Chapter 11 #2
Seemed we had a game plan and things worked out. I really hoped we came across some kind of information about the wannabe demon in the process. I had no idea how to find this bastard otherwise.
The next morning, residences were divvied up and we headed out.
Some of the homes on the list were original to the town, and it showed in the level of activity.
According to Booker, a few ghosts had escalated to actual physical violence, so we definitely wanted to nip those in the bud before someone got really hurt.
This one, in fact, we were doing before school started because a child was in danger.
It was hopefully a quick stop, but honestly, I couldn’t make those calls in this crazy place.
Often, the simple-looking tasks snowballed without any warning.
The GPS was up on my phone as we made the turns, and I talked to Mack as we did so. “I know this is on the way and should be a quick clearing, so do you want to tackle Gwyn’s school directly after?”
“Mon cher, I do think that’s wise. We don’t want her marked for truancy.”
“There’s that, too.”
Gwyn leaned her head between the seats before saying, “Do you expect them to—whoa! Brandon, look out!”
I didn’t see jack in front of me and calmly said, “Ghost, Gwyn.”
“Oh. Fuck. He looked so real.”
“They always do.”
Mack shook his head and said wryly to Gwyn, “This is precisely why Brandon always drives.”
That, and it gave me a minor heart attack watching him drive. Note I did not say this aloud.
“One of the reasons why a Medium needs an anchor?”
“Well, it is a factor,” Mack allowed.
I pulled in closer to the curb to parallel park. “All right, we’re here.”
The house in question had very interesting architecture.
It was two stories, all-white clapboard siding, with two large bay windows in the front and a covered porch.
Very much a remnant of a different time.
Still, was this person allergic to color?
Why was every aspect of this house white, including the door?
I shook the question off, going around to the back of the SUV to grab my gear. I didn’t know what to prepare for—Mack might be able to deal with the ghost with no support from me—so I grabbed the duffel. It had everything in there, and I could play things by ear.
Gwyn stuck to my side like glue, her head panning as she took in the house and small front yard, expression twisting. I didn’t like her look. “Something up?”
“There’s a lot of grey trails,” she conveyed, still looking about uneasily.
Uh-oh. That didn’t sound promising whatsoever. “Mack?”
Mack was ahead of me but paused on the stairs to shoot me a grim look over one shoulder. “It’s not good, cher.”
Right. Good thing I had the duffel. I might have to shoot something.
Was it bad I looked forward to shooting something?
Mack knocked at the door. A young mother with a toddler on her hip opened it. She appeared frazzled but smiled at Mack in relief mixed with welcome. “Are you the FBI agent?”
“Yes, ma’am. Special Agent Mack Lafayatte, enchanté. This is my anchor, Brandon, and my apprentice, Gwyn.”
“Nice to meet you.” She paused on Gwyn, eyes very curious, but didn’t say anything about our apprentice. “I’m Jo Ann, and this is my daughter, Hailey. My husband’s at work but said he can be here in five minutes flat if you need him.”
“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that. May we ask a few questions before we start?”
“Please.” She stepped back from the doorway and gestured us in.
I took a better study of her and the little girl as I came inside.
No DNA test required there; they had the same honey-blonde hair, heart-shaped face, and big brown eyes.
The little girl clung to her mom, but it didn’t seem to be us she was reacting to.
Her eyes were on something else…something in the far corner of the living room, maybe?
The home did look like a young family lived here. Lots of toys in bins lining the wall, stuffed animal and blanket on the couch, with very lived-in furniture. Someone had a good eye for decorating, which was mostly age appropriate for the home.
As we filed through, Jo Ann explained, “When we first bought the house, we did hear it was haunted, but we didn’t put a lot of stock in the rumors.
I’d never had a paranormal experience until I moved here.
But it started up the first week we were in, and it’s escalated since then.
It’s so bad our daughter now sleeps with us every night, as we’re scared of what’ll happen to her if she’s alone in her room. ”
“Not good,” Mack murmured. “What exactly has happened?”
“Most of it is noises—loud slams of a door, footsteps, whispering where you can hear tone but not pick out individual words. What got us to report things was when it became dangerous. The kitchen especially. We’ve had knives thrown at us, a pot of boiling water knocked right off the stove, and my husband was shoved backward off the back steps trying to bring in groceries last week.
” Jo Ann put a trembling hand to her forehead.
Stressed didn’t begin to cover it. “I’m scared of what’s going to happen next.
We were talking of selling the house, just cutting our losses and finding somewhere else to go, but… ”
“Don’t sell just yet,” Mack counseled with a smile. “We can fix this, ma’am, but it’s going to be a fight. I can tell you’ve got some mean ghosts in here. I’d advise you to step out for a few minutes. I’ll call you when it’s safe to come back in.”
Jo Ann stared at him for a long second. “You can tell already? Can you see them?”
“Not actively in this second, but I can see the trails. Light grey isn’t a good sign, and you’ve got multiple trails, ergo, multiple ghosts.”
“Oh. Fuck.”
“About the size of it. But after we’re done clearing, I’ll show you how to lay down salt, keep the house clear.”
“I would love to know that, thank you. Then, uh, I’ll pop over to my neighbor’s.”
“That’ll be fine.”
I escorted them both to the door, making sure I knew which house she meant by neighbor. Turned out to be the blue house next door. Only then did I come back in and start putting on gear. Thermal goggles first, just so I had a prayer of seeing shit.
Gwyn already had a water pistol in one hand, mouth set in a grim line. “Mack, I think there’s two?”
“At least two,” he agreed. “Mayhap three.”
Wonderful. No wonder the poor family here was having so much trouble. I palmed a rock salt gun but wasn’t sure what else to do here. “Mack? Canvass the place first?”
“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully, still looking around. “I might be able to force a passing, so bring the big Maglite, too.”
“Got it.” I slung the light into a pocket.
I shadowed them both as we made a tour of the house. It was a pretty basic square, where living room connected to dining room, which connected to kitchen, then back around to the front where a room had been turned into an office. It seemed to get regular use, too. No ghosts, though.
Mack started upstairs and then stopped dead. It took a second for thermals to kick in, and then I saw three ghosts all crowded ahead on the stairs, staring down at us. Thermal wouldn’t give me an idea of facial expressions, but worryingly, I could hear them clearly enough.
A gruff male voice snapped, “Get out!”
“This land is for the living,” Mack countered. “I’m a Medium, I can help you pass on—”
“I said get out! We won’t listen to no cackler like you!”
Mack’s tone hardened. “You either go peacefully or I scatter your soul to bits.”
“This is our land! Our prospect! Gold rides an iron horse!”
“Gold rides an iron horse!” The other two men joined in, chanting it now.
The hell kinda phrase was that? It was very clearly a slogan.
Their bodies filled out, enlarging somehow, which I had never seen a ghost do.
On instinct I lifted the gun, aiming at the nearest ghost. I’d shoot if they even inched in this direction.
I did not like this vibe; the air crackled with tension, and it was ripe with the promise of violence.
I was poised on the edge, waiting for an explosion of movement.
With an unholy scream that set the entire stairway ringing with noise, one of the ghosts shot toward Mack.
I fired a clean shot over Mack’s shoulder. The ghost dodged, spinning, and started swearing in the nastiest language I’d ever heard. Kinda impressive, in a way.
Mack seized the ghost and, without mercy, exorcised it—a very creepy sight via thermals. All of the cold blue energy scattered like dust motes on the wind, just poof, gone.
I fired again, mostly to herd the ghosts more in Mack’s direction, force them to duck toward the left side.
Gwyn fired, too, her water pistol dead-on.
The ghosts writhed, screaming, trying to flee, but Mack dove upward a step, catching both of them, one in either hand.
He had a tight grip and a snarl on his face.
“You want to go out like your friend? Or will you pass peacefully?”
“Fuck you!” one of them roared back.
“So be it.” Mack exorcised him without compunction. The motes of his soul were still scattering when Mack turned to the last ghost. “Which shall it be?”
“I’ll… Can’t I just stay?”
“No.”
A long sigh and the ghost faltered. “I don’t want to be exorcised.”
“Wise of you.” Mack tilted his head a little toward me. “Cher, a light?”
I pulled out the Maglite and shone it up the dimmer stairway. Mack kept a hand on the ghost—not really a guide, more like a precaution so he couldn’t bolt—and forced a passing. Only when I saw the door at the end open, then shut, did I turn off the light.
“How you doing?” He had just exorcised two ghosts, after all. I could tell he was already tired; you could see it in the lines around his mouth, aging him a decade. These ghosts took more oomph to pass, so I now wondered if exorcising two actually felt like doing three.
“Rather done in,” Mack answered, his fatigue pulling his shoulders down. “Cher, for this place, best note that exorcising two is my limit. I don’t know if I can do three.”
“I was afraid of that. You tell me when you need to stop, okay?”
“I will, but I can do some more, I think. We’ve cleared this place, at least. Let’s arm Jo Ann with some salt and know-how, shall we?”
“Sure.”
I had a feeling we’d be spritzing everything, including us, with some salt water to clear out the bad juju, but at least one family was a bit safer. I’d take the win. And I’d absolutely tell Booker what these guys had said. He was going to need to talk to a local historian ASAP.