Well! I've had a few people asking for the next chapter, so here it is. Congratulations to those of you who are graduates of the Scooby Doo detective agency and have figured out the identity of the ghost. As for what happens with him, well…you'll just have to wait and see, so there. This chapter is dedicated to Kay Zozma, who wrote me a very nice email. You too can get chapters dedicated to you if you send me a nice review, or an email, or a pretty picture.
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The Peacecraft Castle was nothing out of the ordinary, at least in the exterior. It was large, and it was old. Bits of the masonry were crumbling, the arrow-slits were now covered with windowpanes, and the gargoyle waterspouts had been tarnished from years of gurgling hard water. Pennants flew from the tops of the turrets, rose-colored flags bearing the Peacecraft name and their coat of arms, as well as the Peacecraft Rose. Catherine was snapping photos on a disposable camera, to be logged into her 'travel scrapbook.' The professional cameras were strictly reserved for work.
"Well, slap me shitless. If this isn't a haunted castle, then I'm a member of the Russian Ballet!" Duo proclaimed with a low whistle. The five scientists hoisted their duffel bags and proceeded through the excessively large wooden doors, the iron handles clanking and the rusty hinges squeaking with a mighty cacophony. They had barely stepped two feet into the main hallway when a woman briskly stepped up to them, glaring venomously. Her long blonde hair swished about her waist, and her odd, forked eyebrows were narrowed over coldly glittering blue eyes.
"If you want to take the tour, you have to pay. Nobody gets in here for free, you know," she stated sharply, delicate white hands on her hips.
"Back off, lady, we're scientists," Wufei informed her. [1]
The woman practically growled at him. "Scientists or no, you still have to pay."
Trowa stepped forward, looking very official in his black turtleneck and khaki-colored cargo vest. Khaki-colored cargo vests were the required attire of all paranormal researchers. "We were invited here by Miss Darlian. I'm Dr. Barton, the parapsychologist, and these are my colleagues. We've come here from America to investigate this castle."
"Oh, I beg your pardon. I'm Dorothy Catalonia, the castle's historian and tour guide du jour. Usually we have Mariemaia handling the tourists, but she took the day off so I'm stuck with this abominable task."
Trowa nodded. "I see. Well, Miss Catalonia, as you are the historian, maybe you could give us an overview of the castle and tell us a little about the spiritual anomaly I've been hearing so much about?"
"This castle has such an interesting history, and a very long one at that. Before there ever was a castle, this land was home to a ruling party of Celtic warlords and ancient Druids. A fortress was built on this property in the Dark Ages, but by the beginning of the Crusades it had fallen into disrepair. The Peacecraft family, Miss Relena's ancestry, built the current castle in the mid 1500's. Their family resided in it for several generations, until it fell into disuse in the early 1700's.
"Towards the mid to late 1800's a Peacecraft relative by the name of Winner and his family took up residence in the castle. Olivier Winner, I believe, was the man's name. And he had thirty children…though most of them died from the various epidemics flying around Europe. Out of all these children, there was only one son. Just after the boy's twenty-third birthday he committed suicide. The gardener came around to the rose garden in the rear of the castle and found Young Master Winner lying among the hedges, his bedroom window wide open. It was believed he jumped, though it is uncertain why. All of the records regarding the Winner family were destroyed not long after the boy's death. We don't even know what his first name was."
"And you believe the ghost is of the Winner boy?" Heero asked, nudging the tasseled corner of a rug with his sneakered toe.
"Positive," Dorothy affirmed. "No one else has died in this castle. No one else that we know of, anyway. Yes, Young Master Winner's spirit roamed about for quite some time, but went into hiding during the World Wars. When Miss Relena's grandmother opened this palace up to tourists in the late Sixties, he began reappearing and has continued to make his presence known to this day."
"So what's the ghost do? Your usual creak the floorboards and give icy drafts? Because it sounds to me like there isn't much to this Winner kid," Duo said pointedly. Dorothy shook her head, directing the Wing members away from the front hall and into the main reception room of the castle, where a large oak dining table was bright with candles, wax oozing into blobby puddles.
"Oh, he makes it a habit to show himself daily, at three specific times. He's so punctual that we have all the clocks in the castle set by him."
Catherine raised an eyebrow, still clicking away with her disposable camera, the flash incessantly…well, flashing. Her 'work camera' dangled from a strap around her neck, the oversized lens bouncing against her chest as she moved.
"Really? That's so awesome. None of our other ghosts have been so…showy."
The blonde woman nodded, a slightly smirking smile playing on her magenta lips.
"Oh, he's such a ham. He comes at four, for tea, and is insistent we have a cup waiting for him; otherwise, he throws china. Then he'll appear again at nine-thirty, walk up the stairs to the bedchambers, and begin playing music…violin, mostly, piano if he's feeling up to it. And then he appears once again at precisely four minutes after midnight to walk in the rose garden where he died. And Young Master Winner always signals his arrival with a sort of unusual fragrance."
"Like rotting flesh? We've had one of those," Wufei suggested.
"No, this one is more like perfume. Roses, and a touch of cinnamon, and sandalwood, bergamot, white jasmine, and a hint of incense," Dorothy corrected. Trowa was jotting all of this down on another Steno pad, a small one he kept in a vest pocket.
At this point another woman appeared, dressed in a gauzy pale pink gown, her golden hair pulled back with a silver and rose headband. She smiled benignly at them, bunching her skirt in her hands and curtsying. With a flick of her hair, she walked over to Trowa and extended a hand.
"You must be Dr. Barton. I'm Relena Darlian," she said genteelly. "And you must be the lovely Miss Bloom I spoke with."
Catherine wrinkled her nose. "Catherine, if you don't mind. And I'm pretty sure Trowa will say I'm anything but lovely. Isn't that right, Tro?"
"I'll vouch for that one!" Duo crowed. "Duo Maxwell, amazing psychic. And these two gargoyles are Wufei Chang and my darling beloved Heero Yuy!"
"It's a pleasure to meet all of you. Now Dorothy, if you don't mind, it's approaching the four o'clock hour. I invite you all to join us at tea, I'm sure you could use some refreshment after your travels," Relena offered. They nodded as one, nudging their bags out of the way. Dorothy spirited away with a delicate-looking teapot in hand.
As the researchers and their host sat down around the table, Trowa glanced over at Heero and Wufei with an inquiring glance. They discreetly shook their heads, indicating that no; they would not be hauling out any of the equipment until after tea, ghost or no ghost. He nodded in return and sat down beside his sister, who was poking at the chair at the end of the table, the empty one reserved for Master Winner.
"So…where in America are you fine people from?" Relena asked, idly playing with her teaspoon.
"Salem, Massachusetts. It was Tro's odd sense of humor to set up a phantom-investigating agency in the home of the witch trials. Actually, we live not too far from the infamous Salem Witch Museum," Catherine answered.
"I wanted Cathy to be put in there as an exhibit when we were kids," Trowa added quietly, evoking peals of laughter from everyone. Dorothy arrived minutes later with a teacart piled with an assortment of hunger-invoking pastries oozing instant sugar high. She calmly poured everyone a cup, including the specter not yet present, and placed the pot in the center of the table with the cream and sugar. The ghost's tea was taken care of, two sugars and a splash of cream, and they all sat and waited for the clock to chime.
An ancient grandfather clock somewhere in the main foyer suddenly bellowed, reminding everyone that yes, it was still alive. Deep, sonorous gongs tolled the hour in an almost morbid peal reminiscent of the dreaded ebony clock from Edgar Allen Poe's horror tale Masque of the Red Death. The members of the Wing Agency turned their heads towards the empty chair, waiting for something to happen. Relena merely smiled, sipping daintily at her tea.
"Here he comes."
The air was suddenly permeated with a thick and heady smell, like a heavy cloud of perfume that roiled in the room's atmosphere. Catherine whipped out her camera and, in exactly two-point-six seconds, inserted a roll of extra-sensitive film, wound it, and had the flash charged. Duo's amethyst eyes shifted uneasily about the room, as if he could sense the incoming presence.
"Something's here, Trowa," he stated, his gaze following an invisible presence to the chair. Catherine, sitting closest to said chair, suddenly gasped and started snapping pictures. The chair's velvet cushion had an indentation in it, as if someone's weight were being put upon it.
"Good afternoon, Young Master Winner, we fixed your tea as you like it…cream and two sugars," Relena informed the specter. "Don't pay mind to our guests, they've come all the way from America just to meet you."
The teaspoon started vibrating on the table, before being lifted up and swirled around by an unseen hand. Relena and Dorothy seemed to pay no attention to the fact that a teacup and spoon were floating in midair, Catherine was snapping pictures like mad, and everyone else was staring wide-eyed.
"Um, Cathykins? Our happy deceased friend wants me to tell you that he's never liked having his portrait taken, so could you please stop? And Wu, he says you're freaking him out, so quit goggling at him, lovely," Duo said nervously, his face incredibly pale. Catherine quickly pocketed the camera and Wufei turned his attention to the half-eaten éclair on his saucer. Trowa gave a small half-smile in the general direction of the spirit, nodding an acknowledgement.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Trowa Barton, from Massachusetts. I hope you won't be offended if my friends and I follow you this weekend," he said casually, as if he weren't talking to a long-dead young man.
"He says that as long as we don't try to hurt him or Relena and Dorothy he'll be perfectly fine. And he also says next time, a little more cream in the tea," Duo reported.
Dorothy narrowed her eyes, directing her cold glare at Heero. "Can he really hear what's being said to him?"
Heero glared back just as coldly, twisting the wedding band on his finger in agitation.
"I wouldn't have married him if I didn't think he could."
There was an eddy of cold air that rushed about the room, and as suddenly as it came, it went, along with that strong aroma that personified the Winner ghost. Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, especially Duo.
"He seemed nice enough," the braided man said, helping himself to another tea sandwich. "Though it was weird being spoken to so directly. That's never happened before, I'll tell you that."
"I hope these pictures turn out well. Do you have any place I could use as a dark room?" Catherine inquired, poking at her camera. Relena pursed her lips.
"There's an empty storage closet in the hall where your rooms are. Will that do?"
The redheaded woman nodded, a slightly giddy smile tugging at her lips. Wufei and Heero excused themselves to start unpacking and testing their equipment, Trowa following them to supervise. As he rose from the table, Duo beckoned for him to lean over.
"Quatre," he whispered. "He wanted you to know that his name is Quatre."
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[1] This was a line uttered by Bill Murray in Ghostbusters. I couldn't resist putting it in. And stop snickering, Nicki. I am well aware of my former fetish, I don't need you reminding me about that or wet cheesecake so shut up. More excitement to come in the next chapter, but you'll just have to wait and see. Again, if you send me a lovely review, or a nice letter, or something pretty, I'll dedicate a chapter to you. Maybe you'll make an appearance in the story if you're that lucky.