HALLOWEEN
"Hey! Have you seen this?"
"Seen what?" asked Aaron, leaning against the pool table, waiting for Jackson to take his shot.
"This!" Jackson exclaimed. "Celebrate Halloween," he read. "Spend the night in the well known haunted house, Broughton Manor on the outskirts of Hotton. Join us in this beautiful old house where witches used to gather and ghosts have been known to walk, for an evening of ghost hunting, spooky games and goings-on! D'you fancy it?" Jackson turned from the notice board and looked expectantly at Aaron.
"Er...no!" said Aaron, pulling a face.
"Oh come on, it'll be fun," said Jackson cajolingly.
"Fun?" echoed Aaron questioningly. "A load of folk waiting for someone in a sheet to jump out and scare them witless; I don't think so!"
"It won't be like that," protested Jackson. "Go on, please?"
Aaron look at Jackson still standing by the notice board, looked at his huge brown eyes wearing their most pleading, most irresistible expression; the expression he knew Aaron couldn't resist.
"What else would we be doing?" asked Jackson
Aaron could think of a number of things he would rather be doing with his boyfriend on Halloween, none of which involved running round a haunted house waiting to see a ghost; he didn't believe in ghosts. But looking at Jackson, he felt his resistance melting.
"Does it say any more about it?" asked Aaron, his voice resigned.
"Sign up with Gary behind the bar and there are only limited places," grinned Jackson, knowing he'd won. "Back in a minute." Leaving Aaron standing by the pool table, their game unfinished, Jackson made his way over to the bar, waiting until he caught Gary's eye.
Aaron watched him weave his way through the crowded bar; he shook his head slightly. It seemed he had agreed to go ghost hunting, although he hadn't quite; not really. Oh well, it would be something different he supposed. He turned back to the pool table and took a shot, even though it wasn't his turn. He didn't think Jackson would be interested in completing the game now. As the balls clattered against each other he looked again towards the bar; through the crowded room he could see Jackson talking animatedly to Gary, matching excitement mirrored on their faces.
It was a while before Jackson rejoined Aaron, bringing two bottles of beer with him.
"So?" asked Aaron.
"So..." repeated Jackson, "what happened our game?" he nodded towards the pool table where two other guys were playing.
"You were ages talking to Gary," replied Aaron, taking the bottle Jackson offered to him, taking a thirsty gulp, "and they were getting impatient. Besides, didn't think you'd be that bothered."
"I'm not really," agreed Jackson.
"So are you gonna tell me anything about this ghost hunting night then?" Aaron said
"Well, he's got twelve folk signed up already, including us..." began Jackson.
"Who?" interrupted Aaron, keen to know who Jackson had lumbered them with for Halloween.
"Jason and Ollie, you know them, Jason's the lad who broke his arm doing that parachute jump for charity last year. There are a few other guys, names I've heard about here, but can't say I know them. And Chloe and Kim..." Jackson paused and nodded across the busy bar to the two women he mentioned; even above the noise he could hear their loud, gusty laughter.
"Oh why them!" exclaimed Aaron in disgust. Everyone knew Chloe and Kim; the loudest lesbians to grace Bar West.
"Oh they're alright," said Jackson, "once you get to know them."
"I don't want to get to know them though," grumbled Aaron.
Jackson stuck his tongue out at Aaron, but his eyes were laughing at his boyfriend's grumpiness. "There is some other woman called Dixie; Gary says she's a friend of Chloe and Kim's, but he doesn't know her."
"You owe me big time for this," said Aaron, looking into Jackson's sparkling eyes.
"And I'm sure you'll think of a way to make me pay," replied Jackson, moving his body until he was able to push his hips hard against Aaron, his tone full of promise.
Aaron didn't reply, but his intense blue eyes undressed his boyfriend in anticipation of the night to come.
...
"I can't believe we are doing this," grumbled Aaron, pulling on a thick hoodie over the jumper he was already wearing.
It was a week later; it was Halloween and dark already although not yet late. Aaron had been hoping all week that Jackson would change his mind, would tell Gary they weren't going ghost hunting after all. But no! Here they were, dressing as though they were going to the arctic let alone spending half the night in a semi-derelict supposedly haunted house! He must be mad, he thought to himself; he glanced across the room at Jackson, ransacking every drawer in the bedroom in his excitement as he searched for gloves...no, he wasn't mad.
He moved quietly across the bedroom until he was standing close behind Jackson; he leant into his body, pushing his hips, his hardening cock, against his arse.
"We haven't got time," protested Jackson, turning to be caught in Aaron's arms.
"Just letting you know what's waiting for you when we get home," whispered Aaron, pulling Jackson closer, letting his lips brush against Jackson's, his tongue slip fleetingly between his lips before pulling away. "Right! C'mon then! What're you waiting for?"
"Shit!" groaned Jackson. "You are such a fucking tease!"
Aaron said nothing, only smiling as he waited for Jackson to catch him up at the door.
...
It was too early for Bar West to be busy but there were a number of people milling around as they walked into the bar, all of them waiting for Gary to get the night underway. Jackson nodded to a couple of the guys but made his way towards a couple standing a little way to one side of the main group.
"Hey Jason, Ollie," Jackson greeted them. "You looking forward to this then?"
"It's all his idea," grinned Ollie, nudging Jason.
"Oh but you're well up for it too," replied Jason.
"Yeah, well...I s'pose," agreed Ollie reluctantly. "What about you Aaron? Are you looking forward to it?"
Aaron pulled a face, but before he could reply, Gary bustled through from the back of the bar.
"Right guys," he said. "Guys!" he repeated, a little louder, getting everyone's attention. "We're all here now and the coach is waiting outside, so just head out there and we'll get going!"
There were half a dozen or so folk already on the coach when the group who had been waiting inside the bar began climbing aboard. Calls of greeting, squeals of delight rang the length of the coach, the anticipation of delightful fear heightening their excitement.
Aaron swung himself into a double seat halfway down the coach, Jackson slid in beside him as Ollie and Jason took the seats behind them. The remaining seats were quickly occupied and the coach moved off. As it pulled away from the bright lights of Bar West, Gary stood, swaying rather unsteadily, at the front of the coach.
"Right guys and gals," he sang out, "hope you're all ready for an exciting evening at Broughton Manor. We've plenty of food and drink laid on for later in the evening but first we're gonna do a bit of ghost hunting!"
At once a burst of noise rang through the bus as all the excited occupants imitated the unscariest of ghosts. Even Aaron smiled, beginning to feel the silly excitement of the evening seeping into his bones.
Suddenly from behind them, a voice - one of the girls, Chloe or Kim, Aaron thought - began to sing the chorus from 'Ghost Busters. Almost immediately the whole bus took up the song, yelling the punch line at the tops of their voices.
The song rang round the bus for a few minutes; as it began to fade, Gary stood again, waving his clipboard.
"When we get there, we're going to split up into groups - and if you're a couple, I want you in different groups..." he paused as a groan of dismay echoed around the coach.
"Does that include you and Kyle?" Kim or Chloe yelled from the back, laughing as Gary glanced at his relatively new boyfriend, sitting just in front of him.
"Yes," confirmed Gary, "of course. "We've got a couple of guys from the local paranormal investigation society joining us there, bringing bits of their kit for us to play with, and a few other things to do, so hopefully it will be a good night."
"I hope they are bringing kit for us girlies to play with too!" yelled Chloe – or Kim – cheekily, as laughter rippled around the coach.
It wasn't long before they left the lights of Hotton behind them and amidst the laughter and chatter it seemed hardly any time before they were turning from the road and driving slowly down a dark drive. As the complete darkness of roads lit only by beams of light pointing their way left the coach wrapped in a midnight gloom, conversation and laughter gradually faded. As they pulled up at the door of the darkly imposing building, the coach was silent.
Suddenly total darkness descended; the lights of the coach went out, the house was black; a collective gasp of apprehension ran around the coach. Aaron jumped as Jackson's hand found his leg – and gripped.
It was only seconds of intense darkness, but seemed longer until a semi-circle of light appeared to one side of the coach; everyone looked towards the light, to the featureless silhouette that appeared in front of it.
"Right guys!" said Gary, "time to leave the coach and enter the haunted house!"
The coach was safety, security; even though they all filed dutifully off, they clustered as near to the coach as possible.
"Remind me why we are doing this?" Aaron whispered to Jackson as he jumped down beside him; moving quickly to one side, letting the next person off.
"Well I'm having fun," replied Jackson, "Don't know why you're here!"
"Oh ha ha!" retorted Aaron, pushing his shoulder gently against Jackson.
Around them, the murmur of whispered conversations, the buzz of anticipation, began again as they followed Gary towards the house.
As they got closer the silhouette was revealed to be a man; a tall man, thin, his face almost cadaverous it was so sunken. His black suit was immaculate and his crisp white shirt seemed to possess a light of its own, it was so bright.
"This is Mr Shaw," Gary said, standing next to the man and appearing short beside him. "Mr Shaw is butler to Lord Broughton, our host," he continued, repeating himself to each group that entered.
"It's just Shaw, sir," the man muttered eventually.
"Shaw...yes...right," agreed Gary awkwardly. "Are they ready for us Mr...er...Shaw?"
"Yes sir, if you and your party would follow me." He turned and seemed to glide rather than walk to the front of the group before leading them towards a door at the back of the entrance hall.
"He is definitely spooky," whispered Aaron to Jackson as the group faithfully followed the strange butler.
The brightness of the hall didn't continue after they had passed through the door; they were in some sort of corridor, but wider, it could almost be a room in itself, except for its length, except that Shaw was leading them down it at a brisk pace, giving them no time to linger, to stare at the pictures on the walls, to pull aside to thick, heavy curtains and peer through the dark windows.
At last he stopped, stood and held a door open, waiting until everyone had passed through into the room beyond, only then did he follow them through and close the door behind him. The click of it closing behind him was loud in the silence that had enveloped them all again.
The room was dimly lit, candles guttering in ornate holders placed at intervals around the room as though blown by an unseen, unfelt breeze.
"Come in! Come in and welcome!" The cheery voice from the far corner of the room was incongruous in the atmosphere of the house that already seemed seeped in the strange and supernatural as their heightened senses jumped at every noise.
Jackson, Aaron, indeed everyone in the group turned towards the speaker, to see a man climbing onto a chair, better to be seen.
"Hello and welcome," he began again once he was standing securely on his chair. "I'm Clive Carmichael from the Hotton Society for Psychical Research. In a minute, Shaw is going to guide us from this, the new part of Broughton Manor, to the old, deserted part of the house where we are going to conduct our investigations. There have been a number of mysterious sightings in the old house…"
As he spoke, Aaron could feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise, to tingle, which was silly, he didn't believe in ghosts, in mysterious lights and grey ladies floating about the place. For a few minutes, his mind wandered as Clive Carmichael continued speaking, jumping back to the present only as Jackson grabbed his arm and tugged him in the direction they were now heading
By a convoluted path, Shaw led them out of the building, crossing a dark, draughty courtyard, only illuminated by a dull lamp on a far wall and the hazy moon, low in the sky and partially covered by passing cloud.
"We're heading towards the old house," chirped Clive Carmichael. "Much of this fell into disrepair when the new house was built in the early 19th century. Some of my colleagues from HSPR are waiting for us and we'll sort you out with EMF metres, a variety of cameras, infra-red and night vision, ambient air digital thermometers, then off we'll go, ghost hunting!"
"He's weird," whispered Ollie, leaning between Aaron and Jackson, his arms linked around their shoulders, as they slowed down to go through a doorway.
"So is Shaw," whispered Aaron in reply.
"Torches everyone." As they went through the doorway another man was waiting, handing out the small torches; immediately they began to play the beams across the walls, the walls bare of decoration, of plaster, with gaping holes where once two small windows had been.
Then it was the work of moments to create groups, to split couples. Gary had been serious about that and despite a brief rumble of discontent, soon small groups were heading off in different directions.
There were five in Aaron's group, six counting the young woman who introduced herself only as Spirit-flower; Aaron stifled a chuckle as she said her name, beside him, Kim laughed out loud.
"I bet your little flower is just full of spirit," she smirked, letting her eyes flick across the other woman.
Ignoring her, Spirit-flower began moving to the other side of the room. There was a table there, tucked into a corner, sheltered from the holes where the windows had been. None of them had noticed it before in the shadows of the room, away from the dancing beams of the torches playing upon the walls.
"We are going to try and contact the spirits of the people who lived and died here back in the mists of time," she said, her voice almost a sing-song. "Has anyone ever used a Ouija board before?"
The negative mutterings weren't quite universal, one guy, Aaron couldn't remember his name, but he was often enough at Bar West that he recognised his face, almost reluctantly agreed that he had used one before.
"And are you happy to join us in the circle," she asked gently. As the flash of a torch caught her face, Aaron realised she was older than her name, or her voice, hinted. "You will be protected, all of you, inside the circle or outside, will be protected here."
Beside him, Kim sniggered again. "These guys know all about protection!" she muttered loudly drawing Sprit-flower's disappointed look down upon her and the gazes, amused or otherwise of her companions. "Sorry," she mumbled awkwardly.
"Sit down everyone," waving her hand towards the table, Spirit-flower gave her attention back to the group. Moving to the table, she nodded encouragingly as she took a seat, gesturing for the others to follow.
Aaron quickly took a seat opposite Spirit-flower, almost as quickly, Jason sat next to him with the guy...Alex, Aaron remembered his name as he sat...who had experienced the Ouija before, on the far side of Jason. Kim slid into the seat the other side of Aaron leaving the last seat between herself and Spirit-flower for the last member of their group, Kyle, Gary's new boyfriend.
As the last of the group took their seat, Spirit-flower reached into the centre of the table and lit a candle that stood in the centre of the table, the dim glow suddenly illuminating a circle of letters, the alphabet, around the edge of the table. Four complete words were also displayed, hello,goodbye,yes and no.Next to the candle stood a tall, delicate glass and a small bowl piled high with fine white crystals.
Spirit-flower reached forward, picked up the bowl.
"What's that?" demanded Kim.
"Salt," replied Spirit-flower, "for protection." She stood; taking small handfuls from the bowl, she walked round the table dropping a scattering of salt in a circle around them. Replacing the bowl, she sat again. "Place your hands on the table, touching your neighbour's hand," she said.
Aaron put his hands on the table, resting the little finger of one hand against Kim's little finger. On his other side, Jason linked his little finger with Aaron's. Aaron could feel his sense of apprehension increasing, his eyes had adjusted to the dim light but the shadows were dancing, half caught movements glimpsed from the corner of his eye. Vague shapes becoming real yet disappearing as he looked to confirm their existence. Once again he could feel his skin beginning to tingle along the length of his spine, his breathing quickening.
"God, the gods and the spirits here gathered," began Spirit-flower, "we ask for your blessing and protection upon our search for communication and understanding." She flung back her head, her eyes closed, her back arched; almost as though a jolt of electricity had shot through her body.
Aaron jumped! Beside him he felt the sudden movement of Kim and Jason, they had been surprised too.
Spirit-flower opened her eyes and brought her attention back to the table. "Each of you place one finger lightly on the glass, keep the other hand resting on the table," she instructed, waiting as each of them moved. "Now, together, we will push the glass to the word hello and this is the only time we will physically move the glass; from now on it will be the spirits who visit us who move the glass."
Six fingers moved the glass across the table to the greeting.
"Is there anybody there?" Spirit-flower said quietly.
Aaron held his breath, he could feel his stomach tumbling, his muscles tightening with tension as he waited for the glass to move under his finger.
"Is there anybody there?" Spirit-flower repeated.
The glass stayed resolutely unmoving.
"It's not working," whispered Jason.
"Be patient," said Spirit-flower calmly. "Time means nothing to them, they'll come when they're ready." Closing her eyes, she bowed her head.
"It's cold!" Kim said suddenly.
"We're in a room without windows at the end of October," scoffed Kyle. "It's bound to be cold!"
"No!" said Kim. "It's not that sort of cold, it's...oh I don't know...just a different cold, like really cold."
"Is there anybody there?" Spirit-flower repeated for the third time.
"I don't think..." began Kyle
"Aghhh!"
Someone squealed!
The sudden, jerking movement of the glass under their fingers left Kyle's sentence unfinished.
Aaron clamped his teeth against his lower lip, the glass had definitely moved, shuddered, yet his finger at least was barely touching it.
"Shit!" breathed Kim, her voice trembling.
"Who's pushing it?" asked Jason. Even as he spoke the glass began to circle the letters on the table, moving slowly then gaining speed
"What's it doing?" asked Kim.
"Searching for the letter it wants," replied Alex
"Sh...respect the spirit," hissed Spirit-flower.
"W"
The glass stopped in front of the letter, paused for a second then began circling the table again.
"One of you is pushing it!" declared Jason.
"H"
"You've got to be," continued Jason. "It's not me! I'm hardly touching it!"
Circling, the glass was moving more strongly now, as if gaining confidence.
"E"
"Stop it!" cried Jason. "One of you is doing this, stop it!"
Around the table, mumbles of denial as the glass continued moving between the letters.
"R"
"E"
"Where? It's asking where something is," said Kim.
Aaron looked over his shoulder, he could have sworn...no! that was silly! Yet he could have sworn someone...something...was behind him, standing close, standing quietly, just waiting. He hadn't felt cold earlier, but now the air around him felt icy, freezing fingers caressing his spine, his heart.
For a moment or two the glass hovered, searching, uncertain, dithering between letters.
"Welcome visitor, please continue," said Spirit-flower gently. "Let us answer your question, if we can."
Suddenly the glass was moving purposefully again, finding the letters it wanted, pausing significantly in front of each of them.
"I"
"S"
"Where is..." breathed Aaron. He couldn't shake the feeling of someone behind him, it was disconcerting. There was a chill about him that had nothing to do with the coldness of the room; he could feel his heart beginning to pound uncomfortably in his chest, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.
"C"
"H"
"A"
"R"
"L"
"I"
"E"
"Who's Charlie?" demanded Kim, the quickest of the group to spell the name in their head. "What's it doing now?"
More urgently now, the glass was beginning to hurl itself around the table, lurching from letter to letter, yet finding the same letters, asking the same question.
"Where is Charlie? Where is Charlie? Where is Charlie?"
"You need to stop it," said Alex, an edge of panic sounding clearly in his voice.
"Welcome visitor," intoned Spirit-flower, "we cannot help you in your quest and must end this conversation now." Lowering her voice, she added "push the glass to goodbye."
It felt as through the glass was resisting them, as though the spirit, the visitor didn't want to leave. It took an effort, a surprising force to make the glass move to goodbye, to rest on the card.
"Join hands! Quickly!" gasped Spirit-flower as the glass settled on the card. Glancing round, she began speaking again once she was satisfied the circle of hands was complete
"God, the gods and spirits here gathered," she began quickly; "we thank you for your blessing and protection as we say farewell to the spirit gracious enough to visit us. I close this conversation." She released the hands she was holding, Kyle's and Alex's, and reaching forward, swept her hands across the lettered cards, scattering them haphazardly across the table.
Before anyone could speak, a shout, a scream, a sudden, unexpected blood-curdling howl ripped through the semi-darkness, echoing through the building, sounding loud in the quietness against the terrified pounding of their hearts.
In the sudden terror, the confusion, no one looked towards the glass, quietly moving once again, to the message it was spelling out amongst the jumble of letters, un-noticed in the gloom.
Iloveyou,Charlie;Iloveyou,Charlie;Iloveyou,Charlie!
...
"What did you get?" asked Ollie moving next to Jackson.
"Camera with a night lens," replied Jackson. "Clive said just to snap away, what about you?"
"A thermometer thing," said Ollie. "I'm looking for cold spots."
"As oppose to the hot spots where you are usually found," smirked Jackson.
"Oh ha ha!" laughed Ollie. C'mon, we'd better follow camp Clive; get this over with so we can party."
"You're as bad as Aaron," groaned Jackson, "no spirit of adventure!"
"The only spirit I want comes in a glass," replied Ollie, "and there is nothing supernatural about it!"
They followed Clive as he led his group in a direction different from the ones already taken by the other groups.
"We're heading back in the direction of the new house," explained Clive as he led them along the dark, draughty passages. "Although the library, which was still in use at the turn of the last century, is in the old building and has been the scene of a number of unexplained phenomena."
"What sort of phenomena?" asked Chloe, waving the bit of electronic equipment she had been given around.
"The last time we were here we recorded electromagnetic fluctuations and some of our photographs revealed phenomena that we couldn't see with the naked eye." He stopped and stood aside, directing them into a room.
"What sort of phenomena on the photographs?" persisted Chloe, pausing at the door to ask her question before entering the room.
"Shadowy figures on photographs, replied Clive seriously, "orbs..."
"I thought they were just specks of dust caught on the film," said Ollie in a loud whisper.
Hearing him, Clive turned. "They are unexplained entities," he said haughtily.
"Of course they are," said Jackson, hoping to smooth Clive's obviously ruffled feathers.
"So tell us about the ghosts then, Clive," said Ollie cheerfully, ignoring the little man's huff.
"Well," began Clive, "there is an entity here in the old library, it seems to move about the room, almost pacing if you like and there's another out in the hall, a grey lady. She's been seen on several occasions." Resolutely ignoring the unbelieving sniggering that ran around the small group, Clive continued speaking. "I want you to spread out, use the equipment you have been given, I'll come round and see how you're getting on."
"How hard can it be," muttered Ollie, "to point a thermometer or snap some pictures?"
"Oh come on," coaxed Jackson. "Let's go out into the corridor; you can point your thermometer and I'll photograph any cold spots you find."
"Everywhere is cold here," grumbled Ollie, "it's flipping freezing!" But he followed Jackson out into the corridor that Clive had indicated and for a while they pointed and clicked, before swapping camera and thermometer then clicking and pointing some more.
"Gonna find somewhere for a pee," whispered Ollie eventually, thumping Jackson cheerfully on the back as he sauntered away to hunt for Clive or one of his colleagues.
Jackson suddenly felt it quieter for Ollie's departure, he knew other people were nearby, he could hear the muttered conversations in the old library, he knew Chloe and Dixie had passed them a few minutes before, giggling through their excited fear, they must be somewhere just out of sight, just off the corridor.
He wandered back into the old library; it was dark, yet not quite pitch dark, the inky darkness midnight blue rather than black. He had expected to see the light of torches at the far end of the room, but nothing. He wandered a little further into the room.
"Hey!" The warm, breathy whisper startled him.
"Hey yourself," he said, turning, seeing a figure, just rising from a seat. He moved closer, it seemed brighter near him. Looking into his face, Jackson didn't recognise him, flicking his eyes over his body, he realised he was wearing a soldier's uniform.
"Oh! Fancy dress," laughed Jackson. "We were expecting people to jump out at us, ghosts though, not soldiers!"
"Charlie….."
It wasn't even a breath, just a breeze in the night.
The soldier stood, moved forward a little.
Before Jackson fully appreciated the movement, the soldier was close to him, pressing his body against Jackson's. His hands cupped Jackson's face, for a second their eyes held before he captured Jackson's lips with his own.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still, then tumble, meaningless.
The kiss was deep, yet tender at first, a voyage of discovery. Jackson could feel the rough, short stubble of the soldier's beard even through the soft hairs on his own face as they moved against each other. The soldier began to nip Jackson's lips with his teeth until his lips parted enough to let his tongue begin to slip into Jackson's mouth, tiny movements, gentle at first, until hunger, desire took over.
Even as Jackson tried to pull away, as his head tried to tell him this was wrong, his body responded, pushed closer to the soldier as his arms slid around his waist, embracing him. As they kissed, as his tongue teased its way into Jackson's mouth, Jackson felt his own hunger rage through his body, responding with a familiarity not quite his own.
Their tongues danced, teasing, tasting each other; Jackson relaxed into the long-missed movements, pressed close to a body he knew as intimately as he knew his own as their hands roamed over each other, rucking up their clothes, searching for skin; a voyage of re-discovery.
The harsh, brilliant flash of a torch suddenly illuminated the far end of the room.
Jerking backwards, the soldier broke the kiss.
Jackson looked towards the light.
"I love you, Charlie…" the breath faded on the night air.
Suddenly Jackson felt sick. There was a smell he couldn't identify lingering in his nose, a metallic taste flooding his mouth; he looked back, his eyes hunting for the soldier.
The bouncing light of the torch came nearer, figures shadowy behind it.
"Jackson!"
"Did you see him?" he asked.
"Who?"
Jackson recognised Chloe's voice now, as she got closer, he could make out her features in the gloom. It must be Dixie just behind her.
"The soldier...the guy in fancy dress," he corrected himself.
"There wasn't anyone else here," replied Chloe.
"But he was just here; you must have seen him, passed him" said Jackson, puzzled. "He can't have gone far." He turned, pulling at the torch Chloe held.
As the beam of light moved, jerked, it caught Jackson in its glare. In sudden surprise, Chloe jumped.
"Jackson, what's that on your jumper?" She put out her hand, "you're all wet." Pulling back, her fingers glistened damply in the light of the torch; her fingers dripped thick red tears of blood that splashed on the ground.
Her scream pierced the night, echoing through the near empty building.
...
Despite himself, Jackson was shivering, shaking. Almost before the echo of Chloe's scream had died, the building was filled with the sound of running feet converging upon them.
"Blood!" sobbed Chloe uncontrollably. "He's covered in blood!"
At first everything was confusion, people arriving, calling to Chloe, to Jackson, to each other.
"Jackson, Jackson!" Aaron's voice cut through the noise, reaching Jackson a second before he did. "What's happened? You're bleeding? You're hurt?"
"N...n...no..." stammered Jackson. "I don't know...I'm not hurt...there was a soldier here...but I don't know where he's gone. He kissed me!" Even as Jackson uttered the last words, his voice torn in anguish, a dim electric light flooded the room.
Hardly bright, although it seemed so after the inky darkness, the light revealed fully the blood soaking his clothes.
Streaks of red smeared across Jackson's face; it was almost impossible to discern the gray of his hoodie beneath the lush, oozing blood that seeped onto everything it touched.
"You need to get this off," said Aaron urgently, pulling at the hoodie, heavy with the blood soaked into it. Briefly fingering the jumper beneath, finding it blood soaked, Aaron pulled at it too.
Gasps of shock, whispered words ran round the gathered group when they realised Jackson's tee shirt was soaked with blood. Fresh blood that seemed to ooze through the material as though the very clothes were bleeding.
Quickly Aaron pulled at the tee shirt, needing Jackson to be rid of it, dreading the possibility that it was his body cut beneath, bleeding copiously.
"A soldier? You said there was a soldier?" Suddenly Shaw was there, his already pale face blanched, sunken beyond skeletal. "What happened? Did he say anything?"
"No...he...he..." Jackson's teeth chattered as he tried to speak, "he just called me Charlie."
"Charlie?" said Aaron sharply. Beside him he could hear, feel, the sharp, collective intake of breath from Jason, from Alex, from Kim.
"Charlie," breathed Shaw. "You're Charlie." It was a statement.
"No! I'm Jackson," even as he spoke, Jackson shook his head in confusion. What was happening? Nothing made sense.
"Here, put this on," Aaron dragged off his own hoodie, pushing it towards Jackson, his fingers brushed against his chest.
"Who is Charlie?" demanded Aaron, turning to Shaw.
"He is," breathed Shaw, looking towards Jackson.
"You're not making sense," growled Aaron. "How can he be this Charlie?"
"I know who Charlie was."
A new voice cut decisively through the muted whispering, the muttering voices, that surrounded Jackson and Aaron.
"Charlie was my grandfather's lover!"
"My Lord," Shaw gasped, even as he bowed his head in acknowledgment of his master. "Should you have said anything...?"
"It's alright Shaw, now is not the time to be coy, I think. He's seen him, the soldier." Lord Broughton glanced round at the faces looking at him, faces showing the strain of the evening, some pale, some still full of fear, apprehension.
"I think we should show everyone to somewhere warmer, serve the food and a warming toddy for everyone."
In no time at all they were in yet another part of the house, a room warm with wood panelling and a fire blazing in the central hearth. At one end, tables stood, laden with tempting and delicate finger food. Leaving Shaw to direct most of the group of ghost hunters towards the feast, towards discovering their surprising hunger and thirst, Lord Broughton led Jackson and Aaron to chairs close to the fire.
"My grandfather was a soldier; he was killed on the Somme, in the blood bath of that first day. Charlie was his gamekeeper, his loyal servant and devoted lover." Lord Broughton paused, touched his fingers and thumb to his momentarily closed eyes before sweeping them to his chin, fingering his short grey beard as he collected his thoughts.
"In those days," he continued, "there was no question of them living together, they were both married, my grandfather needed an heir and my father was born in early 1917. Charlie had a family too. But that didn't stop them being devoted to each other, they both grew up here, they ran the estate together, they went to war together." He looked at the two young men, listening intently.
"The story goes that my grandfather died in Charlie Rhodes's arms, bleeding to death amongst the carnage, with his last breath, swearing to return when Charlie did. Charlie never returned to Broughton Manor. He was killed in the last weeks of the war."
"Until now" whispered Jackson.
"What?" said Aaron sharply.
"My great grandfather was Charlie Rhodes," said Jackson quietly. "I remember my grandfather showing me his medals, letting me wear them, telling me about his father who died when he was just a lad; his father who had been a gamekeeper before he died. After the war, he and his mum left their home on the estate and moved south."
"And you both returned tonight," murmured Lord Brought thoughtfully, "Halloween. I hope he is at peace now. I hope they both are."
"Together," added Jackson.
….
"What was it like?" murmured Aaron.
It was hours later, the chill dark hours before the late dawn of the first of November, but they were back in Emmerdale, back in Smithy Cottage, delivered to the front door in Lord Broughton's chauffeur driven car.
They were in bed now, warm, showered; the blood, the smell, washed away, only the memories remaining.
"What was what like?" asked Jackson, his voice muffled by Aaron's chest as he lay hugged close by Aaron's arm around him.
"Kissing a ghost," replied Aaron.
Jackson lifted himself up, resting on one elbow as he looked at Aaron.
"It felt…" he paused, "…real. Like kissing a guy who was hot for me, wanted me so much." He looked into Aaron's eyes; he could see them, bright as sapphires, despite the only light in the room coming through the half open curtains from the street light across the road. "It felt like when we kiss before…you know."
Aaron moved a little, gently pushing Jackson back onto his chest, letting his fingers play slowly up and down his back.
"It must have been hard for them," he murmured, "not being able to be together, knowing what they were doing was illegal, that they could have gone to prison." He paused, "having to marry."
Wriggling until he was lower in the bed, Aaron began to kiss Jackson.
"We are so much luckier," he continued between kisses; between making Jackson turn his head from his chest to his face, to meet his lips with his own.
"We are," breathed Jackson between kisses. Suddenly all he wanted, needed, was Aaron's kisses, Aaron's tongue teasing his own, taking away the taste of ghostly kisses from a hundred years ago far more effectively than toothpaste. He felt his body respond, desire quickly stirring as he moved, twisting in the bed until he was lying on his back, able to look up at his lover. He could have looked beyond his lover through the open curtains to the night, to the fading stars, to two shooting stars moving across the galaxy, united at last.