A/N: Okay! Sorry for the long wait! Work was crazy and my words wouldn't flow, but I was determined to get this up and running, so here it is! My apologies in advance if certain things don't sound right. I'm writing this after two glasses of wine, which is a terrible idea, but it got me through 5 pages in the Word doc :D
Enjoy!
xXx
CeruleanBlues
Whisper in my Ear
Chapter 9
Wednesday, 1.25am
/Sam Evans
"You do realize they're talking about us, right?"
The gravel crunches beneath our feet as I chuckle in reply. Glancing over my shoulder back at my group, I notice how they're still going on about it, their voices ringing high in the night. "They're not exactly the most discreet bunch of people," I tell her. "But at least they're not squabbling, so I'm actually grateful for that."
She arches an eyebrow and tilts her head slightly upwards to look at me, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I think they're pretty nice," she says as we climb up the small set of marble stairs to the main porch.
We pause in front of the huge entrance door. "I didn't say they're not," I counter back good-naturedly, reaching for the old-fashioned bronze handle. "Sometimes it feels like I'm running a kindergarten."
Quinn giggles in return, her child-like happiness doing all kinds of funny in my stomach, and for a fleeting moment I almost forget why we're here, standing in front of a mansion. All I want to do right now is grab her and kiss her senseless, and then sweep her off her feet, like literally, you know, with the whole carrying her bridal style in a super macho way, then whisking her some place romantic and—
"Should we go inside?" she asks, jolting me out of my reverie.
I let out an awkward cough and clear my throat, feeling the heat creeping into my face. God, why do I have to be so lame? "Yeah, sure." I croak out as I scramble to open the door. "After you."
"Thanks," she whispers, cautiously entering the house.
I hit the red button on my mini-DV to start the recording, and I see Quinn do the same. The door clicks shut with an audible thump and automatically my investigator mode kicks in. We shine our flashlights around the lobby area, taking in the surroundings as I allow Quinn some time to adjust herself to the darkness. She seems calm enough, I suppose, for a rookie, and then turns to me expectantly.
"So, now what?" she wonders, her brows furrowing.
"Why don't you start?" I suggest. "I'm giving this session to you. I want to see how you work, so that I can tell you what you need to improve on."
She nods her head, but I can tell that she's nervous about this arrangement. "Okay," she says, her voice wavering and uncertain. "But you'll—"
"I'll be here with you," I assure her. "I'll help you along the way and give you pointers now and then, but you're going to steer the ship."
"But how do I begin?"
"It's always good to introduce yourself," I tell her. "So that you sound friendly and approachable."
"Alright," she shrugs and takes a deep breath. "Hello? Erm…I'm Quinn and he's Sam, and we're not going to hurt you or anything, but we'd just like to know a few things."
I decide to help her out a bit, because she sounds kind of lost, unsure of exactly whom—or what—she's supposed to talk to. "If there's anybody here with us, could you make a noise, or give us a sign, or come forward and touch one of us."
Quinn whips her head around to stare wide-eyed at me. "What?"
Oh, okay, perhaps that's a little too sudden. "Sorry, I mean, you can come touch me, or poke me, or push me even," I say, pointing my flashlight towards the infamous flight of stairs. "You did that to the door earlier, didn't you? Did you not like Finn in here? Were you the one who touched Mike too?"
Without the EVP listener, it's slightly more difficult to pick out sounds that are unusual, and the mini-DV catches every tiny movement we make, so we'll have to minimize our noise as much as possible to avoid future confusions during analysis.
It's still and quiet in the lobby, the air relatively static and slightly warm for such a cool night, but there's still a sort of lingering anticipation that I can't explain. When you've visited numerous locations from all across the country, you just tend to get the vibe when something's not right.
Quinn shines her flashlight towards the ceiling, where a chandelier hangs from the center of the room, and the crystal ornaments glisten like stars in the sky, bouncing colors off the tiled flooring and plain walls. She fixes her gaze there for a while, as if she's figuring something out, and I want to know what's on her mind.
"Did you see that?" she blurts out just then.
"What?" I ask, pointing my flashlight up at the direction she's referring to. "What is it?"
"It just moved."
"I don't think—"
"See that part over there?" she cuts in, circling a particular spot with her beam. "Just look at the strands that are dangling. Three of them are swaying."
How does she even see that?
"Hang on," I say, holding the mini-DV up and zooming in to get a closer look. "Well—"
There's a sudden flash of movement, somewhere in all the blackness right at the corner of my eyes, and I do a fast pan of my camcorder, not wanting to scare it off with my torchlight. The night vision doesn't pick up on anything abnormal, so I quickly dismiss it as a play of vision. The brain can sometimes trick you into thinking something's happening because it's just trying to make sense of the situation, and I've learned not to dwell on it. "Why don't you come forward? Do you not want us here?"
"Sam!" Quinn suddenly hisses. "I think there's something on the second landing."
I dart my eyes over to the spot and squint up at it, but I don't see anything unusual. "Quinn, I'm not—"
"You don't scare me, you know," she declares, her tone stronger than before. "What are you still doing here? Why are you hurting people?"
I blink, and I think my jaw just drop. She's leaving me dumbstruck now, and I'm not prepared for that total one-eighty, until I realize that she's initiating an EVP session. Fishing the digital audio recorder out of my pocket, I do a quick tag of the file. "South Oak Mansion, Sam and Quinn in the lobby, commencing EVP session," I speak into the device and then pass it to her. "Use this."
Balancing the flashlight and mini-DV in one hand, she takes the audio recorder from me. She turns back around and then tenses for a split second. "It's gone. Now it's all black. I swear there was a spot that's darker than the rest."
Rule one of being a team leader: Always trust your fellow investigators.
"Why don't we go over?" I propose. "Move towards the source."
"Alright."
I let her lead the way since she doesn't seem so hesitant anymore, and I figure it's a good opportunity to do an EMF reading of the area. She's already at the foot of the stairwell, and I'm a couple of paces behind but as I'm reaching into my pants for the KII meter, all of a sudden I feel a chill in front of my chest, and the next thing I know, my flashlight is knocked out of my hand.
"Ah, shit!" I exclaim as it clatters to the floor a few feet away. "Fuck!"
There's a stinging sensation in my fingers, a numbness that's pulsing, and it hurts like hell when I try to clench and unclench my fist.
"Are you okay?" Quinn asks.
The pain is gradually subsiding and the blood's flowing again, but damn, my heart's still jumping in my ribcage. "Yeah," I breathe, swallowing the dry lump in my throat. Holy shit! That was fucking out of this world. I've had paranormal experiences before, like tugs on my hair or my clothes, but never something quite like this. It's just surreal, and I'm trying to soak it in.
"What happened?" she murmurs.
I bend down to retrieve the flashlight, examining it in my palm. "It just got knocked out of my hand," I explain to her. "And right after, there's this unexplainable feeling, like my whole arm went numb."
"Jesus Christ," she whispers. "You sure it didn't just slip off?"
"Yeah," I reply with a nod as I inspect the frictional surface of the object, making sure to cover all possibilities. "Damn, that hurts. Did you catch it on video?"
She shakes her head regretfully. "I don't think so."
"Shit."
"Harley, you have to stop this," Quinn calls out, a slight anger coating her words. She's craning her neck around, like she's searching for something—or someone—and for the first time tonight, she intrigues me in a whole different way.
Harley? What does she mean by Harley? Harley Jones?
"Why are you hurting people?" she questions again.
A loud thump echoes through the lobby.
"What was that?"
I shush her up, holding a finger up to my lips just as another one reverberates off the walls.
Another one.
And another one.
Each sound progressively louder than the previous one.
"The KII meter's lighting up, Sam," Quinn informs me as she points to the device that's poking out of my pocket.
Three of the bulbs are going off like crazy, and I hold it up in front of me so that the camcorder is able to capture the activity. "This is insane," I mutter to myself as the pounding continues; now sounding as though a herd of elephants is stampeding through the building, and it's still going.
"Alright, we get it!" Quinn yells over the noise.
Instantly, everything ceases and the room is once again engulfed in silence.
The walkie-talkie crackles then, startling Quinn as she jumps a little.
"Artie to Sam and Quinn."
I place the KII EMF meter down on the steps and reach behind for the communicating device. "Go for Sam."
"What's going on in there? Are you guys okay?" Artie asks. "It sounded like an earthquake. You know, there's a camcorder on the window sill, so you two better not be having sex on that stairwell."
I roll my eyes at his crude ways. Trust Artie to make each and every situation as inappropriate as possible.
"We're fine," I reply back. "Noted. Over and out."
Slipping the walkie-talkie back into my pocket, I glance over at Quinn. She looks mildly spooked by all that's happening, and truthfully, I don't blame her one bit. All of the activity so far has gotten me quite ruffled up around the edges as well, and it's fucking up my concentration, but we've got a job to do. I'm a team leader, and I've got to set an example for my fellow investigators; which means that I have to pick up my balls from the floor and face this entity like a man. "You alright?"
She meets my eyes with a concerned frown. "I don't like this," she murmurs shakily. "Whatever's in here is definitely not friendly."
"At least it's trying to communicate with us, and that's all I'm asking for."
Quinn purses her lips together. "It's Harley. He doesn't want us here."
Picking up the KII EMF meter from the floor, I can't help wondering about her fascination. "How are you so sure?" I ask as I continue making my way up the stairs, mentally noting how it's settled on an average point one on the device.
Her footsteps echo behind me. "It—it's a hunch," she admits. "But everything that had happened tonight certainly points to him, I mean, I guess it's obvious, right?"
I pause at the door. "What's obvious?"
"Don't you see a pattern here? All of the experiences so far happened only to the guys," she reasons out patiently. "The door, Mike, and then your flashlight. They can't be coincidences that—" She whips around all of a sudden. "Something just walked past behind me, I swear."
"What?" I take a step forward, shining my flashlight at the spot, and then circling her to double-check. Always eliminate the possibilities. "There's nothing, Quinn. What does it feel like?"
"Like there's a cool brush of air of some sort," she explains. "It was a quick whoosh. I don't know what to make of it."
"Why don't we just head into the room," I suggest. "We've lingered out here long enough. There's an audio recorder next to the mini-DV on the windowsill. If there's anything Harley wants to say, it will be recorded."
"So you think Harley's the one?"
I wrap my fingers round the cool metal knob of the door and twist it open. "It's a probability, but you shouldn't close your mind on that option until we gather solid evidence that it's indeed him."
"Right," she nods, entering the room. "Of course. Evidence."
I hate being the bad guy here, but she has to see it in an investigator's point of view, and judging by her tone, I'm pretty sure she understands where I'm coming from. With the camcorder strategically in front of me and the KII meter pointing in the same direction, I release the doorknob and follow her in—only to halt to a stop when I feel a sharp tug on the collar of my shirt.
"What the—"
Whirling around, I register that there's nothing—or no one—standing behind me that could've done anything. I decide to let that pass, hoping that it's being captured by the stationary mini-DV, but as I'm turning back to talk to Quinn about it, the door slams shut in my face. From the other side, I can hear her gasp, and a couple of frantic footsteps later, she's jiggling the knob.
"Sam, it's stuck!"
A/N: Don't shoot me! Gosh, writing this chapter felt like I was pulling teeth out! It's so much tougher than I thought, and I'm not functioning right at the moment, but I hope you guys actually find this better than me! Be gentle, please…
Quam314159: Thank you for reading and reviewing, and thank you for the lovely comments! Much appreciated!
RJRRAA: Hi there! I love your assumptions, and I think I'll take you up on that suggestion :D Don't worry, I'll be sure to credit you! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Much loves!
Alli2345: Hello! Thank you for reading and reviewing! I'm glad that you're liking the story so far! This is part one of Sam and Quinn's investigation, but I hope it's doing them some justice! I really enjoyed writing Rachel's point of view! She's hilarious!
IShipFabrevans: Awwww! You're too kind! Imagining the interactions between Mike and Rachel was fun, especially since they don't talk to each other much in the actual show, so I'd love to think of the possibilities of their friendship, and their partner dynamics :D You've picked up on really interesting points, which hopefully you'll soon uncover! Cheers! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! So greatly appreciate it!
