Chapter 21: A Ghost of a Chance

Author's note: Thank you for all of the reviews you sent; I really appreciate you letting me know which stories you like. Your comments help me decide which ones need sequels. Thank you for your enthusiasm; it keeps me motivated to write! In this installment, Human! Klaus is leading a paranormal investigation team to explore the famed Forbes' estate, one of the most haunted houses in the Midwest, much to the chagrin of its feisty, skeptical blonde owner.

The Dalton Gang was a real band of outlaws in Oklahoma and surrounding territories before it reached statehood. I tweaked historical facts to suit this story, and I encourage you to research them and other famous Oklahoma outlaws like Belle Starr. They mark a fascinating moment in our history.


"Look for ghosts; but none will force

Their way to me. 'Tis falsely said

That there was ever intercourse

Between the living and the dead."

— William Wordsworth, Affliction of Margaret


A bullet to the brain would be a welcome distraction. Caroline sighed heavily, listening to her mother summarize yet again all the ways in which her only child had disappointed her over the years and if she would do this one simple task for her, it wouldn't make up for her selfish abandonment, but it would be a small start. Scoffing, Caroline interrupted her mother's long-winded rant. "Simple task?! Seriously? You want me to fly 1900 miles to a house in the middle of nowhere we haven't lived in since I was an infant because some ghostbusters need a babysitter?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Caroline; it's only 1876 miles," her mother responded in a clipped tone.

Caroline pinched the bridge of her nose as she could feel her blood pressure rising. Her father's ancestral home, the Forbes estate, was located in the small town of Pawhuska, Oklahoma, and had developed quite the reputation as supposedly one of the most haunted houses in the Midwest. Her father had died of a heart attack right after she was born, and her mother moved them back to Texas to be near her family. Neither of them had returned to the house, but had employed several caretakers over the years to manage the property.

Her mother showed little interest in being a mother over the years, and Caroline had been mostly raised by a combination of overbearing, terrifyingly conservative relatives and her own spiteful stubbornness. As soon as Caroline graduated, she fled the state to pursue her education and never looked back. She had settled into a nice career in what was known as the 'Silicon Forest' and called her mother every few months as though it were her penance for her success.

Her mother mindlessly flitted from various society luncheons and charity balls in between excessive shopping trips. As a member of one of the elite oil families, she apparently felt she needed to do her part to keep up appearances. She was fond of reminding Caroline that she had no choice considering how shameful it was that her only daughter was still unmarried and part of the workforce as though she had no other options.

Apparently, a crew of paranormal investigators had contacted her mother seeking permission to explore the estate and film a cheesy, exploitative documentary complete with testimonials. They had sufficiently catered to her enormous ego and she had signed a contract agreeing to act as their tour guide at the estate. Unfortunately, her mother had been in a car wreck this week and managed to break her ankle (Caroline suspected this occurred after one of her mimosa-soaked society brunches), and she had no interest in being seen on camera in crutches.

Which is how Caroline found herself in this bizarre situation in which her mother called her out of the blue to ask for a favor while somehow managing to effortlessly work in multiple insults about her life choices. She could hear her mother regroup to start another psychological assault, and finally exhausted, she sighed loudly. "Fine! I'll do it. Feel free to go back to luring tasty children into your gingerbread house." This was going to be such a colossal waste of time.


Two plane changes, a missed connecting flight, and one flat tire on the rental car, and finally she was pulling into the gravel driveway of her ancestral home. There was a large white van with its cargo doors open, cables and bulky camera equipment spilling out haphazardly. The sign emblazoned on its side declared "Original Investigations", but no further details indicated the unusual nature of their business. Noting the noises coming from inside the house, it was clear that the caretaker had been available to let them in.

She could hear several pairs of feet moving around inside as she hesitantly climbed the front stone steps, a pit in her stomach as she crossed the threshold with trepidation. Angry at herself for momentarily giving into the nonsense that dogged her family's property, she squared her shoulders as she scanned the parlor for the crew of predictably geeky ghostbusters she was supposed to be babysitting. Seriously, only the saddest kind of grown man living in his mother's basement playing video games nonstop would be drawn to this line of work, she thought spitefully as she cast an appreciative eye over the gleaming cherry floors in the parlor.

She turned the corner to see a grand staircase and tried to register her surprise at the well-muscled back beautifully displayed in a tight black t-shirt that was arching with the grace of a skilled dancer as its owner attempted to hang some sort of recording equipment from the exposed beams. Fascinated by the delicate sheen of sweat lightly coating his dirty blonde curls, she inwardly sighed as she realized there was no possible way that the face would match that incredible body.

He descended the ladder and turned, revealing intense gray eyes, a strong jawline and an effortless confidence that was spellbinding to behold. Realizing she was gaping at the stranger, she quickly tried to regroup and think of something intelligent to say, but instead blurted out, "There's no way you're real. You're the stripper version of a ghostbuster." She slammed her eyes shut, wincing at her signature awkward outspokenness.

He chuckled in amusement, causing her to peek at him from underneath her lashes and was instantly dazzled by a pair of dimples that settled into a smirk announcing a special brand of trouble that she had to remind herself she did not have time for. He grasped her hand in a firm handshake, and she did her best to ignore the surge of electricity that traveled up her arm and down her spine at the warmth of his touch. "Klaus Mikaelson, cofounder of Original Investigations. You must be Caroline."

"Hello," she answered, hating the unnatural high pitch of her voice as she blushed under his perusal. That charming accent of his was completely unexpected. And completely unfair. She thought she detected a flicker of interest in the heat of his gaze, and she congratulated herself on carefully selecting a cream peasant blouse whose scoop neckline teased at her fabulous cleavage. Not that she was interested in these ghostbuster imitators and their nonsense — she just wanted to look nice on camera. Right. That sounded completely convincing. She watched in confusion as Klaus called her name and seemed to be asking her a question. Shaking her head, she said, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Good form, Nik, already boring the poor girl to tears," came a cheerful voice from behind them. An attractive man with a mischievous smile greeted her, taking it upon himself to grab her hand and kiss her knuckles, clearly in a bid to rile up Klaus. "Kol Mikaelson, CEO, founder, ruler, and emperor of Original Investigations, at your service."

Groaning, Klaus corrected him. "This is my younger brother Kol, cofounder of Original Investigations and our camera tech in addition to being a phenomenal disappointment."

She grinned at the brothers' light-hearted rivalry as they scowled at each other good-naturedly. "Nice to meet you both." She looked awkwardly around the room, noticing the beautifully designed plaster corbels that graced the archway over the stairs. She only had seen pictures of the outside of the estate before and couldn't help but be touched by the beautiful craftsmanship of the home her ancestors had commissioned. "So what happens next? I'm sure from your own likely terrifying interactions with my mother, it will amaze you to learn that she was rather thin on the details concerning my role in all of this."

Klaus' gray eyes lit up in amusement at her wry statement and he replied, "Well, I wouldn't call our interactions with Mrs. Forbes terrifying, but they were rather memorable, love."

Kol snorted. "Darling, she was a bloody nightmare! She demanded that any time she was on camera we were expected to use a diffusion filter to 'soften her unmentionables'. She got rather shirty with me when I told her we had no interest in filming her knickers."

Caroline bit the side of her cheek, but couldn't help the peals of laughter that burst forth. "I'm impressed she admitted she had wrinkles. You're lucky to have survived her wrath."

Shifting uncomfortably, Klaus answered, "It was at that point I realized my grievous error in allowing Kol to handle media relations and I assured Mrs. Forbes that while we could accommodate her request during testimonials, the majority of our film would be shot using night vision. If you require any special lighting or filters, sweetheart, we'll do our best to accommodate your request."

Bouncing on his toes, Kol was clearly anxious to say something. Before Caroline could reassure Klaus that she was quite proud of her 'unmentionables', Kol asked excitedly, "So what's it like being part of the absolutely barmy Forbes legacy? Is it true what they say about your great-great-grandfather?!"

Caroline sighed inwardly. She knew that agreeing to perform this ridiculous errand would mean having to revisit the house's history, but it wasn't something she talked about often; mainly because it was such a morbid topic and she didn't have detailed knowledge of the events.

In the 1860s, her great-great-grandfather, John Forbes, had commissioned the stately Victorian home to be built. Apparently, in his youth, he had struck up a friendship with the Dalton brothers, who went on to become outlaws, founding the Dalton Gang with a handful of other career criminals. The brothers clearly remembered John as the stories say they started hiding the loot from their train robberies on his estate. The townspeople heard rumors about the Dalton Gang's hidden treasure and one night confronted John in his home. Supposedly, the greedy mob hung him from the rafters in the parlor when he refused to tell them the location of the treasure. To this day, the typical rumors of hauntings and curses are attached to this house, adding to the mystery.

"Do I believe that my great-great-grandfather haunts the property and murders trespassers because he thinks they're after the Dalton Gang's treasure? Of course not. I believe that supernatural occurrences are just things that science hasn't explained yet." She hurriedly added in a softer tone, "I don't mean to disparage your work, and if you believe in that stuff, you're certainly welcome to your opinion. It's just that it's my family we're talking about and it's a little jarring to be back here after so long."

Klaus nodded, his tone understanding. "Of course, love. My brother didn't mean to be insensitive," he said, emphasizing the last word as he glared at Kol. "I'm surprised you agreed to do this since you're a skeptic."

Shrugging, she replied, "It's hard not to cave under the force of my mother's iron will. I figure if I do this, I can then return to my normal routine where I actively ignore her for the sake of my sanity."

Obviously impatient, Kol pressed, "But there's the whole mess with your own father and then most recently that teenage boy. How can you possibly dismiss all of that when supernatural evidence is right in front of you?"

"Kol! What have I told you about aggravating our clients?!" An irritated voice shouted from upstairs, and a dark-haired girl poked her head over the carved railing. "Get up here and finish helping me set up the equipment in the bedrooms!"

Grumbling under his breath, Kol stomped upstairs, leaving them behind. Klaus shook his head. "I apologize on behalf of my brother. That was Davina Claire, our equipment tech and data analyst. She keeps him in line better than I can." He sighed, adding, "We're just very committed to finding out the truth and it's easy for us to forget the emotions that can be tied to the places we investigate."

She gave him a small smile, helping him carry the ladder out of the room. "It's fine. I knew I'd be expected to talk about this stuff. I have to warn you though, I'm afraid I don't know very much about the house's history."

"Maybe we could start with what you do know about your father's death and take it from there," Klaus gently prodded, motioning for her to sit on a small chair covered in a faded paisley fabric. At her nod, he picked up a video camera and began filming her.

Taking a deep breath, Caroline began, "My father inherited this house from his aunt who had used it primarily as a vacation home when she missed the charm of small-town life. Obviously after the scandal and rumors that surrounded the Forbes name with the death of my great-great-grandfather, John, the house was abandoned for generations before restored by my great aunt. My parents moved in right after I was born, and to my knowledge, there was no unusual activity or any of the other occurrences that have been reported off and on over the years."

She bowed her head, not wanting to see pity in Klaus' eyes as she told the rest. "I was maybe a month old when my father died in the basement of the house. Distraught, my mother had no interest in continuing to live here, so she moved us to Texas to be near her family." She shrugged, resting her palms on the knees of her light-wash denim, unsure of herself. "That's really all there is to it, I'm afraid. No mysteries or rumors to speak of with that."

He set the video camera off to the side, turning it off before he asked, "But what about the shovel that was found? The officers on the scene reported that he was clutching a shovel."

She scoffed. "It didn't seem relevant to mention. He was likely just doing renovations. As you can see, my great-aunt's design aesthetic is a bit cloying and dowdy, so I'm sure he and my mother were in the process of redecorating since they had recently moved in." She waved her hand carelessly, adding, "You can't possibly believe that a shovel is somehow linked to the outlaws' hidden treasure or that my father's death was caused by the ghost of John Forbes."

Without comment, he raised a critical eyebrow, grasping the camera once again and turning it back on. "What can you tell me about the incident a decade ago?"

Refraining from rolling her eyes, Caroline answered, "There was no mystery with that and had nothing to do with this house or my family. A group of teenagers broke in one night and had a party. The authorities told us that a 16-year-old boy was strangled by one of the party goers. The kid admitted to it. Case closed."

Klaus' deep, accented voice challenged her statements. "You're leaving out suspicious details like the fact that the boy also was killed in the basement and the fact that while he bore the typical ligature marks of a noose, the murder weapon was never found."

"They obviously didn't need the murder weapon considering the murderer confessed," she argued, crossing her arms in front of her chest in exasperation.

"Except there are rumors that the boy was railroaded into confessing and his original testimony was that he blacked out in the basement with the victim and couldn't remember what happened," he smugly retorted, clearly enjoying the angry flush that was creeping up her neck.

Releasing an irritated growl, Caroline said, "Of course he would claim memory loss! That way, he could avoid a harsher sentence if he was found unstable. Seriously, it's like you've never watched CSI Miami reruns." Grinning, she slyly added, "But you do get bonus points for the use of 'ligature'."

"All right, love," he chuckled, "I'll let you have that one for now." He consulted his touchpad and said, "Is there anything you can tell me about your great-great-grandfather? Something that perhaps can't be found in the research of the Forbes estate?"

Caroline inwardly groaning at how effortlessly Klaus had disarmed her with his laughter and crafty banter. Mulling over his question, her blue eyes lit up as she thought of something that he probably wouldn't know from his research. "Well, the family stories say that John Forbes was always whistling this one tune, an old parlor song. Supposedly, he whistled the melody when he was courting his wife and just never stopped." She frowned, "I can't remember the name of it now though. Maybe I could figure it out later and you could add it to your video."

"What a great idea, love," Klaus said encouragingly. He noted the time and stood up, stretching slightly which briefly revealed a narrow strip of smooth, toned stomach. Caroline quickly averted her eyes before he caught her gawking at him once more. "Shall we get started exploring the mansion? I'd like to do a quick run-through while we still have the natural light."

They wandered down the long hallway and into the formal dining area, darkly stained wood paneling giving the room a severe but regal quality. Caroline ran her hand along the scalloped edges of one of the dozen chairs at the enormous table. While Klaus was filming the room, she asked curiously, "How did you and your brother get started with all of this?"

Klaus turned the camera off and gave her his full attention, his gray eyes blazing with an intensity that she found mesmerizing. "It was a combination of curiosity and the desire for unattainable knowledge mixed with the grief over the loss of our youngest brother, Henrik."

At her commiserating sounds, he continued gruffly, "He was 12 when he died of leukemia. After that, we kept noticing objects around our mother's house seemed to move when our heads were turned or would just go missing altogether. We also thought we could still feel his presence at times, so we started searching for answers and then our company was founded."

Caroline squeezed his hand, unsure of what to say. "How awful to lose a sibling so young. I didn't mean to pry," she said hesitantly.

Flashing her a small smile, he shook his head. "It's fine, sweetheart. I wanted to tell you. I didn't want you to think that we were some kind of rubbish occult group. We don't go in for séances or Ouija boards or any of that nonsense. We use scientific approaches with our investigations and I know it may seem odd to some, it's a growing field of study that we feel really passionate about."

Cocking his head to the side, he asked, "I suspect you have a very rational, logical job that fits neatly into your black-and-white, orderly world?"

Bristling slightly as she detected a hint of amusement in his tone, she said defensively, "I'm a software developer in Portland. It might not be as adventurous as being a ghostbuster, but I did lead the team that recently corrected the iCloud restore problem."

He blinked, impressed. "I recently recorded spine-chilling screeches in a cemetery in Nebraska."

"Really? So you finally have definitive proof of the supernatural," she asked skeptically.

Rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, he replied, "Not exactly. But I did accidentally learn not to get in the way of a feral cat in heat."

Giggling, Caroline led him toward the butler's pantry, where he resumed filming. "So tell me more about your encounters — the ones without cats. What kind of presences have you felt?"

"Places can have long memories. It is said that spirits can be harmless or malevolent. They can make you feel uncomfortable, affecting you physically and mentally depending upon the spirit. Our team of investigators never just assumes a place is haunted because of rumors or its history. We try to approach the situation from a place of science and logic, and try to eliminate other more likely possibilities first. For example, a homeowner sought us out claiming his residence was haunted because of excessive cold drafts and scratching noises in the attic. After a thorough examination, we discovered hidden AC vents and several bats that had become trapped in the attic when the siding had been replaced. We try to keep an open mind, but we also don't immediately become hysterical at the first sign of paranormal activity."

They opened the French doors to a narrow kitchen with a maple sideboard complete with lace doilies and a collection of iron tea kettles. "You didn't answer my question, Klaus. What about your experiences with real ghosts?"

Klaus sighed in resignation. "We've gathered proof over the years of the paranormal, but unfortunately it's nothing you would consider definitive. Our equipment has measured inexplicable cold spots, miscellaneous light orbs, wispy, nondescript shapes, but nothing you would deem believable — like possession."

"Ghost possession," she asked, intrigued despite her skepticism. "I thought that was just something Hollywood made up."

He paused briefly to check a small electronic device with a meter. "There have been accounts of ghosts possessing the living for ages. While we've never managed to capture anything of the sort on film, eyewitness accounts are staggering. Supposedly, when one is possessed it's similar to being drugged or you have moments where you lose time and black out, unable to recall anything."

Shivering at the unsettling portrait his words painted, she actually was relieved when Kol and Davina interrupted them. "Bloody hell, Nik! Davina and I have managed to finish wiring the whole place and you're still prattling on like a sodding schoolboy." His brown eyes twinkled mischievously at his brother's obvious irritation. "Surely you can do your job and close the deal with the lovely Caroline, eh?"

Snarling, Klaus pointed to the door where Davina was standing, unable to hide her teasing grin. "Out. Now. Go make yourselves useful while Caroline and I finish a final sweep of the downstairs and basement."

"Have a delightful time sweeping, dear brother," Kol offered with a saucy leer, exiting the room in haste when he heard Klaus' aggravated growl.

Turning to Caroline, he rubbed a hand over his face, his curls slightly rumpled from his fingers. "It appears that I will be spending the majority of our time together apologizing on Kol's behalf."

"It's fine, Klaus. His crudeness is somewhat charming and I suspect that high school me would have been all over that." She paused when she saw his dimples come out to play, bracketing a knowing smirk. "Not that I'm into that any longer. These days I like a bit more restraint and subtlety," she finished hurriedly, blushing when she realized how desperate that confession sounded.

At the top of the stairs that led down to the basement, he placed a hand against the wall by her head, leaning into her ever so slightly. "I must confess that subtlety isn't a Mikaelson trait, I'm afraid. Or restraint for that matter. Perhaps there are other qualities that might tempt you to overlook these glaring defects, love?"

She swallowed, noting their close proximity and the way his lips seemed to curve into a neat little bow just begging to be unraveled. "You're totally playing into my ghostbusters fantasy, aren't you? How did you know I had the biggest crush on Bill Murray in those movies?"

He laughed gently, his gray eyes regarding her with warmth and the hint of something akin to desire. "Lucky guess. You know, the Pacific Northwest is quite the hotbed of paranormal activity these days. Perhaps I could have the team focus some of its investigations in that area soon?"

"It seems like the only logical conclusion. I would hate for you to miss out on something amazing," she said a bit breathlessly.

"Agreed," he replied, before leaning down to capture her lips in a soft kiss that seemed to heat her from the inside out.

Unfortunately, before they could continue, Kol interrupted them with a loud shout. "Oy! Nik, get a move on before the sun sets; we agreed to do some outside shots too!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Klaus stepped away from Caroline, favoring her with an exasperated look. Together, they walked down the stairs, pausing at the closed door to the basement. Hesitating, Caroline bit her lip, warily staring at the heavy paneled door. "I — I thought I could handle it; seeing where my father died and all, but I don't think I can go in there," Caroline said quietly.

"It's fine, love," Klaus said gently, tilting her chin to look into her tearful blue eyes. "I'll just go in and get some video and then we'll head back upstairs together, all right?"

Nodding silently, Caroline watched as Klaus opened the door to the basement and then shut it behind him before she could see inside. She appreciated his sensitivity and reflected on how thoughtful he'd been so far. This experience was definitely not what she'd imagined it would be and was excited to see where it was heading. While she knew she didn't have the time for anything too serious at the moment, perhaps they could take it slow and who knew where they'd end up. It could be a new beginning.

Speaking of new beginnings, it was time to think about doing something productive with this property. It was ludicrous to think that this lovely home was just sitting here empty when it could be rented out to a large family. Just because she didn't have happy memories of this place didn't mean that it would be the same experience for others. She made a note to contact her family's property manager once she returned home.

The basement door opened swiftly, jarring her from her thoughts. Klaus stepped out of the room, oddly surprised to see her standing there. "Everything go okay in there," she asked.

"Better than I could have expected," he replied, stiffly walking with her up the staircase. To fill the silence between them, he began to whistle, the soothing melody washing over her as they climbed the stairs.

"What a pretty tune," Caroline commented as they reached the top of the stairs.

"Thank you. I've always enjoyed it," he answered with a wide grin.