Ashes and Embers

38. Hunting Ghosts

I'd torn up the letter and tossed it into the trash the first chance I got.

This was hardly the first time I've received a message from the Ghost - mostly short, half-long pages of warning me to stop looking, normally followed by some kind of action - just a few days ago, I woke up to a note saying, It's in your best interest to stop looking immediately. I, as usual, ignored the message. My mattress was flipped off my bed that night - while I was asleep in it.

However, this was the first time I'd gotten an actual letter. I'd read through it nearly ten times, trying to read between the lines, attempting to decipher if there was any useful information hidden in clever wording.

I didn't find anything, unless you'd consider the Ghost not particularly liking me useful.

Another thing about the letter that caught me off guard - the signature.

What does S. R. stand for?

In the first paragraph, the Ghost had stated that its identity must remain a secret. So why sign the letter? To throw me off the trail? Unlikely. Was it a force of habit? A mistake? I didn't know anybody who went by those initials, living or dead.

I had asked Opal if she knew anything. She had paled, coughed, sputtered, then dared to claim that she knew nothing. She was lying. It was painfully obvious.

It was also very clear that the Ghost had been mocking me. From mentioning its doubt in my intelligence - which is perfectly good, thank you very much - to calling itself my obedient servant... the infernal demon obviously had no respect for me.

Which is perfectly fine. I'm beginning to close in on it, anyways.

Miss Darcy had agreed with my theory that there might be passages and tunnels hidden around the manor, so the Ghost could go about its hauntings unseen. It made sense. With all of the people living here, at least one person had to be able to connect with ghosts. But since nobody's seen anything - only strange events that point to evidence of paranormal activity - my theory made the most sense.

I wish I'd had some help with this task, though. It would be difficult enough to do it alone - and with my old, failing eyesight, it was even harder. But Miss Gail had already agreed to help me look in the music room, and Miss Barns - sweet, kind Miss Barns - had enough on her plate already, poor thing. I can't imagine what it had been like to discover Miss Young in the pond.

I would have asked Miss Darcy to assist me, but she didn't look well. She was pale, withdrawn, and looked very tired. Perhaps she's coming down with something. I must remember to deliver a hot bowl of soup to her at some point - if my memory doesn't fail me yet again.

Ah, the joys of old age.

Currently, I was stepping carefully around in the storage room, looking for anything... strange. At first glance, everything appeared to be in order. But then I remembered the books I loved to read when I was younger, when reading didn't strain my eyes so much - Mrs. Darcy and Opal are always on me about getting glasses, but I don't really see the point. I can do my job perfectly well without those augmented eye-windows constantly slipping down my nose.

Anyways... what had I been thinking about?

Right! The books I had once adored... some of them contained hidden passages and the like. They'd always be hidden behind something, whether it be a bookshelf, or a mirror, or...

My eyes flew to the assumed spot.

A storage shelf.

It was the perfect place to hide a passage! Nobody ever moved the shelf - it was bolted to the wall so it wouldn't fall over. I made my way over to the shelf.