Silence echoed through the dark halls. The moonless night provided no aid to the silver-blue eyes trying to pierce through the black. However, that was the way she preferred it. How else would one know the difference between light reflection and light anomalies?
“Hello,” A voice rich and warm, like a shot of whiskey on a snowy night, shot through the silence. She knew she was alone in the house. She knew that no other human being was present with in the walls, but that wasn’t who she was calling out to.
“Rhiamon,” A soft voice barely audible reached the nineteen year olds ears, causing her to turn towards the source. “Rhiamon,” It was definitely a man’s voice, coming from the master bedroom.
Camera rose, night vision lighting the way as she ran down the crowded path. Bright red hair trailed behind her, a splash of color in the dreary atmosphere. No matter how much she tried, it remained the bright red she was born with. Rhiamon hated her hair with a passion. It was bright, curly, and cheerful, everything she was not. However each time she died it black or straightened it, not two days later it was back to its natural color and shape.
“Rhiamon hurry,” The male’s voice called again as long white fingers grasped the door knob. The source was just beyond the wood, only a quick turn and push away, and Rhiamon wasn’t sure if she wanted to speak to it. You see, this nineteen year-old had a gift. If one would call it that. Rhiamon Calhoun could see and speak to spirits, had been able to do so since birth, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
“Hurry, time is running out.”
Eyes slid shut as her hand turned. She didn’t even have a chance to push as the structure was pulled from her grasps and thrown open. A gasp escaped her lips and optics reopened. There in the middle of the room stood a man. No, he wasn’t human and Rhiamon doubted he ever was. His hair jet black, eyes ice blue, tall wide figure had a glow about him, one that filled the young woman with warmth and hope. Yet, at the same time, he brought such pain and sadness to her. The male was a dead ringer to her father, a man she loved with all her heart and was gone now.
“Who… who are you?” Her voice stuttered.
“I would think you were use to talking to my kind by now,” The male smiled and reached out a hand.
Rhiamon cleared her throat and shook herself back into shape. “I’m sorry, you just remind me…”
“Of your father,” The male finished and dropped his hand, knowing she wouldn’t take it. Not yet anyways. “I’m sorry for your loss, but now is not the time. Time is running out.”
“Running out for what?”
“I can not say, the rules forbid it, but I can tell you its time. Return home Rhiamon, return home and begin the game. We are on your side.” The figure faded away with his last words, leaving Rhiamon in the dark. Normally the ghosts would leave her chilled, the room ice cold. Not this time though, it was as if he had never been there.
“A lot of help you where,” Rhiamon mumbled under her breath and checked her camera. Sure enough, there was no evidence beyond the door being thrown open. Not even the voice was recorded on her tape. “Thanks a lot, now what am I suppose to do?”
It was almost sun rise and she had only gathered a few tapings. Not enough evidence to prove the house haunted, which she knew it was. It was the end of her first college term and Rhiamon was studying paranormal science. Her final had either been to write a paper or to catch evidence of a haunting, she had done neither.
“I need some help,” Rhiamon huffed as she left the room. Maybe things would pick up in the next two hours. Maybe, she wouldn’t have to stay up all day and write that paper in five hours. Yeah right, and she was the queen of Scotland.
Warrior Ranch; that is what Raymond Calhoun had called home. When his wife or kids asked why, the dark haired cowboy would just smile and say they would learn soon enough. Rhiamon had never learned why her father called their fifty acre ranch Warrior Ranch. Rhiamon had been sixteen when the plane crashed, taking both her parents with it and leaving three children to mourn. So, the name remained a mystery but it was home.
Winter break had come and Rhiamon had written her paper, receiving an eighty-six on her final. Her brother would probably poke and make fun, but with five hours to write a twenty page essay she did pretty darn good.
Dust gathered in a cloud behind the rental car as the girl drove down the dirt path. As she hit another bump, she cursed her brother and his insistence. Cadeyrn wanted to uphold traditions and refused to pave the road that led to their ranch. In fact, he insisted on riding only his horse on the road. Rhiamon hated traditions and wanted nothing to do with them. They held her in the past, where she couldn’t stand to live. Too many painful memories existed there.
The wrought iron sign came into view and she found herself thanking every god that came into mind. Her hind quarters were beginning to hurt and all she wanted was a warm bath and a nap. Pulling the car besides an old beat up pick up, she turned off the engine and climbed out. The pick up belonged to Hank, the ranch hand that raised her and her siblings after her parents’ death. He and her father had been childhood friends, growing up not but a few miles from here. When Raymond opened up Warrior Ranch, Hank came on to help, later becoming Rhiamon’s god-father.
“Well at least someone is here that has some sense,” She mumbled under her breath as she pulled her suit case from the trunk.
“Do you mean this old man?” A smile spread the girl’s lips as she turned and launched herself into Hank’s awaiting arms.
“You’re not old,” Rhiamon laughed as she gave the man a big smooch. At forty-one, he was just coming into his prime. Hank was a big man in his own right. He stood at six foot eight, a whole foot above Rhiamon. His shoulders were wide and strong, a testament to working a ranch all his life. “And you need a shave,” She informed him and rubbed her hands along his jaw line.
Hank laughed deep and full of life. “Well now that the two ladies are returning, it seems I don’t have a choice.”
“When does Kelly come home?”
“In a week, her big fancy school in France got snowed in. So they decided to keep the kids instead of sending them home.” Hank set her back on the ground before opening her trunk. Finding but one duffle bag he grinned. You could always count on Rhiamon to pack light. She never was and never would be a girly girl.
“I hope she’s okay.” Shaking the feeling of unease away, she went to grab her bag only to have her godfather beat her to it. Kelly was the youngest of the siblings. She was only eighteen and on her last year of high school.
A twinkle in his eye, he wrapped the free arm around her waist and led her towards the house. “Now that you’re home, do you mind whipping up something for dinner. You’re brother and I can’t cook worth crap and living on mac’n’cheese is killing us.”
Rhiamon laughed and shook her head. She should have known he would have asked. The day she announced she was going out of state for college, the males of the house sat in shock. Only she and Kelly could cook and Kelly went to school in France. It had left Rhiamon with all the cooking, but Hank and Cadeyrn paid for it in kitchen duty. She may be a good cook, but she made a mess creating her master pieces.
“As long as you follow procedure, I cook and you clean.” She chuckled as he cringed. Opening the door to the ranch house, she stepped inside and immediately felt at home. She’d been born just up stairs, in the master bedroom on the bed Cadeyrn now claimed as his. It was home, but it also brought back painful memories.
“I’ll take this up for you so you can get started on dinner.” Hank kissed her cheek before taking the stairs two at a time.
Slowly Rhiamon ventured through the bottom floor. Her fingers caressed this and that as she made her way towards the kitchen, the only state-of-the-art room in the house. Nothing else had been changed since her father built the place. Everything still held bits of him and should could see, hear, and feel him.
Entering the kitchen, she made her way to the fridge and opened it. What she found was absolutely nothing, not even an egg. “Damn it, how the hell am I supposed to cook?”
The sound of the front door opening and closing caused her to freeze. ‘Please not another one, please not another one.’ She chanted in her head over and over. Rhiamon couldn’t take facing another ghost, not now not here.
“There’s a foreign car in the drive way, could my sister have returned from her fancy university?” Cadeyrn’s voice echoed through the house and gave her relief.
“What if I did? Nothing stopping me from getting right back in that car and leaving! You’ve got no food, no entertainment, and you’re here.” She joked as she went to the kitchen entryway and crossed her arms.
Cadeyrn was a big man, standing at six foot five with shoulders made wide by hard work. Dark hair fell messily around his head as he was in a desperate need of a hair cut. His eyes were a light green color, so soft and full of love, for his family and his land. A smile split his red lips as he spotted Rhiamon. Hands tucked work gloves into his back pocket before stepping over to her and giving her a big hug. “I can fix the food problem, there’s always work to do, and you’ll have to deal with me seeing as I live here.”
Rhiamon playfully sighed as she hugged her brother back. “Fine, I’ll put up with you. But you need to get that road paved. My a*s hurts like hell.”
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