Chapter Nineteen

Grab An Accordion And Start Dancing

(Ryan)

"We'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

Next to me, hair blowing behind her in the cool, Minnesota breeze, Harlow gave me a small smile. Those brilliant eyes hidden behind an oversized pair of aviators, she looked more like a supermodel on her way to a photo shoot than a psychology student on her way to talk to a five year old. Only Harlow could make a chilly car ride down miles of wheat fields look drop dead gorgeous. My girl, whatta beauty.

For the last four hours, it'd been she and I driving down the Trans Highway on our way to the next Paranormal State location. I'd picked her up from her apartment early this morning, and we'd only taken one break on the long drive so far, just to pick up a couple of burgers for lunch. It was nice, to tell you the truth. Just Lo and I, free to talk and laugh and enjoy each other's company. Not discussing anything heavy, not reminiscing about the gnarly week we'd both just had. Simply driving, laughing and talking.

I was in heaven.

"You ever lived in Minnesota?" I asked her, turning down the freeway down into the heart of Minneapolis.

She nodded, looking reminiscently out the windows. "Only once. Never here, though. Edina, not a huge town but bigger than I'd been in before. It was a decent home, actually ... lady who ran it was lovely, Betty MacFarlane. I was with her four months before they displaced me."

"Have you seen her since?"

She shook her head. "Not since I left. Regardless of if I enjoyed my stay or not, I've never really had much desire to revisit old homes."

"Understandable," I said, turning off into a small suburb.

"Have you been here before?" she asked, looking curiously out the window at the small, cookie-cutter houses we passed by.

"Once," I said, smiling at the memory. "My mum and stepdad took my siblings and I here for a little spring break vacation. They have a big shopping center down in the heart of the city. It's called the Mall of America, and it's gigantic."

"That sounds lovely," Harlow sighed, smiling out her window at two young kids playing in a sprinkler. "You have seven siblings, don't you?"

I nodded. "Seven. All younger. And you've got five, right?"

"Yes sir," she said. "All were older."

"I always wondered what it was like to be the youngest," I said thoughtfully. "I always whined that the younger kids got away with more. It was true though .. they did."

Harlow laughed, but shook her head. "I can't remember a time when I got away with anything, but none of my siblings ever did. I don't think I had what many people would consider a 'normal' childhood. Age was never really much of a cause for concern in my family. Frankly, nothing really was."

I smiled a little sadly, giving her a pat on the knee. "You turned out fine, though, didn't you?"

"We'll see," she said softly, but there was a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

We drove down another main street into a second suburb, this one a little larger then the last. The houses were bigger, cars were nicer - kids were better dressed. Harlow looked with sincere interest at each house, person and vehicle we passed by. I felt a wave of sadness pass through me - I found that I sometimes forgot the kind of home she came from. I always thought it was adorable how she'd look with absolute delight at every tiny detail in every different house, store, person, pet, car - whatever - that we passed. But the more I thought about it, the worse I felt.

She looked and took into account every detail because it was things she wasn't accustomed to seeing. Every time a family passed her on the street, she'd smile - watch them. Take in every bit of them. What was the baby wearing, what kind of stroller was it in? Were the parents holding hands? Where did I think they were going? Where had they just come from? Did they live around here? Did I think the parents were high school sweethearts? Minute little details, things I didn't ever think to bother considering, she memorized. She tattooed it into her brain. Their memories, their happy moments, they were hers as well. What other ones did she have?

I took for granted all the things I had when I was young. I didn't realize it until I'd met Lo, but I had. We all had. I remember being young and throwing a fit because my Mum wanted to take me back to school shopping. I'd whine and stomp my feet and tantrum, because I wanted to stay home instead. Play with my brother, ride my bike. I'd cause mayhem just because my Mother wanted to buy me a new shirt. But Harlow? I imagine the day her mom offered to take her to the mall to buy a shirt was the day hell froze over. Had she ever gone out shopping with her Mum before? Had her dad ever taken her out for lunch and then to a carnival? Had she ever had bike races with neighborhood kids? Did she even know what a family barbecue was?

I had doubts about it all.

With a surge of overwhelming sadness, I took a hand off the steering wheel and grabbed hers in my own. She looked at me, surprised, but then smiled.

"What?" she asked, with a playful little squeeze of my palm. "Hands on the wheel, Buell - you're gonna crash."

"Am not," I argued, dragging her hand to my mouth. "I'm a good driver."

She laughed at the slobbery peck, but rubbed my palm lightly with her thumb. "You sweet boy. Get it all out before we get to the house, though - I got psychological evaluations to focus on, you're just gonna make it harder."

Resisting the urge to tell her that she made everything of mine harder (bah dum tshhh), I gave her hand another quick peck and pulled down Harrow Street, the location of our next shoot. I rolled to a stop outside of the second house from the corner, peering through Harlow's window at the wooden bungalow before us. The garden was a mess of wildflowers and weeds, and there were little toys littered all around the front yard. Unlike the rest of the houses along the block, this one was unkempt. Unhappy looking - there was a feeling of darkness seeping from it.

Harlow looked nervously at the home. "You sure this is the right house?"

I nodded, looking down at the sticky note next to me again. "One hundred and four, Harrow street. This is it."

"It looks so gloomy," she said softly, gathering her bookbag from her feet.

"Maybe it's better inside?" I shrugged.

She turned to look at me, hitching her sunglasses up on the top of her head. "Are we the first ones here?"

I shook my head, motioned towards a large SUV in front of ours. "Katrina, Heather and Sergey left thirty minutes before we did, that's probably them."

"Where are Eilfie and Josh?" she asked.

"With Michelle," I responded, shoving my cellphone into my jacket pocket. "Probably at the hotel."

"Who's Michelle?" she asked curiously.

"Psychic," I said. "Michelle Belanger - she's great, you'll really like her. She's a medium, and she's a vampire."

"Oooh, a vampire?" Lo said, smiling brightly at the thought. "Does she have pointy teeth? Sleep in a coffin?"

"All of that, and she can only survive on human blood," I said, grinning at the thought of it. "You'll like her, just don't let her see that delicious neck of yours."

Harlow grabbed her throat, eyebrows raised in fear. "Not my neck!"

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," I sighed, running a hand through her silky locks.

"Oh, my hero," she purred, grabbing my jacket and pulling me close.

Her lips connected with mine, and I felt that familiar rush of heat fill my whole body. Her chest pressed against mine, her scent that was all too appealing making my brain go numb. The warm touch of her hands on my face, my neck - it made me melt. She sensed it, that dirty girl, and her lips rose in a smile against my own.

"You're not fair, you know," I muttered, helpless against those hypnotic eyes.

She ran a hand through my hair, kneading the back of my head lightly with her thin fingers. "I never said I was, Buell."

Slowly, surely - with the unmatched skills of pro - she nipped my bottom lip, running her nose against mine. She smiled, her eyelashes tickling my cheek.

"C'mon," she said softly. "We gotta get in there."

"Oh, you tease," I sighed, unwilling to let the back of her neck go from my hand. "We'll continue this later."

"We better," she said, that undeniably silky purr tearing at my heart.

Oh Harlow. What you did to me and my manly bits - you'd never know.

(Michelle)

"So wait ... if there'salready a psychic down there, why'd Ryan call me?"

Elf exchanged a rather dark look with Josh, and took a seat on the rough wooden chair behind her.

"It's a long story," she sighed.

"Harlow, that's her name, isn't it?" I pressed further. "I heard from Chip she has absolutely astounding medium abilities. If that's true, why isn't Ryan allowing her to do the walk through?"

"She doesn't want to," Josh said simply, sprawling out in the tattered hotel armchair.

I frowned - they were being so vague, they were driving me batty. "If she doesn't want to, why's she there?"

"She's a psychologist," Eilfie explained, much more patiently then Josh. "Well, almost - another year and she'll be a licensed one. But you remember Jamie - the old psych? She's still on Maternity leave and we need someone to conduct the evaluations. Harlow's perfectly capable, and she'll do it for free."

"But why not kill two birds with one stone?" I reasoned, looking perplexed between the two. "Just because she doesn't want to doesn't mean she's not capable of it. Does she have something against the show?"

Josh sat up a little and his chair, frowning - he looked contemplatively at Eilfie.

"Well," he said thoughtfully. "I don't think she has anything against the show. She's just ... she doesn't really want people to know she's a 'psychic'. She's worried it'll tarnish her image, or something."

I shook my head. "That's a shame ... people are always so worried about their reputations. If she's as good as Chip made her out to be - she shouldn't be hiding this."

"I think there's more to the story then meets the eye," Eilfie said softly, tapping her foot against the chair leg. "Harlow's a very sweet person, don't get us wrong - but she's also very private."

"She knows she can help people, though, doesn't she?" I asked, looking between the two. "So many people have the wrong idea about psychics and mediumship - she could very well change people's minds, such a young girl. And a psychology major, that's something to boast about. She could really get her name out there, touch a lot of people's lives - help a lot of people struggling with their own abilities."

Elf smiled, but there was an odd sadness behind the grin. "I think she's well aware of that, Michelle. I just don't think she's comfortable in front of the camera - or behind it, frankly. She hasn't had the easiest life, and the psychic abilities have really only hurt rather then helped her."

"She's more comfortable being a wallflower," Josh simplified, but there was funny smirk on his face. "Which, after you meet her, you'll realize is nearly impossible."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Eilfie smiled, but shook her head. "You'll see. We have to get going, though - dinner's on us, we'll take you to meet Ryan at about eight."

I nodded reluctantly, easing up off the cushy hotel bed. There were still a million questions blowing through my mind, and I couldn't shake them. Why were they being so secretive about this Harlow girl? It was clearly evident on both their faces that there was a lot they were hiding, or at least a lot that had gone unsaid. What had Chip meant when he said she was unlike any other medium he'd ever met, and unmatched in said abilities? Was she really one of a kind? And if so, why was she hiding behind the camera? Isn't that what every college student wanted, a shot at fame?

Eilfie, clearly noticing the vacant expression on my face, reached an arm around my shoulders and gave a light squeeze.

"It'll all make sense," she said soothingly. "All in good time."

(Heather)

"Do you sense anything?"

Harlow glanced over at me, peering up from the eight thousand page (roughly) binder sitting in front of her on the dining room table. She looked quite lovely, and I meant that in the most sincerely creepy way possible. Her hair was particularly windswept and tousled, but in a sickeningly glamorous way. Her face was sleek, nearly makeup free. Skin aglow, eyes dazzling.

Oh sweet Jesus, I was going gay again.

DAMN YOU, HARLOW VINCENT. What is it about you that makes me want to feed you grapes on a lounge chair while singing 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' softly in your ear?

You alluring she-devil, leave my thoughts at once!

"I do," she said softly, her voice like the tinkling of a bell - drool. "Two separate things, actually - but I'm trying to block it out."

"Why would you do that?" I asked curiously - wasn't the whole point of being psychic to try and tune in to different spirit chatter?

She smiled, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear ('Oh no Harlow, let me do that, I want to touch your face, thought creepy Tad).

"I'm here to do the psychology evaluations," she sighed, leaning back against the chair. "I don't know how good it'd look, trying to evaluate how sane a person is while talking to dead people on the side. Kinda gives the wrong impression, I think."

I laughed, but shrugged my shoulders. "I don't think it'd be all that terrible, y'know."

She smiled, but shook her head. "I'm just going to focus on the evaluations. It's the first time I've ever gone at it alone, y'know? Not been in a big group or had my Prof breathing down my neck. I need all the concentration I can get, I've got to ignore everything else."

"Fair enough," I said.

I peered over my shoulder through the large bay window behind us. It opened out to the spacious backyard of the Montague's, a middle class family living in the quaint suburban home in the middle of Minnesota. Out back, Ryan was seated in a rickety green patio chair with the lady of the house, Marie. Her head was stooped, and her hand kept dabbing daintily at her eyes. Awwwwe. Poor lady. It always broke my spunky little heart to see client's so upset over a haunting.

And boy oh boy, was it ever a haunting.

The house was creepy. Let's not beat around the bush, alright? I'm sure back in it's glory days, it was beautiful and woodsy and purdy and all that fun junk. But today? Very creepy. Tres, tres creepy. It was borderline rundown. The houses surrounding it were tall and well kept, all freshly painted, all gleaming and pristine. Marie's house? Well ... pristine wasn't really the word of the day. It was gloomy from the outside, but - if even possible - the inside was much, much worse.

I imagine back when it was built, there wasn't a better house in the whole city. But time, it seemed, had worn down the old beauty. The wallpaper, which I assume was once bright and fresh was peeling and damp. The carpet reeked of mold, the stairs were creaky and the doors rattled on the hinges. If it weren't for the pictures and grubby pieces of furniture, the house could've easily been mistaken as deserted.

When Serge, Kat and I had pulled up, it struck us as very odd. Marie and her husband, Teddy - they weren't poor people, not by a longshot. Marie worked as an editor at the largest Newspaper business in the city. Teddy was a high school principal. Enough income, easily, to have fixed up the home. Done a little renos. Maybe put a splash of lime or fuchsia on the walls, y'know? Spunky funk this place up. But no work seemed to have been done.

I realized, with no real surprise, that I'd be gazing creepily at Ryan and Marie for a good five minutes now. They hadn't seemed to notice (thank God), as their heads were still bowed in quiet conversation. I turned back around to gaze at the lovely Harlow, and was caught by surprise - she wasn't peering down at her fat Psychology Bible anymore. She was looking in confusion out the dining room door and into the long hallway adjacent.

"Harlow?" I said, following her gaze into the hallway - mmm, nope. Nothin' there.

She jumped a little, turned to face me. Her skin was unusually pale, it's natural glow fizzled a little. Her eyes were distracted, and those precious little lips were down-turned in an unmistakable scowl. She shook it off a little, forced a smile.

"Sorry," she said, raking a hand through her hair. "Sorry. Gotta concentrate. Right."

She peered back down at her textbook, but her eyes remained stationary. She wasn't reading. Whatta liar.

"What'd you see?" I asked quietly, still peering haphazardly out into the dingy hall - nope, still nothin'. Damn you, useless eyeballs! DAMN YOU.

She shook her head again, rubbing at her temples. "I didn't see anything. Just .. felt something."

"What kinda something?" I pressed, still staring down the long hallway - I think I was going cross-eyed. Dammit!

"Just a .. a weird something," she mumbled. "I don't know. I gotta ignore it. Just gotta ... ahhh fuck it. I can't."

She slammed the cover of her textbook shut and swiveled around irritably in her chair. Eyes narrowed, she stared intently down the hallway, muttering something under her breath.

"I don't see anything," I said, my usual unhelpful self. "Kat and Serge are driving back from the supermarket and Ryan and Marie are out back."

"Are there any production people here?" she asked, not daring to look away from the spot in the corridor. "Or Tia, where's she?"

Tia, Marie's five year old daughter, was the main reason we'd been called down here. She'd been having, as Marie called them, 'night terrors' for years now. They'd spent upwards of a thousand dollars on therapy for the little munchkin, but nothing seemed to be helping.

"She's out with Teddy," I said, remembering the two of them walking hand in hand out to Teddy's truck. "They won't be home for another hour or two."

Harlow shook her head, scooting right to the edge of her chair. She was fixated on one particular spot - her eyes hadn't moved away from it for nearly two minutes now. There was a strange look on her face. It kind of reminded me of a grimace, or like ... it looked as if she had some rotten smell directly under her nose. I don't know - it was really quite peculiar.

"Go down there," I offered, not seeing what harm it could do just to look, y'know? "If you think there's something there, you might as well go check it out, right?"

Harlow said nothing, and an odd silence filled the kitchen. I was pretty certain, actually, that she hadn't even heard me. Her whole body was turned away from me, focused and concentrating on whatever was out in the hallway. Her hands were balled into fists on her lap, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. Frankly, I didn't know what to do. I was terrible in tense situations, y'know? I didn't know whether to talk to her, start crying or grab an accordion and start dancing. Bah. I was so useless.

But, like the savior he is, our slightly tense moment was interrupted only a second later by the back door clanking shut, and the footsteps of Ryan moving closer. He popped his head into the dining room, smiling, but that grin vanished a moment later. He looked between myself and Harlow - who didn't seem to have heard him come in - and frowned.

"Everything alright in here?" he asked slowly, focusing more on Lo then myself.

"Think so," I responded quietly, waiting for Harlow to snap back into reality. "She thinks she heard something."

"Harlow?" Ryan said, looking curiously at the back of her head and stepping into the dim room. "Lo, you hear something?"

She turned to look at him, face ashen, but she shook her head a second later. "No. Maybe. I don't know. I might've just imagined it."

Ryan looked out into the dark hallway, clearly attempting (much like me) to see something that most definitely wasn't there. Well. Not to our eyes, anyways.

"What did you think you heard?" he asked calmly, rooted to the spot.

Harlow looked at him thoughtfully, eyes narrowed. "I .. I don't know. Weird nose. Like, gurgling. Something, I don't know. I might've just imagined it."

"You don't seem too sure about imagining it," Ryan noted.

Harlow blinked, but shrugged her shoulders. She peered back down at her nine million page binder, and tapped a finger on it.

"I'm trying to block all that junk out," she sighed, looking between the two of us with those lusty gorgeous globes of green - oh swoon. "There's a lot going on in my head. I probably just imagined hearing something."

Ryan, who was clearly as smitten with her angelic face as I was (back off Buell, those jugs are mine), still didn't look convinced. He peered out into the backyard, then down at me.

"Tad, would you mind going out there for a couple minutes?" he asked, motioning with his chin to Marie. "I just need to talk to Harlow for a minute. Can you keep Marie company? Tell her Lo will be right out."

WHAT? I WAS GOING TO MISS OUT ON A POTENTIAL WALK THROUGH? I WAS MISSING MY OPPORTUNITY TO HIT ON HARLOW TO GO CHILL ON A LAWN CHAIR? BULLSHIT, BUELL. BULL. SHIT.

"Oh sure, love to," I mumbled, shooting Ryan the most scathing look a Taddy has ever shot.

...

EVER.

(Harlow)

"What'd you hear?"

I didn't say anything for a minute, I just watched as Heather crossed the backyard and took a seat across from Marie Montague, the lady who owned the house. She was a slightly heavy-set woman, with bouffanty brown hair and a kind face. I had yet to meet her face to face, but I had a good vibe the moment I saw her.

Realizing I could no longer ignore the question, I turned towards Ryan who had taken a seat next to me at the table. Those brilliantly chocolate brown eyes looked at me curiously. Not judgementally, mind you, but more with concern and intrigue. Ahhh. Damn him. I couldn't lie to that face.

I leaned forward a little, clasping my hands together tightly. I didn't really know where to begin ... how to explain what I'd heard. What I'd seen, actually.

"There's something in the house," was all I managed to come up with. Brilliant, Harlow. Brilliant.

"A person, or .. or a spirit, or what?" he asked.

"Spirit," I said softly, hearing the faint static in my brain - it always meant there was something close. "Two of them, actually."

He looked puzzled out through the dining room door, down the long hallway. I knew he was trying to see something - knew just as well that he wouldn't.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I know my job is to do the psych evaluations, but ... I'm not like Chip, Ryan. I can't figure out how to turn this off, this .. this thing. Everywhere I go, it goes with me. I can't block it out, no matter how hard I try. It's .. it's really frustrating."

Ryan shook his head. "Don't apologize, Lo, really. You can't help it. Some people can turn it on and off, you can't. Don't apologize for who you are."

I smiled, unable to stop the hammering of my heart - my God he was a fucking sweetheart.

"What did you sense?" he asked me, taking another uncomfortable glance down the darkened hallway.

I thought back, focusing more on the minutes before. The static in my brain had calmed down a bit, was less overbearing. The spirit that had come so close to the kitchen only minutes ago was stepping back. Going into hiding, it felt like.

"Well," I said slowly, trying to piece it together. "It was like a .. a gurgling, like I said. A weird, like ... liquidy noise."

"Liquidy?" he asked, frowning a little. "What do you mean, liquidy?"

"Like .. I think it was breathing," I said, coming clean - I knew it sounded ridiculous, but it'd been what I had heard. "It was noisy. Like someone with liquid in their lungs, it sounded all bubbly and raspy and .. well, and gurgley."

He frowned, deeper yet, but the look on his face was not disbelief - it was perplexion.

"Is that all you heard?" he asked, fidgeting with his notepad in front of him.

"No," I said, feeling an uncomfortable breeze around my neck. "I heard that first, and then I heard footsteps. And the louder the footsteps got, the louder the gurgling noise was. And then I turned around."

"What did you see?"

"Nothing," I sighed, looking crossly down at my hands. "Nothing."

"There was no one there?" he said, looking unsure.

"I think there was," I said, trying to explain without sounding like a complete lunatic. "I heard it, I know I heard something. It wasn't like anything I'd heard before and it wasn't something that can be explained. And I know it came from the hallway, I heard it. Not just once but for a good, solid thirty seconds. I turned around, but .. I couldn't see anything. I could just sense it. That's why I thought maybe I imagined it, because that's how my brain works - I hear something, I see where it's coming from. This time .. there was nothing."

Brow furrowed, Ryan looked between myself, the hallway and the large bay window behind him. He seemed to try to be putting the pieces together, much like I was. Pffft. I hope he'd have better luck than I had. Stupid brain.

"You didn't see .. like, a shadow? Or an outline, or anything?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. I could sense something there, though .. I know there was something or someone out in that hallway. I just ... I couldn't see them. That's why I was looking for so long. I was trying to focus, but ... nothin'. I don't get it. It must've been hiding or something. I always see them. If they're here, if they're present, if they're haunting a place - I see them. But I didn't see anything this time .. nothing."

Ryan nodded, fiddling absentmindedly with a pen in front of him.

"Well," he said slowly, biting his lip. "Maybe it's just a residual thing, y'know? Maybe it's not here, it's just .. imprinted?"

"I smelt it," I blurted out, flushing with embarrassment. "I smelt it, too."

"You smelt it?" he asked, this time with a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"I know, I know," I said, raking a hand through my hair irritably. "It sounds ridiculous. But I heard the noise. The gurgling noise. And then I heard the footsteps. And I turned around and nothing was there. But the footsteps were gone. The gurgling, it was louder than ever. But this time, it wasn't just the noise ... I smelt something."

"What did you smell?"

"Like ... rancid meat. That kind of sweet odor that rotting meat has, you know? Not pleasantly sweet, rank and rotten. I don't know what the smell was, or what it was coming from, but I smelt it. It smelt like sweet and rotten, and like .. metal. I've never smelt anything so peculiar."

"Did Heather smell it, too?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, I didn't ask ... but if she had, I think she would've said something."

Ryan nodded, but was looking strange and very pale. His eyes were narrowed, and I could almost hear the gears clicking in his head.

"Harlow," he said, very slowly. "This is .. this is a weird question, but .. have you ever smelt burning flesh before?"

I blinked. "What?"

"I know," he said, looking slightly embarrassed. "I told you it was a weird question. But .. have you?"

I shook my head slowly. "No ... not that I can remember. Why?"

"People who've smelt it," he explained. "Paramedics, doctors - soldiers. They all have. And they describe it as a sickeningly sweet, rotten, metallic smell. Acrid."

I frowned. "That sounds like what I smelt, but ... why would I be smelling burning flesh?"

Ryan shook his head, genuine confusion flitting across that handsome face. "I really, really don't know."

We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the distant ticking of a clock. Neither one of us looked at each other, as we sat unmoving in the dim light of the dining room. I sat still, trying to listen for the noise again. Trying to smell that same, pungent scent. Trying to visualize, bring the spirit closer. Ryan sat quite still too, but I don't think it was for the same reason that I was.

"Harlow," he said quietly, looking thoughtfully across the table at me. "You don't ... you don't want to do a walk-through, do you?"

I took a deep breath, sighed. "Not ... not now. I just want to do the psychology evaluations. I need to focus on that."

He nodded, clasping two hands in front of him. "Fair enough."

"I can .. I can do one after," I said, trying to be reasonable. "After I interview Marie and Tia. But ... no cameras."

"Absolutely," he said, with a slight nod. "That'll be fine. I'll give Elf and Josh a call, tell them to hold tight with Michelle. You and I can do a quick walk-through before we leave. While you're interviewing her, I'll go and fill them in on what's happening."

I nodded, peering out the large bay window again. Marie sat quietly, looking through the window back at me. I ignored the static growing in my brain, and grabbed my binder from in front of me.

"Alright," I said, rising from my seat. "I shouldn't be longer than an hour with Marie."

"Okay," he said, rising out of his as well. "I'll be back in thirty minutes. Tops."

I nodded, and moved towards the back door. I felt a light pull on my waist, and turned to see Ryan directly behind me. There was something strange about his face. There was longing, confusion, stress, worry. But there was a glow of something crackling behind his eyes. Something I didn't immediately recognize, but something that made my heart flutter.

"Good luck with your interview," he said, that curious blaze still lighting up his pupils.

I smiled, rising up on my tippy toes to give him a soft peck on the lips.

"Thanks," I said, rubbing his lean arm gently. "I'll see you in a bit."

He nodded, returned the peck, and was gone from my sight in a flash. I felt my knees give a slight shudder, and I pulled my binder tight against my chest. Oh, that asshole.

He was so swoon-worthy, it was ridiculous.

(Marie)

"Tell me a bit about Tia."

To be honest, I was finding it hard to concentrate on anything at the moment - even my daughter.

The young woman in front of me - who couldn't have been any older then twenty five, twenty six - sat pleasantly across the table. She looked with polite attentiveness at me, and I felt suddenly and inexplicably self-conscious. It was hard not to - she was absolutely mesmerizing.

The richest, most beautiful hair I'd ever laid eyes on. The bright globes of green, the long lashes. Her flawless skin, tanned and smooth. Brilliantly white teeth, plush pink lips. She looked so much like a goddess - how could anyone that looked like this possibly have been a psychologist? Weren't people like this models? Movie stars? What was she doing in the backyard of a rundown old house talking to me, for? It seemed obscene.

I tried to shake off the horrific nervousness and embarrassment settling in the pit of my stomach, and I focused entirely on my little girl's face. I smiled, remembering those dimples, that curly blonde hair - my little angel.

Across from me, the young beauty (Harlow, she'd said), smiled at me.

"Every time one of us mentions Tia, I see you smile."

"Really?" I asked, flustered. "I didn't even notice."

She grinned even more and nodded. "It's an unconscious reaction to her name - all it shows me is that you love her."

"I do," I said, nodding in agreement. "More than life itself."

"Tell me about her," Harlow said softly. "What does she like to do? What's her favorite colors? Does she like night time, day time? How does she do in school?"

"She's a happy girl," I said, another smile lighting up my face. "Singing and dancing - we always joke she's going to be on Broadway one day, the way she belts out all her favorite songs. And ... she's a real princess, you know? Pink and purple everything. She went through a couple months when she was three where all she wore, day in and day out, was this sequined violet tutu. She loved it, just adored it."

"Epitome five year old girl," Harlow laughed, folding her hands over her notepad serenely. "She attends pre-Kindergarten classes, correct?"

I nodded. "Yes, Selkirk Elementary school."

"Tell me how she does in school."

"Quite well," I said thoughtfully. "She's got a lot of little friends, mostly girls. They're at the whole 'cooties' age. She loves art, and she loves music class. Doesn't like math very much, and she hates the journal writing. But everything else she loves, especially recess. A real outdoorsy kind of girl."

Harlow nodded, jotting something down quickly on her notepad. "I was never a fan of math, can't say I really blame her. But journal writing, that's peculiar - most adolescents, especially females, love creative writing."

"It's not creative writing so much as the dream journals and everything," I explained. "Her teacher makes her write in a dream log every week. She's supposed to recount one dream she had over the last seven days, illustrate it, write one sentence about it underneath."

"Have you seen her dream log before?" she asked. "Has she brought it home, or have you seen it at a parent-teacher interview?"

"I saw it at our last interview," I admitted, wishing I had shut my mouth about the journal in the first place. "Her teacher showed us."

"What sort of illustrations did Tia draw?" Harlow asked gently, and although I'd refused to talk about the subject with any of the other family members, there was something so sweet and earnest about her. I felt comfortable talking to her, even though the topic was hard to open up about.

"Well ... not very happy ones," I sighed. "They all had monsters in them."

Harlow nodded, but didn't look particularly bothered by this bit of information - it made me relax a little.

"Did the teacher express any concerns with Tia's log?" she asked calmly.

"She thought it was strange," I said quietly. "She showed me the other student's drawings, and they were all bright and colorful and ... vivid. Tia's were all in black and dark purples and blues."

"Did you talk to Tia at all about her dream log?" Harlow asked.

I nodded. "When we got home that evening, I asked her about them. She said she always dreams of 'the monsters in the house', and that she hates dream logs. Personally, I don't understand why the teacher makes them do those damned things anyways .. what educational purpose does that have? My husband agrees with me, and he's a principal, you know ... doesn't make any sense. Not teaching them anything."

Harlow shrugged her thin shoulders, a pleasantly crooked half smile on her thin face.

"We'll come back to the dream logs in a few moments, if you don't mind," she said gently, scribbling a few more notes I was unable to decipher onto her paper. "What did Tia mean, 'the monsters in the house'? Do you know?"

I looked uncomfortably down at my shoes. "The ghosts, or whatever they are. The things in the house that bother her."

Harlow nodded, writing quicker yet across the pad. "She see's these 'ghosts', then?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous," I started, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "But - "

"It doesn't," Harlow said softly, reaching a hand across the table and patting mine. "Really Marie - it doesn't sound ridiculous at all."

I smiled, fighting back the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. "I'm sorry ... I just - it's hard to talk about, you know?"

"I do," she said quietly, giving my fingers a light squeeze. "But that's why I'm here. I'm not going to judge you or ridicule you. I'm here to help you through this."

I nodded. "You're right .. you are. Tia, she see's ... she calls them 'monsters'. She's never used the word ghost, that's just me."

"Why do you use that word?" she asked.

I shrugged. "It's what they are, aren't they? We can't see them, but I can .. I can feel them, sometimes. I can hear them walking down the hallways. And Tia - Tia thinks she can see them. She tells me all the time about the scary man in the house."

Harlow nodded, making a few more notes on the bottom of the notepad. "You hear them, you said?"

"Yes, I do. All the time. Footsteps, and sometimes I hear crying. And a watery noise .. it sounds like someone blowing through a straw into a cup of water."

Harlow looked up at me, the pen limp in her hand. "Watery?"

I nodded, flushing again. "I don't know what it is .. but we hear it a lot. At least four, five times a week. Always at night. Always in the hallway."

Harlow said nothing for a minute, but there was a faint crease in her brow. She looked thoughtfully down at her paper, tapping her pen against the nearly full sheet. There was an odd look behind her eyes - it looked like she was struggling to remember something. Or to forget. One of the two. But she looked troubled.

"That is strange," she agreed, continuing on with her notes like nothing had happened. "But I assure you, if something's going on in the home, Ryan and the rest of his team will get to the bottom of it. They're the best in the business."

I nodded, leaning back in my chair. "I sure hope so."

Harlow smiled. "They will."

"As long as they figure out where that smell's coming from, I think I'll be alright."

She peered up at me from her paper, look of confusion etched onto that beautiful face. "Smell?"

I nodded, cringing at the mere memory of it. "Yes. The footsteps and weird noise and crying, it's a pain but I can handle that. It's that smell, I just can't take it. Smells like charred flesh."

Author's Note:

HEYOOOOO. Back from my skiing trip! If you'd like an idea of how well I did skiing, please go to Youtube, type in Ski Fail and click on the second video. That, in a nutshell, was my adventure. Not. Even. Joking. SO, NOW I'M BACK. Bruised, grumpy, fractured and in pain, but DAMMIT I'M BACK. And what do I find when I get back? LIKE 10 REVIEWS, YOU AMAZING LOVELY BEAUTIFUL UNDENIABLY SEXY REVIEWERS! I must begin my thank you's, for they will undoubtedly take up half this chapter!

xSyndarinx: THREE WHOLE REVIEWS. have i ever told you how much i love you? no? yes? maybe? no matter. I LOVE YOU. it's people like you who truly make an author's whole writing experience worthwhile. hugs, kisses and dark alley snuggles to you, my love!

xoxoMyRealityIsFiction: reading your review had me very conflicted. on one hand, i was thrilled you enjoyed the chapter that much. on the other hand, i pooped my pants a little at the fact that you nearly died on account of my story. so after hours of long pondering, i decided to go with the flattered route. so to you, i say: ksdfhdsjgdhke AWE THANKS MY LOVE! and i'd also like to extend the olive branch - my little bro works at starbucks, so i will get him to send you a cinnamon dulce latte free of charge, since it's partially my fault you lost your other one. let's hug and never let go. (L)

futureauthor62: you're back, you're back, you're back! my goodness i haven't heard from you in forever, i was about to call the milk carton company! D: HAH! i think this is proof we're meant to be together forever, because i have a doggie named bear! and my dad drives a harley davidson? so ... is that a coincidence? or am i just nuts? just nuts? yes, i thought so. regardless, HELLO! i missed you! thank you for the review! xoxo

heyymelx3: OHHAI SOUL SISTER. not even kidding you, i think we really are long lost siblings. there was a criminal minds marathon on A&E the other night, like, a 10 hour long one, and i legit sat on my ass with no pants on and a tub of ice cream and watched the ENTIRE thing. did i feel bad? hell no. i felt great. i yelled at the screen, flung ice crea, everywhere, didn't bathe - my mother even came up the stairs and told me i was a slob, but did i care? HELLLLLLLZ NO. can we please have a pantsless ice cream criminal minds marathon one day? then after that we can burn off all the calories by chasing ryan around. new life mission. thanks for the review, you adorable little ball of sisterness! good luck on all your schoolwork, poor lady :(

nouseforaname89: ooooh hello hello! thank you for your review! and thank you for wishing me a good time on my skiing trip! although instead of 'have fun' i wish you would've said 'DON'T GO IDIOT YOU CAN'T SKI'. but i suppose i can't blame you, you hardly know me. for future reference though, anytime you read a chapter and i mention in the a/n that i'm doing something that is potentially dangerous, tell me not to. i nearly impaled myself and eight little children with a ski pole. :( THANK YOU FOR READING, you're so wonderful!

WinchesterAngel3389: oh. my. god. i could not ask for a better best friend! although, just pointing this out there, a best friend would've told me not to go on the ski trip because not only would my life be in danger, but everyone else on the slopes life would be too :( interesting fact number one about your new best friend; i have the athletic abilities of a blind crippled dead kid. but thank you for your review and accepting my BFF offer, you've made my life a sunny slice of heaven. now let us hold hands and flaunt our love to the world.

akahitoha: anytime i get an alert saying you've reviewed, my whole heart explodes and then i die but luckily i'm put together by the modern miracle of fanfiction. you are such a wonderful, cheerful, smiley face usin' love bug and i adore you! thank you for the review you beautiful akahitohawwwwwwtie! let's go build snowmen and name them Ellahitoha. xox

kcollins720: HELLO MY EVERFAITHFUL REVIEWER. you know what makes me go awwwwwe? YOU MAKE ME GO AWWWWWWE. i'm sending you a virtual basket of love and hugs and flowers and undying affection, just for being such a great reader. love forever and ever!

XDeadlyImperfectionX: it's official. i'm making you a 'Team Harlow' t-shirt. and i'm going to send it to you. and then i'm gonna sell them online and in every major department store around the world, and all profits will go to you, because although you may be XDeadlyImperectionX, to me you are 'XSIMPLYPERFECTIONX. your long ass review made me squeal so much and so loud and so long that i passed out, and when i came to, i realized that i loved you. thank you thank you thank you!

PSUPRS: SORA, HELLO MY DARLING. you look like a giraffe when you ski? please. i invite you to come and watch me ski. i don't look like a giraffe, i look more like a puffy marshmellow man who is doing cartwheels/flailing down the slopes. and even from hundreds of feet away, it's said you can still see the look of terror/distress on my snow white face. it's a legend, of course, but i welcome you to come and check it/me out. you broke your wrist! my heart bleeds for you! no more skiing, you stay safe at home and be warm and adorable and wonderful like you already are! thank you for the review you beautiful ball of love!

MAN OH MAN YOU GUYS ARE ACTUALLY THE GREATEST.

I have yet to even start on the next chapter, but if all goes well and I'm not stuck at work for eight hours a day ALL week, next update should be up by next Wednesday! WISH ME LUCK!

*prances off*

love;

ELLAH!