The Ghost Files (19 page)

Dr. Olivet starts the conversation for me. “You said in your email you were working on a novel?”

I want to smack myself. I’d forgotten I’d told him I was writing a novel and wanted some information to make the story more believable. This is perfect! I’m so brilliant I amaze even myself sometimes.

I nod. “Yeah. My main character can see ghosts. I don’t mean see the outlines of ghosts out the corner of her eye, but actually
see
them. They are as clear to her as you are to me.”

It’s Dr. Olivet’s turn to nod. “There are several cultures who believe in that actually. It’s a rare gift, but not unheard of certainly.”

“Really?” There were others who could do what I can? I’m so gonna have to go look up some more stuff. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“You’d be amazed at what is possible in the world of the supernatural,” he says. “The very fact that you even thought of it tells me you’ve either done a lot of research or you’re more open to the supernatural than most.”

“I Googled some stuff on ghosts, but what I can… what my character can do, well, I didn’t find anything about that on the internet.” Crap. I got so excited there for a second I almost slipped. Too much stuff to handle today.

“There’s not a whole lot of information about that particular skill on the internet. I read about it in actual books.” He grins at my involuntary cringe before continuing. “There are many theories about why people can see ghosts that range from sheer nonsense to very scientific explanations.”             

“So you believe people can see ghosts?” I ask him.

“Of course,” he replies immediately. “The degree to which we can see them is debatable, though. I’ve never actually met someone who could see them as an almost physical entity, but I’ve met enough people who see enough to prove to me they’re the real deal.”

“So it wouldn’t be believable if my character could not only see them but talk to them too?”

“Ghosts can communicate with us.” He takes another drink of his coffee, a calculating look in his eyes. “Everything in the universe is made up of energy and in order for things to interact with other things, energy is needed and used. The same can be said of ghosts. They can communicate from the energy they’ve stored up. Once that energy is depleted, they need to recharge. I’ve seen things move, I’ve heard whispers in my ear, and I’ve recorded anomalies on camera. It’s all just degrees of energy, so yes, it would make sense that your… character could sense when a ghost is trying to communicate with her.”

“Okay, let’s say that my character has a special gift that defies those laws. She can see ghosts clearly, have conversations with them, and they can physically touch her and cause her harm.”

He stops sipping his coffee and just stares at me. It makes me extremely nervous. Dan inches closer, somehow sensing I need the support. He knows me so well and I can’t figure out how he does. Dr. Olivet sets his cup down and leans back, those eyes never leaving my face. They have gone past calculating to something very unusual. He looks like a kid who just got a brand new PS Vita for his birthday.

“Then I would say you are an extraordinary person, Mattie.”

My mouth goes a little dry. There is no way he could… “Look, Dr. Olivet, this is all for my novel. I can’t see ghosts.”

Dr. Olivet smiles kindly at me. “Mattie, the first time I contacted my mentor, I didn’t tell him I’d seen ghosts or felt them or anything like that. I simply told him I wanted some research for a psych paper I was working on. Your email reminded me of the letter I sent to him. It was direct, to the point, and said nothing about your having experienced any of this yourself.
That
is why I contacted you. I suspected you were one of those people sensitive to the energies spirits give off. I’m not here to ridicule you and if you are not comfortable talking about your gift, I understand. I want you to be able to ask me anything and I promise I will do my best to answer your questions.”

Dan’s hand grips mine and gives it a gentle squeeze. I latch on with a death grip. Dare I admit to this stranger that I can see ghosts? He doesn’t look like he is mocking me. He seems sincere. Dan doesn’t believe me and I so very badly need someone to believe me. I didn’t even realize that before this moment. Can I trust him though?

“I understand this is hard for you, Mattie,” Dr. Olivet tells me softly. “Do you want to tell me what happened in the auditorium? All my equipment lit up and then I saw your friend drag you out. What did you see?”

My fingers touch the throat again and I shrink back from the memory of those hands strangling me. This man might be able to help me learn to protect myself from the random ghost attacks. He could also be a load of bumpkus just like Dan said, too. Is it worth the risk? The bruises on my neck say yes.

“There was a boy on the stage,” I say hesitantly. “He came right at me and I made Dan get me out. We barely cleared the doors before he started choking me.”

“You could feel his hands?”

“It was a little bit more than feel, Doc.” I unzip my jacket and show him the fresh bruises on my neck. His eyes widen and he shifts closer.

“These weren’t here before?”

“No,” Dan tells him. “I’ve been with her for the past several hours and I can say for a fact they weren’t there before.”

I glare at him. He sounds furious that he has to admit that.

“Don’t be angry with him, little one,” Dr. Olivet chuckles. “Facing the truth of ghosts can sometimes be more than most of us can handle.”

“I’m not sure I buy that,” Dan shakes his head.

“Then how did I get them, Officer Dan?” My voice has gone whisper soft, not a good sign. I know myself and I am nearing the point of hitting my friend.

“You were clutching your throat pretty tightly, Mattie. I couldn’t pry your hands loose.”

“So you think I did this to myself?”

Before Dan can answer, Dr. Olivet holds up his hand to interrupt. “Mattie, can you place your hands on your throat for me?”

“Why?” I frown.

“Please?”

Sighing, I do as he asks and that’s when Dan swears softly. “What?” I ask.

“There is no way you could have made those marks,” Dr. Olivet explains. “The finger impressions are twice as big as your own. Only a man could have done that to you.”

Ah…the proverbial light bulb goes off and I smile, feeling vindicated. Dan only looks angrier. Maybe it really is too hard for him to believe, I realize and my smile fades. He will never believe me. That hurts more than it should. After this is finished, Officer Dan and I are finished too. I can’t let anyone get this close, not ever again. I don’t do pain of any kind, especially the kind that lingers when it comes to emotions.

This is going to get us nowhere and I came here for answers, not to convince Dan of anything he doesn’t want to accept as truth. “Dr. Olivet, you said that there different versions of how people can do what I can. Which one do you think is true?”

His brow arches at my change of subject, but he doesn’t push. Smart man. Instead he answers me.

“I honestly think it comes down to what you believe, Mattie. Are you religious?”

“I don’t go to church every Sunday, but I believe in God if that’s what you mean.”

“Good, this will be much easier for you then,” he smiles at me and takes another sip of his coffee. “A few years ago, I was helping out a friend in Scotland. He had the ruins of an abandoned monastery on his land. There were reports of ghosts haunting the property and he asked me to come take a look. He didn’t mind the ghosts. He hoped they were there so he could use it as a lure to get more people to his small bed and breakfast.”

“Were there any ghosts?” I ask, curious.

“Not a single one I could find,” he laughs. “I still remember how upset old Pete was over the loss of his ghosts. I did find something though. There was a small underground chamber that housed a library of just a few books. They were old, almost brittle and it terrified me to pick them up. Pete let me have the books to study. I handed them over to the university in Wales and they translated the works for me. One volume in particular told a very interesting story.”

Dan leans forward, his coffee forgotten. The Doc is a great storyteller. He makes the most mundane statements sound interesting. I see why he’s so popular. He’s just that charismatic. Dan is evidence of this. He doesn’t believe in ghosts, but even he can’t dredge up his normal sarcasm. Instead he’s hooked on the sound of the guy’s voice as much as me and I’m sure everyone else who’s ever heard him speak.

“We all know that according to scripture there is day that is appointed for us to be born and a day appointed for us to die.” He sets his cup down and leans back. “When we die we move on to the next plane of existence or to Heaven if you will. We’ve all heard people say that when we die, we see our loved ones. Maybe we do, maybe we don’t, but according to the text, death comes to collect you. Not Death as in the Four Horsemen Death, but a reaper. He or she is there when you die so they can help ease your confusion and take you to the next plane.”

“Kind of like the ferryman in mythology?” Dan asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Every culture has some sort of reference to the reaper. This particular text I had translated, talks about how reapers came to be. They are not angels, not in the sense we think of angels. They were in life ordinary people with an extraordinary gift. The gift activates when they die and are brought back to this plane of existence. They have the ability to see lost souls and help them move on to the next plane. Souls get trapped on earth for one reason or another and these special people help them to see that they are dead and need to move on.”

Help the little buggers? They scare the crap out of me and I’m supposed to help them? Not in this lifetime. No way am I opening myself up to that nonsense twenty four seven. No freaking way. Hold up, did he say die?

“I’ve never died before,” I tell him.

“Are you sure, Mattie? What about when you were little? Were you ever in an accident where your heart might have stopped even for a few seconds?”

Dan and I look at each other, both unwilling to say what we are thinking. I might have died when my mom tried to kill me. “I don’t know, Doc,” I tell him. “I don’t remember a lot about my childhood.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Let me finish my story and then we can get back to that.” The doc takes a long drink of his coffee and sets the cup down again before continuing.

“The book tells the story of a young woman, probably thirteen or fourteen. Her parents brought her to the abbey because she was talking to people that weren’t there. They were afraid she was possessed and wanted to free her soul. Back then most of those poor people were put through treatments to cure them of their possession. They endured unspeakable horrors because of their gifts. This particular girls name was Cathleen. She refused to admit that she was possessed. She told the monks over and over that she was only trying to help someone. Brother Aien tried to stop the other monks from their torture. He believed the girl but the others did not. She died at their hands. According to the journal I found of Brother Aien, Cathleen came to him in a dream bathed in the most beautiful white light. She thanked him for trying to stop her torture and told him not to worry, that he had helped her. She could now do in death what she was unable to do in life, to help the souls that came to her.”

“What did she mean?” I ask.

“The people who are born with you gift, Mattie, become reapers when they die.”

“What?” I gasp, startled. “I don’t want to be a reaper.” I can’t help but remember the dream I had of that ugly thing in black coming for me while I was in the hospital. My first thought had been the Grimm Reaper. I so am not becoming that thing.

Dr. Olivet laughs softly. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Mattie. You are imagining some dark creature when in fact a reaper only comes to help people move on. They might even be able to take on the shape of a loved one to make it easier. It’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“No, you don’t understand,” I tell him, a little frantic. “I’ve seen a reaper, one almost attacked me in the hospital.”

That gets his attention. “Tell me.”

I tell him about the thing that had haunted me there. It may have been a dream, but it had felt real and I still can’t shake it.

He is quiet for a long while before speaking again. He sounds a bit shaky. That is so not good.

“That wasn’t a reaper, Mattie. That was a shade or wraith as some people call them. Ghosts who have gone mad and hunt other souls. They are very, very dangerous, especially to people like you. They can feed off you as well since you are essentially made up of ghost energy.”

“Come again?”

“That is how you can see them, talk to them, and interact with them. Your aura gives off a homing beacon for them. You are their comfort in a sea of confusion. You have the ability to calm them, to take away that confusion, and make them understand this is not where they belong. They need to move on. You can open the gateway to the next plane for them because of who you will one day be.”

Flippin’ fantastic! Not only do I have to deal with ghosts, I have to worry about shades who can eat me or something. How much weirder can I get? Wait, did he say gateway? The kitchen at the old lady’s house had become a gateway maybe?

“There’s something else,” I say hesitantly. “You said I can open a gateway? I think I may have done that already accidentally.” I tell him about what had happened in the kitchen, about the white fuzz bleeding over everything and about falling through the floor.

He swallows several times and reaches for his coffee, only to find it empty. He is staring at me like I’ve just sprouted horns and said I could fly. This can’t be good to spook the spook doctor. Even Dan is staring at him askance.

“Mattie, you shouldn’t be able to do that for years, if ever. You are seeing what is referred to as “The Between.”

“The Between?”

“It’s a dark place where it’s said the Shades reside. It’s the space between this world and the next. Reapers guide souls through The Between safely to the other side. We must all pass through it to get to where we need to be.”