Chapter 12

I open the door, ushering Landon in from the cold air outside.

"Hey," he says, shrugging off his coat.

"Hi," I reply. I shrug and lock the door as he hangs his coat up. "Thank you for coming. I thought I could do with some company."

I called Landon earlier today asking if he wanted to spend the night with me. It's mostly because I'm longing for a decent, undisturbed night of sleep, but also I kind of wanted to spend time with him. He's nice, funny, caring. Not to mention we didn't have a proper conversation about me reading a story to a translucent young girl who appeared out of thin air. It might be one worth having.

"No worries," he says, stepping further into the house. "My night would have been pretty boring, anyway. Coming here always brings some excitement."

I raise my eyebrows, leading him through into the kitchen. "You're not wrong. Drink?"

"D'you have any beer?" he asks. "It's been another long day on the farm."

I nod, taking out two chilled cans from the fridge and sliding one over to him. We click them open and drink, the two of us quiet, before he sighs, fiddling with the tab of the can. "Look, I... I can't stop thinking about the girl."

"Me neither," I admit, thinking back to yesterday when I spoke to her. Do I bring that up in conversation, or will it freak him out even more than he is now?

"I just..."he pauses, shuffling through the many thoughts that are no doubt running through his head. "Seeing you read to her was so strange. It was like she was actually there."

"She was," I say, a little too quickly. He gives me an odd look so I avert my eyes away. "I mean, I agree. It was really weird."

"Have you seen her since?"

I shake my head no, pressing my lips together into a tight line, but Landon's face tells me that he doesn't believe me. "Yesterday," I tell him. "I read to her again. And spoke to her."

His eyebrows shoot up. "You spoke to her?"

"Yeah," I say, running my finger down the condensation of the beer can.

There's a long moment of silence until Landon prods at me to continue. "And? What did she say?"

I sigh, struggling to know how to explain this to him. I decide to just go for it. "The woman we saw hanging herself is her mother."

Landon is quiet as his eyes travel outside, his brow furrowed deep in thought. I take another long sip of my drink, feeling as the alcohol pricks at my skin with warmth, before I see Landon nodding.

"Okay," he says, sniffing. "So there's definitely something going on around here."

I nod. "Definitely."

My phone begins to ring, the screen lighting up from where it lays on the kitchen island. Landon looks over at me inquisitively. "Who is it?"

I lift it up, confused by the name. "Darcy. The estate agent."

"She might know something," Landon says, his eyes suddenly alight with excitement.

I accept the call and press the speaker button so Landon can hear.

"Hello?" I say, prompting her to say something.

"Okay, I have another call to get to so I'm gonna make this real quick," Darcy says, clearly having no time for casual greetings. Landon and I exchange a glance. "Basically, I've found reports of people dying in that house. A few people, apparently, but I currently don't have any names or autopsy reports. Does that answer your question?"

My eyes are wide and I'm sure that Landon's are the same as Darcy speaks. There really were people who died in this house. I wonder how many? And who?

"Yes, oh my God, thank you Darcy," I say, running a hand through my hair. "But if you could maybe find out any more information on these deaths, that would be amazing."

I hear a prolonged sigh on the other end. "Yeah, yeah, I'm looking. You might have to wait another couple of days, though. I'm busy, you know this."

"I understand," I say. "Thanks again."

The call ends very abruptly, but my emotions are too all over the place to care. Finally we have some sort of answer. It's just another bit of reassurance that proves that Landon and I aren't going insane.

"That's good, right?" Landon asks, glancing from me to the phone and back again.

I nod, a little breathless. "Yeah, it's great." I think for a moment, bringing my hand to my mouth so I can nibble at my fingernails, before an idea comes to mind. "We should call someone like a medium or something. You know, someone who talks to ghosts. Maybe they can tell us more."

"Good idea," Landon smiles. Then he steps closer to me, a coy smirk on his face. "But not tonight. We can call someone in the morning when we've had some sleep, yeah?"

After hesitating a little, I agree with what he's saying. Since I've moved into this house, all I can think about is how exhausted I am, and he can so obviously see that. I should get some sleep then worry about all of this in the morning. I nod tiredly and we begin to walk to my bedroom.

We get changed into some comfortable clothes. We get into bed. Then we talk for a bit. Then we start kissing. Then the clothes come off and we end up tangled in the sheets and Landon reminds me of what bliss and pure happiness feels like.

Then we cuddle together, fighting off the cold of the house as we both drift off into an easy, undisturbed sleep.

--**--

Finding a medium was very challenging, but eventually we find someone living only a few miles away who is willing to come over this evening. So after Landon and I finish up a day at work, he comes back over so we can wait for her arrival.

"I feel weirdly nervous," Landon admits, cupping his hands around the mug of tea in front of him.

"Me too," I say. Although, maybe our reasons for feeling so are a little different. He's nervous about meeting this medium. I am too, but also there's the slight jitteriness of being around Landon after what we did last night. I don't know what it means, but I don't think that this would be the right time to bring it up, so I'll have to wait a bit longer to find out.

"What do you think she'll say?" he asks, glancing at me. I wonder if he's thinking about last night too, or if all of his thoughts are solely focused on the medium we're about to meet.

I shrug, sipping at my own warm drink. "No idea."

It's only a few minutes later when the doorbell chimes throughout the house. I jump from my stool and go to the front door, opening it up to be greeted by a grey-haired, short woman wearing jeans and a shiny green top with multiple rings decorating her fingers.

"I'm Melissa," she says, stretching out her hand for me to shake. I take it, giving her a friendly smile.

"Hi. I'm Em and this is Landon," I introduce, nodding to where he's stood behind me. I notice her give him a once over, eyes lighting up, while he gives her a charming smile. "Come in," I say quickly.

She steps into the house, her green eyes searching the place as she fiddles with one of the rings on her fingers. Then she waves her hands in small circles. "I'm getting a lot from this place," she says mysteriously.

"Really?" Landon asks, giving me a side glance. "Like what?"

"Hmm," Melissa hums. "All sorts. There's a lot of activity here."

"We found out that some people have died here. We were wondering if you'd be able to find something and tell us more?" I say hopefully.

She spins around, scanning me with a little distaste in her expression. Clearly I don't have the same charm that Landon so effortlessly holds. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Em," I tell her.

"Hmm." I've got to admit, she's one of the few people who haven't had something to say about my name other than 'hmm'. "What kind of things have you been seeing?" she asks, directing the question at Landon.

"A few things. A woman hanging herself. A little boy, must only be about a year old. Then there's a young girl we keep seeing. She wants Em to read to her," Landon explains.

"Interesting," Melissa mutters. "Is she the most vivid of them?"

"It's as if she's a real person," I say, getting another odd look from Melissa. Maybe I should keep my mouth shut as much as possible and let Landon do the talking.

"Chances are, she probably was a real person," she says eventually. "If it's spirits you're seeing, it would make sense that they lived and died in this house at some point."

"She told Em that the woman who hung herself was her mother," Landon says.

Melissa sighs. "Must have been quite the tragedy, then."

She doesn't ask any more questions as she walks slowly around the house, as if she's being lead by some invisible entity. We eventually end up in the young girls bedroom, and Melissa gasps.

"I see her," she says, pointing up. Landon and I both look and find that she's right. There's the woman, seconds away from dropping.

I glance away so I don't have to watch it, but I've seen the vision enough to know exactly what it looks like. Then there's the crack.

When the woman leaves, Melissa's looks at us in confusion. "You two could see her?"

Landon and I nod.

"Hmm." She leaves the room and heads back downstairs.

Once we've made it back into the kitchen, it appears as if Melissa has a lot on her mind. She tiredly takes a seat at a stool and massages her fingers into her temple, gratefully taking the glass of water that Landon hands to her.

We watch her, a little concerned about her state, before she sits up and chugs the water.

"I need to ask you something," she says, intense eyes zeroing in on me. I barely even have time to respond before she continues. "There's something about you that I've felt ever since I came here. I need to know if anything really significant has happened in your life. Any deaths? Any accidents? I need to know."

I look at her blankly, almost knowing what she's trying to get out of me. I feel Landon's hand rest reassuringly on my thigh, a sweet gesture even though he doesn't know the full story.

"My mother overdosed when I was a kid," I tell her. Then I take in a shaky breath. "And when I was six, I was in an accident that killed my father. A car accident, I was told."

"But you don't remember," Melissa states rather than asks.

I shake my head. "I got amnesia. I don't remember anything up until I was six. That includes my parents."

The best way to describe Melissa's expression is pure horror as I tell her the story. Her eyes flicker around the room until she grabs her bag off the counter with a tremble in her hand. "I need to go," she says urgently.

"No, wait!" I say, chasing after her as she makes a rush for the door. "I need to know what's going on. Please!"

Melissa grabs the door handle but turns just before she's about to leave. "This place is dangerous for you, November. You need to leave."

The door slams behind her as she runs out of the house.

Rather than answer any of the questions that have been plaguing my mind since I moved here, Melissa just gave me a whole lot more, with one in particular that confuses me to no ends.

How did she know my name is November?

WC: 1968