Chapter 1
On the balcony overlooking the manor's entrance, Captain Edmund Carslyle stared with revulsion at the men emptying luggage and containers from a dark van. With his gifts, he knew damn well what those containers held. It wasn't materials for a quantum conference.
These were ghost hunters. Something he forbid from entering his home.
Hands gripped the railing until his knuckles went white. His image altered from corporeal to his ghostly pirate with anger. A flicker of lightning raged over the manor, lighting the skies, revealing one face peering. Behind glasses, bright eyes widened when he caught sight of his image. How could someone see his ghost image? No one could see him. There were rumors abound about a ghost haunting the ancient Greek Revival-styled manor turned into an elegant seaside B&B, but nothing was based on fact.
Cussing, Edmund disappeared into the manor. Retaking his corporeal image, he dressed himself in slim Armani trousers, a white silk button-down shirt, and grey knitwear V-neck sweater. Shoving a hand through his golden brown hair, he moved through the manor's family wing and down the stairs.
In spite of tales, rumors, and gossip, he kept ghost hunters away from his lands for over five hundred years. He wanted no one to scour the old stories and hurts hidden in the walls of the manor and lighthouse. There was the issue about his curse, ancient and powerful, and never-ending. It caused him enough grief and pain and didn't want wannabe ghost hunters messing with his life even further. His hands clenched while he rounded the final bend.
* * *
Outside, gazing upon the elegant southern manor with the double story Doric columns and widow's walk on the corner facing the sea, Aiden Joseph turned to take in the surroundings. Further beyond the manor, he spotted a towering lighthouse built on the hammerhead-shaped peninsula to warn all sea captains about the dangerous reefs and shoals hidden under the beautiful blue ocean. Aiden could understand why the first Carslyle wanted to put roots here in the rich sandy soil, nestled against the dangerous North Carolina stretch of the Atlantic Ocean. Fixing his glasses, he moved his gaze up the three stories, timing his movements with the sudden fix of lightning, to see a figure standing on the ledge of the widow's walk tower.
A gasp escaped when he caught sight of a ghost.
A figure of a pirate.
"What? What did you see?" Morris, the leader of the group, asked, turning at the sound of the gasp. He met Aiden's gaze.
"Nothing. I saw nothing." Aiden cleared his throat. "A hawk flying over caused a shadow."
"Damn, don't spook on us. We're not even in the door with the gear."
"You think we're gonna get in, boss? Word is the owner doesn't let in hunters," George, one of the cameramen, said, hefting a bag on his shoulder before grabbing the handles of another one.
"We're signed in for a weekend as a quantum conference and not hunters. Aiden here gives us some credence as experts with his brain." Morris thumped a hand to Aiden's shoulder.
This was not a job he wanted, but positions as a scientific researcher weren't readily available in the current economy. His savings were running low and bills were piling up. He found a researcher job on the internet and it ended up being the researcher for Spectre Hunters, one of the many ghost hunter shows on television. With a scientific, logical background, the idea of ghosts and other paranormal events weren't high on his believability list. Still, it was a job.
Now due to this position, he found the stories of a captain of the Satan's Trident, who disappeared after a fateful voyage up the coast after an armada, but a storm overtook the fleet. His ship foundered off the coast near the lighthouse, the captain and the crew disappeared.
Within months of his disappearance, the Carslyle family and friends reported their home was haunted by the captain, who wandered the upper suite and widow's walk. The sightings continued
On the balcony overlooking the manor's entrance, Captain Edmund Carslyle stared with revulsion at the men emptying luggage and containers from a dark van. With his gifts, he knew damn well what those containers held. It wasn't materials for a quantum conference.
These were ghost hunters. Something he forbid from entering his home.
Hands gripped the railing until his knuckles went white. His image altered from corporeal to his ghostly pirate with anger. A flicker of lightning raged over the manor, lighting the skies, revealing one face peering. Behind glasses, bright eyes widened when he caught sight of his image. How could someone see his ghost image? No one could see him. There were rumors abound about a ghost haunting the ancient Greek Revival-styled manor turned into an elegant seaside B&B, but nothing was based on fact.
Cussing, Edmund disappeared into the manor. Retaking his corporeal image, he dressed himself in slim Armani trousers, a white silk button-down shirt, and grey knitwear V-neck sweater. Shoving a hand through his golden brown hair, he moved through the manor's family wing and down the stairs.
In spite of tales, rumors, and gossip, he kept ghost hunters away from his lands for over five hundred years. He wanted no one to scour the old stories and hurts hidden in the walls of the manor and lighthouse. There was the issue about his curse, ancient and powerful, and never-ending. It caused him enough grief and pain and didn't want wannabe ghost hunters messing with his life even further. His hands clenched while he rounded the final bend.
* * *
Outside, gazing upon the elegant southern manor with the double story Doric columns and widow's walk on the corner facing the sea, Aiden Joseph turned to take in the surroundings. Further beyond the manor, he spotted a towering lighthouse built on the hammerhead-shaped peninsula to warn all sea captains about the dangerous reefs and shoals hidden under the beautiful blue ocean. Aiden could understand why the first Carslyle wanted to put roots here in the rich sandy soil, nestled against the dangerous North Carolina stretch of the Atlantic Ocean. Fixing his glasses, he moved his gaze up the three stories, timing his movements with the sudden fix of lightning, to see a figure standing on the ledge of the widow's walk tower.
A gasp escaped when he caught sight of a ghost.
A figure of a pirate.
"What? What did you see?" Morris, the leader of the group, asked, turning at the sound of the gasp. He met Aiden's gaze.
"Nothing. I saw nothing." Aiden cleared his throat. "A hawk flying over caused a shadow."
"Damn, don't spook on us. We're not even in the door with the gear."
"You think we're gonna get in, boss? Word is the owner doesn't let in hunters," George, one of the cameramen, said, hefting a bag on his shoulder before grabbing the handles of another one.
"We're signed in for a weekend as a quantum conference and not hunters. Aiden here gives us some credence as experts with his brain." Morris thumped a hand to Aiden's shoulder.
This was not a job he wanted, but positions as a scientific researcher weren't readily available in the current economy. His savings were running low and bills were piling up. He found a researcher job on the internet and it ended up being the researcher for Spectre Hunters, one of the many ghost hunter shows on television. With a scientific, logical background, the idea of ghosts and other paranormal events weren't high on his believability list. Still, it was a job.
Now due to this position, he found the stories of a captain of the Satan's Trident, who disappeared after a fateful voyage up the coast after an armada, but a storm overtook the fleet. His ship foundered off the coast near the lighthouse, the captain and the crew disappeared.
Within months of his disappearance, the Carslyle family and friends reported their home was haunted by the captain, who wandered the upper suite and widow's walk. The sightings continued
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