Adelie

Adelie stood on the doorstep of the farmhouse, her hand shaking despite her grip on the key in the lock. She’d been away almost two weeks. The thought of going inside, now – to a house she’d been living in for the last few months – seemed terrifying. How had she ever slept in there?

Something had written on page after page of Petunia's notebook for weeks before Adelie had given it back to her. The messages were, on the face of it, non-threatening: ‘I mean you no harm’, ‘Please give me a chance’, ‘I will be here’. But every time Adelie had seen one, she’d torn it out and thrown it in the bin.

Somehow, giving the notebook back to Petunia, and having her ask why half the pages had disappeared, made the menace of the not-quite-empty house so much more immediate. All of Adelie's resolve to confront the – what? – ghost? – had drained away. She should have just stayed with her parents and gone back to the airport tomorrow.

But now her Drivr was already on his way back down the driveway of the farm, his car scrabbling noisily on the gravel and dirt. Even if she called another, she’d be here for half an hour. Well, unless she called the same guy back, which would feel a bit silly.

She lifted her hand towards the key and hesitated. There was a stiff breeze cutting through the day’s sun. Around the fringes of the driveway, all the weeds were in bloom. The hillside above the farm was a lush green speckled with clover and daisies. A beautiful morning.

The house was less inviting. Dry today, the limestone façade was a drab grey-green, the colour itself seeming to hunch on the stones. The porch canopy was just big enough to feel like it was leaning over her, pressing down. All the windows, of course, were dark; only the front room she’d used as a bedroom had curtains, and apparently she’d forgotten to close them before leaving for the south.

Strange to think of this as the base for a growing Imperial League team. None of Tenebrae's new employees had visited yet, though presumably Phoebe was talking with someone about how to get the place fixed up for team use. There was still only a mid-speed consumer internet line, and none of the back or upstairs rooms were furnished. And there was the… well, whatever it was Adelie was here to confront.

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Maybe she shouldn’t have come alone. There had to be people who knew how to deal with things like this, people who'd learned not to fear this the way Adelie had learned not to fear dragons. Exorcists, maybe? Maybe that wasn’t quite what was needed, the ghost didn’t seem dangerous. But maybe it would become dangerous when confronted?

Adelie managed to get her hand as far as the key. It felt unusually cold to the touch. She took a deep breath and turned it. The action was smooth and modern, quiet and easy. Another deep breath, and she took hold of the handle. Also cold. Also turning smoothly, silently apart from the gentle shifting of the mechanisms inside the door.

The hallway was dark, darker than it had any right to be. Adelie stepped inside, into an instant, penetrating cold. She stopped. The light switch was half-way down the hall, at the foot of the stairs. It looked even darker up on the first floor landing. She told herself the cold was just that the heating hadn’t run in a couple of weeks, plus the contrast from the sunlight outside.

Maybe she could do what she’d wanted to try here. She’d been planning to go through to the front room, and the open curtain meant there would be natural light there. That door was only eight feet up the hall. She could see it. In the gloom.

Not moving her feet, she reached into her shoulder-bag and took out a brand-new notepad. That kept her elbow against the door, which was reassuring, preventing it closing behind her. With the notepad was a pen. She took the lid off the pen. Opened the notepad and folded the cover back as best she could.

Squatting down, she stretched out her arm and placed pad and pen on the carpet, just beyond the doormat. Her own shadow broke the light from the door. If the ghost did write anything, it would be hard to read. But this way, she still had the open doorway right behind her.

She tried to speak and managed only a whisper: “A- are you there?”

Nothing. Adelie watched the notepad like it was a spider in the bath she was trying to catch to rescue. How long should she give it? Should she speak again? Did it matter how loud she was?

It was hard to breathe deeply with her knees pressed to her chest, but she did her best. This time, when she spoke, it was a little louder. “Hello? Are you there?”

She watched the pen. Nothing.

Then, lightly trembling, it lifted into the air. It flipped over, pivoting around the grip in one smooth motion. The nib settled onto the paper and steadily marked the shapes of two letters: Hi

Adelie half-fell backwards, somehow scrambled to her feet, and slammed the door in her own face. By the time she realised where she was she was half-way down the driveway to the main road. Her heart felt like it was wrapped around her lungs. She called a Drivr without going back for the door key. It wasn’t like there was anything in the farmhouse to be robbed, really.