Looking out at the world

Mrs. Mills stopped for a moment to take a quick peek out of the sitting room windows, watching cautiously as a taxi from the nearby town carefully made its way to the front door. "Another set? So soon?" She shrugged, motioning the serving girl Lydia to continue her dusting. "Well hopefully this one won't be as much trouble as the last one was."

"Who won't be as much trouble?" a young girl's voice floated out of the shadows. Anne, the daughter of the house's owner popped up from behind a sofa she had been hiding behind. "Are more Others coming?" Others had become the name both Anne and her younger brother Nicholas had attached to anyone still living that tried to move into the house. The ghosts who inhabited the manor tended to go about their odd, eternal lives quietly enough until living beings tried to move into "THEIR" home. Then, depending on the strength of their interactions with the house's permanent residents, life became interesting indeed.

"I hope not" Mrs. Mills replied calmly, motioning the girl to join her at the window. "I had hoped your mother would at least have SOME time to acclimate to her existence, but it seems that she still has enough grief and guilt over past events to catch the eyes of the living."

Anne eyed the older man exiting the taxi critically. "He's different from the last ones. There something – funny about him."

Mrs. Mills watched the man as he hefted his suitcase out of the trunk of the taxi and paid the driver. Anne was observant for a child – even more so as a ghost. There was something different about this one, something that worried the housekeeper. "Best go tell your mother we'll be having a guest again. With any luck he won't be able to feel our presence in the way the the last ones did."

Anne shrugged. "I think he will" she replied, skipping off towards the stairs. "I think he'll know we are here straight off."

Lydia dared a quick peek through the windows then sent a worried glance at her superior. Lydia hadn't spoken a word since she, Mrs. Mills and Mr. Tuttle had awoken in the house years ago to find themselves dead, their bodies in the chairs used to photograph them. Death had been a surprise to the elderly couple who had employed her but to the young, uneducated serving girl being a ghost had been more of a shock then death itself. It had robbed her of her voice, leaving her the quiet presence that most people didn't ever take notice of. Which, considering how timid she had been in life, was probably a good thing in death.

Mrs. Mills sighed. "I think Anne maybe right about this gentleman. We'll see soon enough." She turned and exited the sitting room with Lydia trailing silently behind her.

Outside Jenkins dropped his suitcase on the ground and stared up at the door. He had stopped at the real estate agent's office before arriving here to pick up the key. The agent, still reeling from having lost yet another good client for this run-down wreck, had been most accommodating, giving him the keys and any information about the house and land that came with it that was in his possession. "From the looks of it ghosts are least of the new owners worries" he muttered, fishing the key from his pocket. "It will take a small fortune to renovate this place to make it even half-way livable much less useful as a hospice." He fought with the old lock for a moment before finally hearing it click. With a slight shove he was able to step in and get a good look at the interior of the house. "Oh, bloody hell, Charlene, you should just congratulate your friends on their luck escape from having to deal with the white elephant of a structure."

"Who are you?" a woman's slightly edgy voice called out from the top of the stairs. "What are you doing in my house?"

Jenkins looked up – then dove to one side as a shotgun blast came at his head.

Back in the present-day Library

"Wait – she shot at you?" Stone asked in shock. "Who was she? I thought there were only ghosts in that house!"

"It was the ghost of the lady who had committed suicide in the house – Grace Stewart. According to what little Charlene's friends had been able to tell her this was the ghost who most disliked their being in her house. And as for the gun – well, she had already used that weapon on herself, so it became as much a part of her essence as the dress she wore or the way she did her hair." Jenkins tapped the newspaper article for a moment. "It seems that for some ghosts whatever they interacted with last follows them into their neither world."

"So, if you die wearing a hospital gown you spend eternity flashing the world?" Jones asked with a grin.

Jenkins sighed. "For some that would be true. For this one – the gun in her hands was the one she used to end her own life so she would automatically find and use it whenever she felt afraid."

"Great – a ghost with an attitude and a weapon. Lovely situation Charlene dropped you into" Baird replied sarcastically. "So she didn't want you around? I shouldn't be surprised – not after our encounter with Katie Bender in the House of Refuge should have been a warning as to how deadly ghosts can be."

"The House of Refuge had not yet made itself know to the Library so there was no way for me to know how much physical damage the spirits of the dead could do to the living" Jenkins grumbled.

"Come on Jenkins! You have to have been dozens of haunted houses in your lifetime – sure one or two of them were actively hostile to the living?" Jones smiled as the rest of the team glared at his flippant tone.

"Whatever my previous experiences with the world of the undead – I wasn't necessarily prepared to have one shoot at me coming through the front door. Fortunately, the other spirits were as aghast at her actions as I was