Alexandra Sokoloff - The Unseen

3. Agent

“And fraud,” Laurel said suddenly. “Let’s not forget fraud.” She looked at Brendan, and saw his face tighten. “A proven factor in many cases,” she added, holding his gaze. She didn’t even know why she was saying it—it wasn’t what she believed. After yesterday she didn’t even know what she believed anymore, but it was what she was compelled to say, and it was out.

Brendan turned stiffly to the board and wrote,

4. Fraud.

“Anything else?” he asked, and there was a touch of fury in his voice.

To Laurel’s surprise, Tyler spoke again. “‘A dynamic between the percipients and the house,’” he said, and Laurel realized he was quoting from the Leish article. “The Poltergeist Effect.”

“Yes,” said Brendan slowly, and wrote on the board. “Anything else?”

“Something else,” Katrina said quietly, and Laurel felt a chill. “Something else entirely.”

“Like what?” Brendan said, but without as much force as before.

“Entities,” Katrina said after a moment. “Something… extradimensional. Just something else .”

There was a silence that felt cold. Brendan turned to the board and wrote it.

“None of the above,” Tyler said, and Laurel knew he meant it as a joke, but the ice was not broken. Brendan continued to write, making his own notes on the list. Then he put the marker down and rubbed his hands together, delighted. “Excellent list. Let’s break it down now.”

He stepped back to survey the list on the left-hand side of the board:

1. A noisy ghost

2. Kinetic aspects of a traditional haunting

3. An imprint of violent emotion on a house or place

4. The psychological projections of a human agent (possibly adolescent, possibly female)

5. Fraud

6. An agreement between the house and the observers: The Poltergeist Effect

7. Some other discarnate entity

8. Unknown

“Let’s take number one. A noisy ghost. An angry or mischievous spirit,” Brendan embellished, and added the words to the board. “Certainly we had a taste of that yesterday, no?” His voice was hearty. “In fact, let’s talk about that for a moment. Would you characterize the manifestations yesterday as a: ‘angry’; or b: ‘mischievous’? Or, c: ‘other’?”

Or d: ‘insane’? Laurel thought, wildly. I vote ‘d.’

Brendan turned from the white board, and looked expectantly at them. “Let’s just throw out some adjectives. Descriptive words.”

“Teasing.” Katrina said promptly. “Sly.”

“Excellent!” Brendan leaped to the board and wrote down the words.

Teasing/Sly

“Indeed,” he nodded, looking toward the upside-down paintings. “Keep going,” he ordered.

Beside Laurel, Tyler spoke, to her surprise. “Seductive. Manipulative.”

Brendan turned and looked at him. “Interesting. Why do you say so?”

Tyler shrugged. “It got us all going, didn’t it? We were chasing it around for hours.” He looked sidewise at Katrina. “Might as well add ‘feminine.’ I’ve spent less time chasing a girl.”

Katrina gasped and hit him, automatically. “Prick.”

Tyler smiled lazily. “I’m just sayin’.”

“It’s not feminine, though.” Laurel heard someone say, and then realized that it had been herself who had spoken aloud.

“No,” Katrina said, and looked at Laurel for perhaps the first time ever without a trace of rancor. “It’s not feminine.”

“No,” Brendan echoed. They all sat for a moment, contemplating.

“Childlike,” Katrina said, thoughtfully. “Playful.”

Laurel felt they were going down a dangerous road, suddenly, but could not have said why. The grandfather clock clicked softly in the corner. The sound felt ominous.

Tyler was nodding, also thoughtfully. She looked around at all of them, their almost dreamy focus. Outside, the rain was a soft, hypnotic patter.

Lulled. We’re all being lulled.

“Intelligent,” Katrina said suddenly. “You know? It’s trying to communicate.”

“But what is It? ” Tyler asked.

“I don’t know,” Katrina said slowly. “But It is .”

“This is good,” Brendan said, pacing the floor in front of the fireplace. “This is good. Yes. There’s an intelligence. A…” He turned to Laurel and pointed. “A personality . It’s all of the same… mind.” He paused, rethinking. “Mind isn’t the word. But one intelligence.”

Katrina and Tyler were nodding.

“We’re agreed, then?” Brendan said intensely. “It’s one. Just one.”

Laurel felt at this point that she had to put a stop to it. There was something wrong— what had the pastor said? —something perverse about talking about this… thing … as if it were human, as if it were friendly, as if it were knowable.

“It’s also room-specific,” Tyler said suddenly. “It had us going on a circuit, yesterday. The library upstairs, the little room in the center hall, this room”—he glanced around the dining room—“and the one next door.” He nodded toward the great room.

“Yes, it is,” Brendan agreed, nodding thoughtfully. “I wonder why?”

And what if the point is, there is no why? Laurel thought.

“So are we done with this analyzing yet?” Tyler said.

Brendan turned to him, with a cold look. “And what would you suggest instead?”

Tyler shifted on his chair. “Well, are we just going to wait for it to make some kind of move? We could try to make something happen.”

Brendan’s voice was neutral, but Laurel could tell he was intrigued. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Tyler looked up in the direction of the upstairs library. “Instead of sticking around together, we could stake out the rooms. Things are only happening in a few of them. Why not divide them up, hang out, and see what happens?”

“I don’t like it,” Laurel said immediately. Everyone looked at her.

“Nothing dangerous happened yesterday,” Brendan said, placating. “No one was hurt. I think it’s a good idea. We wouldn’t be far from each other…”

“Or we could try talking to it,” Katrina said.

Brendan turned to look at her, intrigued. “How would you propose to do that?”

“The same way it talks to us. The rapping.”

Laurel felt a current go through the room. She looked at Brendan and Tyler, and could see the light in their faces, burning hot. The two clocks ticked behind them: the grandfather clock in the corner, and the gold clock in its glass dome.

“I think Miss Sugar is onto something,” Tyler said slowly.

Laurel suddenly realized what the feeling of danger was. We want fireworks again. Even I do. We got a taste of it yesterday and we want more. She thought of the article Tyler had been reading by Dr. Leish: “In effect the percipients become addicted to the manifestations.”

But of course, it had already been decided.

Rain fell in a dark curtain outside as Brendan and Tyler carried the long dining-room table into the great room, and they set up four chairs around it, while Laurel watched with a growing feeling of unreality.

Brendan looked to Katrina.

“Katrina, this was your idea. Do you want to try?”

Laurel saw Katrina straighten her back and lift her head. “Yes, I will.” She walked across the dully gleaming floor and seated herself at the center of one long side of the oak table… and looked to the others expectantly until they took their seats.

So she’s a medium, now? Laurel thought. That was exactly the role Katrina seemed to be assuming as she placed her hands flat on the table, closed her eyes and took a breath, and sat still for an extended moment. The weight of the great room settled around them, the heaviness of place out of time. Rain fell steadily, a soporific rumble. Then Katrina opened her eyes and looked off into the gray distance.