Free Deadly Curiosities by Gail Z. Martin Page A

other than just guests?” I asked. It had occurred to me that an unscrupulous guest might be tempted to concoct a story to get a discount or a refund.
    Rebecca nodded. “Since the problems began, I’ve had to replace the cleaning position twice. The woman I have now, Cecilia, wears several charms around her neck, but then again, she’s Gullah, and says her people have ways of making peace with the spirits.” She drew a deep breath. “Sometimes when she’s cleaning, I hear her chanting to herself, but honestly, I don’t care what she does as long as she doesn’t quit!”
    The Gullah people were descended from runaway or freed slaves who settled in isolated areas along South Carolina’s coast, the area most people call the Lowcountry. Gullah folks are known for their distinctive language, a combination of African and Caribbean languages borrowed from the cultures of the original settlers. One of their old traditions involves ‘root work’, a powerful form of folk magic and healing. The magic is real, and root workers deserve the high degree of respect – and awe – they are accorded. If you’re wise, you take root work very seriously.
    I looked around the hallway as Rebecca closed the bedroom door and followed her back downstairs.
    The parlor had a magnificent Victorian single-end sofa, with a curving back that was higher on one side than the other, and rich red velvet upholstery edged in dark wood. Fringed lampshades glowed on the table lamps with their elaborate molded bronze stands. Rebecca laughed as she showed me how the big armoire hid a large screen TV and stereo system. A pair of comfortable chairs sat near the fireplace with an end table between them, inviting me to curl up and read.
    “It’s lovely,” I said sincerely. “Any incidents in here?”
    Rebecca grimaced. “Now, we seem to have incidents everywhere. At first, it was just in the bedrooms.
    Then, guests and staffers started experiencing strange things down here as well. And last week, we had a couple of unusual things go on in the garden.”
    “Like?”
    She sighed. “There was damage to one of the flower beds, but everyone denied doing it, and frankly, I can’t really imagine one of our guests tearing out the geraniums.”
    I couldn’t either. “How about your room? Do you have any antiques I should look at up there?”
    Rebecca shook her head. “Everything in my room is modern – I brought it from my old house and I’ve had it for years. I put all the good pieces where guests could use and enjoy them.” She looked sheepish.
    “As much as I love the antiques, having only modern furniture in my room is a nice break, and it helps me feel like I’ve left work, if that makes sense.”
    I nodded. “It does. Any disturbances up there?”
    Rebecca hesitated, and I figured she was deciding just how much to trust me. “Not at first,” she said quietly. “But then ‘he’ started showing up.” She had gone quiet and pale. “He?” I asked gently.
    She nodded, and exhaled in a rush, as if summoning her courage. “I see a shadow of a man, but it’s too dark to be a regular shadow.” Her eyes pleaded with me for understanding. “Imagine if you cut a silhouette out of black construction paper. No light goes through it. Sometimes, I see him on the stairs.
    Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night and see the shadow slide out the door, like he’s been watching me.”
    “Has your shadow man actually tried to harm anyone?”
    “No, but I’m afraid it’s heading that way. A few days ago, I fell on the steps. Only I didn’t trip. I definitely felt someone push me from behind, but there was no one here. One of my guests took an evening walk in the garden, and she said a vicious black dog growled at her. It chased her into the house, but of course, when we went searching for it, the gates were closed and there was no dog.”
    “Have you had any reports of strangers, loitering near the place?”
    Rebecca frowned. “The day I