Disclaimer: Some of the characters in this story belong to the Pet Fly Productions as part of the television show The Sentinel. I do not claim these characters as my own. No money has changed hands.
I write for the pleasure it brings. It's fun. So, enjoy.
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Thanks to Jen and Becky for their wonderful betaing.
This is for a Holiday Challenge over at *Jen & Suzie's Challenge Page*.
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Spooky Night
(to the tune of Silent Night)
Spooky Night, Halloween Night,
All is cold, nothing's right.
Round yon pumpkin glowing away.
People singing in the doorway.
Sing in devilish glee-ee.
Singing in devilish glee.
~~~~~~
No, I didn't write this, and I don't know who did.
Happy Halloween!
VBEG
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"CHILLS"
by Suzie
Originally written September 1998
Revised October 1999
October 1st ~~ Friday night.
Ah ... nice, Jim smiled to himself as he sat comfortably on the sofa in front of the TV.
Blair sat at the dining table working on an essay assignment for one of his classes. With a mumbled curse the young man stood and began to rummage through the scattering of books and papers on the table. Not finding what he was looking for there, Blair went out to the living room, still chatting absently to himself. "Hmm ... I wonder where I left it?"
"What are looking for, Chief?" Jim asked.
"Oh ... I brought a book home from the library yesterday to use as reference for my essay," Blair said as he checked under the newspaper on the coffee table.
"I put it in your room ... on your desk," Jim smiled.
Blair looked up and smiled at the big man, "Oh ... thanks." He went off to his room to get the book.
"It's midnight ... why don't you take a break, Chief? There's a movie about to start here."
"What movie?" Blair called from his room. "You did say you put it on the desk ... right?"
Before Jim could answer, the lights in the loft flickered wildly and there was a strange hiss from the TV. Then the lights went out completely and there was a loud thud, crash, and yell from Blair's room.
"Sandburg!?" Jim called, using his Sentinel sight to move safely across the darkened loft as quick as possible. "Are you all right?"
Silence.
As Jim entered the small bedroom the lights flickered again and came back on, forcing the Sentinel to stop and adjust his sight to the bright light. "Blair!" he gasped as he saw his Guide moving slowly out from under the fallen bookcase. "Jesus, Chief, you okay?!" Jim asked, concerned as he helped his friend up. He was relieved to see that the bed had taken most of the impact, so the bookcase hadn't fallen directly onto the young man.
Jim led Blair out to the dining area and sat him in a chair at the table. "Chief ... talk to me. You okay?"
Blair groaned, his hand holding the back of his head. "Yeah ... yeah I'm all right."
Jim gently moved Blair's hand away to inspect the injured area and found a lump forming there.
"Sssst! Ow!" Blair hissed as Jim's fingers touched the painful spot on the back of his head.
"Sorry," Jim grimaced sympathetically but breathed a sigh of relief at not finding any blood. Moving around to kneel in front of Blair, he cupped the younger man's face and looked into his eyes. Slightly dazed, but otherwise clear. Not serious ... thank God. "I'll get some ice for that bump," Jim said. "What happened in there, Chief?" He got a ziplock bag out of a drawer in the kitchen and began filling it with ice.
Blair sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have *no* idea, man. I was looking for that book. It wasn't on the desk, so I was looking around for it."
I know I put it on the desk
, Jim thought."Then the lights went crazy and the bookcase fell."
"Did you stumble into it in the dark?" Jim asked, returning to the table with the icepack.
Blair took the pack and carefully placed it over the lump on the back of his head. "No, I was down on the floor looking through some books I had set aside ... thought maybe it got in with them somehow."
Jim frowned, thinking for a moment. Then got up and went back to Blair's room.
Blair followed. "Jim, what is it?"
"We anchored that bookcase to the wall, Chief," Jim said, staring at the holes in the wall where the brackets had been. "What the hell happened?"
A sudden whoosh of cold air moved through the room making them shiver.
"Whoa! What was that?" Blair gasped.
Jim turned, using his senses to try and detect where the rush of air came from.
Blair suddenly felt a wave of dizziness and dropped the bag of ice. "Jim ...," he managed, reaching out to grasp the bigger man's arm as the room began to spin.
Jim quickly focused on his partner, catching him as his knees gave out under him. "Easy there."
Blair closed his eyes tightly for a moment. "I'm okay," he said shakily, clinging to Jim.
"Come on ... you need to lay down."
Without argument Blair let Jim guide him out to the sofa.
Jim settled the young man into the cushions and covered him with the afghan that was draped over the back. "Sleep out here tonight. We'll clean up the bookcase in the morning." He noted the pale face and asked, "How you feeling?"
"I'm okay ... the room quit moving," Blair answered, smiling slightly.
Nothing more happened over the next week. Jim's explanation of a small earthquake was plausible ... except that nothing was mentioned on the news of it. They fixed the wall, set the bookcase back up, and re-anchored it with larger anchors. Blair suffered no more than a mild headache from his bump and their lives went back to normal.
**********
October 10th ~~ Sunday night.
Midnight ... the bookcase in Blair's room shuddered, as if something or someone were trying to push it away from the wall. Blair stirred in his bed, but didn't completely wake. A blast of cold air made him shiver and he reached to pull the blanket up. But instead of the blanket, Blair's hand settled on something cold and damp and a sweet smell assalted his nose.
"Huh?" Blair yawned, opening sleepy eyes to stare up into the yellow eyes of a decomposing face. With a mind-numbing scream, Blair scrambled out of bed.
Jim sat bolt upright at the sound of Blair's scream. Grabbing his gun, he quickly went down the stairs to see Blair run from his room, narrowly missing the dining table in the dark. He didn't stop until he hit the sofa with a thump and fell to the floor.
Jim set the safety on his weapon as he moved to the huddled shape against the back of the sofa. "Blair?" he said softly, reaching out to his friend.
Blair flinched away at Jim's touch and screamed, "NO! Get away from me!"
Luckily, Jim had thought to turn down his hearing as he came downstairs. The first scream had hurt, but the second one would have deafened him. Jim set the gun aside to grasp Blair's arms and give him a gentle shake, "Sandburg! Wake up now!"
Finally registering the voice, Blair settled slightly. "J-Jim? That y-you"
"Yeah, Chief, it's me. You awake?"
"Jim, turn on the lights!" Blair said urgently.
"Sure, buddy," Jim replied, moving to reach the lamp on the end table.
"No!" Blair cried, grabbing Jim's arm. "Don't leave!"
"I can't reach the light if I don't move." Jim was worried about the thundering beat of his friend's heart and ragged breathing. He's really scared! "Okay ... here ... give me your hand."
Blair grasped Jim's larger hand with shaking fingers.
Jim stood, reached for the lamp and clicked it on, never breaking contact with his friend.
Blair's eyes stood out big and bright against his ashen face. His entire body shook as he stared at the doorway to his bedroom.
Jim moved back down to sit on the floor next to his Guide. "It's okay now, Chief. It was just a bad dream."
"N-No dream," Blair said, shaking his head adamantly. "In there ... h-he was in there."
Jim got to his feet, taking his gun with him. "Someone's in your room?!" Clicking the safety off, he walked carefully to the door.
"No, Jim ... don't," Blair pleaded.
Jim went into the bedroom. "There's no one here, Chief," he called. "Come take a look."
"No ... I'm *not* going back in there!"
Jim continued to search the room for some evidence of what had frightened Blair so. He *had* to have been dreaming. As Jim stood next to the bed he felt a chill against his right leg. Looking down at the rumbled bedding he opened his senses. There was a single area on the mattress that was colder than the rest of the bed and there was an odd dampness when he laid his hand on that cold spot. A scent rose from the mattress as he touched it. Faint, sweet ... like flowers in a warm garden.
"Jim?" Blair's soft voice came from the doorway. "You okay?"
Jim stood next to the bed, staring down at the mattress, unmoving.
"Oh God!" Blair whispered when he realized that Jim had zoned out. Without a second thought about the incredible fear he'd just experienced or his adamant refusal to reenter his bedroom, Blair went to Jim's side. He put his hand on the bigger man's back and began to rub gently in slow circles. "Jim, come back. Follow my voice back. Please, Jim."
A quiet gasping breath signaled the Sentinel's return.
"Jim, you back with me now?" Blair asked nervously.
Jim shook his head to clear it. "Yeah, Chief, I'm here. Let's go out to the living room," he said, leading the way out of the bedroom.
"No argument there, big guy."
"Tell me what you saw," Jim said once they were sitting comfortably on the sofa.
Blair haltingly told Jim of what he'd seen. He was shaking and looking nervously back at his room, as if expecting the apparition to walk out the door. "... It was awful! All I wanted was to get out of there, man!"
"It's okay, Chief, calm down," Jim soothed.
"Did you see something in there, Jim?"
"No, but it's cold in there, and I did smell something like ... flowers."
Blair wouldn't sleep in his room after that.
**********
October 21st ~~ Late Thursday morning.
The phone on Jim's desk rang. "Ellison," he said into the receiver.
"Hey, Jim, it's me," Blair said.
"Hey, Chief, what's up?"
"You busy today?"
"Just doing paperwork," Jim said with a disgusted tone.
"Do you think you could stop by Cascade Library? I've found some stuff I want you to see."
"Um ... sure," Jim replied, then looked at his watch. "I can get out in about an hour ... at 11:30. That okay?"
"Yeah that's fine. I'm downstairs."
Same day ~~ 11:45am at the Cascade City Library.
"So, you're saying that someone died in the loft?" Jim questioned from a chair at the table near his partner.
"Not *in* the loft Jim ... not even in our building," Blair replied excitedly. "It seems that one Mr. Joseph Kyle Norman once owned all the property on the block where the loft is located and the building that we live in was where the Norman house sat at one time. In 1848 Joseph Norman, Sr. died after a fall down the steep staircase from the second floor of the house. It had always been suspected that his son, Joseph Norman, Jr. pushed his father down the stairs to hasten his inheritance of the estate and properties. Father and son had been heard arguing bitterly in the study by the servants the evening before. Joseph, Sr. stated plainly that his son was to be cut from the will after finding that Joseph, Jr. was deeply in debt due to heavy gambling."
"That's all real interesting, Chief, but I don't see what that has to do anything," Jim said.
Blair took a deep breath, not sure how his friend would react to what he was about to say. "Jim ... um ... do you think we're haunted?"
Jim chuckled, "I doubt it, Chief. I'm sure there's a logical and non-supernatural explanation for what's been happening."
"I don't know, man. This explains a lot," Blair said, indicating the books and old newspapers on the table. "I mean ... Mr. Norman never got a chance to change the will and his son got *everything*! It was never proven that the son pushed his father down those stairs ... but what if he did do it? And look at the date, Jim. Joseph Kyle Norman, Sr. died on the same day that the bookshelf fell on me!"
"You're trying to convince me that the ghost of this ...," Jim glanced at the name. "... Joseph Norman guy is haunting us? I just don't believe in all that Poltergeist stuff. I don't believe in the living dead, Chief."
"But, Jim ..."
"No, Blair, forget it! There's no such things as ghosts!"
"Okay ... okay, then how *DO* you explain what I saw in my room that night?! You felt something! Hell, Jim, you *smelled* something!" Blair said, getting aggravated. "Come on, big guy, I *really* want to hear your *rational explanation* for it."
Jim sighed, "I don't have an explanation right now. But you know, Chief, this restless spirit mumbo jumbo just doesn't fly with me. It's just the product of some very active imaginations."
"Yeah maybe, but that's what someone could say about a man with enhanced senses," Blair whispered Sentinel-soft.
"I heard that." Jim stood and said, "Look ... I have to get back to the station. You coming in with me?"
"Nah, I've got some papers to grade."
"Okay then ... I'll see you later."
"Yeah, later, Jim."
**********
October 31st ~~ Sunday 12:30am
Jim was awakened by the smell of flowers wafting up from downstairs. It was the same sweet scent that he'd zoned on in Sandburg's bedroom. Rolling over to look through the railing down into the lower level of the loft, Jim saw a figure moving about in the darkness. Thinking it was Blair, who still would not sleep in his room, he opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself as he noticed the shadowy figure was taller and bulkier than that of his roommate. Jim reached out with Sentinel senses, but could not detect either a heartbeat or breathing.
Quietly Jim got out of bed and took his gun before heading down the stairs. Midway down he ran into a wall of cold air that was cold enough for him to see his own breath as he exhaled. Looking around the living room Jim saw the person standing near the windows looking out onto the balcony.
"Freeze! Police!" Jim said loudly.
With a start Blair came awake at the sound of Jim's loud warning. Confused, he lay there and listened, trying to figure out what was happening.
The dark figure turned to face the Detective, but Jim could not make out a face save two glowing yellow orbs. With his enhanced sight he focused on where the face would be. Yellow eyes looking at him from a face of tattered flesh stretched tight over the skull made him gasp and stumble back, nearly losing his balance on the stairs.
Hearing nothing before Jim's gasp, Blair was slowly coming awake enough to be concerned. "Jim?" he called in a sleepy voice from the sofa. "Why's it so cold in here?"
"Stay where you are, Chief," Jim said. "Don't move!"
Blair blinked and finally focused on the shadowy shape of the man standing across from him. He saw the head turn in his direction. Blair tried to call out to Jim, but the words froze in his throat as the figure *glided* across the floor to where Blair lay on the sofa.
The face came down close to Blair's and the yellow eyes seemed to burn into him, but the apparition said nothing, and made no move to touch Blair in any way. Gasping, he got a whiff of the flowers that was permeating the room and the young man closed his eyes tightly, praying to every deity he could think of that *it* would disappear.
"Chief?" Jim said, kneeling next to his shaking roommate. "Blair, he's gone."
Jim's voice finally pushed into Blair's frightened brain and he cracked open his eyes to see Jim bending over him. The light on the end table was now on. "J-Jim?"
"Yeah, I'm right here," Jim soothed, helping his friend to sit up.
"Gone?" Blair whispered, looking around the loft carefully.
"Yeah ... *poof* ... gone," Jim replied, standing.
"Poof?"
"Yeah ... *poof*," Jim said, flourishing his hands in emphasis.
Blair pulled the blanket up around his body. "Damn it's cold in here!"
"Yeah, but it's already starting to go back to normal."
"Jim ... have you thought of a rational explanation yet?"
Jim smiled a little, sitting down on the sofa with Blair, "No ... not yet." He sighed almost nervously. "Blair ... I'm thinking that maybe we should talk a little more about *your* explanation."
Blair's eyes opened wide as he stared up at the big man sitting beside him.
"After what I just saw here ... I don't think *rational* is the answer in this case."
"You surprise me, big guy," Blair said thoughtfully. "I thought it would take me a lot longer to get you to go along with this *Spirit Mumbo Jumbo* stuff."
"Yeah, well," Jim began sheepishly. "There is *something* going on and whatever it is it's dangerous and has been showing a fascination with you. And THAT is something I don't like. So we can argue over rational explanations later, right now I want to find a way of getting rid of whatever it is before something happens," Jim said with a growl, switching effortlessly into Blessed Protector mode.
Blair stood and went to the kitchen, trailing the ends of the blanket behind him. "I don't thing I'm gonna be able to sleep anymore tonight." He filled the kettle and put it on the stove. "I'm making some tea. Want some, Jim?"
"Yeah, Chief, that'd be good. Thanks," Jim smiled, then wandered over to the dining table and started looking at the books Blair had brought home from the library. "So ... did you find out anything more?"
Blair joined Jim at the table. He opened one of the books to a page he'd marked with a scrap of paper. "I found this ink drawing of the original house and grounds."
Jim studied the black and white drawing of an elegant three-story mansion with carved wood shuddered windows and surrounded by flower gardens.
"According to this ...," Blair began as he returned to the kitchen just as the water in the kettle began to boil. "It was quite the showcase in its day and Joseph Sr. really liked his gardens. He was especially fond of Gardenias."
"Do we know for certain that it's this Joseph Norman guy that's ... ah ... visiting us?" Jim asked.
After pouring hot water over the teabags in two mugs, Blair took them out to the table and sat down. "Well, the clothes our ghost is wearing match what was worn in the 1800s. And the fact that he liked his gardens so much would explains why we've smelled flowers both times he's appeared."
"Any idea *why* he's hanging around here?" Jim asked, taking a mug from Blair as he sat across from him. "Or why he seems to have a fascination for you?"
Blair sipped his tea thoughtfully, then said, "All I've found are a few old newspaper articles referring to people seeing a strange man wandering the gardens around the house. Someone even reported that the guy had yellow eyes."
Jim was flipping pages in another of the books when he came across a picture that was captioned to be a Norman family portrait. "Is there anything about any family still being alive?"
"Nope. That book was put together twenty years ago by Agnes Norman-Gamble, Joseph Jr's great, great grand daughter. It's her diaries," Blair said indicating the book Jim was looking at. "She was the last of the Norman family." He turned the book over to show Jim a picture of an elderly, but distinguished looking woman. "Agnes was ninety-three when she died four years ago."
"You read this yet?" Jim asked.
"Yeah I did."
"Would you like to enlighten me?" Jim smiled.
**********
Blair went on to explain that ...
Agnes Darlene Norman was born to Joseph Norman, IV and wife Diane on October 2, 1905. She was the first and only girl to be born into the Norman family. It was said the Joseph, Sr. had longed for a grand daughter, but his son and wife Kathryn produced three boys before the elder Norman's death in 1848.
When Agnes was five-years-old her mother, Diane, began to tell her stories of the ghost of grand dad Joe visiting her and new baby Agnes only hours after she was born. He would visit every night. Diane was never afraid of the darkly dressed apparition, and never did see his face, but she knew who it was. And Grand dad Joe had told her how proud he was, and that the baby was beautiful and perfect.
Joseph, Sr's. spirit followed the new family home from the hospital, watching over Agnes and Diane for one year. It was after Agnes' first birthday party that the visitations stopped. Diane was putting the happy, but exhausted one-year-old to bed. Grand dad Joe was standing beside Diane when Joseph, Jr. walked into the room. Joseph Jr. was first shocked, then frightened. But this quickly turned to anger, as he did not believe in ghosts and thought that someone was playing a cruel trick to gain money from the family.
Joseph Kyle Norman, Sr. was not seen or heard from again until after Joseph, Jr. died. The apparition was seen at the funeral of his son, but only the grieving widow knew who the dark shadowy figure was. Agnes was then four-years-old.
Agnes wrote in her diary ...
"The first time I remember seeing the ghost of grand dad Joe was when I was eighteen and going off to college. I didn't see him again until my return home four years later. It was not until the morning of my fiftieth birthday that I saw grand dad again. It was very early ... perhaps shortly after midnight. I was alone in the big house and could hear the creaks and groans it made in the dark. In the corner of my room I saw the shadow of a person. I became very frightened indeed, and would have screamed if only I could have found my voice. He said nothing yet, but I could feel that I should know him as *glided* across the floor to my bed. I felt the fear in me dissipate with the realization that this was my grand dad Joe! He then told me that he was so proud of me and the way I turned out in life."
At the age of fifty, Agnes had been running a successful commodities business since her husband died in 1950. Alas there were no children, but she and husband, Daniel Gamble, had been immensely happy.
"Grand dad Joe wanted me to know that he loved me," Agnes wrote.
Later in the diary it is said that the Norman Mansion burned to the ground in 1963.
"I am eighty-five now and have not had a visit from Grand dad Joe since the house burned, but I know that he will return again someday. I wonder if he will understand what has happened to the house? I wonder if he will look for me or if I will be alive when he returns."
**********
"Well, that's about it Jim," Blair said, closing the book gently. "The rest is about Agnes' life in general."
Jim sighed and sat up straight in the chair at the table where he sat. "Okay, so 'grand dad Joe' has returned."
"And his house is gone, his grand daughter is gone," Blair stood and paced in front of Jim, waving his arms excitedly as he held the ends of the blanket in his hands. "He's probably confused ... after all, nothing is where it used to be. Not even the building!"
"So what do we do?"
Blair sank into a chair across from Jim and pushed his hair back, "I have *no* idea, Jim."
"Great," Jim said exasperated. He had started flipping absently through another book, when a picture caught his eye. "Hey, look at this picture ...," he began, but suddenly got a whiff of sweet flowers. Jim looked up at Blair.
Blair was sitting very still and very straight. His face had paled, his eyes were shockingly large, and he was staring straight ahead, past Jim.
Jim frowned, concerned, "Blair, what's wrong?"
"Garett, is that you?" a low, almost whispered voice said.
Jim turned abruptly, startled by the voice. Why didn't I hear it? He couldn't see the figure clearly even with Sentinel sight, and the lamp in the living room and the kitchen light did little to illuminate the loft effectively.
"Jim ...," Blair squeaked out.
"I see it. Is it ... him?" Jim asked.
"Garett, what has happened? Where is Agnes?" the apparition asked.
"Um ... Mr. Norman?" Blair asked quietly.
"It has been a long time, Garett. I very nearly didn't recognize you," Joseph Norman, Sr. said. "It must be the hair."
Jim moved around until he stood behind Blair's chair.
Blair mustered all his courage and said, "Why are you here, sir?"
"I came to see my Agnes of course. But I don't suppose you'd know that, now would you? You have not been here for some time."
Blair didn't say anything.
"What has happened to the house, Garett? Where is my Agnes?"
Blair swallowed nervously.
"You better tell him, Blair," Jim whispered.
"Please tell me! I have been beside myself with worry!" Mr. Norman begged.
"Your house burned down many years ago, sir. It was replaced with this building," Blair answered.
There was despair in the voice as he said, "And Agnes?"
"She lived for many more years and only died four years ago of natural causes," Blair said sadly.
A wail rose in the loft that held more sorrow than Jim or Blair thought possible.
"Gone! *ALL* gone!" Joseph Norman cried into the dark.
Then there was silence.
"Mr. Norman?" Blair said nervously. "Are you all right, sir?"
"Blair, he's dead," Jim whispered.
"Sorry, sir," Blair blushed.
"That's all right, Garett. No harm done," Mr. Norman sighed heavily. "Your friend is right ... I am dead." The dark figure visibly slumped as if exhausted. "And there is no longer any reason for me to come here."
"You are always welcome here, Mr. Norman."
Jim slapped Blair lightly on the back of the head.
"No, Garett, this is the last time. I won't be back again." With that the spirit of Joseph Kyle Norman, Sr. faded away to nothing.
Jim and Blair stared silently at the space where the ghost had been for several minutes.
"I wonder who the hell 'Garett' is ... er, was?" Blair finally asked, breaking the silence.
Jim shook himself back to the reality of the moment and said, "Oh ... that's what I was going to tell you before our friend arrived." He reached down and turned the book so Blair could see it. "Look at this photo."
Blair put his glasses on and looked down at the picture in front of him. "Oh my God!" he gasped.
There on the page was a slightly blurred picture of the four servants that worked in the Norman household before Joseph, Sr. died. There was a young man dressed in coveralls sitting on the floor in front of two maids and the butler. The names listed beneath the photo said the young man's name was Garett Goodwin. The short piece that was written about the servants said that Garett was the gardener. Mr. Norman was quite fond of the young man and would sometimes spend hours talking as they worked in the flower beds.
"Wow, Jim," Blair breathed as he stared at the picture.
"Yeah ... wow, Chief," Jim grinned. "Hair's shorter, but he looks just like you."
**********
Epilogue
Jim and Blair stayed up for another hour just talking about the events that had occurred. It was when Jim noticed Blair's attempts to suppress several yawns that he suggested that they go to bed. Blair gratefully went to his room, no longer being afraid of what what might be there, as Jim turned out the lights before going upstairs.
Blair sat down on the edge of the bed and clicked on the bedside lamp. After moving the things off the bed that had collected there while he was sleeping on the sofa, Blair reached over to turn out the light. Something on his desk caught his eye that hadn't been there earlier. Blair went to the desk and looked at the heavy book that lay on top of the papers he brought home to grade. "Oh ... my ... God!" he whispered as he brushed his hand over the cover to make sure he wasn't imagining it.
There on the desk, apparently where Jim had originally left it, was the book that had gone *missing* the night the bookcase had fallen.
Blair smiled as he whispered, "Thank you, Mr. Norman."
~~~~