Oleander House: Bay City Paranormal Investigations, Book 1

clearly doing the same. He leaned forward on his elbows, gaze fixed on the screen.
Sam heard his own voice claiming in frustrated tones that he knew the thing was there somewhere, but he couldn’t find it. The picture swung from a controlled pan of the French doors to the floor, arcing sharply forward and back as Bo walked toward Sam, the camera hanging at his side. There was a second of heavy silence, then Sam’s startled gasp, the thud of Sam’s knees hitting the floor, Sam’s strangled voice choking out that it was here, inside him.
The picture lurched sickeningly, then went still again, the floor tilted up. Bo had evidently dropped the still-running camera on its side. Sam recognized his own legs and Bo’s bent knee. The video jumped and flickered. When it settled, a dark swirling fog partially obscured the picture.
“Oh my God,” Cecile whispered, brown eyes wide and frightened. “It’s just like on the other tape.”
“It sure is,” Bo agreed grimly. “I didn’t see that before, when we were in the room.”
“I did,” Sam said softly. “I thought it was just because I was about to pass out. Guess not.”
Bo turned to him, a question in his eyes. Before he could voice it, the sound came. Sam wasn’t surprised. If the fog was real enough to be visible on tape, he reasoned, the sound would surely be audible. Cecile squeaked and clamped her hands over her ears.
David paused the tape. “Cecile, you okay?”
She nodded. “That sound hurts my ears.”
“It’s so deep,” Bo observed. “It’s more of a vibration, really. That’s probably why it’s painful.”
“Look.” Sam pointed at the screen. “Now that it’s paused, the fog looks like that vortex thing from the picture yesterday.”
Bo let out a low whistle. “Damn. You’re right.”
David leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “Okay, how do we find out just what the fuck this thing is? ’Cause I gotta tell you, it freaks me out.”
“Me too.” Sam reached out and touched the monitor, tracing a fingertip over the suggestion of a shape in the fog.
Bo sighed. “I guess we’re going to have to do some research. Try to get some sort of idea what we’re dealing with here.”
“Whatever it is, it’s trying to manifest.” Cecile stared at the frozen image on screen, her expression solemn. “We have to find a way to stop it.”
No one needed to say anything to know that they all agreed. Whatever it was that had almost come into being through Sam that morning, he knew it was no ghost. He also knew, with absolute certainty, that they couldn’t allow it to manifest.
He didn’t let himself think about what he almost saw in the gray mist on the video, or its disturbing similarity to the hard black claws in his dreams.
Chapter Twelve
    When Amy and Andre returned from their investigation of the outbuildings, David showed them the video. Both were fascinated by the find, but Andre’s eyes reflected the same apprehension that had tied Sam’s guts into knots. The rest of the group was cautious about the phenomenon, given the history of the house, but only Andre had felt anything close to what Sam had.
    Sam figured he was the only one who no longer had any desire to see the thing manifest. Even Andre hadn’t had that alien intelligence slither through his brain. Sam was utterly alone in that respect. At least isolation was something he was used to. It was almost comforting.
    After lunch Bo, Amy, David and Cecile set off for the library in Gautier to do research, since Oleander House didn’t have an internet connection. They also took the film from the previous day to be developed. Sam and Andre prepared to spend the afternoon and evening watching videotapes and listening to audio.
    The time crept by at a glacial pace. Sam found it difficult not to let his mind wander as hour after hour passed with nothing more than the normal sights and sounds of an old house. The only thing keeping him focused on his task was what he’d experienced that morning. After having felt the otherworldly life force inside his mind, solving the mystery of Oleander House had taken on a whole new level of urgency for Sam. He had a strange sense they were running out of time. That the veil separating their safe, familiar world from the chaos he’d touched was wearing thinner each day.
    If we lose that barrier, he thought grimly, we might not live to regret it.
At seven o’clock Sam switched off the last audiotape and removed his headphones. Andre had