Forevermore

Chapter 3: The Haunting

My eyes pop open. I bolt up in bed, confused.

Remembering.

What had happened in the middle of the night? Was it real? I think back.

I'd lain awake in the huge bed for hours, trying to fall asleep. It seemed as though everything hit me at once - memories of Dad, memories of getting suspended from school for cutting class to play violin at a festival two counties over, memories of Callie and other friends - you name it, I thought about it. I'd also listened to every creak and groan coming through the walls of the castle.

Then, just as my eyes had finally drifted shut, I'd heard it. At least, I think I heard it. So soft, I'd nearly missed it. Could I have even dreamed it? I'm pretty sure I didn't.

"Begone! Leave here at once!"

My eyes had flashed open. It was a deep, scratchy voice - a guy's voice - with a thick Scottish accent. The words were so clear it was as if someone had spoken them right into my ear. But how could that be? I got up, turned on the lights,and searched the room, not sure of what I was expecting, but certain something unnatural lurked close by. I never found anything, but the feeling never went away, either. 

Finally, I'd fallen asleep.

And now it's morning. Though it's not as bright and airy as my home in Charleston was, the castle feels much less gloomy in the light of day. Slipping from the bed, I pull on a pair of jeans, my All Stars, and a thick pumpkin-colored sweater. I also drape my coat over my arm, stuffing my knit hat into the pocket. Maybe I'll take a walk after breakfast. 

When I get downstairs, I run right into Elizabeth coming out of her room.

"You're late," she says, and her jaw tightens. "I will not tolerate late." 

I stare at her, speechless. "For - for breakfast? I ... didn't know there was a specific time -" 

"There's always a specific time," Elizabeth interrupts. Although she's petite, in her black heels, we are eye to eye.

So quickly I almost miss it, Elizabeth's cold eyes change. In color? Or size? Something undefined about them shifts.

Whatever it is, it's ... frightening.

"And you'd best not be late again." Elizabeth lowers her voice. "Or else."

I recoil, mostly out of shock that she's being so harsh. The corner of her mouth lifts in a grin that reminds me of one of the gargoyles', and she turns and struts to the dining room.

Did Elizabeth MacAllister, who might be close to a hundred, just threaten me?

"Lost, miss?"

I jump at this new voice. A young maid stands near me, looking at me with wide, questioning eyes.

"Ah, no," I respond. "Just headed to the dining room. Thanks, though."

The maid gives a nod, and I cross the great hall. When I push through the swinging oak doors, everyone is seated. Waiting. 

Great. I slip into my seat. As we eat, Niall and Mom discuss their plans for their day - taking care of things around the house - and Elizabeth is silent. Stone-faced. I make short work of the eggs, sausage, and toast, then announce that I'm stepping outside to go explore the grounds. Mom and Niall wave to me, and I'm relieved to escape Elizabeth's withering gaze. 

The minute my feet crunch against the gravel outside, I startle the peacocks, and their high-pitched screeching pierces the air. The sound rattles me clear to my bones. The birds peer angrily at me from the treetops, and I quickly change my course. Who knows if they'll charge and peck me to death? I head across the big stretch of grass - the courtyard - until I reach another path that leads to the old rectory I saw from my window. 

I button up my coat, and slip in my iPod earbuds, cranking up the volume on an Emilie Autumn song. The cold air makes my breath puff out like white smoke. Behind me, Glenmorrag Castle looms. I can picture the gruesome little gargoyles watching me as I walk.

Soon, the rectory comes into view, and my heart quickens. What clearly used to be a grand arched entrance is now a yawning black mouth, the old gray stone swallowed up by vines and vines of gnarled, twisted ivy. I think it looks sort of beautiful. I've always loved ivy - not least of all because it's my name. 

It's not until I duck inside and glance up that I notice the roof isn't really a roof at all. The wood has rotted away, and the entwined ivy has formed a lattice covering. Hazy light and mist filters in between the vines. 

"Hello?" I say aloud, and instantly admire the acoustics in the old building. I can't wait to bring my strings here. I turn off the music on my iPod, and I try the echo once more. "Helloooo..."

"Leave here at once!"

My heart stops. It's that voice from last night. The one I heard as I was falling asleep. I'm sure of it. Adrenaline races through my body, and I look in every dark, shadowy corner but find nothing. Just me, standing in a cavernous, musty rectory more than two centuries old. 

Then the ivy moves.

Slowly, the aged boughs begin to untwine and stretch toward me, like long, knobby witch's fingers. I'm certain it must just be a play of the dim light.

Until one lifts a piece of my hair.

I scream. 

"Leave this place or you shall die!" the voice says. It's real. 

I run straight out of the rectory, and nearly collide with another body. I look up, gasping. I realize how hard I'm trembling. 

I see a tall gardener in scruffy brown clothes and boots. Crystal-blue eyes set in a weathered face look curiously at me. His hat sits crooked on his head. He's holding a small shovel, and he has a pair of old gloves stuffed in his pockets.

"What's the hurry, lass?" he asks in a gruff voice.

"In there," I say, catching my breath. "Vines."

Bending his head toward the rectory, he looks inside and shifts his weight. 

"Aye, there's a heap of them in there. Watch yourself. You dunna know what sorts of dangers you might encounter at Glenmorrag."

And with that, he turns and disappears around the building, his large rubber boots crunching the dead leaves as he goes.

I turn and look behind me, into the rectory. The ivy vines are back as they were, tightly woven and clinging to the beamless rafters. My heart is pounding, and I'm really starting to think I've lost my mind. The gardener's voice had been too old and deep to be the voice I'd heard moments before.

So who is speaking to me? I wonder as I hurry back to the castle. And why?

Maybe I should leave. But where would I go?

There has to be a logical explanation. For a half second I even consider e-mailing Callie about it, but she'd freak out and insist I keep the webcam on all day, pointed at my room to catch any movement of any sort. She's a total Ghost Hunters fan. I'd never hear the end of it.

Besides, there's no such thing as ghosts. 

Right?