UNPSYCHIC.

Case 02 :: Chapter 05

We arrived at Sir Matti's that evening, just as dusk began to settle and the bluish-violet skies were soon consumed by the obsidian night. A light fog covered the expanse of the property, completing Psycho's Bates' house vibe to the place and the images of Norman's dead mother sitting in the cellar came to mind. 

Noelle did a couple of interviews with Sir Matti before he retreated to his temporary home ever since his accident, a transient home several minutes away. So far, he didn't experience anything paranormal outside of the house, which concluded Noelle's theory that there may be another source artifact that hosted the ghost or ghosts in question. Although how it got there in the first place was still the million peso question. 

"So, what's the plan?" I spun to face Noelle, hands on my hips once the double gates were secured and locked behind me. The roar of the taxi driving away from the curb could still be heard as it headed to drop off Sir Matti to his rental home.

Noelle studied the Spanish-Colonial house sprawled in front of us, looming over against the shadows of the night like an iceberg amidst the black sea. It was around seven in the evening now, a bit early to hunt ghosts in my opinion (but fine by me), you could still even hear the light bustle of vehicles as it passed by the main road and some people as they walked their way to the city proper a few blocks over. But as we approached the house and moved away from the gate, it felt like we were farther away from civilization, like the property was in its own little bubble and untouched by time. The hubbub slowly dispersed and we were left with only the low hum of the cicadas, hidden in the garden at the back. 

"We have two goals: one, to make contact with Alejandra. Two, see if we can locate a vessel." We were standing at the porch, just at the mouth of the entrance, and she rummaged through her backpack and retrieved several pieces of equipment, neatly placing them on the wide railing that wrapped the porch.  

"We'll work our way up, starting with the kitchen, then to the rest of the hotspots." She explained further, handing me one of the contraptions. "We'll go to the Prayer Room last."

I turned the device over my hand. It was like a small camera with a handle at the bottom to hold it. Noelle must have noticed how I studied it like a caveman discovering fire for the first time, and impatiently pressed a button at the front of the device to switch it on. 

"That's a thermal imaging camera, used to capture heat signatures. Usually pockets of cold air in a warm location can signify the presence of a ghost, if not explainable.

"These," she picked up two slim recorders. "Are called Electronic Voice Phenomena recorders. Basically they capture spirit voices that couldn't be heard with our own ears." She handed me one then placed the spare in her back pocket. 

"This," She held a circular looking device, almost like a hockey puck but twice in size. "Is called a Spirit Box. I doubt we'd use this. But this scans and captures paranormal radio frequencies that can allow us to communicate with spirits real time." 

"Are these really necessary?" I watched her red and yellow form through the lens of the thermal device as she toggled with the settings of her own handheld camera, activating the flashlight feature. "I mean, we can see and sense them anyway."

"Well, you can't avoid having skeptic clients, despite asking us for help in the first place." She muttered grimly, as though speaking from experience. "Think of this as covering our asses with good 'ol fashion evidence."

Once we were all geared up, we lingered at the threshold, as though stalling and hesitant to proceed to its dark bowel. I caressed the pendant that hung around my neck, as though some talisman that could protect me from harm. I nearly forgot that it was Noelle who unknowingly gave the small piece of metal to me, and I had the urge to tell her about it, on how we actually first met at the hospital all those months ago. But before I could open my mouth, Noelle marched into the house, the camera serving as our torch, and I was left with no choice but to follow suit.