Beech - Legend of the Dryads, Book 2

Chapter 12

Fabien bent down towards the red object that poked above the surface of the gloopy mud. The splodge of colour had caught his attention as he and Beech were trying to navigate through the forest, hopelessly lost.

"It's a shoe," he frowned, befuddled as he pulled the mud-coated accessory from the earth. He lifted it up, and the red, patent leather wedges glinted in the places where the sunlight made it through the higher branches, reflecting red glimmers into the trees surrounding. Beech raised her hand next to Fabien's. She was holding the matching shoe.

"These are Tiffany's," Fabien proclaimed as the spark of recognition registered. That could only mean one thing. "We're too late. They're already there," he grieved, referring to the Lumber Lodge. He sunk his head down, overwhelmed by the sense of defeat.

But Beech was not so easy to give up. Fabien could see her glide on ahead away from him.

"Where are you going?" he called out to her. His feet were aching and his head was sore; all he wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep, even here and in the bright, dappled light of the afternoon sun.

"There's a path," Beech's voice echoed as she continued away from him. "This is the way they went," she spoke with confidence.

Picking up the shoe he had retrieved, and its pair that Beech had dropped to the ground, he hurried after the determined ghost on protesting feet.

About half a mile on loomed the familiar face of the Lumber Lodge. The two of them hung back in the shadows.

"Now what?" whispered Fabien.

Beech floated calmly beside him. "We go with the plan," she said. "Follow me." She emerged into the clearing and continued forward towards the front door. Fabien did as he was told and remained closely behind her. The door was locked.

"Great. That's perfect," Fabien grumbled, but Beech, once again, remained undeterred. She closed her eyes and held up the palms of her hands to the wood door. She looked as though she was meditating with a serene look on her face and her hair blowing in the wind. She looked the complete opposite to how Fabien felt.

A click was heard, and this time when Beech tried the door, it opened for them.

"How did you-" began Fabien, but Beech put a ghostly finger to her lips, signalling for him to be quiet.

The house was quiet inside. Too quiet. Like they were waiting and listening to their every move.

"Wait!" whispered Fabien. Beech turned to him, annoyed that he was already ruining their hastily thought-out plan. "What if we're too late?" he panicked. "What if..." he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

Beech shook her head. "It's not too late," she assured him. "I can feel Jayne's presence. She's close. And very much alive."

He breathed out a suppressed sigh of relief and proceeded with their scheme. Beech took her position in the centre of the room and Fabien rushed over the other side, sending an ornate, blue vase flying to the wooden floor off the central table and onto the living room with a reverberating and very dramatic crash. He jumped and ducked behind the armchair. He waited.

Three seconds later, the door was flung open, rebounding against the wall with its force, and from him his concealed position, Fabien heard a terrified scream followed by a blubbering like that of a young child. Confused, he poked his head round the side of the chair, watching a grown woman as she sank to the floor in hysterical sobs.

A second figure entered. "What is it now?" huffed Dr Morris, then her eyes found Beech, hovering a few inches above the floor, a haunting expression on her face. Gillian froze. She visibly paled at the sight of a ghost that looked exactly like Jayne.