Notes from the authors: Aquarian Wolf and Jase Andrews created Clarisse and Adam Parker, Henry Harcourt, Duncan LeRoch, and Justine Edmonds. All ghosts, with the exception of Dustin T. Dust and Rolly, are part of Disney's Haunted Mansion ride.
Aquarian Wolf wrote the odd numbered chapters, and Jase Andrews wrote the even numbered chapters. Although, both authors did edit and tweak each other's work. : P
Love Never Dies…Even if You Try to Kill It
Chapter 1: An Aura of Foreboding
"Would you look at the size of this place?" Henry Harcourt exclaimed in his thick southern accent. The construction crew's supervisor lifted up his hardhat, wiped his brow, and let out a low whistle.
"And they say it's haunted, too," a middle-aged man holding blueprints added.
"Well, good thing they payin' us good, huh?" Henry grinned at the small group of men standing around him, who laughed. Turning to the worker with the blueprints, he asked, "You don't really believe that, do you Duncan?"
Duncan LeRoch looked up, his brow furrowed. "I was raised in a very superstitious family, sir." Apprehensively, he glanced at the graves surrounding the antebellum mansion.
"Voo-doo and all that?"
Duncan nodded. "Grandma was a firm believer in the old ways." With a mischievous smirk he said, "Lotta good it did her; she's dead now." The group guffawed at this, not because they found it funny, but because it served as a release for their uneasiness. Everyone was nervous about this job.
Everyone except for one particular young man.
"Adam," Harcourt said. There was no reply. He glared at the twenty-six-year-old, the youngest member of the crew. Adam was facing away from the group, bobbing his head to the music blaring from his headphones. "Parker!" The supervisor yanked off the speakers.
"Hey, what'd you do that for?" Adam Parker cried, indignant that his favorite song, Metallica's "Enter the Sandman", had been interrupted.
The older man shook the headphones in Adam's face. "You have a job to do, Parker!"
"I was waiting for you guys to stop yakking." He snatched back his headphones.
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"Yes, I know what I'm doing," Adam replied, exasperated. "Go into the attic, find the ceiling to the gallery, and repair the beams. It's no big deal, Henry. We've done restoration work a hundred times before." He cast his blue eyes over the manor. "Still don't see what's so great about it."
"That don't matter. What matters is the New Orleans Historic Home Society finds this place fit enough to take tourists on over-priced ghost tours every Saturday night! Now get movin'!" He watched the brown-haired young man jog away muttering, "All right, geeze. I'm going!"
Henry sighed and shook his head. "I don't get young people nowadays. Sometimes I'd just like to throttle that boy! He's gonna get hurt if he's not careful."
"And you're counting on it, aren't you?" asked Duncan with smirk. "I know you want to teach him a lesson."
The other man scoffed. "He's a liability. His stupid antics are gonna get us in trouble." He paused in thought for a moment and smiled. "I know I'm not alone in feeling this way, eh Duncan?" Henry knew which of LeRoch's buttons to push if he really wanted to annoy him.
Duncan stared with determined hate at the blueprints. "Dumb punk. Can't believe he gets to wear that wedding band."
"And you seriously would have wanted to be married to her? There's no man who can tame that redhead's wild streak."
Duncan winked. "I could've. All it takes is a little bit of discipline." The two men laughed as storm clouds gathered overhead. Stopping in mid chuckle, Duncan was suddenly solemn. "That's not a good sign."
"More of grandma's stories, huh?" Henry grinned.
Watching a crow perch on a nearby gravestone, Duncan nodded. A few things Grandma LeRoch had taught him had stayed with him, and one of them was this: A crow on a grave means a life won't be saved, and with clouds o'er head, there'll be rousing of the dead.
"Billy! Spit out those crayons! Susie, stop trying to glue Jamie's mouth shut!"
Clarisse Parker was not having a good day. She had not gotten any sleep the night before because she had had this awful feeling of unease, so she was tired and grumpy. Now the feeling had just kept getting worse, reaching something akin to a panic attack. Ignoring it was not working. Although, ignoring "it" had never worked anyway. She knew the feeling was going to persist until whatever would happen happened, or unless she stopped it from happening.
Her mother had always discouraged following the often and eerily accurate intuition that her daughter possessed. Her aunt, however, encouraged it, calling it a "gift". Clarisse just called it a nerve-wracking headache.
She rubbed her temples, feeling an oncoming migraine. Her first grade class usually wasn't this misbehaved, but it was a Friday and the weather was bad. That always made them fidgety.
"Jonathon give Randall's eraser back! Chloe those gold stars are not for eating!" Clarisse ran from child to child, handing back toys, breaking up scuffles, wiping runny noses, and taking things out of mouths. She glanced up at the clock. Two minutes until the bell rang. She hoped she could last that long. "You all have math to finish!" Her nerves were shot. One more interruption and…
There was a knock on the door. "What the hell do you want!" It had slipped out before she could stop it and the door opened.
"Ooh, Mrs. Parker cussed!" the kids taunted.
Justine Edmonds, New Orleans Square Elementary School's principal, stepped into the room, a dark eyebrow arched. Clarisse blushed, turning her ears crimson, and nervously pushed back a strand of fiery red hair. "Good afternoon, Ms. Edmonds."
"Teacher said a bad word! Teacher said a bad word!" the children chanted.
"Do your math homework!" Clarisse snapped over her shoulder.
"We're done!"
"Do it again!" The redhead turned back to the principal. "What can I do for you, Justine?"
Ms. Edmonds bit her lip. "I'm afraid there's some bad news, Clarisse."