Specter~Chapter 9

Quinn pulled her suitcases to the massive bed and began tossing stuff inside them. No way was she staying at the estate one minute longer. She had felt a presence, things moved on their own, the chilly streak down her cheek, and now a note left in her suite, bearing that woman's name. Nope, too many oddities to keep her there any longer. She scrambled looking for her cell phone and Emma's number but couldn't think straight to find either.

She was picking up her clothes that she had left scattered about the floor, then went to toss in her laptop and camera and remembered the pictures she had taken with the weird steamy images. She sat down on the bed to calm herself down and looked through the pictures again. Why had she thought Sam downstairs? She had only first heard that name that afternoon and, of course, in relation to Lucinda Fabbrae.

"I just need to calm down, I need to calm down," Quinn said out loud to herself. "Whatever is going on, they aren't trying to hurt me…they would've done that already." She rolled her eyes. "This isn't a horror movie, Quinn, this is real life!"

Maybe it's Lucinda trying to contact me…maybe Rachel since I am sleeping in Artie's bedroom…Quinn thought. Why would Rachel leave me a note saying Lucindy though? And why was it spelled Lucindy?

"Ugh…" Quinn muttered, looking around the still room. "Is it you Artie?"

Nothing but silence in the room. Sam watched and listened to all this; he was trying to gauge her reaction to the piece of paper he had written on. At first blush, he was pretty sure she was going to run…now, though, as she sat on the bed he thought there might be a chance she'd stay. As long as he didn't scare her anymore…he'd have to trust that she'd open Lucinda's trunk.

Quinn slowly began unpacking her suitcases. She would stay until she felt she was in harm. Truthfully, she had felt quite comfortable there since arriving, almost as if she had been there before. She shook that feeling off as doing all the research the past couple days but she also couldn't deny she had felt it since arriving in Battenfield. And the picture…the picture of Rachel and Lucinda…seeing that girl's face, so much like her own, had really freaked her out yet it was if she expected to see herself standing next to Rachel Berry. And, though she had been startled nearly out of her wits just a moment ago, she still didn't feel truly in fear. She walked into the sitting room and picked up the piece of paper from where she had dropped it.

Back in the bedroom she said to the open space, "I don't know who you are or what you want with me…I will stay here as long as you don't try to hurt me…"

Sam listened to her words; it hurt him to think she'd think he'd ever try to hurt her.

"I need answers though…why me? Why is it me you're seeking?"

The room was quiet. She hadn't expected someone to appear suddenly and begin answering her questions…she didn't know what to expect. She picked up her camera and began snapping shots around the room. She started by pointing the camera to her left, then in front of her, then to her right, and then behind her.

She looked at all four shots and saw a smoky image on the third one. She looked directly where Sam was standing, staring at her.

"You're here, aren't you?" she asked quietly, smiling a bit, dropping her camera to the bed.

She walked toward where the smoky streaks appeared in her picture. It surprised him that she honed in on him so quickly. She stopped mere inches away from him. She reached out into the nothingness.

Her hand was suddenly chilled. She pulled her hand back and gasped a bit. He floated away from her. She reached out again but there was no chill. She frowned.

"Why are you hiding from me? I want to know more about you," Quinn said.

Sam watched from behind her. Eventually, she sat down on the bed again.

"This is insane," she said finally. "I'm standing in here talking to ghosts, expecting them to answer me! Oh my god! It's like The Shining…I'm losing my mind!"

She laughed a bit and opened her laptop.

He wanted nothing more to be able to answer her, to let her know who he was and what she meant to him, what he had meant to her.

She emailed her mom and Santana that things were going fine at the estate, no worries whatsoever. She emailed Noah that it'd be nice to see him soon. She then turned to Google. She wasn't even sure what to research. Spooks? Hauntings? Ghosts? She sighed. She finally typed in 'paranormal activity'. She'd seen the movies. It certainly wasn't that bad at the estate, at least she hoped it didn't get that bad.

She learned that there are ghosts, spirits, poltergeists, and hauntings. She had not seen anything, except on her camera, and had not heard anything so she felt she was dealing with a spirit. She read about trapped spirits and free spirits. She read about how it might feel to a human to experience the presence of a spirit. The more she read, the more convinced she was that someone or something was trying to communicate with her. Exhausted and crashing from her earlier adrenaline burst, she shut the laptop and fell asleep with a light on.

He watched her sleep and decided he wasn't going to stray far from the estate until he had figured out a way to communicate with her. He picked up the slip of paper he had written on and set it on her nightstand.

xxxxx

In the morning, Quinn woke up, stretched, then saw the piece of paper on the nightstand. She didn't remember putting it there the night before but then again couldn't really remember much of what happened then. She decided to ask Emma for more details about the estate.

Once in the office (again, the Lucinda Fabbrae trunk had been moved), Quinn decided to broach the subject carefully.

"Um, Emma? Have you ever noticed anything…odd...happening here?" Quinn asked her.

"Odd? Such as?" Emma asked, afraid this topic was going to come up eventually.

"Like, things moving that shouldn't be able to move on their own," Quinn said.

"Oh…" Emma cleared her throat and sitting up straighter. "That's happened a time or two."

"So, you've experienced a-a presence-then?"

"I'd have to say I have. As has William. We think they are friendly spirits…"

"They?" Quinn asked, shocked.

"We've always thought there is more than one spirit lingering about the estate. Nothing evil though," Emma said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Has something happened overnight that you're concerned about?"

Quinn decided to hold back on the images on her camera and the chill she felt sometimes and the piece of paper with Lucindy written on it.

"There is a trunk in the basement that seems to be moved every morning," she told Emma.

Emma chuckled. "Sounds like our little buddies are at it again!"

Quinn looked dumbfounded.

"It's probably because they sense you are here, someone new to tease," Emma said. "They're harmless. I hope this doesn't scare you off; your help so far this week has been indispensable to the estate."

"Oh, no, I'm not scared…just a bit concerned, that's all," Quinn told her. "Have they ever tried to communicate with you?"

Emma thought for a moment. "No, not that I'm aware. They usually move things of mine, really just to annoy me. With Will, it's the same…he might set something down in the kitchen and go back to it and it's been moved to the front salon…that kind of thing."

"Okay, that at least makes me feel more at ease, then," Quinn said. In a way, it did. On the other hand, two spirits? How many was she dealing with?

After that conversation and researching the next couple days away, Quinn relaxed on the back patio that evening with a mojito to celebrate one week of working at the estate. She so needed the drink. She had found white rum and lime juice in the kitchen, so she mixed them up herself using fresh mint from the estate and called Santana.

"It sucks here! It's loud, dirty, everyone's a cranky bitch, and the only Spanish I'm speaking is down at the Mexican place or the coffee bar where the barista is Latina…oh my god," Santana grumbled. "How about you? What're you doing this weekend?"

She sipped on her drink.

"I'm sorry to hear that, San. It's going fine here. I'm getting a lot of research done for the estate, the place is haunted, I have my own personal chef…"

"Wait-what?"

"I have my own personal chef. He's great. He's also the gardener and -"

"Haunted! You said the place is haunted!"

"Oh…right. A little, I guess. Friendly ghosts," Quinn said, giggling a bit as she finished her drink. She poured herself another. "Ya know, like Casper!"

Sam watched this exchange with amusement. Santana was stunned into silence on the other end of the phone.

"Emma, the lady I work with, said that this has been happening for some time…they move things around," Quinn told her.

"There's more than one? How does she know?" Santana asked her, snapping out of her shock.

"Hmm, I don't know how she knows, Santana! It's been happening to me too, though…this one trunk in the basement keeps moving," Quinn said, sipping her drink. Sam sat up straighter when he heard her mention Lucinda's trunk.

"Really? The same trunk keeps moving?" Santana said.

"Mhmm…"

"Then maybe you should check it out, Quinn! It's probably a sign!" Santana nearly shrieked on the other end.

"Check it out? We'll get to it eventually…"

"No! Check it out like now! Or tomorrow! Or your next available research time!"

"Well, it's the weekend and Emma won't be back until Monday…I'm going to explore the town tomorrow and check out the library," Quinn said, running her finger around the glass's rim. Sam watched her intently. If only he could mentally will her to go open Lucinda's trunk…

"Now I need to know what's in that trunk!" Santana said, laughing. "You're not, like, afraid at all to stay there alone?"

Quinn thought for a moment, remembering a couple nights ago when she nearly packed her bags and left.

"I'm good," she replied, smiling and finishing her drink.

xxxxx

On Saturday morning, Quinn set off from the estate to walk to town. She needed the exercise and the weather was gorgeous so she put on some shorts and sneakers, a t-shirt, and a sun hat and off she went. She carried her laptop in her backpack for hopeful research at the library. She had her list of names to check out and she also wanted to research this Lizzy Dean shipwreck.

She walked out to the lane to take her to the road into town. She crossed the stone bridge and listened to the birds singing their early morning songs to one another.

She had slept fine the night before-the mojitos probably helped-but couldn't help to feel she was not alone most times. She had not felt the cool presence again and had not seen any inanimate objects out of place, though she had not ventured down to the basement either.

It took her nearly 20 minutes to get out to the road, and she turned right and headed toward Battenfield. Sam followed behind her, floating amongst the trees of the forest, thinking of how he used to stop her on this very road as she took the eggs to town. If only she'd have some memory of it…

The road to town was quiet, hardly any traffic. It took her another 20 minutes to start seeing the houses on Main Street.

From what Quinn could see from that end of the town, along Main Street, it was a very quaint seaside town, sitting high up on a bluff like the Abrams estate. The houses sat close to Main Street and were painted lively colors of yellow, blue, even a pink and purple. Some were brick with flat faces directly on the street. All were adorned with pretty flowers and gates and walkways. There were several cross streets as she approached the very center of the town. She passed a Jackson, then an Adams, then a Washington.

I wonder if the Evans homestead is still out north of town? she thought and then stopped in her tracks. Why did I just think that? Like the thought about Rachel's hat.

She shook her head, confused, and continued onward.

The houses gave way to businesses...a stationery shop, antiques, a fish market, a fruit stand, a general store.

I wonder if they still sell fresh eggs? she thought and again stopped in her tracks. The feeling of déjà vu was tremendous, nearly overwhelming to her. Well, I will just put this theory to test!

She walked into the general store, stood there a moment, then walked directly to the back right corner where there was a sign stating fresh eggs. She left the store quickly, found a bench on the sidewalk, and sat down, freaking out a little. Sam watched all this; he knew the general store and it really hadn't changed too much in the past 100 or so years. They added electricity but they still bought and sold fresh eggs, even from the same spot within the store. He watched her go directly to that spot and then flee. He could sense that maybe, just maybe, some of this was coming back to her. He sat next to her on the bench and, really without thinking, reached out and touched her arm.

The sudden cool chill caused her to yank her arm away and hold it close to her, almost as if she had been burned. She stared at the empty space next to her on the bench.

"Why are you following me?" she hissed quietly, anger and fear flashing in her beautiful eyes.

He would've given anything to be able to reassure her that he was there for her, to be able to hold her so she wouldn't be afraid.

When there was no response, Quinn sighed. Okay, that was weird, I'm sure lots of markets in these coastal towns sell fresh eggs and I just knew where to look. She looked up and down Main Street for the library. Emma had told her it was off the street where there was an old schoolhouse, Carter Street. Quinn spotted a brick three-story building a couple blocks past the center of town so headed down that way. As she approached the brick school building, again the feeling of knowing the place washed over her again.

I loved those photography classes there, Quinn thought out of the blue. No! No I didn't! I've never even seen that building!

She saw that she was at Carter Street and turned right, a little flustered by the thoughts she kept having. The library was just a couple blocks down. It seemed to be a busy place with many people and children coming and going. A good distraction, she thought.

As she neared the building, she thought It's been updated! and then shook her head again. She had expected an old style two-story-tall Carnegie library, made of sandstone and with great columns at the front, she wasn't sure why, but this building was definitely modernized. It was still sandstone but had smooth lines and angles. It was still two stories tall but had impressive windows, a large entryway with smooth stone steps that gleamed in the sunlight, and even a side patio where Quinn saw people reading and enjoying a latte or tea. The feeling of déjà vu wasn't as strong but she wondered if that was because the building had been modernized.

The old oaks haven't changed much, she thought and grimaced, rubbing her temples. Where were these thoughts coming from?

She knew where she might find some answers. She walked up the steps to the heavy oaken doors, took a deep breath, and entered the library.