The Haunting - Chapter 8
Winter 1891
Richard Castle had had a productive fall, thanks in large part to his muse. Conversing with the shade of the late Katherine Beckett had inspired him. The words just… flowed. His creativity sparked like never before. His mind was constantly thinking, developing new ideas or storylines, unable to rest until he put them down on paper. As a result, his writing style grew and improved. He learned to become efficient with his time, never once wasting a second that could not be spent on writing. As a result of this explosion of imaginativeness, his serials of Jameson Rook's Fantastical Guide to the World of the Unexplained enjoyed a surge in popularity, leading to Black Pawn Publishing House approaching him with an offer to publish the collection of serials in a novel. He was still under contract with the newspaper. So he was still considering their offer.
On another front, Castle was just as successful. With the help of the young Constable Kevin Ryan, he had uncovered evidence of police reports relating to the Joseph Pulgatti case being tampered with. The discovery had happened completely by accident. They were reviewing some of the case files from the same inspectors who had investigated the Robert Armen murder, when Castle noticed some discrepancies in the typeface. The ink ribbon used to alter portions of the reports had been different from the one originally used when the report had been typed up and filed. It was enough to convince Ryan that something dubious was afoot.
It was not much, but it was a start.
The young constable was a big help in his investigation, and was also becoming a fast friend. They would often have long talks about other matters during the lulls in the investigation. It was during one of these after hour meetings at the brownstone where Kevin Ryan met Mrs. O'Malley's daughter for the first time. Jennifer O'Malley had stopped by with a hearty stew her mother had cooked for Castle—his neighbor was always concerned he never ate proper meals. She had told him once that writers always had their heads in the clouds and would forget the little things, like eating and such. Castle did not dispute her assertion, since the result was free home cooked meals.
Kevin Ryan and Jennifer O'Malley were well suited, and it was not long after their first meeting that the young constable came calling upon Miss O'Malley. Castle was happy for his friend. Jennifer was a fine young woman, from a good family. And the two were… well, adorable together. Castle watched from the sidelines, unexpectedly envious of his friends. His envy was not because he yearned for female companionship. No. He had that with a certain shade from beyond. What really made him envious was that simple fact that Ryan got to touch and kiss his ladylove.
The simple act of touching her was beyond Castle's grasp. The irony of such a statement did not go unnoticed by him.
Castle had been haunted by the caress she should never have given him. After that first occurrence that night, he had had trouble sleeping. He would stay up late into the night, tossing and turning, unable to keep the memories from resurfacing to taunt him with the possibilities. A sane man would have been scared out of his wits. But it was probably safe to say that Castle was not entirely sane. In his mind's eye, he would envision Katherine Beckett in all her beautiful glory. He had little difficulty imagining her standing before him, gazing lovingly at him with her gorgeous eyes and coy smile. After all, he had stared at her portrait for so long that he had her beautiful features memorized.
Her hauntings had become more frequent, more visible and brazen. They would have brief conversations. He would go to her run, place a piece of parchment on the flat surface of the vanity and speak to her. She would write back. He would stare in amazement and awe at his favorite fountain pen as it floated in the air, hovering above the paper before her elegant cursive would answered him.
It was now early December and snow was falling outside the windows. All the trees had lost their leaves, resembling gnarled hands reaching out of the ground, backlit by a full moon. The imagery made him think of the writings of Edgar Allan Poe. The cold had started to seep into the brownstone. Castle rummaged around downstairs for some firewood to stack in the hearth in the study. With the success of his stories, he was able to afford the very best quality lumber. It took him a while, but eventually he got a fire brewing, and he sat back, rubbing his hands together as he soaked up the warmth emitting from the fireplace.
Castle set his fountain pen down on his desk, and waited for Katherine to make her presence known. He knew it would not take long. They had developed a routine, and it was fast approaching the witching hour. Castle had learned through some of his research into the occult, along with an interview with a dubious carnival medium, that the veil between worlds was weakest then, and Katherine's influence in the world of the living was stronger. So he patiently waited for the appointed time. The study was nice and toasty when she finally arrived. By contrast, her phantom caresses were cold, sending shivers down his spine. Despite that, he delighted in her ghostly touch, only wishing he could return it. Inhaling a deep breath, Castle watched as the pen lifted up into the air and gracefully swirled over the parchment on the desk.
I am here.
He smiled. "I know," he said aloud. "God, Katherine, I wish I could touch you."
Me too, she replied.
He sighed, carding his fingers through his hair, anxious. After attending brunch with Kevin and Jennifer that morning, Castle had made a decision. He was probably insane, but he could no longer deny the feelings that had developed over the course of last year living and breathing the same air as the ethereal spirit that haunted his home.
"Katherine, I have to tell you something," he announced, voice wavering slightly with the weight and import of what he was about to say.
Yes, Richard? she prompted when he stalled in a futile attempt to delay things.
Swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat, Castle closed his eyes, sighing with contentment as he felt the tingling sensation of her ghostly fingers caressing the side of his face, encouraging him by letting him know that she was there. Opening his eyes, he stared straight ahead. His gut told him that that was where she was standing. He inhaled deeply, feeling more sure of this than he had of anything else in his life.
"This is probably completely mental, but Katherine… I love you," he declared to the empty room, partly feeling like a fool. His heart pounded beneath his chest as he felt a tremendous weight lift off his shoulders at his confession. And then he repeated himself, so she would know he was dead serious. "I love you, Katherine."
