“Yes, I suppose.” His logic made me feel a little better. “So what do we do first?”
“As it happens, I know of a very reliable exterminator. He’s humane, discreet and very good at what he does.”
“And if he doesn’t find any animalistic evidence?”
“Then I can send over a team to do some readings. Or I’ll come myself if you prefer. But one step at a time.”
The reasonable way he laid it all out could almost make me believe that rats and mice had indeed taken up residence in my walls and that the figure I’d seen at Oak Grove and in my garden was nothing more than a visual interpretation of a dream. Hallucinations and vermin infestations had never sounded so appealing.
But something inside me balked at having my sanctuary further violated. A persistent voice warned that outsiders, even someone as open-minded as Dr. Shaw, might somehow exacerbate the problem. Might somehow stir the unrest.
“Amelia? Are you still there?”
“Yes. I was just mulling over your suggestion. I don’t know that I’m comfortable having an exterminator come in without my landlady’s permission.”
“As I said, he’s very discreet. And if you’re at all concerned about having a stranger in your home, let me put your mind at ease. I’ve known him since he was a child. In fact, I first met him and his grandmother when my team was called in to examine a problem similar to yours.”
“What do you mean ‘similar to mine’?”
“He was convinced that something lived in the walls of his bedroom. His grandmother decided the best way to disabuse him of such a notion was to have the Institute launch an investigation.”
“Did you find an animal?”
“Not so much as a dropping. And the absence of physical proof only strengthened the boy’s conviction that a duende resided in his walls. I’ve sometimes wondered if his profession is a direct result of that childhood obsession.”
“What is a duende?”
“I suppose you could say it’s a variation of the Old Hag Syndrome. The legend differs from culture to culture, but the grandmother described a small, humanoid creature that sometimes crawls out of bedroom walls or other close places to barter with children.”
A cold fist of fear closed over my heart. “What do they barter?”
“Coins, trinkets, toys...anything that would catch a young eye in exchange for the child’s soul.”
My mind went instantly to the key necklace I’d found on the headstone and to Papa’s ominous warning in the deepening twilight of Rosehill Cemetery: Take nothing, leaving nothing behind.
Had I inadvertently bartered away my soul when I took the key from the grave, leaving the clover chain in its place?
I didn’t really believe that, of course. As fantastical as my reality now was, I still had limits of acceptance and belief. And yet it hadn’t been long after I’d found the key that the ghosts had entered my world.
“You don’t really believe such creatures exist, do you?” I asked fearfully.
“I always try to keep an open mind to any possibility,” Dr. Shaw said. “And despite all the logical answers that we’ve found over the years, there are many things in this world that will never be explained. The duende could have been nothing more than a hallucination or the product of a lonely little boy’s imagination. Or the child might well have been the target of a poltergeist or some other form of restless spirit that was attracted to his warmth and energy. The earthbound entity either became trapped in the wall or wanted to remain there to be close to the boy.”
“You said you found no evidence,” I said.
“No physical evidence of an animal infestation.”
“What did you do?”
“We treated the duende as we would any other unwelcome presence. We smudged the house to cleanse the negative energy, and we commanded the spirit to leave the boy alone.”
“Did that work?”
“Only temporarily. In any case, I don’t know that I would recommend such a direct approach in your situation. As you said, all of these events seem to be connected to the stereogram you found in the cellar. If you’re being harassed by a spirit that’s somehow bound to Kroll Colony, a confrontation could have serious repercussions.”
“What kind of repercussions?”
“Think about what happened to those colonists and to Ezra Kroll himself. You may be dealing with some very powerful emotions.”
I couldn’t help but shudder. “I showed the stereogram to John. He once knew someone from Isola who believed the deaths weren’t suicides at all but mass murder perpetrated to cover up a single homicide.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that theory, as well. Amelia...” Dr. Shaw trailed off as if reluctant to voice his next thought. For the first time during our conversation, I heard doubt in his voice. Maybe even a hint of fear.