15 Amityville Horrible Read Free Page A

Amityville to meet my fellow ghost hunters. And time to meet the house where we’d be ghost hunting.
     
    …
     
    The show had hired a sedan service take me to Amityville. That sounds fancy, until you realize the town is only an hour east of New York City. A taxi probably would have cost more.
     
    The main crew was supposed to meet at the house for a big “getting to know you” party. Then, at the last minute, we were texted directions to a local inn with a curt “change of plans” note.
    “Change of plans, my ass,” I muttered on my cell to Jeremy as the car entered Amityville. “They never planned for us to meet at the house.”
    “They want to film your first look at it. For part of the special.”
    “Exactly. Last time they did that when we arrived, but it was such a mess they cut it. No one wants to see jet-lagged spiritualists stumbling in, muttering about their crappy flight. They want a big reveal this time. And the party isn’t for the real people anyway.”
    “Just the fake ones?”
    I laughed. “Close. Pros only. They’ll hold off on introducing us to the regular folks who ‘won’ slots. They’ll want to film that. Get my reaction when I realize I’m about to spend the night with people who’ll probably make me look like Mensa material.”
    His silence worked better than any verbal rebuke.
    “Sorry, sorry,” I said. “I’ve almost stopped doing that.”
    “Around me.”
    I still mocked myself around others is what he meant. Getting the jokes and insults in before they could. Which he hated.
    He changed the subject with, “So it’s just the professionals today. The parapsychologists. Did Mike provide you with a list of names yet?”
    “He doesn’t dare. I’m sure he looked back through my career and hired everyone I’ve ever had friction with, for better TV. I’ll handle it. I just…I wish, for once, I could tell myself it’ll all work out fine.”
    “It will,” he said. “Eventually. It just takes some work to get there.”
    I sighed. “I know..

Three
     
    The driver dropped me off at the inn’s front gate. Apparently, his fee didn’t cover actually pulling into the lane. I could have bitched—normally I would, oh-so-politely, as I’ve learned from Jeremy—but traffic in New York meant I’d spent two hours in the car and I was happy for the excuse to walk, if only up the drive.
    The inn was on the outskirts of Amityville. It was your typical New England inn, a big white colonial with rose gardens just coming into bloom. I meandered up the drive, stopping to smell the roses, literally.
    As I was straightening, I felt a ghost behind me. It’s not an icy draft running down my spine or anything so dramatic. It’s like sensing a person there, because that’s what ghosts look like to a necromancer. Regular people. It’s only when you see them walk through objects that you realize otherwise.
    When I turned, I caught the flicker of a spirit. I sighed. A disappointing reaction for everyone who’d be watching the upcoming show. I should shriek. Or pale. Or at least tremble in my boots. But given that I was wearing designer boots with five-inch spike heels, trembling really wasn’t wise.
    The truth, as much as it would dismay every horror fan, is that your average spook isn’t all that spooky. In fact, they’d be kind of offended if I ran screaming.
    So I sighed. Then I waited. But my phantom was a shy one. Finally, I said, grudgingly, “If you want to talk to me, wait until I’m in my hotel room.” As much as I hate to invite ghostly encounters, it was better than having one show up on camera. Nothing ruins a fake seance like a real spirit.
    “That’s the deal, okay?” I said. “Contact me when I’m alone and—”
    “Jaime? You’re early.”
    I looked to see Mike bouncing down the front steps.
    “What are you doing here?” I said.
    He flashed a thousand-dollar smile. “Helping bring my baby to life, of course.”
    Mike never shows up on the set. Hmm. This