Chapter Seven.
Haunt
It was two-thirty a.m. by the time we’d locked all rooms down bar the reception area.
We wanted Jeremiah trapped in a small space.
When he realised what we were doing, he fought hard, but we’d cut half his power base.
Those who’d feared him started to gain confidence as we blocked his escape route.
We’d been right in thinking the Kingsmill room and his trunk were the source of his strength.
Once we’d isolated those, he was strong but not as powerful as before. Still, Jeremiah made shit difficult.
His attention was split because four teams were locking him out of place. Jeremiah’s rage grew, and his energy depleted faster than he was able to replenish it. That worked in our favour. Once in reception, Jeremiah threw a tantrum that a two-year-old would admire.
“Die!” he howled.
“Pass into the light,” Michelle ordered. “Jeremiah, I will force you over if necessary.”
Damn, Michelle wasn’t messing around.
“Kill you!” Jeremiah shrieked in return.
“You don’t have the power,” Lucky retorted.
“Wait,” Dive murmured and pointed. Jeremiah no longer had the energy to stay invisible, and we were finally able to get a look at him.
Standing about five feet six inches tall was a thin, rangy-built man.
He was close to thirty-five; his face bore the marks of time.
Despite trying to hide in the corner, he soon realised we could see him.
Curling his lips into a snarl, Jeremiah rushed at Michelle, and I picked her up and swung her away as Lucky intervened. He held his cross up, and Jeremiah shrank back.
“Unholy!”
“You’re unholy, unnatural, and need to rest, Jeremiah,” Lucky said softly.
“No. No. Ignored. Forgotten. Not again.” Jeremiah’s eyes glowed red as he raced around the small reception area. There was no escape, and despite the anger and hate he’d been spewing, I felt sorry for him. I couldn’t imagine what three hundred years of nobody knowing you were there was like.
Lucky and Michelle began the exorcism, which was remarkably similar to a demon one.
Jeremiah visibly gathered everything he had and fought back hard.
He was fighting for survival while Lucky and Michelle were struggling to bring peace.
An hour passed, and Jeremiah was hanging on.
The reception had taken a battering. Paper was everywhere as Jeremiah made tornadoes of it and tossed them at Michelle and Lucky, giving them countless stinging cuts.
Files and plants had been flung at them, along with keys and pictures.
Jeremiah emptied the silver cabinet, launching the items inside haphazardly. I’d no doubt some bits were damaged.
Although whether on purpose or not, Jeremiah hadn’t smashed the beautiful stained glass.
Jack stepped up and turned Michelle to face him, and I flinched. I’d not seen it, but her nose was bleeding. Shit. Worry crossed Jack’s expression as he gently cleaned it. He placed an energy drink in her hand.
“Drink while I take over,” he ordered.
She nodded and handed her Bible to Jack. His voice rose to meet Lucky’s, and I saw Lich waiting with a can for him.
“One at a time. Removing both exorcists together isn’t a good plan,” I mumbled. Lich tilted his head in agreement; his gaze focused on Michelle.
“Should she be so weak?” he murmured.
“The demon in New York State severely drained her, and then we got called here. She’s only had a few days’ rest,” Sunny said from behind us.
“Then why did she come?” I demanded, piqued.
“Because she knew she’d be needed. That’s Michelle, protecting others at the cost of self. If Connor were here, he wouldn’t let her do this, but she won’t listen to anyone else,” Sunny shook his head.
“She’s a brave woman.”
Sunny nodded in agreement. “Keep an eye on them both. Neither accept their limits,” he warned and headed back to Callie and Angela.
That I could do.
The battle raged another three hours, and while Lucky and Michelle were tiring, so was Jeremiah. He was fainter now, still visible but much diminished. As I observed, he gathered himself for one final strike. Michelle looked at him and steadied herself.
“Die!” Jeremiah screeched.
“In the name of God, pass into his hands for judgement. For thine is the kingdom, and the power and the glory,” Michelle yelled back.
Jeremiah released an unholy screech, and then we noticed a light behind him. My eyes widened as it grew brighter until it encompassed him, and then it faded away.
“What the fuck did I just see?” Coffee muttered.
“You saw God, in all his splendour,” Michelle said as her legs gave way.
Trunk reached out and caught her, as he stared down at her with something akin to hero worship. I was right behind him on that.
“I’ve a proposition for you,” Callie declared the next afternoon over late breakfast.
“Don’t let your husband hear that. I’m not in the mood for a fight,” I joked as I filled my plate.
Sunny snorted from where he was shovelling bacon into his mouth.
“I was impressed with you,” Callie stated.
“Er, thanks?”
“How would you like to become part of Ghost Seekers Inc?” Callie dropped a bombshell and kept on eating.
“Say what?” I paused with the fork halfway to my lips, scrambled eggs trembling on it.
“You heard me,” Callie retorted, amused.
“Yeah, just checking I did. Thank you, but we’re the Spirit Chasers. I won’t disband my MC. We’re not for sale,” I stated firmly.
Callie laughed, and I wondered if last night had been too much for her.
“What?”
“Stay in your MC. I actually like the idea of that. What I’m offering is to finance you under the title of Ghost Seekers Inc. UK.”
“How does that work?” I asked suspiciously as Reaver sat down beside me, clearly listening.
“We fund a command centre for you, a tour bus, two SUVs, and all the equipment you need. In return, on the side of the vehicles, you display our logo and place the Spirit Chaser patch alongside it. Spirit Chasers, Ghost Seekers Inc. UK has a nice ring to it. I’ll give you a different colour in the logo so you guys can stand out and not be mistaken for us.
I’ll speak to the network, and we can use this as a recruitment episode.
GSI currently generates a lot of profit, so they’ll greedily accept this proposal,” Callie stated.
“Will you own the tour bus and shit?” Reaver demanded.
“Nope. Everything gets signed over to you. There’ll be agreements in place that you won’t change the logo or design.
But all merchandise rights belong to you, and so do your episodes.
I’ll wrangle the same deal for you as I have.
And it’s more lucrative than what you currently have.
It frees you guys up to quit your day jobs and do what you love,” Callie said.
“And what if we fall out and you cut the funding? And how much investment are you willing to offer?” I asked.
Callie named a figure that made my eyes bug out. “Is that for a year?”
“Nope, that’s monthly. It covers wages for all of you and budgets for petrol, food, and other costs.
Any money left over can either be saved for a rainy day or split between you.
Also, I’ve calculated thirty years’ worth, and it will be put into a trust with that monthly allocation paid out,” Callie replied.
“What do you get out of this?” I demanded. Nobody was this generous.
“You let me know where you’re going to be in advance, and we’ll do the same. Maybe we can do some crossover episodes. But I get the pleasure of helping you guys help others.”
“You don’t want credit?” Reaver frowned.
“Nope. People need to learn the correct way to handle an investigation. Not like those idiots who scream abuse for attention and likes.”
“I’ve gotta talk to my brothers. Do you have a contract?”
Callie slid a file across the table.
“One other thing: you can say no, but Jack says you desperately need a presenter. He’s applying. Jack has a dual passport; his mom was English and his dad American. He was born here but moved to the USA when three months old. Jack wants to learn about his mother’s country,” Callie said.
“We’ll consider it. When do I have to decide?”
“Take as long as you want. Get a lawyer to review it. No matter what happens, we’ll stay in contact.” Callie grinned.
“Hope so,” I replied, taking a huge bite of bacon.
Today just got interesting.
Welsh and Jenners removed the trunk. I’d no idea what they’d say to their station, but they’d got more than they’d expected.
We cleared everything up and blessed the inn one last time.
Angela had worried the maid might be gone, but we grinned when a faint voice said, ‘Thank you.’ She was regaining her energy and would soon be back to her normal haunting.
The Mermaid Inn had another chapter to add to its rich and long history.
And it had remained standing despite it.
A beautiful place to visit and one I’d fondly remember.
Sadly, Angela had learned a harsh lesson, but I hoped it wouldn’t stop her from letting genuine investigators in. Only time would tell.