How could William answer? How could he say what he wanted to say without sounding crazy?
“Is there… something behind me?”
Edward moved his worried gaze from William to the room behind him. William focused on the reflection in his wide, brown eyes but saw nothing but the shifting outline of a door.
“No, nothing.”
“I felt something. At least, I think I did.” William sucked in a breath. The sensation had stopped, just like that, gone in the beat of a moment as if it had never happened. “It’s gone now.”
And yet William didn’t really believe himself. Because maybe whatever, or whoever, was in the attic with them hadn’t gone completely. There was no explaining in words, but there was a darkness to the room. The dust-ridden air was charged like a storm would sweep in and cause havoc.
He wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Keep asking it questions,” William demanded, wanting this over. “Let’s get this over with.”
This time, Edward hesitated, far too transfixed in his worry for the man sitting opposite him. But then another question slipped from his paling lips, directed to whatever was in the room with us.
“Teddy Jones, are you in the room with us?”
It was the first time Edward had voiced the possibility that Teddy had died in Hanbury, too. They both knew he never made it to the army, which opened questions such as what happened to him or who forged the telegram announcing Teddy’s death. But as of yet, neither had suggested he died here, even though the signs were certainly pointing to it.
The glass moved again. It slithered away from the word “no,” stopped just shy of the word “yes,” and then jolted back over “no,” coming to another stop.
Although the answer was clear as day, it still created far more questions.
“I don’t understand,” William said, unable to take his eyes off the board. “Why would anyone else be haunting Hanbury? We know Robert died here, we have a hunch about Teddy. Maybe someone else too…”
Edward didn’t answer at first. When he did, his deep voice cracked enough to make William finally look up. He’d gone a pale white, almost blue, beneath his eyes. It was as if the blood had drained from his entire body in a single instance. “Unless it isn’t a place, but a person, that a spirit has attached to.”
The glass screamed across the board, stopping over the word yes and not moving from it.
“Fuck,” William gasped again.
Whatever was there with them had just agreed.
“Fuck, indeed.” Edward shifted, eyes not blinking for worry he’d miss something.
“Last time, the board answered to me only,” William said. “This time, it’s only answering to you.”
“Because whatever – whoever, is deciding to speak through the board seems to be connected to me. And as much as I usually adore the attention, this makes me feel a tad bit sick.”
William understood the concept of a spirit being attached to a place. But a person – that made him feel unwell too.
“Maybe ask it who it is? To spell their name or something?”
It was an obvious answer, yet Edward hesitated. Ignored William actually. The question that he did ask was odd to William, as though Edward was trying to decide for himself through the process of elimination.
“How did you die?” Edward’s voice filled around the attic. Unnaturally.
William, the room, even the entire world outside it, seemed to take a collective breath in and paused.
The glass moved. It shifted down to the alphabet and stopped on three letters in turn. William read them out as if he were a contestant in some spelling competition.
“C. A.”
Ca. William’s brow creased as confusion overcame him, whereas Edward didn’t look confused. He didn’t even seem surprised with the answer.
“I think we should stop,” Edward snapped. “We did this to get answers about Robert and Teddy, and whatever is here with us isn’t going to give them–”
