Chapter 3

Back in my room, I open my laptop. It was good to reconnect with Millie, her easy laughter and the simple normalcy of our conversation had felt like an anchor. I feel like I’ve been drifting recently but now I feel ready to get started on my assignment. I check “Chat Circle” Sam hasn’t returned my message. I guess she didn't have a chance before school, her Dad is in the military and can be very strict, though I guess most parents would be considered strict compared to mine. It might seem strange but it's not uncommon for members of the supernatural community to choose to go into the military and use their skills to protect all the people of this world. I can’t imagine it myself, having to hide who you are all the time, it must be exhausting. Though, I guess some people would argue that I’m hiding who I really am all the time, but that’s different. Completely different. My parents changed their name to protect themselves after their family and coven were wiped out by a rogue Hebane coven called Kaia. The Kaia, with their insatiable hunger for power, had left no one behind. Or so they thought. My parent’s coven had known Kaia was coming to destroy them so they sent my parents away to protect the High Priestess line. 

I pull out a fresh notebook and a pen, to try and organise my thoughts and put together a plan of action. The first part of any investigation is gathering as much information as possible on what is going on. This means reaching out to the family for a detailed account of their experiences, including the nature of the phenomena, their frequency, and any specific locations or times where they are most pronounced. I dial the number Cyrus provided:

 

“Hello”, a female voice answers

 

“Hello, is that Mrs Beckett?”

 

“Yes who is this”

 

“This is Annabelle Lunnís from SpectraByte, I believe you made contact regarding several strange occurrences around your house” I reply

 

“Yes, thank you so much for getting back to me. I don’t know what to do, please say "you can help”.

 

“I will do everything in my power to help you Mrs Beckett. Can I come and visit the house and discuss the issues you are facing?” I ask

 

“Yes, I am in all day, come over whenever you can, the sooner this is dealt with the better in my eyes”

 

“I’ll be with you around 3 this afternoon and you can tell me what has been happening and we can go from there.”

 

“Thank you so much, see you at 3” Mrs Beckett replies hanging up the phone

 

I put the phone down, I could hear the relief in Mrs Beckett's voice while we were on the phone, I really hope I can help her.

 

Before meeting up with Mrs Beckett this afternoon I need to do some serious research on the property, I definitely need to speak to the previous owners the Millers. Cyrus's oversight in not providing the Millers' contact information will make this step a lot more difficult. I begin by searching for any information I can find on the Millers using Zeteo, an internet search engine, though this is likely to be unsuccessful as they will have most likely opted for privacy since the newspaper article was published, it’s a good way to get basic information on people, if I’m lucky maybe they have a Minebook page.

 

The newspaper article Cyrus had forwarded appears at the top of the search result, accompanied by several follow-up pieces, in which the family refused to comment, not unexpectedly none of these provided any contact details for the family. Next I try the phone directory website, typing in "David Miller", turns out there are Fifty David Millers listed as living in Zemur, while not ideal, it's a starting point. I need to find a way of narrowing it down. While still hopeful that Sam will message me back and I can ask for her help to find their contact details, I don't have time to wait, time to head into town to the local land registry office. 

 

The local land registry office is located next to Town Hall in the centre of town (insert road name here.  And is located on the first floor of a beautiful Creolvo house, which is also where Family records and the town archives are located. The Creolvo Era was a period of huge technological advances, like the telephone, motorcar, and typewriter. Creolvo houses are known for their distinctive architectural features, reflecting the era's wealth and industrial advancements. These homes often feature high ceilings, steep roofs, and decorative elements like bay windows. The air inside smelled of old paper and ink and the walls were lined with shelves holding thick books. I walked up to the counter, where Mrs. Green was sitting.

“Hello Annabelle, what can we do for you today?” She asks, as an Arithor I have unlimited access to the files stored here to enable me to collect relevant information for any cases I am assigned. As a regular visitor I am on good terms with all the staff, though they have no idea of the real reason for my visits, they believe I have access as I am part of the local historical society.

“Hello Mrs Green, I need access to the Land Registry files today, researching the history of some of our local houses”, I reply

“Go on up, let me know if you need any assistance” 

Thanks Mrs Green, I will”

 

I head up to the second floor, there is no one else around today. I go to a table near the window and set up my laptop. I can use the building wifi to access the land registry system to find the location of the documents I need. Once logged in I type in the address for the Becketts house and the following information comes up: Parcel ID 54-0045-23, year built - 1780 - original owner - Mr Declan Garrett - Land Registry ID WS-WS-25-453. I write down the Land Registry ID as this will enable me to find all the documents held regarding this house on West Street.

Just as I am getting up my laptop pings, it is a message from Sam.

“Hey Anna, a new assignment sounds exciting. What can I do to help?”

“Hi Sam, I’m looking for contact details for The Millers, the previous owners of 465 West Street, Whiteside WS3 1DF. The Council have been contacted by the current owners who believe the house to be haunted. There was a news article that stated that the Miller’s sold the house due to a series of baffling and unsettling accidents, however Cyrus has not provided any contact details for them. I’m currently sat in the Land Registry Offices trying to see if I can find any information on them”

“Wow a haunting they’re super rare, I’ll get right on it and get back to you”

“Thanks, Sam”

That’s a relief, Sam will be able to find their contact details no issues, I still need the details of the house though, just to make sure that we have all the details, you never know what information you might need. I get up and start checking the rows for the right number. I finally find it near the back of the room and walk along the row looking for the right number, bingo, there it is on the bottom shelf, a large box full of documents on the house.

I take it back to the table, and open the box, it is full of documents that are completely unorganised, that is not normal. It looks as though someone has stuffed all the papers back into the box quickly without any care for them. I wonder why, I’ll check with Mrs Green on my way out to see if she knows who last accessed these files. I shuffle through the files until I find the original deed documents. The house was built by a reclusive industrialist called Declan Garrett in 1780. I load up Zeteo and type in Declan Garrett, several results pop up, quickly glancing at them it seems that Declan Garrett lived in Whitsite all his life and built the house for his wife as a wedding present. 

I turn back to the pile of documents and start sorting them by year, each fragile sheet, yellowed with age, holding a piece of the old house’s story.The earliest records detailed the house belonging to The Garrett family, their name appearing on faded deeds and tax receipts for over a hundred years. Then in 1895 the house was sold to Hedley Elwine. My finger traced the loops of his signature. A doctor, the notes indicated, who had moved to the area after a profound personal tragedy. His wife had died in childbirth in 1894, and the child had followed shortly after. How agonizing that must have been. I imagined him, a man hollowed out by grief, moving into this grand, silent house, a place too large for one person. He lived alone in that big house, for a remarkably long time, until he died in 1945 at the ripe old age of 80. Fifty years of serving the community to the end, I wondered if he ever truly found peace within its walls.

The next stack of documents brought a lighter tone. The house was then bought by Gibson Hayes. The records suggested a stark contrast to Elwine's solitude. Hayes lived there with his family until 2001.

Another name emerged from the pile: Dudley Hilame. The documents from his ownership were meticulously organized, detailing renovations and upgrades. He seemed a more pragmatic owner, focused on the upkeep and modernization of the property. He lived in the house for a shorter period, a mere blip in its long history, until it was brought by. The St. James Family. 

There is nothing in these files documenting any strange goings on in the house before the St James Family moved in and all the information that I have been able to locate on the St James Family shows a happy family with no issues. It seems mostly that the spirit haunting the house is most likely that of Ashlynn St James. 

I search back through the documents just to be sure, deeds, tax records, previous owner affidavits, I’d comb through everything and arrive at the same frustrating conclusion: no blueprints. Just to be absolutely sure, I searched back through the digital documents one last time. Deeds dating back to the original homestead, mortgage paperwork, even correspondence between previous owners and the local historical society. Still nothing. No architectural drawings, no permits for structural changes, nada. I submitted an online request to the county archives for a copy, crossing my fingers that a forgotten file folder might hold the key.

According to the documents, the Becketts renovated the house before they moved in, updating the kitchen, bathrooms, and reinforcing the foundation. When I met up with the Becketts, I'll ask if their builders had retained a copy of the original blueprints. It was a long shot, but sometimes these things ended up tucked away in a contractor's dusty filing cabinet.

Frustrated but not defeated, I turned my attention to the Miller family. Unfortunately, there was nothing within the documents regarding contact details for them. No address, no phone number, not even a next of kin. It was a long shot at best, but you never know what is included within these documents. Quite often personal documents get mixed up with official records. A forgotten letter, a scribbled note in the margins, a faded photograph �" they could be a real treasure trove of information.

The fluorescent lights of the library hummed a monotonous tune, I stood up and walked to the window. I’ve been hunched over the documents for several hours. I needed to leave if I’m going to be on time for my meeting with Mrs. Beckett. The view from the window offered a momentary respite, a sigh escaped my lips. I really hope the Becketts are wrong and the house isn’t haunted. As strange as it might sound it would be better all round, getting rid of spirits is not as easy as they make out in the movies. I gathered my scattered notes and put the documents neatly back in the box ready to go back on the shelf.  Just as I was closing my laptop lid. It pinged. I reopened the screen, it was a message from Sam. 

"Hey Anna, success! I have The Miller's contact details. It wasn't easy, they obviously don't want to be easily found. The Millers live in Evertide, a small village 20 minutes away from Redfall - a 2 hour's drive from Whitside. Their contact number is 0472965782."

“You amazing Sam, I owe you big time for this”

“Of course I am and you definitely do, I’m sure I’ll be able to think of some way you can repay me 🙂”, she replies

I smile closing down the laptop, I finally feel as though I’m getting somewhere. I pack up the rest of my things and put the box back on the shelf and head downstairs to leave.

“Did you find everything you need dearie?” Mrs Green ask

“Yes I did” I reply with a smile “do you know who last accessed the documents for 465 West Street? The documents were a mess”.

“I’m sorry my dear, 465 West Street let me think, it would have been that lovely young lady Maria, she was interested in the house back in 2020”

“2020 you really do have an amazing memory Mrs Green” I replied

“The only reason I remember it was because she said she worked for the Paranormal Taskforce and she was investigating that house as a suspected haunting. I remember thinking that was a strange job for a young girl like her.” She said smiling fondly “I’m glad your not involved in anything like that”

I smiled at Mrs Green, if only she knew “I tidied up the documents before I put them away, but thought you should know in case she looked at any other documents while she was here.

“Thank you dearie, you have a good day”

“You too” I reply walking towards the doors. I wonder if the Paranormal Taskforce were the Paranormal experts mentioned in the news article. I pull out my phone to call the number Sam provided. I wanted to speak to the Millers before my meeting, to see if what they experienced was the same as what the Becketts are experiencing.

“Hello?” a male voice answered the phone.

“Hello, is that David Miller?” I ask

There was a slight pause on the other end, a breath held. “Yes,” he responded, the weariness replaced by a sharp, almost defensive edge. “Who is this and how did you get this number?”

“My name is Annabelle Lunnís and I work for a company called SpectraByte,” I began. “I have been asked to investigate strange occurrences happening at 465 West Street, Whitside. I believe you were the previous owner.”

The line crackled with a sudden, palpable tension. “How did you get this number?” Mr. Miller's voice was no longer just defensive; it was laced with a raw fear “I don’t want anything to do with that house.”

I dropped my voice into a softer, more empathetic tone. “Mr. Miller, I understand that you might not want to talk about what happened in that house, but I need your help. A new family has moved in and have contacted us as they have noticed several strange occurrences around the house, the majority of which seem to be focused on the room of a young girl. Please talk to me so I can help them.”

On the other end, Mr. Miller was silent for several minutes. I held my breath, picturing him on the other end, whatever memories I’d just unearthed swirling behind his eyes. Then, a ragged sigh, deep and resonant with unspoken burdens. “What do you need to know?” he finally asked, his voice strained but no longer resistant.

I let out a silent whoosh of air I hadn't realized I was holding. “I just want to know what happened to you and your family,” I said, “Whatever it was, it’s still there, affecting others.”

He sighed again, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of years. “Okay, but it might be best if we talk in person. Can you get to Evertide tomorrow?”

A wave of relief washed over me, “Yes, I’ll be there, what’s your address?” I asked, quickly snatching a notepad to jot down the details.

“It’s 234 Whitewater Parkway. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and with a decisive click, the line went dead.

Well that went better than expected, I was expecting him to hang up the phone, he has obviously gone to great lengths to hide his contact details from the public, most likely after the newspaper article was published.

I head home to get changed and to let Millie know that I had a meeting with the Becketts. She likes to know where I am, especially since the deaths of my parents. I understand but it can be a bit smothering sometimes

As I stepped through the door, the familiar scent of lavender from the air diffuser enveloped me. Millie had taken to filling the space with soothing fragrances, a kind gesture, but sometimes, it felt like a reminder of the weight pressing down on my chest. I tossed my messenger bag onto the couch.

The quiet, used to be a comfort, now, it felt like an echo chamber for the anxieties that had taken root within me. The lavender, sweet and almost cloying in its determined serenity, only amplified the dissonance. It was supposed to calm, to soothe, to gently coax the tension from my shoulders. Instead, it was like a spotlight on my failure to achieve that elusive peace.

Millie, bless her intuitive heart, had started the diffuser ritual a week ago. She saw the exhaustion in my eyes, the way I’d flinch at sudden sounds, the restless nights spent staring at the ceiling. She’d quietly slip a chamomile tea into my hand, or leave a warm bath running, and always, the lavender diffuser hummed its gentle tune. 

I kicked off my shoes, leaving them abandoned by the door. The house was tidy, as always. Millie’s touch was everywhere: the neatly stacked books, the throw blanket folded just so on the armchair, the soft light from the standing lamp in the corner. She crafted a sanctuary, and I felt like a bull in a china shop, my very presence a disruption to its tranquility.

I sank onto the couch, the scent clung to the fabric, a perfumed haze around my head. The weight on my chest wasn't just stress; it was a leaden cloak woven from self-doubt, the fear of failure, and the crushing expectation of being 'on' all the time. It was the constant hum of the unfinished, the unspoken.

I closed my eyes, trying to inhale the calm, to let the lavender work its supposed magic. But it felt like a barrier, a wall of forced serenity that I couldn't climb over. My mind still raced: What if I mess up? 

A sigh escaped me, a thin whisper in the lavender-scented air. It wasn't Millie's fault. It wasn't the lavender's fault. It was just… me. Stuck in this current, unable to swim against it, and too tired to let it carry me. The soft thud of my bag seemed miles away now, a distant memory of a moment when a simple sound could ground me. Now, even the quiet was too loud. I just lay there, eyes still closed, letting the familiar scent wash over me, a beautiful, well-intentioned reminder of everything I was struggling to escape.

“Your back, I didn’t hear you come in” Millie said “Is everything ok?”

“Yes everything is fine, just a long afternoon spent pouring over dusty files. I’m just taking 5 minutes before getting ready to go meet the family Cyrus has assigned me to help” I reply.

“Ok, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help?” we both know I’m lying but Millie lets it lie for now “Would you like some tea before you go?”

“That would be great” I reply smiling, that is just so Millie and tea would definitely help me refocus. The last thing I need is to be distracted.