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Chapter 1
On the balcony overlooking the manor’s entrance, Captain Edmund
Carslyle stared with revulsion at the men emptying luggage and containers from
a dark van. With his gifts, he knew damn well what those containers held. It wasn’t materials for a quantum conference.
These were ghost hunters. Something he forbid from entering his
home.
Hands gripped the railing until his knuckles went white. His image
altered from corporeal to his ghostly pirate with anger. A flicker of lightning
raged over the manor, lighting the skies, revealing one face peering. Behind
glasses, bright eyes widened when he caught sight of his image. How could
someone see his ghost image? No one could see him. There were rumors abound
about a ghost haunting the ancient Greek Revival-styled manor turned into an
elegant seaside B&B, but nothing was based on fact.
Cussing, Edmund disappeared into the manor. Retaking his corporeal
image, he dressed himself in slim Armani trousers, a white silk button-down
shirt, and grey knitwear V-neck sweater. Shoving a hand through his golden
brown hair, he moved through the manor’s family wing and down the stairs.
In spite of tales, rumors, and gossip, he kept ghost hunters away
from his lands for over five hundred years. He wanted no one to scour the old
stories and hurts hidden in the walls of the manor and lighthouse. There was
the issue about his curse, ancient and powerful, and never-ending. It caused
him enough grief and pain and didn’t want wannabe ghost hunters messing with
his life even further. His hands clenched while he rounded the final bend.
* * *
Outside, gazing upon the elegant southern manor with the double
story Doric columns and widow’s walk on the corner facing the sea, Aiden Joseph
turned to take in the surroundings. Further beyond the manor, he spotted a
towering lighthouse built on the hammerhead-shaped peninsula to warn all sea
captains about the dangerous reefs and shoals hidden under the beautiful blue
ocean. Aiden could understand why the first Carslyle wanted to put roots here
in the rich sandy soil, nestled against the dangerous North Carolina stretch of
the Atlantic Ocean. Fixing his glasses, he moved his gaze up the three stories,
timing his movements with the sudden fix of lightning, to see a figure standing
on the ledge of the widow’s walk tower.
A gasp escaped when he caught sight of a ghost.
A figure of a pirate.
“What? What did you see?” Morris, the leader of the group, asked,
turning at the sound of the gasp. He met Aiden’s gaze.
“Nothing. I saw nothing.” Aiden cleared his throat. “A hawk flying
over caused a shadow.”
“Damn, don’t spook on us. We’re not even in the door with the gear.”
“You think we’re gonna get in, boss? Word is the owner doesn’t let
in hunters,” George, one of the cameramen, said, hefting a bag on his shoulder
before grabbing the handles of another one.
“We’re signed in for a weekend as a quantum conference and not
hunters. Aiden here gives us some credence as experts with his brain.” Morris
thumped a hand to Aiden’s shoulder.
This was not a job he wanted, but positions as a scientific
researcher weren’t readily available in the current economy. His savings were
running low and bills were piling up. He found a researcher job on the internet
and it ended up being the researcher for Spectre Hunters, one of the many ghost
hunter shows on television. With a scientific, logical background, the idea of
ghosts and other paranormal events weren’t high on his believability list. Still,
it was a job.
Now due to this position, he found the stories of a captain of the
Satan’s Trident, who disappeared after a fateful voyage up the coast after an
armada, but a storm overtook the fleet. His ship foundered off the coast near
the lighthouse, the captain and the crew disappeared.
Within months of his disappearance, the Carslyle family and
friends reported their home was haunted by the captain, who wandered the upper
suite and widow’s walk. The sightings continued after the manor was turned into
a popular B&B. While the owner and manager didn’t allow paranormal hunters
on the property, Morris figured they could enter under a different identity. Aiden
wasn’t too sure about the plan.
“Yes, excellent for everyone I’m such a nerd with credentials,”
Aiden answered, shouldering his laptop bag and weekend case. He went up the
front steps and across the wide front veranda, admiring the glorious
craftsmanship of the woodwork.
Pressing a hand on the brass handle, he opened one of the double
glass front doors and opened it, stepping into the huge front room. His heels
clicked onto the welcoming old hardwood parquet patterned floor. The doubled
staircase curved a full three flights, taking guests across the entire three
floors of the manor. He read on the manor’s website, there was a two-story
library, an old-fashioned parlor, a ballroom, a sitting room for a ladies’
afternoon tea, a smoking room for the gentlemen, and a large dining room off
the well-equipped kitchen. The various named suites finished the upper floors.
He heard Morris, George, and the other two men grump and groan as
they dragged in their gear. The various trunks thumped and dropped on the floor.
Aiden winced at their carelessness with the beautiful floor.
“Well, now. Wouldn’t that be romantic?” Morris said, nudging
George, pointing off to one of the rooms. “We can swoon some ladies down here,
get them in the beds.”
Aiden rolled his eyes at their crass attitude over this beautiful
manor.
“Unless you’re not able to check into a suite,” a man called out,
his tone powerful and clipped.
Turning, fixing his glasses, his eyes widened at the sight of the
six-two male stepping down the last of the winding stairs. Aiden looked at the
ceiling and then around the front area. This man looked the same as… It
couldn’t be the same…
“Ahh, sir, this is the Quantum Theorem Group here for the
weekend,” the desk manager said.
“There is no group. This is another useless disguise for another
group of ghost hunters trying to get in under my nose. Gentleman, you may stay
within the walls of my ancestors’ homes, but all of your gear forbidden. I know
those containers don’t have conference pamphlets. Return everything to your van
if you wish to stay. If anything paranormal happens, it will not be recorded in
any fashion,” the man said as he strode across the floor. “I know of your
reputation, Morris Jarrett, as I keep track of all professional and amateur
ghost hunters.”
“We have a right to conduct our…” Morris tried to speak.
The man raised a hand. “This is my family’s ancient home and land.
I have the right to refuse a room. It’s a known fact, all ghost hunters aren’t
welcome.” He rested his gaze upon Aiden.
Aiden swallowed at the curl of lust low in his belly at the sight
of those green eyes peering at him. He could swoon at those powerful shoulders
and lean height. Such a gorgeous man stood in front of him. Still, the ghostly
image he saw on the ledge under the lightning haunted him.
“Well, shit…What the hell are we supposed to do now?” Morris
interrupted.
The man glared at Morris. “Shove your gear in the van and leave
with it or stay without it. Either way, your gear doesn’t enter my doors.”
“My laptop?” Aiden inquired.
The man returned his gaze to Aiden. “If it’s a simple laptop for
basic research, it can remain. If you attempt to use it for something other
than ghost hunting, it will be removed.”
“I promise I’ll not let it happen.”
“You have permission to sign in for your room, Mr…”
“Joseph. Aiden Joseph. You?”
“Edmund. I’m Edmund Carslyle.”
“Like the Captain who disappered,” Aiden whispered. “Like the
ghost. The ghost on the ledge.”
TO BE CONTINUED
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