Angie Tyler thumped her hand against the door jam of her hotel room after bidding Aidan a rather brisk goodbye and a "be good" for Mrs. Gallagher speech.

"Ouch!" she said, rubbing the top of her hand as it throbbed incessantly. For some reason, she put the bruised, sore skin to her lips for a second as she strode down the hall. Her mind was filled with Rollie’s strange phone call, Aidan’s toilet training and the bizarre encounter that had happened to her the night before. She was sure that she had seen what she had experienced and heard! With Rollie telling her that he had caught a ‘suspect’, she knew all too well that trouble would probably follow.

Once in the elevator, she shook her hand frowning and looked at herself critically in the smoked glass doors as she faced them. You look positively crappy today, she told herself with disgust. As she leaned down, seeing that the shoe string of her sneaker had become untied, the elevator rocked slightly from side to side and a slow tapping sound grew louder until there was a definite, jolting thump. It knocked her off balance and she fell back on her seat, her arms breaking the fall somewhat as she braced them on the floor.

"Great!" she said out loud, feeling the elevator walls start to enclose around her, "now I get stuck in an elevator!"

Standing again, she reached for the emergency phone panel and opened it. Pulling the phone off the receiver, she waited for the automatic dial. Seeing there was no panel to dial out, she assumed it would automatically start ringing the operator or someone at the hotel but it was dead.

Cursing it, of course, did no good. Yelling out for help would possibly bring help so she did so vehemently. Then she folded her arms across her chest and once again looked at her reflection in the mirrored doors.

The sound that she suddenly heard was like a sudden "whoosh", like the sound that was made by theater digital sound testing, starting at almost an inaudible decibel to a ear popping level around her. She put her hands against her ears in half panic and half protection as the sound went through her in waves. It vibrated through her chest and abdomen and rattled her teeth as she felt herself scream…

Rollie felt the pounding, the waves of sound in his gut, and in his chest, as if it was going to explode out from him. He gritted his teeth together to keep them from chattering as he felt his cheeks flap with the velocity of sound against them. His hand left his soul stone, as both hands then went to his ears. It was so intensely horrible…it was his own voice screaming that he heard in the end.

"You okay? Lady? Hey? You okay?" the voice asked, female and with a distinctive Southern drawl as Angie opened her eyes.

"What?" Angie was disoriented as hell and found herself sitting in a cab that was stopped at Eventyn’s gate.

"We’re here, you checked out for a while there, tough night, huh, honey…" the cab driver commented, chomping on her gum as she tapped her finger on the meter.

Angie shook her head; "how the hell did I get here?"

"I ask myself that every day," the cabbie replied, chuckling, "I-95 is like that, a real bitch in the rush hour…I just float away sometimes, it helps me cope."

Angie frowned. Beside her was her purse, she looked down at herself, same clothes and yet, she had no pain in the hand she had hit, no bruise and escape from that elevator and the sound!

"That’ll be twenty-two-fifty…" she heard the cabdriver say as she stiffly reached for her wallet in her bag and pulled out the money.

"Can’t you drive me up to the house?" Angie said, looking at Eventyn’s stately outline in the distance.

"Uh, nope…that old house is just fine that far away…sorry, it’s not exactly a place I care to be near," the woman voiced flatly as she took the money from Angie and made a slight face, "I guess that’s why you ain’t giving me a tip, huh?"

It was Angie’s turn to make a face as she got out of the cab and shut the door without looking back. She began to walk slowly toward the house, the seashell drive crunching beneath her shoes. She stared down at her running shoes, realizing that both were tied in double knots as she usually tied them.

"I don’t get this at all," she said out loud. Reaching in her purse, she pulled out her cellphone and tried to call Rollie. A very pleasant, computerized voice responded that the cellular customer was not available and once again, Angie was left to her own wits as to what was going on around her. As she passed the old mounting block closing in on the parking lot, she pulled the phone out again and sat down on the block. Calling the Jefferson Hotel and speaking with the desk manager about the elevator would help get her wits and memory back together again.

"The Jefferson…" answered the pleasant male voice on the other end of the line.

"Yes…Angie Tyler here….I- was just wondering? Has the problem with the elevator been fixed. How long was I trapped in there?" Angie stammered out, looking down at the ground. There were fresh horseshoe prints with divots turned up nearby.

"Mrs. Tyler? I don’t know about a problem with the elevator…are you there now? I mean, are you stuck in one now because my system is not reporting a malfunction," the desk manager replied, puzzled.

"No! I mean, no…" Angie replied, softening her shocked tone, "I mean from earlier, maybe you weren’t there yet. I was stuck in the elevator earlier this morning."

"Ma’am, uh- we haven’t had any malfunction of an elevator this morning or for that fact, in over a year here. Are you sure you are feeling alright. Perhaps we can check on you in your room?" the man responded, his voice concerned.

"I’m not in my room!" Angie replied, hotly and clicked her phone off in irritation.

She took a deep breath and stood up; the breeze from the James river wrapped around the house in a cooling effect as she made her way toward the back of the house and the set.

Rollie suddenly felt a jolt. He blinked his eyes and saw the doors of the F/X van fly open.

"Hey, you and Angie have a fight? How long you been here? All night? Cruel, man! Come on Tyler, get some coffee into ya, we got a full day scheduled shooting here!"

It was Gary Sanderlin, clipboard in hand, and a cup of coffee offered in the other.

"What? How’d I get here? Where’s Stu?" Rollie asked, standing up from his seat.

"Stu? That little geekman? He’s up on the hill, I guess. Putting all the extras through their paces, just like a little general. He was quite a find, Tyler!"

"You’re joking?" Rollie questioned, rubbing his head slightly as he took the cup of coffee from Gary.

"Not about cost, Tyler. He’s saving me a lot of expense, what with his knowledge and heck, bringing a lot more savvy to the whole filming. Now, if we can just get your Aussie brain back to one piece this morning, we might have some special effects to add and have a pretty damn good movie!"

Rollie suddenly reached for his soul stone, a reminder of his bizarre encounter with an entity he could not see but feel and hear. The stone was cold and smooth in his hand as he then took a sip of coffee and growled.

"This is bloody awful stuff…"

Sanderlin grinned and waved as he stepped back out of the van. Rollie could hear him talking to someone outside and suddenly realized that he was jumping on Angie’s case.

Opening the door to the van, the sunlight making him blink in blindness for a moment, he came over to her and hugged her tightly in front of Sanderlin.

"Angie, what the hell happened to me last night?" He felt her tense up against him and he looked down at her, the look in her blue eyes was the same look he held in his own.

"You guys settle this and get on set in five minutes, you hear!" Sanderlin warned them and left, grumbling under his breath.

"I want to go inside, Rollie, let’s go inside…" Angie said, grabbing his arm and going over to the van.

Rollie followed, his apprehension only growing for Angie was pale and her hands were trembling.

Once he got inside, shutting the door to the van, she grasped him, her hands gripping his shirt in the back tightly and he put his hands to her face, cupping it with concern.

"There is something going on here, Rollie…beyond what I can rationalize, what I know!" Angie said in scarcely more than a whisper.

"You tell me what has happened to you!" Rollie demanded, his hands gripping the sides of her face now.

"I don’t know! I thought I was trapped in an elevator this morning, I thought something got inside me, a sound…it was so loud, so vibrating, I screamed because I thought I was going to die…I just knew and then, God! I was just sitting in a cab coming here! It doesn’t make sense and I’m going crazy, Rollie!"

Angie began to cry. Her face crumpled as he released her and she buried her face against his chest.

"Then, we’re doing it together, Ange….bloody hell! I did call you, didn’t I? I didn’t imagine that?" Rollie asked her, trying to sum up what was going on between them. He was resting his chin on the top of her disheveled, golden hair, his eyes shutting for a moment as he tried to make sense of the bizarre memories that were flooding his mind.

"You said… you said, that you were bringing in a suspect- that you wanted me to meet you here, at Eventyn. You said you were at a motel, Rollie!" Angie replied, in half sobs now, as she wiped at her eyes, pulling away from him slightly.

"I think I was…it was Stu’s!" and Rollie told her what he had discovered after finding Stu drunk on the hill the night before.

"What happened to you in the room?" Angie asked, a little more calm now, as Rollie stroked the skin over her collarbone with his thumbs as he held onto her shoulders.

"I was scared out of my wits!" he replied, and then reached up for his soul stone, "the thing, it was something cold and big, it held me with this incredible force! But, I managed to get my hand free and I touched my stone, thinking of you and Aidan…" and he made the same motion and shut his eyes for a moment before his lids fluttered open again. He looked back down at her with some clarity, opening his mouth slightly.

"That thing! It tried to pull my arm away, it tried to…."

"You slammed your hand against the wall or the thing, IT slammed it against the wall?" Angie interrupted, pulling up her hand and then, reached inside her bag. She hadn’t been wearing her own soul stone recently, preferring to carry it with her. As she reached down and felt the smooth coolness of it inside the unzipped pouch, she grimaced slightly, pulling it out.

"I slammed my hand against the door of the hotel room before leaving, it left a mark that I remembered during the elevator. But then, when I got here, it was gone. And now…" and Angie pulled her hand out, her soul stone cupped in her palm and turned her hand over, revealing a bruise now and some swelling.

"Angie?"

They looked at each other, both shaking their heads before Rollie touched his forehead against hers as he drew her close.

"I think we have more than just Stu and his partners up to some ghostly projections here. I don’t like being the earthly portal for some son-of-a-wisp who can’t get over what happened a century ago…!"

"Son-of-a-wisp? You're making me smile right in the middle of this, you know that?" Angie remarked, grinning as she sniffed. She met his eyes, which had returned to that warmth, the deep brown comfort and security that she so loved.

She kissed him and he pulled her up into his arms and then kissed her neck, releasing her hesitantly;

"Wear your stone, Ange…please…I know you don’t exactly believe in this stuff but I swear…"

"Help me fasten it," Angie requested, already having placed it around her neck before he could finish.

"That’s my girl," Rollie replied, smiling and went behind her, fastening the clasp.

He put his hands on her shoulders from behind her then and pointed her toward the window of the van, which faced the hill of Seven Pines.

"We’re going up that hill first, before Gary Sanderlin can find us and bring us back to the set. Mr. Stu Westburn has some explaining to do."

"Oh, should we get Mr. Eventyn as well?" Angie reminded him, thinking that Stu’s accomplice would surely be the present patriarch of Eventyn.

"One at a time, sweetie…but eagerness becomes you!" he told her, kissing the nape of her neck as she giggled. They were both relaxed now, their shared experiences somewhat put in distance behind them.

Stu Westburn was in Confederate Gray, a ranking Lieutenant’s insignia braid on his sleeves. His sword was unsheathed as he thrashed it through the underbrush to the right of the hill, toward the river. He was not demonstrating battle techniques of the Georgia boys on march during the Seven-Day campaign, however, he was looking for something when Rollie and Angie came upon him.

"Hello, mate…" Rollie said, his voice smartly sharp behind the young man who was crouched over.

Stu jumped, turning around as the sword he held whipped through the air in surprise. Angie moved back. It was Rollie who stood his ground, seemingly unaffected by the move.

"Oh, good God, Rollie! You scared the living daylights out of me!" Stu replied, clutching his sword hand to his chest and then sheathing his sword.

"Um, feeling a bit tense, then…eh?" Rollie asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Tense? Uh, well…this is getting to be such a big deal. I mean, I came here on sorta a delivery and ended up getting a job and it’s been an eye opener, you know?" Stu replied, perspiration breaking out on his forehead as he avoided eye contact.

"You don’t remember last night then?" Rollie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What? You mean in the house, poor Angie! I don’t know what to say about that house! Ghosts are everywhere here!" Stu replied, stumbling slightly as he came up on level ground beside them.

"No, Stu, not the house…later …after I picked up your sorry, wasted ass out here around um, two in the morning? Ring any bells?" Rollie asked, leaning forward.

"Wasted? No way! I don’t drink! What’s going on here, Rollie?"

"Oh, come off it, Stu! I know about the whole deal….my God, your room is a bloody warehouse of special effects equipment for making our little friendly spirits. You and Eventyn make a great pair…him with his spooky little suggestions and this place…and you- with the sudden smarts for ghost spotting and whatnots! The only thing, is…why this elaborate scheme? I mean, what IS it, what are you guys really up to?"

Stu’s face went from blanched white to a blushed red as he took off his costume hat and slapped it against his knee. Behind them, they could hear the second unit’s director bellowing out directions and calling for Stu.

"It’s not what you think!"

"No, it’s not all what you know, either, is it?" Rollie replied, hinting at the forces that Stu was unable to explain.

"Eventyn’s not in this like you think, and well, look- just give me a chance to explain. Don’t ruin this…we’re so close!"

"Close to what?" Angie asked, stepping up with her hands on her hips.

"Close to dragging the Will-O’-Wisp out of his hell hole!" came the familiar voice from behind them. Rollie and Angie turned around to see Hunter Eventyn standing with his riding crop in his hand. His usual crisp, immaculate riding suit he wore was smeared with mud and grass stains as he wiped his brow with a handkerchief he pulled from his breast pocket.

"Looks like your filly gave you a run for your money," Rollie commented as the older man reached up, pushing back a section of white hair that had fallen over against his forehead.

"Mr. Tyler, my filly lies dead over yonder past the Chickahominy Bluffs on the other side there. I warn you, she wasn’t running for any money of mine… for I have none."

"What happened?" Angie asked, realizing that the man was possibly hurt and visibly upset.

" I fear that I might not be able to answer you right now…" he started to say and grinned slightly. But it wasn’t that he was really grinning, he was grimacing from pain. He held his chest tightly and sank to his knees, looking up at the sky.

"You must tell them, my dear…before there is no one that can help you!" he said in agony, looking up into the air as Rollie and Angie reacted. They each took an arm in support but Hunter Eventyn, the Fourth, suddenly lifted his head up, smiling and then fell back pulling them down to the ground as well. He lay still, a peaceful expression fixed on his face, having been the final signature of life force in him.