Page 33 of Into the Fire

That alone confirmed to Simon that his predecessors had not been experienced ghost whisperers. “Can we possibly borrow the rings and the diary?”

“Will you need to destroy them to send her on?” Oscar asked.

“I don’t know. I hope not. But I have a hunch that there might be something in the diary that explains why she’s clinging so hard to this life.” Given Simon’s psychic abilities, his hunches were usually accurate.

“I made arrangements to go inside with a security guard for liability’s sake,” Oscar said. “I just need to let the guard know we’re on our way.”

While Oscar made his phone call, Simon walked a few yards away, focusing on the energy of the location. Given how close it was to the beach and ocean, the hotel should have prospered.

He listened with his abilities and picked up a deep chord of melancholy and, with it, an undercurrent of fear. Simon didn’t see a ghost, but residual energy might still be enough of an anchor for Dorothea’s spirit to return on dates with a strong emotional tie.

When Oscar returned, he was grinning. “Let’s go!”

Simon had left his calendar open, not sure what the cleansing would entail. “Sure. I wouldn’t miss it!”

The guard met them at the front door of the Sea Foam Inn.

“I brought all the keys for the hotel, because I wasn’t sure what you’d need to access,” Oscar told him. “The power should still be on, but it’s been closed up for a while. Let’s get it open and make sure everything’s as I expect. I’ve already called the security company and my property manager, so they could disable the alarms and won’t send the cops.”

Simon picked up strong vibes outside the hotel, but inside, the psychic impact was enough to give him an immediate headache. Other than being fidgety, Oscar seemed unaffected.

The air was warm and stuffy from having been closed up, and dust covered every surface. Simon never had a chance to see the Sea Foam Inn during its glory days, and he felt certain that what now remained was a sad reflection.

Nothing was shabby or in bad repair, but an air of disuse hung over the hotel. Even with the lights on, it felt unusually dark for a spot at the beach, and the energy lacked the holiday exuberance a vacation place usually offered.

The guard stood by the door as Simon and Oscar walked further into the deserted lobby. Despite the dust and disuse, Simon could still see the grandeur of the space and felt the weight of its history.

Dorothea wasn’t the hotel’s only ghost. Simon picked up on several resident spirits, some faded and others still strong, who seemed content to make the hotel their home. Since they didn’t seem to be bothering anyone and Oscar hadn’t mentioned any additional problems, he wished the ghosts well and left them alone.

Oscar flicked on some of the lobby’s lights, illuminating the main section while leaving the rest in shadows. Sheets covered upholstered furniture, adding an eerie vibe.

Simon followed Oscar to a glass case set into the wall. Inside lay the diary and two gold rings, with a small plaque mentioning Dorothea and the legend of the Bride Ghost.

Oscar produced another key and opened the glass door to the case. Simon pulled on the linen preservation gloves he brought from the store and carefully lifted the diary from its holder. Oscar took the rings and put them into the jeweler’s bag Simon had also brought for that purpose.

“I’d like to look at them now, if you don’t mind,” Simon told him, with a glance at the bored guard. “Dorthea’s presence is strongest here. I’m hoping to get a clear sense of her.”

“You’re the expert; My job is to help you do what you do.”

“Let’s start with the jewelry.” Simon reached for the bag and carefully poured its contents into his hand.

Two antique gold rings spilled out, plain except for initials engraved inside, one for her and one for him. Simon closed his hand around the rings and shut his eyes, focusing on the energy and calling to the ghosts. The spirit of a woman in her early twenties appeared to him, dressed in the style of the period around the start of the First World War.

“Dorothea?” he sent silently. She nodded. “What happened? Why have you stayed?”

“I lost everyone. I can’t move on,” he heard the ghost’s voice in his mind, and the image winked out.

Simon read a strong new current of fear and uncertainty. He didn’t see images, and he felt like Dorothea had deliberately avoided thinking about them. A sharp pang of wrenching grief hit him, then everything went black. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts and catch his breath.

“What did you see?” Oscar wanted to know.

“Dorothea’s ghost,” Simon replied. “She’s trapped here. I wonder if she carried the rings with her. I felt her grief at the end when she received the notice of his death. But before that, she was extremely upset.”

“It could have been Cecil’s deployment or realizing that she was pregnant,” Oscar finished for him.

“That too,” Simon agreed. “Let’s see if she trusted the truth to her diary.”

He carefully returned the rings to the bag and placed the bag back inside the box. Simon’s archival gloves protected the fragile paper and binding, and he opened the cover gently to avoid damage.