Ghouls Gone Wild, Page 2

  After high school, and to get away from the dysfunction of my father’s house, I’d followed Gilley out to Boston, where he landed a full ride to MIT.

  It was around that time that my psychic-medium skills had really sparked, and after three years Gilley quit school to help me run my business. He’d set up a Web site for me and managed my personal clients, and things ran smoothly until I got burned-out.

  It was Gil who’d come up with the rather genius idea of opening up our own ghostbusting business. Unfortunately, the general public didn’t find the idea so genius, and we’d barely managed to eke out a living.

  Then, about four months ago, Gilley had answered an online ad on my behalf to participate on a reality-TV show called Haunted Possessions—sort of an Antiques Roadshow meets Most Haunted.

  I’d reluctantly agreed, but that had actually turned into the current opportunity with Bravo TV, so things had worked out in the end—at least financially.

  And that first TV show had also been where I’d met Heath Whitefeather, who was a genuinely good guy.

  Heath was an amazing talent as far as mediums go. He was American Indian, raised on a reservation in New Mexico, and he could communicate with the dead as well as anyone I’d ever met. Physically he sort of resembles Ashton Kutcher, but with darker, longer hair, and more-olive skin. His chin is also a little more square, but his body is just as finely chiseled . . . er . . . not that I’ve noticed or anything (ahem!).

  Okay, so the truth is that if it weren’t for the fact that I was currently attached, I’d likely fall for Heath in a heartbeat.

  Gilley and Heath were really geeked about the idea of venturing overseas. But I wasn’t so stoked, mostly because of whom I’d be leaving behind.

  My sweetheart, Dr. Steven Sable, would have to stay in Boston and work, and lately, Steven and I hadn’t been doing so well. A lot of our issues had to do with our crazy work schedules. He worked days, and I worked nights, so lately we hardly saw each other.

  Intuitively, I knew that what we really needed was to spend more time together and strengthen our relationship, but when I signed the contract with Bravo, there was little chance of that happening.

  So, not only was I about to put my romantic relationship on hold, but I’d have to leave behind my beloved African Gray parrot, Doc, who would be looked after by a trusted friend while I was away.

  Doc and I have been together for over twenty years and in all that time we’d never spent longer than a week apart. The filming schedule had our crew out of the country for the next eight to ten weeks, which was what had me so glum about the prospect of leaving. And it must have been obvious because as I sat in my office waiting on a client, Gilley came bounding in, took one look at me, and said, “Don’t pout, M. J. You’ll develop frown lines.”

  I sighed. “Way to cheer me up, Gil.”

  “Are you still moping about the trip?”

  “Doc’s going to think I’ve abandoned him,” I said moodily.

  Hearing his name, my bird gave a loud wolf whistle from his play stand in the corner and said, “Nice bum! Where you from?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Gilley insisted.

  “And I think Steven’s not real thrilled that I’m leaving either.”

  “Distance makes the heart grow fonder,” Gilley sang, patting my arm sympathetically before showing me a small box that had just been delivered. “Look what came FedEx!” My partner tilted the box, which he’d opened, so that I could see the contents. Inside was a DVD.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Location footage,” Gil replied. “Remember when you insisted on approving each location before we committed?”

  “Yes, and I thought I already approved all of them.” I distinctly remembered the three hours Gil, Heath, and I had spent viewing each location that’d been chosen by the production company to film each episode of Ghoul Getters.

  Gilley nodded enthusiastically as he came around my desk, popped open my laptop, and slid in the DVD. “Gopher called me yesterday,” he explained, referring to our producer/director. “He found a new spot he thinks we should investigate first. He said the location team that scouted it is still freaked-out about what they saw, and he says we can’t pass it up. It’s the scariest place on earth!”

  “Great sales pitch,” I grumbled, still moody over leaving home for so long.

  Gilley ignored me and hit play. My computer screen filled with the image of a drizzly gray landscape. Old brick buildings lined a narrow cobbled street as rain dripped off thatched roofs and collected in puddles.

  Someone off camera began speaking in a lovely Scottish brogue. “Before us is the infamous Briar Road, the most haunted lane in all of Europe and maybe even the world—while below our feet are the world-renowned caverns where countless hundreds lost their lives to the Black Death, starvation, fire, and murder. Pain lines this street and seeps up from deep underground. Here, the earth is so thick with it that nary a beast will tread down these cobbled stones. No bird, stray cat, or dog will venture here. Only humans are fool enough to walk this road.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes at the theatrics, but before I even had a chance, a man appeared on-screen holding a cute, cuddly charcoal-colored puppy, shivering in the rain. The man, dressed in a long black raincoat with a black bowler, wore something of a wicked grin and I immediately disliked him. “What’s he doing?” I whispered as the guy came forward and held up the puppy to the camera so that we could get a better view of the adorable face.

  “Aw, it’s a pug,” Gil said. “M. J., you love pugs!”

  Gil was right, I did love the puggies, but something told me this guy was up to something, so I didn’t reply with more than a nod. And sure enough, in the next instant the man set the little pup down on the ground. Securing a leash to its collar, he announced, “I’ve selected this adorable pup from a local shelter to demonstrate what happens when an animal finds itself on Briar Road.”

  And with that, the man turned and began to trot down the narrow street, leading the puppy behind him. At first the pug was all too willing to follow, but then, about ten yards into their walk, the pug stopped abruptly and tried to sit down. The man looked behind him, smiled, then stared keenly into the camera. “They all attempt to resist in exactly the same spot,” he said.

  I hoped it would end there, but it didn’t. The man pulled cruelly on the leash, dragging the puppy along, as it began to squirm in earnest, and the farther the man tugged it down the street, the more terrified the puppy became. Its eyes bulged wide and it began to bite at the leash and growl and whimper and snarl. Five more feet had it resembling some sort of rabid animal—it was so terrified that it was nearly unrecognizable as the same dog that’d been held up to the camera only moments before.

  “That rat bastard!” I growled as I stared in horror at the computer screen. I could feel my hands curl into fists and I wanted nothing more than to reach into the image and punch that guy in the nose. But he managed to anger me even further when he picked up the puppy, who was wriggling and squirming and snarling, and held it suspended for a moment while the camera moved in for a close-up.

  Gilley and I sat there in stunned silence; I couldn’t believe the cameraman was cooperating with this clear-cut case of animal cruelty! A moment later the man began to walk slowly back toward the camera, and the second he got to within about five feet of the cameraman, the puppy suddenly calmed down and settled for just dangling in the man’s hands, shivering pitifully from nose to tail.

  I closed the computer screen and rounded on my partner. “Get Gopher on the phone!” I snapped. “Now!”

  Gilley was already dialing and after three rings sounded through the speakerphone, we were rewarded with Gopher’s enthusiastic, “Hi, Gilley! Did you get the DVD?”

  “What the hell was that?” I yelled, not even bothering to announce that I was in the room with Gilley.

  There was a pause, then, “Hi, M. J.”

  “Don’t you ‘hi’ me, Peter Gophner! How could you let them do that to an innocent puppy?”

  “It wasn’t my idea,” he began
, but I wasn’t interested in excuses.

  “Of all the stunts you’ve pulled, Gopher, this has to be the lowest, most underhanded, most ridiculous. . . .” My voice trailed off and I began to pace the room. “You’re lucky I don’t quit over this, do you hear me?”

  For a long moment Gopher said nothing, which was probably wise, and I knew that he was likely waiting for me to calm down long enough to hear him out. Finally, Gilley said, “You didn’t have to use the dog to get us to agree to the location shoot, Gopher.”

  We heard Gopher sigh before he said, “You’re right. But I swear to you, using the dog wasn’t our idea. I sent Kim and John over there to do some more scouting, because I wasn’t really excited about our first pick. They found a few spots that were just okay, but when they got to this little village on the outskirts of Edinburgh, Scotland, they called to tell me they’d hit the jackpot.

  “I guess the guy you saw on the footage is some local who does these ghost tours and he picks up a new dog or cat every week from the pound to demonstrate what happens when you try and walk an animal down Briar Road. From there he took John and Kim down into the tunnels and caverns right below and the footage gets even freakier. Did you guys happen to watch the whole thing?”

  “No,” I said, still angry about the pug. “And I’m not planning on watching it, Gopher. That was just sick, do you hear me? Sick!”

  There was another long pause, and another sigh from Gopher before he said, “Okay, I understand, M. J. We’ll stick to the original plan and fly your team to Yorkshire.”

  That got my attention. “No,” I said firmly. “Now that I know what’s happening there, we’re absolutely doing Edinburgh first.”

  “We are?” said Gil and Gopher together.

  I nodded. “Definitely.”

  “Fantastic!” said Gopher, and he began to say something else, but I cut him off.

  “We’ll go to Edinburgh on one condition,” I said. “And that is that you call ahead, and find out where that puppy is and if he’s okay.”

  “Er . . . ,” said Gopher.

  “Further, that you let that ghost-tour guide know that I want a meeting with him, specifically.”

  “Ummm,” said Gopher. “M. J.?”

  “What?” I snapped, reading his tone.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Positive,” I said. “Get me that meeting, Gopher.”

  “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll do that, but watch the rest of the footage, okay? There were some really amazing and creepy things happening belowground that I know Kim and John are still really shaken up about. It’ll help prepare you for the shoot.”

  “When was the footage taken?” I asked, still worried over the trauma the puppy had experienced.

  “This past weekend,” said Gopher.

  I didn’t reply and Gilley took the lead. “Sure thing, Gopher. See you tomorrow at the airport.”

  After Gilley had hung up, I hit the eject button on my computer and handed him the DVD. “Burn this,” I ordered.

  “To another disc?” he asked.

  I smiled. Only to a computer geek would the words “burn this” not include the thought of fire. “No, honey,” I said. “Destroy it. Make it into barbecued brisket or chop it up into a million pieces. I never want to see it again.”

  “But Gopher said to watch the footage,” Gil whined, refusing to take the disc from me.

  I scowled at him and walked around to my shredder, where I fed it into the grinder. It made the most satisfying noise as it was gobbled up. “I guess we’ll have to go in blind.”

  Gilley looked at me skeptically. “I never like it when you say that.”

  I smiled. “Come on, honey, let’s go pack.”

  We landed in Edinburgh in the pouring rain, which was fitting, since we left New England in a torrential storm. And the temperature wasn’t much different either: friggin’ frigid, by my estimate.

  It was also two a.m. local time, or eight p.m. our time. I tried calling Steven to let him know I’d landed safely, but it went straight to voice mail. I left him a message and wondered where he could be. We’d been playing phone tag for the past two days, and I hadn’t actually talked to him in all that time.

  “You okay?” Heath asked as we piled into the van Gopher had rented.

  “Fine,” I said. I knew he’d probably caught the frustrated look on my face when I’d snapped my phone closed, but I couldn’t help it.

  “You sure?”

  I forced a smile. “I’m sure. Thanks.”

  Gopher drove us to the village of Queen’s Close, which, by the map I was given, was a good distance away from the heart of Edinburgh. It took us about forty minutes to get to a quaint little inn where we all checked in. We then went directly to our rooms to catch some shut-eye before an early-morning start. I did a lot of staring up at the ceiling wondering about the boyfriend I’d left behind, my birdie, and the little pug puppy that I hoped was okay.

  The next morning Gopher knocked on my door, waking me from the short sleep I’d finally managed to fall into. “M. J.?” he called. “It’s time for breakfast. You’ll need to come down in the next ten minutes if you want to eat before we leave for the shoot.”

  I mumbled something unintelligible, and I believe he took that as a sign that I was up and moving, because nothing further came from his side of the door. With a sigh I sat up and shivered. My room was freezing and the coverlet left a lot to be desired.

  This spurred me to get dressed and get downstairs in search of a nice hot cup of coffee, pronto.

  I met up with the rest of the crew in the dining room, which included Meg, our personal assistant and makeup artist; Kim and John, our location scouts; Gopher, our producer/director; Jake, our camera guy; and Russ on sound.

  Also at the table were Gilley and Heath. “Hey there,” Heath said as I sat down, rubbing my hands together.

  “Coffee?” I asked hopefully.

  Gilley reached over and poured me a piping cup from a carafe on the table. I curled my fingers around it gratefully. “Don’t they heat this place?”

  “Welcome to Britain,” Kim said. I noticed she was bundled up in a layer of sweaters, a thick scarf, a down vest, and fingerless gloves. “They’re a bit hardier here in Scotland. They don’t turn the heat up past sixty-five anywhere around these parts.”

  I looked at Gil. “I’ll need warmer clothes, honey. I can’t tune in if I’m a Popsicle.”

  “We’ll send someone out for you,” Gopher assured me, and he looked pointedly at Meg. “Can you get her some sweaters, gloves, a scarf or two, and a warmer coat?”

  Meg nodded and jotted a note into her iPhone. My eyebrows rose in appreciation. I could get used to this.

  After I’d ordered breakfast, Gopher placed a map on the table and discussed the filming schedule. “There are two main areas that I think we should focus our attention on: This street,” he said, pointing to a small line on the map marked Briar Road, “is supposed to be one of the most haunted streets within Queen’s Close. So we’ll start there and see what you guys can pick up.

  “Next,” he said, indicating a shadow that ran parallel to Briar Road, “I want to get some footage down here.”

  “Down where?” I asked, squinting at the map.

  “This is a cavern that runs right underneath Briar Road,” he explained. “It connects to a large grouping of other tunnels and caverns that wind under most of the village and make up the close.”

  “What’s close?” Gilley asked.

  Gopher smiled. “That’s what they call a grouping of caves and tunnels here in Scotland.”

  Gilley’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh! I get it. The village of Queen’s Close! It’s named after the underground caverns.”

  “Exactly,” said Gopher. “Anyway, these caverns are alleged to be teeming with strange noises, mysterious shadows, and disembodied voices. In fact, legend has it—”

  I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Hold on, Gopher,” I said. “It’s better if you don’t tell Heath and me anything about the history. We’re better off going in blind and telling you what we pick up.”

  Beside me Heath nodded hi
s head. “M. J.’s right,” he said. “It’ll look more authentic if we can get it on our own.”

  Gopher smiled. “Okay, have it your way,” he said. “But remember that the network wants something scary at each shoot. The name of the show is Ghoul Getters. We’re searching for malevolent spirits here, so if you find any, try and invoke them into doing something creepy, like throwing something or lashing out in some way.”

  I held in a sigh. Heath and I had had this conversation with Gopher before. Bravo wanted us to push the envelope at these haunted locations because we were competing against other already-popular ghost-hunting shows. The network honchos felt that if our show could ratchet up the creepy factor, we’d be able to hang with the other more-established programs. Gopher had taken that to mean that we should purposely antagonize any nefarious spirits we encountered. What he and the network just didn’t understand was how dangerous that game plan was.

  Heath and I had privately agreed we would attempt to make contact with any spirit we encountered, and we would work to give accurate histories about those spirits to the viewing audience and encourage them to communicate with us through knocks or whispers or by showing themselves on camera, but we were not about to paint ourselves as targets for any violent reaction by an evil spirit. That was just stupid.

  Still, we knew it was pointless to argue about it with Gopher. He just didn’t get how risky his directions were, so I bit my tongue, glancing sideways at Heath, who looked like he was doing the same, and we both simply nodded.

  “Oh, and I got you that meeting with the ghost-tour guide,” Gopher told me after my food arrived.

  “Today?”

  Gopher nodded. “Yep. Right after breakfast. I’d like to tape it if you don’t mind.”

  I did mind, but I understood that I’d signed a contract and that right now Gopher pretty much owned me. “Okay,” I said with a side glance at Gilley.

  “Is there any word on the pug?” Gil asked.