Soul Bringer

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Gods and Monsters

Vince Carmichael, the famous weekly primetime entertainment news magazine reporter and award-winning feature correspondent for one of the cable networks, made his career on reporting on the weird, strange and fantastical. He was famously in attendance when unexplained disturbances rocked a historic hotel on New Year’s Eve fifteen years earlier in Las Vegas, where he was hosting a live television broadcast. The cameras caught him communicating with spirits that moved furniture around the room and spontaneously started a tablecloth on fire. While skeptics dismissed the event as nothing more than special effects and hype, the hotel maids would make the real discovery the next morning during their daily rounds. They found that every room on the level where the disturbances occurred had been painted black from ceiling to floor. Again, skeptics attempted to call it nothing more than a publicity event until specialists were brought in to examine the rooms, only to make the shocking discovery that the paint itself appeared weathered as if it had been on the walls and ceiling for decades. Further investigation uncovered even more bewildering revelations as the black tint appeared to be manufactured using lead-based pigments that hadn’t been used in the manufacturing of paint for over a hundred years. The event remains unexplained to this day, but Carmichael has been attached to it in the media ever since.

His pre-recorded interview with Grayson would kickoff his wildly popular “Halloween Week” series, despite his guest not wanting to be portrayed as a fright night novelty. Carmichael had been pursuing Grayson for many years in hopes of landing an interview with him. He was shocked and pleasantly surprised when his annual request this year was finally granted by Andreanna.

At Grayson’s request, the interview taping would take place far from New York City, where the show’s studios were located, since he was always bombarded by spirits whenever he approached the busy metropolis. Vince honored his guest’s request and instead decided to tape the interview at the host’s vacation home located in the ski resort town of Killington, Vermont.

Hurrying down the main corridor toward the vast, mahogany-trimmed study, Carmichael speed-walked ahead of his producer, Doug Andrews, who in his middle-aged, slightly overweight frame, did his best to keep up with headphones on and tablet in hand. “The lights are warmed up and we’re ready to start, Vince. Did you get a chance to review the talent’s restricted questions?”

Looking straight ahead as he made his way down the hall, the host didn’t miss a beat. “I scanned through them. We’ll see how it goes, Doug. You know I don’t like to stifle the flow of an interview. If we find our way in that territory and everything is clicking, I can’t guarantee I won’t ask a question on that list.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Doug replied. Vince Carmichael wasn’t a big fan of dress rehearsals or over-preparing for his programs. He felt some of the best shows came out of luck, improvisation, and spontaneity. There was a certain magic that an interview with a guest like Grayson Montgomery would bring, and he certainly didn’t want something like a list of restricted questions getting in the way of dispelling that magic.

Walking into the study, Vince was introduced to his guest off-camera for the first time by Producer Doug, who quickly walked around the host. “Mr. Montgomery, allow me to introduce you to Vince Carmichael.”

Grayson was nothing if he wasn’t the accomplished gentleman. The billionaire celebrity was undoubtedly well versed in social etiquette, and despite his deep-seated dislike of the media, he held out his hand to greet his host. That said, he was also bold, occasionally brash and perpetually restless, which usually lead him to sometimes coming off a little more obnoxious than he probably should. Thankfully, much to Andreanna’s delight, today was one of his good days. “Vince, nice to meet you,” he said with a cordial tone and approachable smile on his face.

“Grayson Montgomery, as I live and breathe! I’ll be damned if we haven’t tried like hell to get you on my show for the last seven or eight years,” Vince began. Landing Grayson was a personal victory as he and his producer truly were chasing for an exclusive from him for some time. “I really can’t tell you how much we all appreciate your joining us today.”

“It’s my pleasure, Vince. I believe you have met my Executive Producer and business partner, Andreanna Fallbrook.” She smiled, hoping one day that he’d drop the ‘business’ in that introduction.

“Yes, of course. Ms. Fallbrook has been keeping my team in line so we could make this interview happen.” Vince drew a smile as he extended a greeting hand to her.

“Please, call me Andreanna,” she shook his hand with a smile. “We appreciate all the cooperation your team has given us to get Grayson here today.”

Doug looked at the floor producer who signaled that they were ready to go and then looked back at the host. “They’re ready for you, Vince.”

“Very well. Grayson, are you ready to have some fun?”

“Sure. Been looking forward to it all week,” he replied, turning around to Andreanna to mouth the words, I hate this as they were shepherded to their seats under the lights. He was dreading the interview all week, but he wouldn’t let on as much, at least not to Vince and his team.

Like busy bees, the crew flocked in and straightened Grayson in his seat, while one technician attached the tiny microphone to his shirt as another touched up his makeup. In the other chair, Vince underwent the same attack from a flurry of crew members while Producer Doug went over a few last-minute notes with the host.

Andreanna found a seat off-camera to monitor the interview while keeping an eye on the surroundings with her laptop. Opening it up, she hit a few keys and launched one of her custom monitoring programs. While she already did a preliminary scan, when not actively monitoring, the program would mine local databases looking for any information relevant to the area’s history, specifically any violent occurrences resulting in deaths in the immediate area. The software was designed to not only search public databases but police, fire, and medical records systems as well to dig into any incidents that may not have made the news. This thorough data harvesting system would help to prevent any accidental interactions with unsettled spirits.

A voice off-camera shouts, “roll tape,” and a few seconds later, “speed.”

Stepping next to the main camera, Producer Doug began the countdown. “Okay, Vince, on me in five, four, three,” he announced, pointing at the star for the silent two-count.

With videotape rolling, the eager host started things off, “Are you scared of what goes bump in the night? Do you shudder at the chilling sight of ghosts and goblins? Do paranormal events have you running for the hills? He began with the familiar opening monologue to his show. “Fear not, my good friends, for tonight, we have a special guest who will protect us from the evil spirits that roam the night.” Already Grayson felt himself growing uncomfortable as the host continued. “I’m here with famous ghost whisperer and paranormal expert, Grayson Montgomery, host of the highly-rated Soul Bringer nationally syndicated television show. Welcome to Halloween Week, Grayson.”

“Thanks, Vince. I’m happy to be here.” He wasn’t really.

“It’s great to have you, Grayson. I read that your program is top-rated, broadcast in over one hundred and twenty countries around the globe.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Impressive. Congratulations on your success. Now, just in case there are some of those in the audience who aren’t familiar with you, how about you take a moment to tell us what exactly it is you do?”

“Well, frankly, I don’t do anything... not actively anyway...”

“What do you mean?”

“You see, Vince, I have what is considered a charmed aura to the spirits. I don’t have to do anything, they find me.”

“Ghosts?”

“Sure, ghosts, spirits, whatever label you want to put on the souls that lurk between our world and the afterlife. They are attracted to me.”

“Interesting... and with this charmed aura, as you put it, have you made contact with these spirits?”

“Contact?” Grayson asked. Contact seemed to suggest that there was an effort in what Grayson’s ability allowed him to do. It was the very opposite; there was no effort at all.

“Have you communicated with these lurking souls?”

“All the time, Vince. They approach me, usually confused, looking for help to reach where they are going.”

“Wait, let me get this straight, you mean to say that these spirits – these seemingly lost souls – talk to you, seeking help from you to get to heaven like you’re some sort of spiritual world tour guide?”

“To put it mildly, yes.”

“So, wouldn’t you be considered a medium, Grayson?”

“To some degree, yes. Mediums specialize as serving as a conduit between the living and their departed loved ones. I, on the other hand, go one step further. With my ability to attract spirits, I am what the ancients would have called a Soul Bringer.”

“Thus, the name of your syndicated show.”

“Yes.”

“But I thought you said you don’t do anything,” the host interrupts. “To me, being a bringer of anything would suggest that you do something.”

“A Soul Bringer can also passively call spirits of the dead. It’s not necessarily a voluntary act,” Grayson explained. “I have never been able to actively call a spirit – trust me, I have tried. It’s something I can’t do, but for some reason, the spirits are attracted to me.”

“Very interesting,” Vince remarked. He was getting more already in the first minutes of the interview than he had expected.

“And it’s not always heaven,” Grayson adds.

“Excuse me, Grayson?”

“You were saying that the spirits were seeking help to get to heaven.”

“Yes?”

“The spirits of the dead I sometimes encounter are not necessarily on their way to any place you might call heaven. I have personally had encounters with some very dark and troubled entities.”

“Now that’s interesting, Grayson. Can you tell us more about one of your encounters with one of these evil spirits?”

Andreanna, sitting just off-camera from Grayson, who continued to monitor the data mining with her laptop while keeping one ear on the interview, stopped to look up at the two of them. She knew all too well about a particular evil that Grayson was referring to.

Grayson grew visibly uncomfortable, shifting in his chair a bit. “You’ll have to excuse me, Vince, I don’t like talking about the evil entities that have plagued our efforts to help the innocent, lost spirits.”

“I understand speaking about those troubling encounters may be uncomfortable for you, Grayson, but can you give us any details? Take your time.”

He let out a long sigh and began cautiously. “He is a very angry, cursed entity that has been dead for more than one hundred years, and from what I understand, he did not die happy.”

“Oh? How did this evil person come to pass?”

“From what I understand, he was an apprentice to a Master Necromancer and somehow got involved with some bad stuff.”

“Bad stuff?”

“He was conjuring evil spirits, you know, playing around with dark magic. He fell out of sorts with his master, something happened between them, and the apprentice was killed by his master.”

“That is truly fascinating, Grayson,” the host remarked with a smile. “Has this evil spirit ever threatened you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Grayson started to elaborate when suddenly one of the camera light stands fell over and crashed onto the tile floor in the room where they were recording the interview.

“Stop tape!” the producer shouted to stop the machines from recording. “What the hell guys,” he shouted again, looking at the camera crew. He knew Vince was going to be pissed.

“Dammit, Doug!” Carmichael yelled like clockwork to his producer. “We’re not even five minutes in the interview and already, we have to kill the momentum because of a technical problem?”

“Vince, the light stand just fell over by itself,” Producer Doug tried to explain, “there wasn’t anybody even standing by the damn thing. It had a sandbag on it an everything.” Grayson looked at Andreanna and the two made eye contact. They both knew that light didn’t just fall over by itself. It wasn’t a coincidence that it occurred just as the conversation was focusing on Felix.

“Christ. How long until we can roll tape again?”

“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, tops. We gotta clean this mess up and warm up another light.”

Vince turned to his guest with a slightly embarrassed look. “I’m sorry about this, Grayson. I know you expected a professional production, but sometimes these things happen.”

“No problem, Vince. I completely understand. We run into production issues on my show all the time.” He was relieved. Anytime he talked about the evil spirit he knew as Felix it would bring up bad feelings. He worried even speaking about him was reckless and tantamount to tapping on the glass of the tiger exhibit. Nothing good could come from it.

More perturbed by the stoppage than he was embarrassed, Vince attempted to change the subject. “So, I read in a magazine interview a few years back that you like wine.”

“I have been known to dabble a little bit in it, yes, why?” He tried to be a little humorous. His fascination with prized vintages was well documented in wine magazines all across the globe.

“I tell you what, while we wait for the crew to get us up and running again, do you want to see my wine cellar?”

“Absolutely.”

“Follow me. I think you’re going to like this.” Vince replied with a smile.

Grayson turned to Andi, who was a few yards away off-camera. “I’m going with Vince to check out his wine cellar. Let me know if anything pops up on your radar.”

“Of course,” she replied softly with a smile.

Walking by the huge, modern glass enclosure surrounding the lower level wine cellar in his nineteenth-century mansion, Vince proudly led Grayson into the fifty-four-degree room to show off his prized vintages to his guest. “Over two thousand bottles, the collection is easily valued in the seven figures. Have a look, Grayson. I’m sure you’ll find several vintages to your liking.”

“Indeed. ’90 Chateau Latour Pauillac, ’98 Petrus Pomerol, ’92 Screaming Eagle. Very impressive for a news guy.”

Vince smiled as he tugged on the neck of one particular bottle to release it from the old wooden rack near the back wall and revealed it to Grayson. “How about that one?” He couldn’t wait to see his guest’s response.

“Well, look at that,” he said as his host carefully handed the bottle to him.

“1945 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild Jeroboam. Considered one of the finest vintages of the 20th century,” Vince said proudly. “Rated 100/100 by most.”

“I know. I have personally enjoyed a bottle of it myself on a few occasions. It’s quite the vintage.”

“A few occasions? I’m jealous. At nearly thirty thousand dollars a bottle, the grapes they crushed to fill this bottle were still hanging on the vine when the Nazis occupied France at the end of World War Two.”

“You know your wine, Vince, but isn’t that a little pricy for a television personality?” Grayson cracked.

“Guilty pleasure, Grayson. Guilty pleasure,” Vincent replied, smiling again. “Besides, you’d be surprised what a guy in my profession pulls down when he is capturing twenty-five million viewers a broadcast. Of course, that’s primetime, and I don’t put on a show every day like you do.”

“Indeed,” Grayson agreed as he scanned the vast collection in Carmichael’s wine cellar, remembering that Andreanna mentioned their viewership was around six million viewers a show. He didn’t watch television and for the most part, he assumed the media was more about the ratings than the facts, and that left him feeling contempt for most of them. “Seems you have no shortage of guilty pleasures.”

His host cracked another smile. “I’m good at what I do, but I didn’t buy all of the bottles in this cellar, Grayson. No, I was fortunate enough to acquire most of this collection when I inherited the house after my grandfather passed away.”

“Nice inheritance.”

“Yes, well, the house has been in my family for over a hundred and fifty years.”

“Wow, that’s quite a legacy. It’s a beautiful house.”

“Ah, it’s a drafty energy hog that costs more than it should for a weekend getaway house,” Vincent dismissed with a smile. “Aside from the odd room here or there, I wouldn’t sell it if I was down to my last dollar.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what people would sell when they are on their last dollar,” Grayson replied, just to be a smart ass.

“Here’s to hoping neither of us ever have to worry about that,” the host offered up a raised a glass of one of his cheaper vintages and his guest reciprocated the toast.

As the delicate vintage rolled around his tongue and poured down his throat, Vincent posed a more pressing question. “Can I ask you a rather deep question, Grayson?”

“Sure, why not.”

“What’s it like to live in a world where there are no gods or monsters?”

Grayson took another sip of the wine and raised his eyebrows. It was a rather profound question and quite a forward one at that, yet, oddly, he understood where it came from. How could a person that can transcend the unseen barrier that separated the realms of the living and the dead feel beholden to any god or fear any monster? He thought. Was he not in some bizarre way a god in his own right? How could a person with this supernatural ability ever fear anything so much as to categorize it like a monster?

“That is deep,” he responded, taking another sip of his wine. “How shall I put this? I will admit, Vincent, I’m not a very religious man - you have that part right. I mean, after witnessing what I have seen in my life and not one of them, mind you, have ever uttered anything about seeing a god, it’s kind of hard to find any motivation that would change my views on religion. That said, your statement about living in a world without monsters, now, that’s a whole different story.”

“Oh?”

“That evil spirit I referred to upstairs? That is my monster. While he only exists in death, he haunts me. Do you want to talk about chaos? If that spirit was ever to breach the barrier between the worlds, it could unleash hell upon this earth and he’s not too far off. Remember that light that fell upstairs? That wasn’t the fault of a sloppy grip on your crew, it was Felix.”

"Felix?"

The expression on Grayson’s face grew very lifeless as he let out a long sigh. He had been chased by the spiritual entity he knew as Felix since he was seven years old. An accomplished Necromancer who practiced the dark art of raising the dead when he walked the earth during the middle ages, his tormented soul tried relentlessly to gain access back into the world of the living. His desire was to reign an unholy terror upon the land and to have his vengeance against the relatives of the one who put him in the ground centuries earlier.

“That’s his name. He is the very dread that I carry along with my gift to communicate with the dead.”

“You know, that brings up an interesting point, Grayson. Considering your family fortune, why on earth would anybody in your position want to live with that dread and chase ghosts for a living? I mean, shouldn’t you be off enjoying the spoils of a private island somewhere in the tropics? Why do what you do?”

While it was personal, it wasn’t a unique question. Most of the world’s population familiar with Grayson Montgomery and his family fortune have asked that same question. Why would a man with his money bother with anything having to do with something as exhausting as the supernatural and all of the baggage that comes with having to prove its existence?

“As I said earlier, I don’t chase or hunt ghosts, Vince,” he replied, never stopping to consider the option of doing something else; he never felt he had a choice. “I can’t simply turn off my abilities, but it’s not like I need to do this for a living. My team and I produce the daily talk show to take care of the business and to pay the bills, but as you made clear, you are well aware of my financial situation, and I don’t need to do anything for a living. That said, even if we didn’t do this work, I couldn’t simply walk away from the ability that has been with me my entire life. There are always lost souls that need some help along the way.”

“So, you can’t necessarily control your ability to talk to the dead?”

“Not really, no. I mean, I suppose I could choose to ignore it, but it would be like being in a room full of a hundred people with all of them talking to me at the same time. Ignoring them won’t make them go away, and at some point, I either have to acknowledge they are there or I have to leave the area, but there are always more voices. This is why I can’t visit over-populated areas like New York City, where your studios are. There are far too many spiritual entities looking for guidance. The last time I went there, I had to fly out the same day as the activity left me with such a migraine, it was almost paralyzing.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, it sounds more like a curse than a gift, Grayson.” He hit the nail on the head.

“Sometimes - many times - it seems just that.”

Just then, the voice of Producer Doug calls from upstairs. “We’re ready for you, Vince.”

The host looked at Grayson. Saved by the bell, he thought. “Alright, let’s get back to it, shall we?”

Back in the study upstairs, the interview finally got underway as Producer Doug had begun the countdown again, “Vince, on me in five, four, three,” he counted, pointing at the star for the silent two-count.

“Grayson, before the break,” Vince started, looking down at a legal pad at some scribbled notes he wrote from the earlier interview, “you were telling us about one of your encounters with a particular evil spirit. Can you tell us, has this spirit ever threatened you?” He peered up at his guest to notice that he was sitting in silence with a strange look on his face. It was almost as if Grayson was looking over the host’s shoulder.

“Grayson? Are you alright?”

Andreanna looked up from her laptop. She had seen that look on Grayson’s face a million times before. Anytime he was having a spiritual episode where he was coming into contact with the dead, his face would grow expressionless, Grayson would grow silent, and it would seem as if he was almost looking through you. She looked down at the screen of her laptop and nothing was indicating that he should be having any contact in this location. She clicked on a few keys and shuffled through some reports, but there was nothing there. “Grayson,” she spoke his name softly.

Suddenly, he regained focus and looked at the host, “Tell me, is there a cemetery on the premises?”

The question caught Vince off-guard. “Excuse me?” The residence was in his family for well over a century, but never had there been any talk about a cemetery on the premises. “No, I don’t believe so, Grayson. Why do you ask?” He gestured to Producer Doug to keep rolling.

“It would seem that I’m beginning to experience a rather impressive spiritual episode.”

"Episode? You mean, you see spirits?” Vince looked around quickly to see if he saw anything.

“Well, not yet,” Grayson replied as he stood up from his chair. “But, I suspect they are very near.”

“Tell me, Grayson, what do you see when you have one of these episodes?”

“Well,” he started as he slowly walked toward a closed door. “Things get dim; then, the temperature in the room drops about fifteen degrees as a faint ringing starts in my ears. There’s a little disorientation like I’ve had one glass too many of your 2007 Gaja Barbaresco.”

Vince smiled briefly at the wine reference as he motioned silently again to his producer to unlock the camera and pan over to follow where Grayson was walking.

“And then, like something out of a scary movie, the fog begins to roll in, and before I know it, I’m shrouded in darkness with spirits of the dead approaching me from all directions.” He stopped when he reached the closed door and looked down at the floor. While everybody in the room was experiencing nothing except witnessing a man acting strangely as if he was under the influence of a strong narcotic, Grayson saw fog seeping in from under the door. “What’s behind this door?” he asked his host, putting his hand on the door handle.

“It’s the service entrance to the kitchen.” Before he could finish the sentence, Grayson had already pushed down on the handle to open the door. To the rest, only light from the kitchen shone into the study, but the medium felt a brush of cold air hit his face as his body experienced another the temperature drop while he witnessed a wave of fast-moving fog pour into the room.

Grayson disappeared through the service entrance. “Unmount that damn camera and follow him,” Vince shouted quickly to the cameraman, “and whatever you do, do not stop recording any of this.”

He made his way through the mansion’s large kitchen and seemed to stay on course as if he was following a road map while the cameraman, Producer Doug, Vince, Andreanna, and a handful of crew members followed close behind. Passing through a connecting hallway that attached an adjoining mudroom at the back of the estate, the guest stopped at a set of french doors and turned to both the camera and Vince. “This exits to the back yard, yes?”

“To the patio, gardens, and acreage, yes,” Vince replied.

Grayson put both hands on the handles, paused to take a deep breath, and then pushed down. Throwing open the doors, the people surrounding him saw only peaceful nightfall outside the mansion. They all looked at each other expecting hell to be breaking loose but were greeted only with a little rabbit hopping peacefully in the short distance. With his abilities to see and talk to the dead, what Grayson saw, however, was altogether different. To him, the darkened backyard property was filled with the dead of night fog that rapidly rolled over the grass while several disembodied spirits walked toward him as if he was a magnet and they were metal. He turned to smile at his host, “You have family buried on this land, Vince.”

The host just looked at Andreanna, bewildered and whispered. “I’m a little confused. Does he mean to say that he is seeing ghosts in the backyard right now?”

“Yep,” she replied softly, smiling. “This is what he does. He sees the dead. We can’t, but he can.”

Being a believer, Vince lost his shit and shouted at Grayson, “How can that be? I was never told anything bout family buried...”

The medium had stepped out onto the patio and by this point, was getting very near to the spirits. Again, everybody else only observed the glow of the patio lights reflecting off Grayson in the night air, nothing else. “Over a hundred years ago, Vince. There are at least three generations buried back here in a small family graveyard under decades of tall grass, and from what I see, the spirits of those dearly departed never left the property.”

“Right now, you see the spirits of my dead relatives?” For all of the fantastical things Vince witnessed in his bizarre career, never before had he ever seen anything like this. He was astounded. “How... how many spirits... do you see?”

Grayson started pointing his index finger into the night air to count things nobody else could see. In his view, however, he saw them, and there were many of them for him to count. “Looks like at least two dozen or so.”

Vince was already sold on Grayson Montgomery and his mysterious ability to talk to the dead. While he could only see his guest talk to what was to him and everybody else just an empty backyard, he believed there really was something going on that went beyond his mortal vision that only the medium could see.

Frankly, Grayson had nothing to prove to anybody. He spent a lifetime trying to convince others of his gift only to be shunned and outcast by just about everybody except those close to him. Even his parents remained skeptical until he took them to Spring Hill Cemetery in Lecompte, Louisiana, when he was seventeen to see the grave of his mentor, fellow medium, Abraham McCray.

Vince’s belief in his guest was further validated when Grayson turned to him again and muttered, “One of them mentioned something about a locked door in your cellar?”

Almost immediately, all of the blood rushed out of Vince’s face as his mouth slowly fell open.

The 35-room Carmichael residence was nothing short of victorian opulence from top to bottom, and aside from a few modern updates - such as his prized wine cellar in the lower level and commercial appliances in the kitchen, Vince did an excellent job keeping the house as original as possible. Over the years, he spent generous time and money moving from room to room meticulously restoring and preserving each one, save one mysterious room in the cellar, closed off to the rest of the world by a large, antique wooden door with a rusty iron lock. Nobody in his surviving family knew what existed beyond the door, and a key for it was never found. Some in the family suggested that it could house the rumored family fortune that was fabled to be in the Carmichael family for centuries. Still, the temptation of instant wealth was not enough for Vince to break through the door, mainly because he was living comfortably already. On a whim, three summers earlier, with the help of a locksmith, Vince attempted to get the door open, but due to the age and poor condition of the lock, they were not able to do so, and the locksmith suggested cutting through the door, an option the homeowner did not want to do. Having spent the time and money to restore the family mansion, having this one room left untouched was something that bothered Vince since his great-grandfather left him the residence in his will twenty years ago.

“What about it?” Vince remarked. Very few outsides of his immediate family knew of the door in the cellar. “That door has been locked since the house was willed to me and we haven’t been able to open it.”

“According to what I’m being told here, there is a key in the house that will unlock that door,” Grayson explained.

“What?!” Vince was floored. He and his staff had torn the house apart, looking for a key to that door for years. “Well, where is it?”

The camera continued to capture the event as it unfolded in real-time. Producer Doug confirmed with the tape operator that the recorders were still rolling and that there was plenty of tape remaining.

Grayson stepped onto the lush green grass toward the back acreage and quietly conversed with what everybody else saw was nothing. Outstretching his hands, it was as if he was reaching for somebody who wasn’t there. Andreanna had seen this before, but it never ceased to amaze her every time she saw it.

“What is he doing?” Vince whispered to Andreanna.

“He’s communicating with the spirits of your deceased relatives, Mr. Carmichael,” she replied with a smile.

After a few moments, Grayson turned and walked back toward the group. “Not only do I know how to get into the room that lies beyond that locked door in your cellar, but I also know what’s in it, Vince.”

“You do?”

“You’re going to want to turn the camera off for this, Vince.”

“What? Why?”

“I think we should go somewhere talk privately.”

“What’s up, Grayson?” Andeanna asked.

“It’s no big deal,” he replied. “I just think Vince would appreciate some privacy to hear what I have to say.” He turned to Vince, “Shall we?”

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