“When?”
“We have no idea. Soon. In the next few years. Without readings we have no clue.”
“How do we stop it?” Burt asked.
“Now that’s up for debate. Mia says we need to locate what is blocking the ley line. We pretty much assumed it was a meteorite on the Ashville end. But we can’t be positive what is stopping it on the other end,” Cid informed him.
“So if we dig up the meteorite…”
“That’s not advisable without removing the dam on the other side of the segment at the same time. If by a miracle we are able to dig in this frozen ground and locate the meteorite and remove it, the force of the pent up energy would shoot the FM into the existing line, probably killing any oobers on it. That part of the ley line extends to Cape Hatteras and is actively used,” Ted explained. “The same thing would happen if we remove the northern block. Itasca would take a hit, although it is a shorter segment. But there is a small possibility that it could still rebound.”
“Why did I get us into this?” Burt moaned. “I should have just left well enough alone.”
“Actually, I think you were meant to do this,” Cid said. “I don’t mean to get all Doctor Who on you, but the universe called to you and you responded.”
Burt lifted an eyebrow. “That’s a load of shit.”
“Is it?” Cid scoffed.
Ted walked over and sat down and flipped through the report Burt gave. He tapped on the monitor screen and asked, “You said that the inn seemed to rest fifty yards above the ground.”
“I thought it was an illusion meant to keep me there,” Burt explained.
“Could be, but if it isn’t, it explains how the inn can stay in one spot for a night,” Ted pondered.
“When I left the porch and took the second step, I should have only been around nine inches off the ground. Instead I fell quite a few feet. Not fifty yards, or I’d be dead,” Burt informed them.
“It may move up and down in the bubble it created. It’s there right now, above us, cloaked by the top of the ley line,” Ted described.
“What if it could move out of the segment then…” Cid started.
“It may be able to stay here permanently. Whether it could exist out here is another matter,” Ted added.
“How do we get it to do that? How do you reason with a building?” Burt asked but knew the answer the minute he vocalized the question. “Mia. Mia could talk to the house.”
“But how do we tell her?” Cid asked.
“Tell me what?” Mia asked groggily.
Ted moved quickly to her side and began to undo the restraints he left on when they were moving the truck.
“If this is your idea of bondage…” Mia started.
“Hush up,” Ted ordered. “We aren’t alone.”
Mia looked over at Cid and Burt and said, “Glad to see you in one piece, Mr. Hicks.”
“Stop that. I can still hear that old broad in your voice. I’m thinking of changing my name,” Burt told her. “How and why are you here?”
“That’s a long story, which I would be happy to tell you later. What we do need is to exchange information. And I need some caffeine. Anyone see Murphy?” Mia craned her neck looking for the ghost as she tried to sit up.
A light scratch was heard on the outside of the truck. Cid moved to the door and pulled it open, letting in the cold night air. Mia saw her friend standing there, garbed once again in his work attire, smiling slyly.
“Yeah, go ahead and smile. You got us tossed out of there with your antics,” Mia claimed.
Ted looked over at the ghost and saw him trying to explain himself, but he gave in to Mia and put his head down, trying unsuccessfully to look contrite.
“Maybe you two ought to tell us what happened first,” Ted advised.
“Coffee first, then story,” Mia said.
“Coffee the lady,” Burt demanded.
Chapter Eight
“We waited until we heard Mike head towards the stairs. He was using that charm of his, oozing charisma. Mrs. Brewster seemed quite taken with him. Audrey was green at the gills,” Mia reported.
Burt seemed to be relieved. Mia watched him, noting that, with the exception of extreme exhaustion, he seemed well enough and didn’t need a visit to the ER.
“Murph and I left our room and quietly examined the other rooms on the second floor. We saw where you were staying. Your dirty laundry folded neatly, waiting to be packed. Why do you fold your dirty laundry?”
Burt frowned.
Mia didn’t expect an answer and continued, “Your room held no clues so we left. There was a locked door at the end of the hall, just before the servant stairs. Murphy moved through the door and unlocked it for me. It’s very handy having a ghost as an investigative partner. Inside, we found an austere cell of some kind. It reminded me of the punishment room in the Gruber mansion. The walls had grey, fading wallpaper of a geometric design. The furniture was made of a metal similar to what you would find in an asylum. The room was clean and smelled of Windex and Spic and Span. Murphy pointed out the clothing arranged neatly in the open closet. There were suits and dresses, the kind our hostess wore. Sturdy, comfortable shoes were lined up on the floor of the closet. I knelt down to examine them. I reached out, and my hand went right through the shoe.”
“Mirage,” Cid said.
“Quite possibly. Anyway, my interference with the shoes caused the room’s façade to crumble. It started at the outside corner of the house and fell away in strips. As each strip fell from the wall, another façade appeared. This time the room was full of summer flowers, and the bed was covered in a hand embroidered coverlet. I turned around, and the closet was full of clothes. Quite a few dresses were falling off the hangers. The shoes looked as if they were kicked off in a hurry. It was a happy room.”
“Two Mrs. Brewsters,” Murphy said from the corner of the truck. He stood well away from Ted’s computers, not wanting to fry anymore monitors with his magnetic chemistry.
“What he means is, two sides to the same woman. We all have a dark side,” Mia explained. “Mine is full of insecurities,” she admitted. Brushing away the negative thought as if it were an errant lock of hair, Mia continued, “The more we thought about it, the more the room was telling us something. Mrs. Brewster’s mercurial personality, austere-cold one moment and warm-inviting the next, had infested the inn itself.”
“The winter and summer landscapes. I thought it may be fighting between the time it was created and the present time,” Burt admitted.
“You still could be right,” Mia said. “But we didn’t know enough at that time.”
“How long did it take you to pick up that the inn itself was alive?” Ted asked.
Mia smiled, pleased that the science boys had come to the same conclusion she and Murphy had. “It’s not exactly alive,” she corrected. “It exists and thrives in the structure of the ley line, but the inn is dead, as are the two women serving in it.”
“So the building…”
“Is a ghost,” Mia said simply. “A thinking and very powerful ghost, but a ghost just the same.”
“Like the ghost ships?” Cid asked.
“I’ve not been on a ghost ship, but I expect they have similar characteristics,” Mia said evenly. “They travel, are seen by travelers and can provide minimal shelter. They can’t, however, sustain life. If you found yourself on the famed Flying Dutchman, you wouldn’t drown, but you would starve. Your body would still show signs of sun, sea and salt, but you wouldn’t feel that you were dying,” she explained. “This is what was happening to you, Burt.”