Here's the next chapter and it's a bit lighter than the last.

Thanks again for the reviews; you are very kind.

Disclaimer: Castle does not belong to me but to ABC, Andrew Marlowe et al.

Chapter 8

Demons

Kate had had a good day. They had just solved not only the murder of TV Ghost Wrangler, Jack Sinclair, but also the twenty year old murder of Melanie Benton and the disappearance of her husband Matt. What was even better was the fact that Kate had found the case fun. She had never believed in anything remotely paranormal but this case had given her the opportunity to watch Castle in all his glory as he delighted in delving into the world of the supernatural; that was where the fun had come in.

As she relaxed on the sofa with a glass of wine, she decided that it would be a great idea to record this case in her diary as an antidote to the rather depressing last entry.

If ever there was a case right up Castle's street, this was it. It had everything his fertile mind could ever wish for in the context of the paranormal; ghosts, demons, secret passageways, a skeleton, mysterious sounds and happenings galore; in short, Castle heaven!

He's still worried about Alexis, though, which shouldn't surprise me. He loves her so much and it's just been the two of them for so long. I think he's really worried about her going off to college and simply not needing him anymore. She will, though, I know that as a daughter who went off to college herself; I'll always need my dad but the relationship will change and that's what he's most afraid of, I think; change. At the moment, he's worried that with Ashley at Stanford, the balance of power in his daughter's relationship has shifted but I told him not to be too concerned because she's a girl and Ashley is a teenage boy and in my opinion that means Alexis still holds all the cards.

Anyway, back to the case. I really shouldn't have been surprised to discover that Castle watches Ghost Wranglers, the show fronted by our victim, Jack Sinclair; I called it 'ridiculous' but he had to change that to 'ridiculously awesome'. It appeared that the owner of the property, Steve Fuller, was so fed up with not being able to rent it out because of all the previous complaints and problems that he'd called in Jack Sinclair and the Ghost Wranglers show in a desperate attempt to make it rentable again.

The scene that confronted us in the living room of the house resembled a horror movie. There was blood everywhere. Lanie was very quick to point out that the blood spatter completely encircled the body which was certainly odd because you would expect there to be a gap where the spatter landed on the killer. I could just sense Castle's excitement growing.

As this was a TV show, we were able to watch a recording of Sinclair's last moments but the cameras went dead just before the killing. Well, I didn't expect it to be that easy! Back at the precinct, we'd picked up Jack's usual cameraman but after checking out his alibi, he was in the clear but he had told us that Jack hadn't wanted to take this job. He was always a bit spooked at the thought of jobs in New York even though he originated from the city. Going over the evidence we had at that point, I could tell Castle was about to suggest a ghost did it so I got in first and threatened to send him home; a threat, I hasten to add, that I wouldn't dream of carrying out, not on a case like this one, anyway; but after his next suggestion of 'Apparition American' I was, just for a moment, tempted to change my mind!

I am a cop not a ghost hunter and so I knew we had to treat this case like any other, look into the victim's life and everything about his death would be explained; yes, even mysteriously moving tripods.

Next day, I couldn't believe it when I got to the precinct and Castle was already there, he never gets in before me. What was worse, he'd drunk my coffee. He'd been researching the McLaren house and had discovered there had been eight killings there since it had been built in 1898 and in each case where the killer had been caught they said a demon had made them do it. He was really excited by this but I hadn't had my coffee so I suggested staking the place out and zapping the demon with our proton packs. As I said, caffeine-free Beckett, not good! As a slight peace offering, I allowed Shaggy and Scooby (sorry, Ryan and Castle) to go and talk to the last tenants.

Meanwhile Esposito and I gathered more evidence together from a couple of interesting characters. Ron Berger, a former prisoner who'd reckoned he'd been molested by a ghost in his cell (yeah, right!) and Mercy LeGrande, a paranormal consultant (I say again, yeah, right!) Anyway it turned out that Jack Sinclair as an eleven year old had witnessed the murder of Melanie Benton in the McLaren House and had suppressed the memory of it for all these years until he came back and the memories began to resurface. This would, of course, worry Melanie's killer. We had a motive, folks!

We talked to both the original investigating officer, Addison Smith and Matt Benton's brother, Pete. Detective Smith said he was always convinced that Matt Benton had killed his wife and then disappeared to Europe. Pete Benton had received a postcard from Vienna five years after the murder in which Matt denied responsibility and mentioned a demon. After checking car service records from Pete Benton's firm, we had to check out the Fairwick Hotel in case Matt had returned from his self-imposed exile.

I volunteered to do that one on my own as Espo, Ryan, Lanie and Jenny had big dinner plans that evening and there was no way I was going to send the boys and be responsible for them being late, hence ruining Lanie's plans. I am not a masochist!

The hotel trip was a bust, though. I'd not long been home, just long enough to pour myself a large glass of red, when a very excited Castle turned up on my doorstep.

"Laird's Lug!" he exclaimed, looking decidedly pleased with himself.

I, of course, had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He could have been talking a foreign language, although, even then, I might have had some idea! I thought I must be enjoying the wine a bit too much but, as I'd hardly had chance to drink more than a mouthful, maybe I hadn't had enough. He went on to explain something about secret alcoves built in Scottish castles and, as the architect of the McLaren House was a Scot, maybe there was indeed a Laird's Lug which could explain all the mysterious goings on. Actually, that theory sounded remarkably reasonable, so I said we could check it out in the morning. Castle looked mournful at that idea and I realised he was in nine year old on a sugar rush mode and certainly waiting until morning was not on his agenda. He then tried to psych me out by suggesting I was scared so I played along for a bit before finally agreeing to go. Then he had to say:

"If you're not scared, just say it."

Now here comes a weird part, although when it comes to Castle and me, maybe not so weird; I knew just what he was talking about. We do seem to have this ability to know exactly what the other one's thinking. That's how we work so well as a team, finishing each other sentences, building theory, we don't have to think about what's going on in the other's brain, we just know. I didn't want to encourage him too much so I half heartedly refused but when I was on the receiving end of those puppy dog eyes and he pleaded:

"For me. Please?" I just had to give in,

"I ain't afraid of no ghosts!"

Sorry, but he is just so adorable when he's in that mood and I make no apology for thinking that but there is no way on earth I would ever say it. Well, not just at the moment, anyway. In the future, who knows?

In the living room of the house, we searched for Castle's Laird's Lug. I pointed out that if we found it, that would put paid to all his demon theories; we'd just have a case of a psycho hiding in a room. He wasn't overly impressed when I suggested that, if all worldly explanations were exhausted, then I would be open to the alternative. Called me Scepticus Maximus. Actually, I like that, it sums me up. I had to have a go at winding him up then. I told him this tale about my own experience of the paranormal and I have to say, I must have told it well because he fell for it, hook, line and sinker. I couldn't believe it, actually, I really thought he knew me better than that. Or maybe he was just carried away in the moment and the setting.

Just as I came clean, things started to get weird. First the door slammed shut. Then the lights went out. Even the torch, which I was sure I'd only just put new batteries in, flickered and died. I found some matches, lit a candle and sure enough, that was blown out. Something odd was definitely going on here but I found a possible source for the draught; a hollow panel in the ceiling. The only way to reach it was for me to climb on Castle's shoulders as there was no way I was going to try to find something else to climb on in the pitch black. Sure enough, when I pushed the panel, it slid open with exactly the noise we'd heard on the recording just prior to Jack Sinclair's death. It looked like we'd found our Laird's Lug. Now we just had to get up there.

I needed an extra boost and asked Castle to hold my legs as I climbed up but his hands managed to find a whole different part of my anatomy. I gasped as I felt him but I didn't find it a completely unpleasant experience. Who am I trying to kid, it sent a sudden jolt of electricity to my very core. Much though I wanted the feeling to last, I had to end the moment,

"Castle, I said legs, okay."

We found the passageway and a number of rather large rats which freaked Castle out more than the idea of ghosts and demons. The passageway led to a room where there was a magnetic field generator. When this machine was activated, it created a magnetic field, attracting anything metal and it would have knocked out the cameras as well. What we also found in this room was a skeleton in a cupboard. Actually, the skeleton fell out of the cupboard and onto Castle who screamed like a girl and received my infamous eye roll for his troubles.

The case resolved quickly from that point. We ruled out Pete Benton because the poor guy was able to give precise details of where he was when Melanie and Matt were killed. He was in love with Melanie and said that when you lose someone you love the details are burned into your brain, every detail of the night you heard. He said he couldn't forget it if he tried. I know exactly what he means.

We then suspected the house owner, Mr Fuller but when we set up the trap, the fish we actually caught was none other than Detective Addison Smith. He said a demon made him do it but I'm sure that's just laying the grounds for an insanity plea.

I have to say, it was great to find explanations for all the weirdness; the passageway, faulty wiring, draughty old house. Castle, though, was convinced that Jack Sinclair's ghost had helped us to solve his own murder. What did I do? I humoured him, of course. I admitted to that possibility, if he would admit that there was no demon. We had a deal.

Kate grinned as she put the diary away and thought about all the banter she and Castle had shared over the last couple of days. She was still keeping a big secret from him and she certainly wasn't ready to move the relationship forward but she felt they were in a really good place at the moment and hoped they would be able to sustain it. She thought again about his straying hands, how they'd felt touching her and how her body had responded of its own accord. She headed towards her bedroom and realised that she was blushing madly.