Chapter 288

I rechecked the results and came to the same conclusion. The language on the boxes was that of the people of a country near our world’s equator.

It was a tropical paradise whose indigenous people preferred to be left alone by more civilized nations. Their chief exports were sugar and what the words on the box meant in their language.

The strange words on the boxes meant fresh lemons.

Why would there be boxes of lemons stored deep underground beneath the Association Complex, and who put them there?

And what about the ancient gravestones set into the floor in the room where the lemons were stored?

I hadn’t mentioned the boxes or the gravestones to Cassidy or Alex. I wanted to do this research first. Now, I wondered if it was a coincidence that they suddenly wanted to depart on a tropical vacation.

Next, I put graves and the Association Complex into my computer’s search bar.

A few dozen results came up. I clicked on the first one.

It was similar to one of the articles Amy and I would have enjoyed as kids. There was a lot of speculation sprinkled with legend and a few known facts.

Supposedly, centuries ago, Association leaders and the greatest war heroes of our kind were given elaborate funerals and buried in tombs beneath the Association’s main chapel to protect their bodies from being desecrated by enemies.

The most famous ancient warrior whose tomb was beneath the chapel was Sander Wilhemsen.

I’d read a little about him in werewolf history class, but the details of his early life had been lost over time.

But it’s a fact that he was instrumental in saving our kind from magical invaders from another realm who wanted to completely wipe out werewolves from the face of the earth.

The article said Sander Wilhemsen was a direct descendant of Lycaon, and he carried great magic in his blood.

The article cited a legend that proclaimed that the sword he was buried with was made of gold from Lycaon’s armor, and whoever wielded that sword could rule over every werewolf in the world.

But there was a curse on his tomb. If anyone tried to break into Sander Wilhemsen’s tomb to steal his sword, he would rise from his grave and destroy the thieves.

The only way to safely open the tomb was to spill the blood of one of his descendants onto it during a full moon. The blood would appease Sander and assure him only a worthy successor wanted his sword so that he would remain at rest.

“I pity his descendants,” I mumbled. “No wonder nobody knows who they are. I wouldn’t admit to being his great, great, great, whatever either if there was a chance some loony wanted to use my blood to steal a sword.”

I didn’t believe in curses or that the long-dead could awaken, but thinking about how I had been alone in a pitch-black room with dozens of tombs of long-dead werewolves was creepy.

Between the whispering beast and the tombs, that was one scary place. I never want to go there again, not even for a magical golden sword.

My thoughts were interrupted by my phone. Amy was calling. Good, I wanted to ask her about hiring Heather.

“Hey,” I said into my phone. “I was just going to call you.”

I told her about what happened to Heather and asked if she’d hire her to work at the shelter.

“She’s a hard worker, and she’s good with people,” I said. “But she’ll need flexible hours when she starts classes at Denhurst U.”

“I’d be glad to hire her,” Amy said. She was sincere, but there was an edge to her voice. “But I’m not sure if Heather will want to work here …or anyone else.”

The phone was silent for a long moment. I could tell she was still on the line by her sniffling. Amy was crying.

“Amy what’s going on?” Something had gone very wrong in my best friend’s newly charmed life.

“I can’t tell you,” she said. “I can’t tell anybody. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

I resisted the urge to tease her. “I would never think that about you. You are one of the most grounded people I know.”

“What I have to tell you will make you change your mind,” she insisted.

“I doubt it,” I said. “Try me. We’ve been friends long enough for you to know that I’ll always believe you and be on your side.”

“Yeah, but this ….” Amy began. “Okay.” I heard her take a deep breath. “Archer Manor is haunted or possessed or something.”

I didn’t know what to say at first. It wasn’t what I expected Amy to say.

“See, I told you!” Amy cried. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Amy, I believe you, but I don’t know how to help,” I said. “What happened to make you think the manor is haunted?”

“Strange things keep happening,” Amy answered. “I’m scared silly to be there by myself, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make myself go upstairs again.”

“What happened?” I asked. I still didn’t understand what Amy was afraid of in the manor.

“You know how that photo of Martha’s second husband fell off the wall?” Amy asked.

“Sure,” I said. “But stuff like that happens. It doesn’t mean the place is haunted.”

“It does when the dead guy's ghost chases you up the hall,” Amy said.

“No way!” Burst from my lips and Amy got quiet again. “I didn’t mean that as I don’t believe you. I was just surprised.”

“So was I when it happened,” Amy said.

“When did it happen?” I had to know more.

“The haunting started the day after you were at the manor with me for the tour,” Amy said. “Alfred was frightened by someone moving things around in the kitchen. Then Aaron was almost pushed down the stairs.”

“That’s terrible,” I said. “Was he hurt?”

“No, he said someone shoved him as he approached the stairs, but he caught the newel post and didn’t fall. He turned around, and no one was there.”

“When did the ghost chase you up the hall?” I asked.

“The next evening, when I went to the manor to see the new carpeting that was laid that day in the rooms on the third floor,” Amy replied. “It was awful. His face was so angry it made me wonder if Martha killed him.”

“Has anyone else seen or heard anything like it?”

“Aaron told me Robert Richardson has been haunting the manor for years,” Amy replied. “He especially liked to pick on Amanda when she lived at home, but the ghost was quiet for years until we began renovating the place.”

“Hold on a minute,” I said. “I was doing some research on something else. Let me see what the internet says about it.”

I put the words renovations and ghosts into the search bar, and within a few seconds, I was reading Amy an article from a reputable source.

“Renovations to buildings have been known to cause a reawakening of paranormal activity,” I read. “Long dormant spirits frequently become active when a property is being remodeled or just redecorated.”

“I knew it,” Amy moaned. “Will it stop?”

“This says it might,” I replied. “But there are ways to deal with them.”

“Can I have the place blessed or exorcized? The grand opening of The Deirdre Brady Memorial Shelter and Employment Training Center is next week. Your invitation to the charity dinner and ribbon cutting was mailed yesterday.”

“We need to get the spirit situation under control before then,” I told her.

It was hard to imagine Archer Manor being haunted because I’d never encountered any ghosts or spirits. For all I know, the whispering in the dark passageway had been my imagination, and there was no beast.

But I had to help my friend. The shelter was important to her and vital to many Betas and Omegas in Denhurst.

“I’ll meet you at Archer Manor in a half hour,” I told Amy. “I’ll read more of these articles before I leave the mansion. Then we’ll go ghost hunting.”