Chapter 31

PEN

Practically shaking, Pen took the stairs two at a time, breath coming out in great, wheezing gasps. She hopped down the last few steps, rolling on her ankle. Excruciating pain shot up her leg, and she half jogged, half hopped toward the kitchen, crashing into the side wall as she tried to steady herself.

Daniela was seated at the kitchen table, gesturing to her phone with sharp, angry movements. "I have no signal!" she yelled.

Pen stopped in the hall, watching Daniela silently for a moment. She opened her mouth to speak, but Laszlo rushed in past her, nearly sending her spinning. Pen caught herself on the entry, teeth grinding.

Laszlo stopped in the kitchen, hands on his hips as he looked between them with wide, worried eyes. "The van won't start," he panted. "Neil was right, we're going nowhere ." His voice was laced with panic. "And Fanny won't come in. She refuses to enter the castle again. Silly woman thinks there's something cursed about this place. Superstitious, if you ask me."

"I can hear ye!" Fanny said from the mudroom. "And the castle is haunted, nay, cursed! Did ye even listen to my opening tour?"

"Not really!" Laszlo admitted.

Daniela stood and turned to Laszlo, curls whipping around her face and phone held tightly in her fingers as she pushed past Pen. "We still don't have cell service either. How do people live like this? I haven't checked my socials in a day ."

"You should be more worried about calling for emergency services than having enough internet to check your socials," Laszlo said. Pen agreed silently.

"Hey," Pen started, raising a hand. This was not going as planned. She hopped on her good leg, biting the inside of her cheek as pain dragged icy-hot fingers up through her hip.

"What are we going to do?" Laszlo cried out.

Pen pointed behind her, voice wavering. "There's a…" she said, trailing off. She did not have their attention in the least. They were all scattered.

Grunting, Pen turned and hopped back down the hall. Squeezing her eyes shut, she counted to ten before she nodded to herself and ran toward the kitchen once more.

"Help!" she screamed as she rounded the corner.

"Pen?" Laszlo asked.

This is it.

"Why are ye yelling?" Fanny called.

"There's a—I saw the—" Pen shook her head, waving down the hallway.

Laszlo crossed to her, drawing her into his side. His grip was firm, reassuring, and it took the weight off her ankle, an instant relief.

"Pen," he said, voice tight, "tell me what you saw."

"The ghost," she said, looking to Daniela. She lowered her voice. "The woman in white."

"I thought it was the woman in black?" Laszlo asked.

"Ye saw her, then?" Fanny asked, suddenly behind them.

"Come on," Daniela said with a laugh. "We all know ghosts aren't real."

"They're real! If you'll come with me, I'll show you." Laszlo, Daniela, and Fanny all shared a silent look. Pen knew Laszlo and Daniela didn't believe her, but if they would just trust her, follow her up those stairs. "Please," she begged. "Neil needs our help."

With a sigh, Laszlo nodded. "For your man."

"He's not my man," she muttered under her breath, blushing as he helped her down the hallway. Although, she still wasn't entirely sure what he was to her. She liked him, no doubt, but there was a question lingering in the space between them, and she wasn't quite ready for what that meant.

Up the stairs the lot of them went, steps creaking under their weight. Pen stared down at the painting of Georgina hanging in the foyer, and she could swear those painted lips curved up into a knowing smirk, her silver eyes following them until they were out of sight.

"Where?" Laszlo asked on the landing.

Pen pointed shakily to the west wing. "Down there."

"Ye were not supposed to go there," Fanny chided.

"We had no choice," Pen insisted.

Laszlo shared a final look with the others. This was it, their last chance to turn around. Laszlo moved first, hauling Pen down the darkened hall, practically hiding behind her as they approached the door.

Though she knew the story, though she'd been down here several times in a matter of days, Pen couldn't help the shiver that traveled down her spine or the chill that left her shaking. The west wing was daunting as ever, shadows leaking from the corners, movement skittering under the doors like critters, and ghosts lying in wait.

Daniela blew out a string of warm air somewhere behind her, and someone was humming quietly under their breath, voice ragged with fear. They were nervous and terrified, and they had every right to be.

"Neil's in here," Pen said, voice trembling.

She motioned to the door— Georgina's door —and Laszlo glanced down at her, lips curved into a frown. "Why does this feel like a terrible idea?"

"Because it probably is," Daniela whispered.

"I'm not sure about this, Pen," Laszlo said.

"Please," Pen begged. She was a broken record, and they had no intention of fixing it. "Neil needs us."

And maybe they finally believed her, because with a surprising amount of resilience, Fanny pushed her way to the door and threw it open.

What they saw there was nothing short of a nightmare.

"Help me!" Neil cried, half-hidden by what was left of the bed. The room was macabre, everything dark and drab, the scent vomit-inducing. It was worse than it had been before, muskier, and darker.

Someone screamed, Fanny or Daniela or perhaps Laszlo, Pen couldn't be sure. She hobbled into the room, hands wrapping around Neil's. The weight on her ankle made her gasp in pain, but she fought through it.

"I've got you!" she yelled.

Although she wasn't certain why she was yelling. The silence from the others was thunderous.

"Quick, someone grab rope!" she said, turning to the others. She angled toward the doorway, hand outstretched for help. Fanny stood frozen in the entry, eyes wide in horror as she took it in. Daniela cowered behind her, mouth open in surprise, arms wrapped around Fanny like a shield as they froze in place.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmyfuckinggod," Daniela was chanting.

Laszlo, to no surprise, had already fled.

Pen turned back to Neil, her grip weak on his wrists as she tugged. "Penelope, please!" he begged, winking.

"I'm trying!" she called. She clamped her lips together as she pretended to pull on him.

And then, he laughed.

The sound split through the desperate silence of the room, and Pen couldn't stop it; she laughed too. Her grip slackened on him, giggles bubbling in her chest. The laughter had taken hold of her. His hands slipped from hers as he fell to the floor, face planting against the floorboards, body shaking with laughter.

Everything seemed to freeze around them, multiple sets of eyes tracking them.

"Um, are you two okay?" Daniela asked from the doorway.

Pen helped Neil stand, shuffling on her good leg. "Sorry," Pen wheezed. "I couldn't keep a straight face."

"Wait," Neil said, wiping at his eyes. He watched her movements, eyes tracking the angle of her foot as she hobbled. "Did you actually hurt yourself?"

"I rolled my ankle on the stairs. I should be fine though."

"Would ye two mind explaining what the bloody hell is going on?" Fanny demanded.

Neil and Pen turned to each other, smiling.

"We have some explaining to do," Pen said. "But first, that was payback for making us suffer all the hauntings on our own."

"Where is the ghost?" Daniela asked shakily.

"All in due time," Neil said, sweeping his arm out the door.

Pen glanced over her shoulder as the others disappeared back down the hall. She stopped to inspect a glob of sticky white stuff, the only thing Georgina and Archie had left in their wake to… well, wherever ghosts disappeared to.

"I wouldn't touch that," Neil warned.

"Why, what do you think it is?"

He coughed, turning away as he blushed. "Well, it's white… and sticky… and when we left them, they'd been about to—"

"Ohmygodno." Pen covered her ears. "Don't you dare finish that sentence." She shook her head, trying to forget the image of Ghost Archie doing… well, that . "Do you think the Ghostbusters ever had to deal with this? No, you know what, don't answer that either."

Neil snorted as he tried to scoop her up in his arms. He teetered sideways, and Pen wrapped an arm around his waist, catching their joined weight against the banister.

"I don't think you're well enough to be carrying me, Neil."

"And you're not well enough to be walking."

She grinned at him. "Then we'll have to make do."

They started down the staircase, albeit slowly, and Neil turned back to her. "Why ask so many questions if you don't want to know?"

"There are some things in this world I'd rather stay ignorant of. Like whether or not a ghost comes, and what said come looks like."

"You're thinking about it. Ghost jizz. "

"Only reluctantly!"

They struggled to keep up with the others, Neil wobbling down the steps, gripping the banister with a white-knuckled hand, and Pen limping and leaning into him.

He tapped his chin. "I don't think we can ever watch Ghostbusters ."

Pen punched his shoulder. "I would have been fine if you had just stayed quiet . You've ruined it for me now too."

"You're welcome."

They stumbled to a stop at the base of the stairs as their friends turned to them.

"Well?" Daniela asked as she crossed her arms and stared daggers at them. "Aren't you going to tell us what all that was about?"

Pen turned to Neil, but he motioned to her. "Why don't you tell them, Penelope? You figured it out, and Georgina wanted you to find the mausoleum, not me."

"Mausoleum?" Laszlo asked, glancing over his shoulder as if Georgina was there.

With Neil's help, Pen hopped through to the study and sank into one of the large leather chairs. Neil propped up her bad ankle and iced it as the others settled in the open seats. He held out the letters and journal for her, and Pen ran her hands over them, something settling in her gut.

She licked her lips, looking around at their eager faces.

"Let me tell you a story."