He pressed a trigger on the meter and a row of LED lights flashed red across the screen. He waved the meter in an arc so she could see it, and the line of LED’s surged and disappeared.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Maybe nothing,” Cody said. “Get the readings now, before all hell breaks loose. Then get readings later, and you can measure hell.”
“Ghosts come from hell?” She’d always thought of them as trapped spirits killing time, watching as she went about her business. More like deadbeat tenants than anything.
“There are different types. You have your residual haunts, sort of like a film projector stuck in a loop. Then you got your actives, what some call the ‘intelligent’ haunts because they interact with the real world. They might talk or touch you, and sometimes express confusion about why things have changed.”
“That doesn’t sound so scary,” Janey said, though she shivered at the thought of a ghost touching her. They could watch all they wanted, and whisper things, and move objects around, but they could damn well keep their hands to themselves in her hotel.
“Poltergeists tend to play little pranks, rap on the walls, and toss things around. They’re usually associated with adolescent girls getting their first period, psychokinetic powers, that kind of thing.”
“No wonder. Turning into a woman would make anybody unstable. If you had PMS, you’d throw things around, too.”
“Then you got your demons,” Cody said, with a mischievous grin.
Klonggg.
Janey jumped at the metallic, grinding noise behind her that might have been the snapping jaws of some flesh-eating spawn of Satan.
Then a buzzer sounded, and Janey realized one of the ancient, commercial-sized dryers had ended its cycle. She pictured Rosalita waiting patiently for the next load, alone with whatever spirits of cotton and dust lay gathered around her.
“Demons constitute less than 1 percent of all activity,” Cody said. “But it’s the kind of activity that can mess you up.”
“Mess you up?”
“I’ve had them throw me across the room. But the real risk is to your noggin. They can plant ideas and make you see things that aren’t exactly family-friendly viewing. And if you get possessed, well, the party really gets out of hand.”
“And you believe this stuff? What are you, some kind of Bible thumper?”
Cody moved past her to take another set of readings. “God versus the Devil would be a clean fight. But demons aren’t really interested in either. A boss is a boss, right? They tend to do their own thing.”
Janey had images of red, pointy-eared creatures fluttering around in caves of fire.
“You’re looking pretty clean so far,” he said. “We’ll do a complete sweep and get a better idea. But you can never tell what’s going to come out and play in the dead of night.”
“When things get quiet,” she said. “I wouldn’t–”
“Whoa.” The row of LED lights on the meter filled and faded in the rhythm of a slow heartbeat. “This is freaky.”
He moved the meter close to an old cherry wardrobe. The piece wasn’t classy enough to be an antique and wasn’t rustic enough to pass off as primitive handicraft. One splintered door sagged from its hinges while the other door was warped and buckled from dampness. The base of the wardrobe was nicked and scarred, and a strip of trim was missing from the crown. The LED bar continued its steady blinking.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
Cody eased the meter through the gap between the doors and Janey cringed, half expecting something to grab his wrist and drag him into the darkness.
“What’s the story on this?” he asked.
Janey couldn’t remember where the piece had come from, but she’d been walking past it for many years, cursing its obstruction of the hallway. She wasn’t even sure why she’d never had the wardrobe hauled away. Perhaps she thought it might be restored, so she could concoct a receipt for a new wardrobe, dump the furniture in one of the larger suites, and stick the cost difference in her pocket.
“Just a pile of junk,” she said.
“Here, hold this,” Cody said, thrusting the meter into her hands. She gripped it gingerly, as if it were a loaded gun. Cody parted the doors and the dim light of the service alley spilled into the interior. The wardrobe was empty.
The meter stopped pulsing and the LED’s went dead.
“It stopped,” Janey said.
“I think we’ve got us an anomaly.” Cody made notes in his pocket-sized composition book.
“Haunted furniture?”
“You need a lot more than an energy fluctuation to make that conclusion. But it’s a data point. I need to check for electrical outlets or pipes behind it.”
While Janey studied the meter’s display, Cody put his shoulder against the wardrobe and scooted it sideways. Despite her cynicism, Janey found herself craning to see the hidden section of cinder block wall. A frayed sheet of plywood was propped against the wall and cool air oozed from the dark gaps around it.
Cody plucked the plywood away, revealing a hole about the size of four cinder blocks. A rank, earthy odor oozed from the opening, and the blackness inside was almost palpable, a solid mass that threatened to spill out like stuffing from a torn sofa.
“I don’t remember that hole being there,” Janey said, relishing a last scolding of Wally Reams.
Cody squatted, fished a penlight from his pocket, and speared the thin shaft of light into the darkness. He stuck his head into the opening. “Sweet.”
“What is it?” Janey asked, shuddering at the thought of rats and other vermin having a free run to the kitchen.
“Looks like some kind of repair access. For pipes and heating ducts.”
As Janey leaned to peer over Cody’s shoulder, the EMF meter began blinking again, this time in a staccato frenzy. She almost dropped it.
“Whatever it is, it’s in here,” Cody said, taking the meter from her.
“Great. An evil spirit is just what we need.”
Cody shook his head. “I doubt we’d get that lucky. I meant that the source of the fluctuation is down there. Wires, pipes, maybe some kind of heat or water pump. The first job in this line of work is to eliminate all the possible solutions until you get to the impossible.”
He turned and looked up at her, his cheek smudged with a cobweb. “People think ghosts are everywhere, but the truth is they’re pretty damned rare. You have to cut through a lot of noise to get to the real deal.”
Janey handed Cody the meter and straightened her jacket. “Well, don’t be crawling down in there without written permission. Mr. Wilson’s contract limits the hunts to the public areas.”
Cody did the Charm School bit, dimples and all, and one eyelid fluttered in a conspiratorial wink. “I wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”
She didn’t know whether to spank him or kiss him, and she tightened her lips so she didn’t appear flustered. “And don’t be summoning any demons to my hotel.”
“You don’t have to summon demons. If they want to be here, they already are.”
Janey left Cody to his meter and note pad, acutely aware of the subtle noises of the hoteclass="underline" air sluicing through the central ductwork, the distant creaking of the old elevator, the muted music from the kitchen, the rumbling of washers and dryers. She had a sense of the hotel as an organic, living thing, with its own circulatory system, breath, and skeleton.
And its own memories.
Its own desires.
And perhaps a will to live.
She hurried to the dining room, a chill settling on her skin. She kept her eyes dead ahead.
Chapter 12
This was exactly what he’d wanted, the main reason he’d set up the ghost hunt. He’d even prayed for it, in such awkward fashion as he could undertake that act of humility. But maybe it wasn’t so wise to ask God for things, because He might deliver them.
Wayne had brushed Burton off with a mumbled story about the Ouija session reminding him of his wife because they’d played the board game together in college. Burton hadn’t bought it completely but hadn’t pressed for more details.