Chapter VII

---

If the human jaw had the capacity to, from a standing position, hit floors, Stanley's would have.

The three apparitions before him were, no doubt, really there. No Pepper's Ghost effect was so convincing; no complicated holograms or laser projections could produce something similar. There was a quality to their ethereal substance that, though somehow familiar, had never been replicated. Through their pale green and blue forms, Stanley could see the door he had shut moments before.

He stared at the ghosts, and the ghosts, in turn, stared back. The middle figure, Skinny, had his arms folded and was grinning with mirth.

"Whassa matter with you?" inquired the spirit. He titled his head to one side and bemusedly raised one hairless eyebrow. "Cat got your tongue?"

It took some doing for Stanley to wrap his mind this question.

"You…" Stanley tried to find the words. Not really thinking, not really sure what to make of the situation, he blurted out, "You're not real."

The three ghosts collectively rolled their eyes. Top Hat's pudgy face fell into a frown. "You've got to be kidding me," he said. "We're standing right in front of him, in the flesh…Oh. Wait." He looked dejectedly at his spectral shoes.

Skinny tilted his bowler hat to the side, exposing some thin, wiry hairs on his sparse and knobby head. "Yep. As skeptic-y a skeptic as they come." Cackling, he offered a thin, gnarled and transparent hand. "Hate to break it to you, pal, but we're occupying the same plane of existence as you."

"We're so real, we're surreal!" chimed Top Hat.

Stanley stared at the hand thickly, and after a moment of unconscious consideration, he cautiously extended his own hand – rather than shake, he had his index finger out and poked at the spirit's palm. The finger passed right through, and it felt as cold as if he had just stuck his hand into a frigid fog. He pulled it away quickly.

"No way," he murmured, still in shock.

Skinny looked at Top Hat, and they both nodded grimly.

"You gotta work hard to crack this sort." said Skinny. He glanced down at the shortest of the three. "Care to do the honors, Gus?"

The dwarf, who was absently picking his nose, hastily pulled his finger free and nodded. Then, without warning, he picked up his ball and chain and dropped the weighty end on Stanley's foot.

Stanley, who had been expecting another blast of cold, instead was unpleasantly surprised by the very painful sensation of a heavy metal object being dropped on his toes. Howling in pain and letting words fly that would have made his mother cringe, he hopped up and down on his uninjured foot. Martin, watching from the sidelines silently, had to scrunch up his face to keep from laughing.

"Smarts, don't it?" mocked Skinny. The three phantoms drifted closer to Stanley, who had to catch himself against a wall to keep from toppling over. "Now that we got that settled, how about you greet us like proper souls?"

Blinking through some pained tears, Stanley looked at the faces of the three ghosts. Then he looked through their faces, toward Martin.

"So you see them too?"

Martin nodded.

"Oh Cripes," moaned Stanley, and he dragged a hand across his face, feeling weary and battered. "Alright, alright already! I was wrong. Ghosts exit. I'm staring at three of them right now!"

And then, having said so, having admitted aloud that he might have been wrong to do, he realized it wasn't so hard to do. Just letting go of his foundational, rational belief about the afterlife seemed so simple: not when confronted with these circumstances.

Not that it was a good realization. But it worked for the time being.

"Much better!" laughed Skinny. "The first step is admitting there's nothing wrong with your head. Feel better?"

"Not really," said Stanley.

"I have just the thing for that!" cried Top Hat. He thrust his carpetbag forward, set the ethereal item on the floor, snapped it open and started rummaging through it. "I know it's in here somewhere. I have loads of anti-depressants, remedies, elixirs…"

"Save it for later, Phinny," said Skinny. "Introductions are in order."

"Oh shucks," grumbled Top Hat. He reluctantly closed the bag. Martin and Stanley looked on, both lost in their own way.

Skinny cleared his throat. "Right. Took us long enough to do it, too." He tipped his hat and waggled his eyebrows. "I'm Ezra. Ezra Dobbins, but most folks just call me Ezra. I'm not one for formalities, though I am the leader of this outfit."

"Says you," muttered Top Hat. He smiled and tipped his tall hat to the cousins. "Phineous Queeg at your service, gentlemen. My associate here fails to mention my incredible alchemical skills and general know-how that have come to help us time and time again. Credit where credit is due, Ezra."

Ezra glared at the stouter ghost. "Oh yeah? And who's the one with all the good ideas?"

"Gus, probably," replied Phineous simply, nodding toward the dwarf. The spirit called Gus, who was now balanced on top of his ball, bare feet poking out from the bottom of his long smock, nodded sagely.

Ezra snorted. "Show-off…Anyway, this here's Gus. Just Gus. He doesn't talk much, so don't expect any good conversations with this guy." At this, Gus nodded again.

Now, with names to apply to the faces, Stanley remembered his previous so-called encounters with these ghouls. "You were following us," he said flatly. Flatly was the only tone that seemed to work.

The trio collectively smirked (though it was hard to tell through Gus' thick beard). Phineous said, "Well, not following intentionally, per-se…"

"We hitched a ride," cackled Ezra, striking a hitchhiker's pose with his thumb out. "And since most people these days won't pick up hitchhikers, we sort of hopped in when we could. It was nice little jaunt, too! Haven't seen good ol' New Orleans since the 1800s!"

Stanley stepped around the ghosts (he could have walked through them, but decided that might be a step too far for his own mind) and approached Martin. "Hold on, hold on, hold on," he said rapidly, shaking his head. He took a deep, steady breath and let it out with a shuddering sigh. "OK. Slowly…Martin, if you can see them now, how come you couldn't see them before?"

Martin smirked his trademark smirk. "That's what I wanted to tell you! After I got swept away, I got carried down here and into the next room down the hall. You've gotta check this out, Stanley! I came out here looking for you when I got word you were coming."

At this, Stanley craned his head and stared past the grandfather clock. The hall ended abruptly at another door, thankfully not horribly animated like the ones out in the corridor. "Word?" asked Stanley. "The Ghost Host told you?"

The hitchhikers collectively frowned. "Oh," said Phineous. "You've met Leota then, haven't you?"

"That's right," replied Martin. He looked at the ghostly trio thoughtfully. "Why? Is that a bad thing?"

Ezra shook his head. "I dunno. Leota's not that fond of us three, for some weird reason." He turned to his companions. "Can you think of any good reason we should be disliked?"

"You did try to steal her crystal ball once," stated Phineous simply. "She put a hex on you that made you yowl like a cat every time you opened your mouth, remember?"

Gus nodded.

Ezra folded his arms huffily, but he could barely hide his ghoulish smirk. "No one's perfect, Phinny old pal."

"Either way," interjected Stanley, rounding on the spirits, "there's still a whole lot going on that no one's telling me. And I have a right to know!" He patted the deed in his shirt pocket, just to remind himself who really ought to be in charge, but was instead completely lost.

Martin put a hand on Stanley's shoulder, which the elder cousin shrugged away. "Then you should meet Madame Leota," he said reassuringly. "She told me that she'd answer all our questions once you got here."

"Good," said Stanley shortly, and he marched forward toward the door. "She had better, whoever she is. Because I think I'm on the edge of losing my mind." He felt he meant it, too.

The hitchhikers watched him with bewilderment. Ezra floated up beside Martin and nudged him with his elbow (the gesture simply passed through Martin and made his teeth chatter). "Has he always been like this?" he asked.

"Not always," said Martin, chuckling lightly. "He's had a rough night, though."

---

Beyond the door was a room that, in a way, reminded Stanley of the massive black chamber downstairs. Shadows hung heavy in this room, as did the smell of old incense and dust. Where darkness was not draped, there were cobwebs or faded, silky curtains. They clung to the walls and gave the space the appearance of some darkened gypsy tent.

Adding to this was the round table in the center of the room, where a dozen arranged candles pushed away the encroaching gloom. A softly-glowing orb sat on a pedestal in the middle of the table, slightly bigger than a basketball. Stanley hesitantly drew closer, feeling strangely compelled to do so. He grunted in pain as he bumped into a stand set up beside the table, upon which rested a heavy and ancient-looking book.

"Watch your step," said Martin from the doorway. Candle held before him, he walked into the room with careful precision. "Same thing happened to me earlier."

Behind him, Ezra, Phineous and Gus poked their heads around the doorway cautiously. "You think she's still mad?" whispered Ezra. Being the tallest, he peered down at his companions. Phineous said nothing. Gus shrugged and, hefting his ball and chain in one hand, glided into the room, feet a few inches above the floor. Ezra and Phineous nodded, and followed the midget ghost inside.

Stanley, rubbing his chest where he'd bumped the stand, focused on the table again. The orb – a crystal ball, to be precise – seemed to be radiating its own inner light, and pearly, glittering mist swirled around inside. Beyond this, a high-backed chair sat before the table; empty, apart from Martin's rumpled backpack sitting in it, whirring quietly.

"Nifty séance parlor, huh cuz?" said Martin, like he was discussing the weather. He crossed the room and grabbed his backpack out of the chair. "I've been in several haunted houses, but none of them had a room set aside just for clairvoyance."

Half-listening, Stanley's gaze fell on the book. The page the thick tome was open to had archaic script, fancy and neat. The page before him read: A Spell to Bring to Your Eyes and Ears One who is Bound in Limbo. Below this were some strange words which, an hour ago, Stanley would have put no stock into.

Once more, he felt unsettled, like some unseen force was watching his every move. "So where is this Leota person?" he asked Martin. Then he added, "Or is she a ghost too?"

A flutter of wings and a blast of air on top of Stanley's head made him duck. A glossy, ebony shape swept overhead and perched on the back of the empty chair. It was a crow - or a raven, Stanley considered, which would be perfectly and fitting. The bird puffed out its feathers and stared down its beak at him; a stuffy avian undertaker with glowing red eyes.

Wait…Crows (or ravens) eyes usually weren't red. And they didn't glow.

"Caw!" croaked the bird. "The spell! The spell! Say the words! Caw! Call her forth!"

And now it was talking.

Stanley heaved a huge sigh, feeling his head swim a little. Might as well toss aside all reason by this point. Anything was possible now.

He scanned the book in front of him, mouthing the words before his voice wrapped around them: "Kree kroo, vergo geba, kalto kree."

A terrific thunderclap shook the room the moment the last word had left his lips. Perhaps it was the storm outside, but Stanley saw a tongue of lightning arch through the mist in the crystal ball. It twisted, glittered, and suddenly coalesced into a human face; the face of a fair young woman.

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing iris so startlingly green they might put emeralds to shame. Those eyes looked up at Stanley through foggy strands that might have been her hair, and she smiled a soft, knowing smile.

"Well well," she said, and her voice reverberated out from the crystal ball like the echoes in a cathedral. "Good evening to you."

Stanley just stared numbly at the face beyond the glass.

The woman's brow wrinkled. "I am Madame Leota, Seer of All. And you, unless I miss my guess, would be Stanley. Correct?"

Stanley blinked. How do you reply to a talking disembodied head in a glass orb? He struggled for words. "How…How did you know I was coming?"

"Caw!" The raven danced back and forth on its talons, wings spread. "Madame Leota sees all! Get it? Caw!"

"Not this time, Edgar," Leota corrected, her head rotating to face the bird. Then she looked at Martin. "It was this charming cousin of yours who informed me of your impending arrival, among other things."

Stanley glowered at Martin, but the younger cousin simply smiled weakly and shrugged, and went to fiddling with his backpack.

"I felt your presence the night prior," she continued. "You have a powerful aura about you, though I sense you do not realize this yourself. And it doesn't take a psychic to realize you are deeply troubled, and have many questions."

Stanley scoffed. "You bet your…" He paused, looking around the sides of the crystal ball and then, just to make sure, peered under the table. Apart from cobwebs and gloom, there was nothing else down there.

The Madame rolled her eyes. "I see we're going to have a lot to deal with." She shot a quick, irritated glance in the direction of the hitchhikers. "And what are you morons doing here?"

"Hey!" retorted Ezra, clapping Phineous on the shoulder. "Watch what you say! You might offend someone!"

Phineous shrugged Ezra's hand off and tipped his hat to the spirit medium. "Sorry to be a bother, ma'am. We're just giving these folks a tour of the place."

"Isn't that why there's a Ghost Host?" asked Martin suddenly. "Oh. And give me a sec' to get my recording stuff in gear. Is it alright if I get an interview with you, Madame?"

Stanley seethed. He was exhausted, creeped out and had just been through one reality-shattering event after the next, and right now he just wanted everyone to give him some space. Just as he was opening his mouth to say so, Leota spoke for him.

"If you would all be so kind," she said, "I believe Mr. Vine would prefer to have this conversation in private." She smiled at Stanley. "Is that right?"

Great; she could probably read his thoughts too. Still, for a disembodied head in a crystal ball, she seemed to be polite and friendly. And he got the sense she would give him strait facts. So he nodded wordlessly, and offered Martin an apologetic look.

"Very well," chimed Leota. The black bird on the vacant chair croaked and gave the hitchhikers a baleful look, and they took the hit and slowly back out of the chamber. Martin hitched up his backpack, gave Stanley an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and followed the other ghosts out. A moment later, the door slammed shut on its own accord, the sound echoing hollowly.

Leota turned to the bird. "Edgar, watch the door and make sure no one's eavesdropping. I don't trust those three ghouls."

"Caw! You betcha, Madame!" Edgar took wing and deftly landed on the doorknob, talons scraping the brass. The bird worked its head around with the dexterity only birds have and peered through the inset keyhole.

"He's a good familiar, really." The misty face of the Madame beamed. "He'll make sure we're not disturbed. Now, what would you care to ask?"

At this, Stanley hadn't a clue where to start. There were so many things he was confused about. At a loss, he shook his head.

"Would you prefer I posed your questions for you?" asked Leota.

"I'd rather you didn't," sighed Stanley. "I don't like the idea of my mind being paged through."

"It's more like sensing the aura of thoughts around you, not peering into your head." The spectral medium smiled softly. "I am only trying to help you, Stanley. Coming to terms with the spirit world when you have been a skeptic so long must be hard, but I sense…" –she hesitated– "I sense that you have not always felt this way."

Stanley looked squarely into the Madame's eyes. "When I was a kid, maybe," he said. "I'd argue about it now, but...What can I say? I'm looking at a ghost right now. That in itself should be enough."

"Yet," said Leota, "you still hesitate. There's some trauma buried deep within you in relation to spirits, and you have ignored and avoided this fact for some time. This is what I sense from you."

He wanted to argue, but the Madame made a point that gave Stanley pause. Somehow, he knew she was right.

Leota, undoubtedly noticing his bewilderment, continued. "You will have time to come to terms with this in due course, for I predict you will be with us for a while longer."

"Yeah," said Stanley, almost blankly. He shook his head. "Uh, I mean, look. No offense or anything, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to share my new place with a bunch of dead people."

"New place?" Leota raised a ghostly eyebrow.

"That's right." Stanley, now feeling emboldened, produced the deed he had been carrying with him since the beginning of this insane venture from his pocket, holding it before the crystal ball. "According to this, I'm the new owner of this ma-"

"Shh!" Leota looked left and right nervously, the mist around her swirling agitatedly. Stanley took a step back, unsure of what was happening.

"Put it away," whispered the medium's spirit. "You must be extremely careful with that thing."

"Why's that?"

"There are other souls in this house that will not take kindly to the idea that a mortal owns the deed. I can tell it is authentic, and that puts you in danger."

Stanley, despite himself, felt a lump in his throat. "Danger?"

Leota's stare became hard and very serious. "Just keep it out of sight, and don't go around claiming your ownership of this place. You may have the deed, but this mansion is under the control of us spirits, in particular your host."

"The Ghost Host?"

"He is the lord and master of this haunted realm, and will take any measures to ensure things stay that way. With that deed, you represent a threat to him."

Stanley scowled. "I'm not here to threaten anyone, living or dead! I just came here to check the place out!" And then a thought occurred to him. "Wait. I got this from my great uncle. He left the place to me after he died. That makes me the heir, right?"

"That is why this is troubling," said Leota gravely. "The deed to the house was stolen almost a hundred years ago."

Stanley, nerves already shot as he was, was shocked by this revelation. "Stolen?" he repeated, realizing just how stupid he sounded.

"I'm afraid so," replied Leota with a sigh. "As you can imagine, your Ghost Host has long held a grudge against the culprit. He feels this house has always been his right, even in death. Yet you possess the deed, which has more power than you can possibly imagine."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," explained the Madame, "that despite whatever means you acquired the deed, you are still the only living being to possess it. Thus, you are still the owner of the mansion. Theft or not, this place technically belongs to you."

Stanley blinked, trying to take it in. "Um, yeah. I understand that, I guess. What I don't understand is why I need to be so secretive. Can't I just give the deed to you ghosts and be done with it? I didn't ask for a haunted mansion!"

"It's not that simple, Stanley. You're the last living heir to the Gracey Estate, as deemed by that deed. There is a supernatural power unintentionally bound with that deed; you might call it a curse; you might call it a blessing. Either way, as long as you are living, the mansion is yours, and now power can take that away from you. It happened the moment you crossed the threshold of this possessed manor, and there's no backing out of it."

The pit of Stanley's stomach suddenly dropped away. He felt sick. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a sec. You mean I'm stuck? I can't leave?"

Leota blinked, than she laughed, the crystal ball rattling on its stand as she did. "Oh goodness no! Did I make it sound that dire? I'm sorry. What I meant was that we can't undo you owning the place. As of now, you're in charge…And that's where we have a problem. You don't get any special powers from it, just that fact. And the master of the house won't like that. If he were to discover this…"

As much as Stanley liked the idea that someone acknowledged his legal right to the place, the last statement made his skin prickle. "What should I do, then?" he asked.

"Lay low," said Leota. "Keep this knowledge to yourself, and continue on as a guest. This will give you a chance to learn more about the mansion and its residents. Your Ghost Host is a presence that can be felt all over the mansion, but there are two places he will not enter. One of them is this séance parlor, for he may only be here at my consent. You're welcome to come here and speak with me anytime without fear of being overheard."

Stanley was feeling rapidly overwhelmed once again. Revelations about ghosts were one thing; now he had the burden of some ancient custody battle on his shoulders. This was entirely too much for one night!

Another question among the vast multitude of questions he had popped up. "What's the other place?"

"Erm, oh dear!" Leota appeared distracted very suddenly, and Stanley got a vague idea she was avoiding his question. "I can feel the whirl of confusion in your head, you poor soul. You need rest and time to get your bearings. And besides, your host will be wondering why I've kept you so long, and he'll be expecting you." She smiled a friendly smile that, oddly, seemed to calm Stanley a little. "I think it best we meet again later, when you have had a chance to gather your thoughts. Sound good?"

Stanley stared for a moment, than nodded.

There was a startled screech from Leota's raven familiar as the door to the room swung open. Edgar flapped back across the room and took his perch on the high-backed chair. A moment later, Martin and the hitchhikers poked their heads through the doorway.

"All clear?" asked Martin. He had a positive glow to him that made Stanley feel queasy. Even so, Stanley nodded and the four made their way to him.

"How'd it go?" inquired Phineous. "Seems like you took an age-and-a-half to gab in here!"

"Not that you care what we did," chortled Ezra. "We are going to be radio stars! Marty here wants an interview with us! Snazzy, eh?"

Martin chuckled and looked from Stanley to Leota. "So, uh, did you two get some things figured out?"

Stanley was going to say something along the lines of No, this place is a madhouse and I'm losing my mind. But once again, the spectral woman in the crystal ball beat him to it. "Some things, but there are still many more things to be discovered," she said mysteriously, a smirk on her face. "Meanwhile, your tour must continue. You'll find your exit on the other side of the parlor." Right on cue, a previously-unseen door opened amidst the gloom, allowing candlelight and what sounded like distant music into the room.

"Great!" Martin grinned and made for the door, pausing to hastily bob his head to Leota. "Oh. Madame, thanks for all your help. Maybe later I can still get that interview with you?"

The disembodied spirit smiled her alluring smile. "I would be more than happy to, Martin. For now, watch out for your cousin. He will need your help and friendship."

Stanley, still somewhat edgy, managed to look Martin in the eye and nod. He wasn't sure what the nod meant, but he felt it was a good gesture. Martin returned the nod, and then Stanley faced Leota.

"Thanks," he said simply. "I'll, uh, talk to you later, I guess?"

"Indeed," she said brightly. "Then I shall be expecting you. Until then, take care of yourself. I predict you will have a great effect on the spirits who lurk in these haunted halls."

"Caw," croaked Edgar. "The Madame has spoken! Caw! Now amscray, you goons! The Madame needs her meditation!"

Leota glowered at Edgar but said nothing. Still wondering, and still feeling as lost as before, Stanley was ushered out of the room by Martin, the three hitchhikers following close behind.

---

"Ah…There you are. And just in time. The happy haunts have received your sympathetic vibrations, and are beginning to materialize."

Stanley shuddered. The Ghost Host spoke the moment they had exited the séance room, and he hadn't remembered just how eerie the disembodied voice was. They were now standing on a balcony overlooking a huge ballroom. And Stanley was only distracted by the voice for a moment before he really got a look at the ballroom floor, because the entire room was full of ghosts.

He blinked, trying to take this new astounding-yet-terrifying sight in. His eyes had adjusted to the dark of the séance parlor, so he had been surprised by how bright and active the ballroom was. There were ghosts everywhere – ghosts seated at the long dining table, laughing and toasting with solid drinking cups held in their see-through hands; ghosts flying in through the rain-pattered grand windows as lightning flashed outside; ghosts swaying drunkenly from the two great chandeliers high above the floor; ghostly couples that waltzed on the open dance floor, spinning to the discordant melody wheezing out of a ancient pipe organ. There were even tiny, wispy spirits emerging from the pipes of the organ, as the phantom organist played havoc over the keys.

Stanley's mouth hung agape as he watched the macabre revelry below. Martin too seemed lost for words, and he and Stanley mirrored each other's expressions perfectly – much to the amusement of the hitchhikers.

"Yep! That's some party!" Ezra rubbed his bony hands together. "And would you believe there's always some sort of shindig that happens here every night?"

"Some souls just can't get enough fun," agreed Phineous. "That, or they're just repeating the last thing they did before they passed on. Can't say I blame them."

Gus simply nodded, sticking his shaggy head between the balcony railings to get a better look.

Stanley, whose eye had been drawn to red-headed woman at the end of the table about to blow the candles out on a moldering birthday cake, turned and glared at the ghostly trio. "Is there a reason you three are still following us?"

Ezra grinned and wrapped a bony arm around Stanley's shoulders (which Stanley recoiled from and passed through, which made his teeth chatter). "What, you don't like us? We're the welcoming committee! Someone's got to keep an eye on you poor mortals, or who knows what might happen! We have nothing but your best interests at heart."

"Plus we don't have anything better to do," added Phineous.

Gus grunted in agreement.

"This is…incredible!" exclaimed Martin, in happy awe. "I've never seen this many ghosts in one place!"

"Naturally," said the Ghost Host from somewhere close by, making Stanley jump. "There are several prominent ghosts who have retired here, from creepy old crypts all over the world."

It was getting very disconcerting, not knowing where the eerie voice was coming from. Stanley said, "What, is this place some sort of retirement home for the dead? How many ghosts do you have here? A hundred?"

"Actually," explained the Ghost Host, "we have 999 happy haunts here. But there's room for a thousand…Any volunteers?"

---

As promised, foolish mortals, I have the most recent chapter up and posted on this most auspicious of nights...

I speak, of course, of the revelries that are happening tonight at a the Disneyland Haunted Mansion. Tonight being that rare date of 9/9/09, its only fitting they celebrate the 40th tonight. Sadly, I could not attend the event, but I shall be with everyone there in spirit (pun intended). Here's hoping those who got to experience the event had a good time!

As always, much thanks for the feedback and kind words. Really, it's you guys that help keep my drive up to finish this. Knowing people are enjoying what I have to offer is always a plus.

So, until next time...Have a good night.