fleetwood, but he was apparently in a hurry to get outside and light up his pipe. She had to take double steps to keep up with him. They went out the doors on what must’ve once been a conservatory—beautiful green glass all around—and she stepped out onto a flagstone walkway. The lights were harsh and nearly blinding as she closed the door behind her.

“They’re usually used for making movies, those lights,” Jack Fleetwood said, his pipe thrust into his mouth, a gentle curve of smoke coming from it. He spoke with his teeth clenched, and she nearly laughed at how boyish he looked, unlike the professorial air she’d detected inside. He had put a baseball cap on and a wool scarf, as well as a thick red sweater to keep out the chill. He looked like a deranged Little Leaguer of five foot eight or so.

She drew her jacket around her shoulders. “It’s like a baseball stadium out here,” she said, and as she walked beside him now, she noticed the older wall and the sprays of stone arches that grew like tentacles from the back of Harrow. “What’s all this? An aqueduct?”

Jack laughed. “The ruins of an abbey. Nothing in Harrow is local. All of it was brought in from ruins in Europe and from

Central America. Very little of its wood was even from the U.S. Gravesend—”

“He’s the architect?” Cali said, trying to keep up.

“No, he was the owner. I guess you could call him the creator of Harrow. It’s his psychosis that planted this house here. Thank God. I truly believe that he was creating a haunted place. I truly believe that.”

They spoke a bit about the others still inside, although Cali learned nothing she didn’t already know: that Chet was a bit of an innocent, simple in some ways, but very much at the mercy of the phenomenon surrounding him; and that Frost Crane was a narcissist with a devilish lack of self-esteem that manifested itself in a big fat ego. “But I can’t blame him. Or any of you,” Fleetwood said. “I’m a bit jealous.”

“Seems strange to be jealous of Frost.”

“Not just Frost. All of you. You have Ability X.”

“Ah. The infamous Ability X.”

“Don’t mock me,” he said good-naturedly. “I have always been fascinated by the paranormal, but it hasn’t really touched me, beyond my studies.”

‘Tour life’s work. That’s getting touched a lot, you ask me.”

“Ah,” he said.

“Ah what?”

“The classic self-hatred of the talented.”

She stopped and looked at him. “What’s in that pipe anyway?”

“All kinds of wonderful things,” he said. “All of them bad for me.”

“Why self-hatred? I don’t hate myself.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do, Cali. But you hate that you have the ability you’ve got.”

“Well, I hate the fact that I spend too much on clothes, too,” she said.

“Now who’s mocking?” he asked. “Here, look at this.”

A narrow path led through a hedge, and when she’d followed him through it, it opened up into a sunken garden that seemed as big as a football field.

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