“He’s a delight,” Timmy commented wryly.
Alex looked at his dead companion and smiled. “He is.”
Timmy shook his head. “I have some other words for him. Want me to share them with you?”
“No,” Alex responded. “I have to stay focused. Today, I want to learn about the best way to purchase a building.”
Timmy frowned. “Kid, there are plenty of people here, who aren’t homicidal, that can help you with that.”
“They’re boring,” Alex said. He stepped into the room. “And besides, they wouldn’t know why I was doing it. Worthe, he knows why. He understands.”
“Whatever you say, kid,” Timmy shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
“I am,” Alex grinned, and he cleared his throat. When the old man didn’t respond. Alex coughed.
Professor Worthe snored louder, and anger flashed across Alex’s face.
“Wake him up,” Alex ordered.
Timmy walked to the bed, leaned over until his mouth was just above the old man’s ear, and screamed.
Professor Worthe’s eyes snapped open as he shrieked. He sat up and through Timmy, and the old man screamed again. Alex laughed as Professor Worthe fell out of bed. The old man landed hard on the floor and yowled in pain.
Timmy, grinning, backed away, and said to the Professor, “Good morning, sunshine. How are you?”
The old man’s eyes were wide with fear, darting around the room as he tried to understand what had happened.
“Professor Worthe,” Alex crooned, “are you awake now?”
The old man blinked and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Good!” Alex sat down on the floor in the doorway. “Before breakfast, I want to talk to you about acquiring property.”
Professor Worthe got gingerly to his feet, then eased himself onto the bed. He picked up his glasses from the small bedstand, put them on, and then took a drink of water from a plastic cup that had been on the stand as well.
“May I inquire as to the reason behind your purchase?” Despite his ragged appearance and the brutal way he had been awakened, Professor Worthe managed an air of competence and assurance.
“I want to have a house ready,” Alex explained. “I want to test someone who moves into it. Someone who buys it and thinks that everything’s going to be okay. I want to make my own haunted house.”
“Will you be transporting it here?” Professor Worthe inquired.
Alex shook his head. “Nope. It’ll stay right where it is.”
“And do you know what type of people you would like to test?”
“No,” Alex answered.
“Well, I think that is the first order of business,” Professor Worthe informed him. “Once you decide the financial background of your intended test subject, you’ll be able to locate neighborhoods that would appeal to them. With this in mind, you’ll be prepared to purchase and begin establishing your baseline for the experiment.”
“That sounds awesome.” Alex grinned. For a moment, he was silent, thinking about whom he wanted to test. An answer came to him a moment later. “I want to test a professor.”
The old man smiled broadly. “Ah, interesting. That is a large pay scale to play with. Are you looking for a professor at a community college or one at an Ivy League school? A tenured professor or an adjunct?”
Alex laughed and clapped his hands excitedly. The buzzing became louder in the back of his head. “I don’t know!”
Professor Worthe chuckled. “Come then, let us speak of it and narrow it down further, shall we?”
Alex nodded, and with Timmy watching over him, Alex and the old man began to narrow down Alex’s choices.
Chapter 6: House Meeting
Monday, Noon
Penny lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and adjusted her position in the hunter’s hide she had built the night before. She had plenty of food and water for the remainder of the day and the evening, but she was uncomfortable. Nervous.
Gee, can’t imagine why, she thought, finishing the cigarette and crushing it out in the dirt. Could it be because they have me doing this damned thing in the middle of the day?
Not that anyone would make the connection, but it would sure as hell raise some eyebrows if someone found me.
The nature of being a proctor for Alex Kallistos and his experiments required her to be close to the target subjects. Each ghost she employed had roughly a mile radius in which to operate. The cameras installed to observe and record their interactions had a far smaller range, and so she found herself being disturbingly close.
Doesn’t matter, she thought, taking a sip of tepid water. It needs to be done. Simple as that.
Penny opened the box that contained a small charge of C4 and a death card for one Suzette Avignon, age 19. Suzette had passed away of natural causes in 1967.
She had been a spiteful young woman and was disgusted with her own death. The dead teen hadn’t gone away, and, over the years, she had beaten and killed seven young men. According to the file on Suzette, she blamed her death on having been dumped by a boyfriend. She believed she had died from a broken heart.
Alex Kallistos had been thrilled with her and asked if the dead teen wanted to go and kill some college boys.
She had readily agreed.
Okay, let’s see if she shows up, Penny thought, and for the first time, she hoped the ghost wouldn’t.
But Suzette did.
She appeared in front of Penny, a thin girl, no more than five feet tall. Her skin was sallow, and she was clad in a flowery nightgown.
“Hi, Penny!” Suzette grinned, waving.
Penny forced a smile. “Hey, Suzette, are you ready?”
The dead teen nodded cheerfully. “Uh-huh. These the boys Alex said I could punish?”
Repressing a shudder, Penny gave a nod of confirmation. “House number three. It’s blue, has all the blinds drawn.”
Suzette frowned. “Why?”
“It’s a fraternity house,” Penny explained. “They just started waking up a little while ago.”
“They’re frat boys?” Suzette’s expression darkened. “They’re not nice. I remember my friend, Amy, she went to a party when she was sixteen. Her parents sent her away for a year after, and she came back sad. She wouldn’t talk about it.”
I bet, Penny thought.
“Are these the same type of boys?” Suzette demanded.
“More than likely,” Penny stated. Before she could say anything else, the dead teen vanished. Penny opened up the laptop and waited to see what Suzette would do.
***
Monday, 12:15 PM
None of the pledges were around, which was how Troy Hodge had planned it. Troy knew he had been an obnoxious pledge at one point, and he hated to reflect on it, but there were some things that only full brothers could talk about and decide upon.
Namely, whether or not to have another kegger following the last complaint from the Dean of Students.
Troy opened a V8, added it to half a glass of vodka, and waited for the other brothers to get their own drinks of choice. None of which were non-alcoholic.
When all nine of the brothers were in the common room, sitting in the dim light, Troy forced himself to sit up straight.