DarkMan: Ghosts and Haunted Houses (The Spirit Guide Book 3) Page 10

  “I just thought you were so strong that no spirit would be able to control you,” Jesse said. “Now come on. Frank is still here. I will explain everything, but I don’t want to leave Margie alone too long. She is scared and vulnerable right now.

  “Oh God, was I mean to her?” Gail asked, as Jesse helped her to her feet.

  Her hair was sticking up all over the place and he smoothed it down as best as he could.

  “She’s in shock so she won’t have noticed too much, but we will make up for it when this bastard is back where he belongs.”

  “Oh it must be bad if you’re swearing,” Gail winked again.

  “Yeah, it’s bad.”

  Back in the house, Gail checked on Margie and made her some more tea. Then she sat with her for a few minutes, holding her hand and waiting with her for just a moment. Then she came over to Jessie who was sitting on the sofa reading the file Mark had sent on his laptop.

  “Is she all right?” Jesse asked.

  “I think so. She’s stronger than she looks, and if we can get her through this, then I think a change of scenery will do her good.”

  “I think so, too.” Jesse turned the laptop so Gail could see the file.

  “Is that Margie?” Gail asked.

  “No that’s Samantha.”

  “Well that answers a few questions.”

  The woman in the file that Mark had sent was the spitting image of Margie. It was a small photo, but her facial structure was almost identical. From the file they could see that she was two years younger and had green eyes instead of brown, but apart from that, they could be twins.

  “Was he abusive to her when she was alive?” Gail asked.

  Jesse smiled. That was the question they had wanted to be asked. Why did Frank want to hurt the woman it appeared that he loved, the woman he had killed himself to join?

  “No, he wasn’t. He loved her deeply, obsessively, and from all accounts treated her very well. The police even think he killed himself to be with her.”

  “Then why the violence now, and wipe that insufferable smirk off your face?” Gail said with a laugh.

  “Okay, wait for it...” He scrolled down the document to another page. “Do you see?”

  “She’s not dead?” Gail asked.

  “You got it. From what Mark can find out, she faked her death and ran away with Frank’s boss. They’re living in Cornwall.”

  “Do you think Frank knows?”

  Jesse shook his head for a moment. This was a difficult question. “He knows she’s not dead. He knows she ran off with another man. No doubt he could feel that energy as he passed. He probably knows subconsciously that Margie is not his wife, but his rage is so intense. All he can see is red, and Margie is so like her that he has convinced himself she is Samantha.”

  “We have to prove to him that she isn’t.” Gail pushed her wet hair back behind her ears, but it flopped forward in the cutest way.

  “I don’t know how.”

  Gail thought for a moment or two. “Old photos. Perhaps if we show him photos of her with Alan from years ago?”

  “Maybe, or maybe he will just think she was cheating for a longer period of time. There really is only one way I see this ending… we send him back.”

  “We could burn his bones,” Gail said.

  “He was cremated. The snow globe is the thing he is tied to. If we can get him in there, then we can destroy it and this will be over.”

  “Then let’s do it”

  Jesse nodded. His brave wife was a real inspiration. She knew this would be difficult and dangerous, yet she never once thought about leaving, at least while she was not under Frank’s rapture. He loved her more than he could say.

  Chapter 21

  Jesse ordered a takeaway and was amazed that he was starving. He shoveled the Rogan Josh down his throat as fast as he could while Gail was picking at her food, and Margie was simply moving hers around her plate.

  “You should eat something,” Gail said to Margie. “It will give you strength and help you feel better.”

  “I just don’t think I could keep it down,” Margie said, and a weak, apologetic smile crossed her face.

  She was so polite, so nice, and she never deserved any of this. Jesse hated that it had gone so far, hated that she had been through so much and that it still wasn’t over.

  They had explained the situation to her, how Frank had mistaken her for his own wife and more importantly, why. Jesse saw her relax. Had some of the pain and maybe some of the fight leaked out of her? At least she knew this wasn’t her beloved Alan.

  Now they had to wait for Frank to come back. They had to fight him at least one more time, and the waiting was the worst of it. Once the fight started, they wouldn’t have time to think. It would simply be survival at that point.

  If they outwitted Frank, then they survived, if not, Jesse didn’t even want to contemplate that outcome. And yet, the longer it took, the more his mind went down that route. What if they couldn’t beat him?

  A groan nearly escaped him. This was supposed to be an easy job but it had been a disaster up to now. Doubt settled upon his shoulders like a wet blanket. It pressed him down and leached the heat, as well as the strength from his bones. It would be so easy to give up after this job, to do what Gail had once suggested--to become a teacher of the paranormal rather than an investigator.

  Looking at Gail, he almost made the decision, and then he thought about Margie and how difficult this had been for her--it would have been much harder without them. If she hadn’t found them, the chances are she would be dead now. The police would put it down to a home invasion, or possibly even a suicide, and she would never have received justice. What they were doing was worthwhile, essential, and most importantly, it was lifesaving. Maybe they would have some challenges, but they would be worth it, of that he was sure.

  The meal was completed in silence as they all sat around in the small living room.

  “What now?” Margie asked, as her eyes darted to the bedroom door and back again.

  “Now we wait,” Jesse said. “Try and get some rest. The spirit has expended a lot of energy and it could be a while before he is strong enough to materialize again. It might not even be for a few days.”

  “Really?” Margie asked, her brown eyes wide with a hint of hope.

  “Really.”

  Margie sat stiffly in the chair as the seconds dragged by in agonizing silence.

  “Why don’t we play cards?” Gail broke the silence.

  “Sure,” Jesse said, and Margie gave a slight nod.

  Jesse smiled at Gail. This would be good for all of them; it would take their mind off the waiting and help to pass the time.

  At first they played stiffly, but Margie was good and both Gail and Jesse were competitive, so before long they were concentrating on the game and each sipping a brandy. Jesse made sure he left his drink mostly untouched. A little of this type of spirit would help, but too much would dull his senses to the other kind. Gail was doing the same--just sipping, but Margie had drunk a bit more of hers. It had brought back a touch of color to her cheeks and her shoulders were no longer as tense. Her whole body no longer as stiff. Jesse hoped it would help with the shock.

  Gail dealt out the cards with a flourish. She had a nine card showing and another face down. Jesse had a three, and a ten. It was not a good hand, but not a terrible one. Margie had a slight smile on her face and she held her cards close to her chest.

  “Jesse?” Gail asked.

  “Hit me,” he said, and winked.

  Gail turned over a card leaving it face up on the table. It was a six giving him nineteen. That was pretty good and he felt a smug look cross his face.

  “Margie?” Gail asked.

  “I’ll stick,” she said, and hugged her cards tightly.

  They had been playing for matchsticks, and she had a much bigger pile than Gail, Jesse had only three left that weren’t in the pot.

  Jesse raised his eyes to Gail.


  “Time to show what you’ve got,” Gail said with a big smile.

  Jesse felt his stomach drop. The ladies had beaten him again. Raising his eyebrows, he turned over his cards. They added up to nineteen.

  Margie giggled and Gail gave him a wink. He nodded. It was good to see Margie so relaxed after everything that had happened.

  Gail turned over her cards next. She had the nine showing and an Ace of clubs giving her twenty.

  Jesse groaned; he had lost again.

  Margie smiled and turned her cards over with a flourish. She had Pontoon, or twenty-one… an Ace of hearts and the queen of hearts. It seemed fitting to Jesse as she reached out and scooped the pot over to her side of the table.

  The next hand Gail won and Jesse was out of chips. They had talked earlier about finishing the night with a hot chocolate and he could see the ladies were tired. “You two keep playing. I’ll make the drinks,” he said, as he left the table.

  “Sore loser,” Margie said with a laugh as he got up.

  “Grouch,” Gail added.

  Jesse laughed and stifling a yawn as he made it to the kitchen.

  Once there, he clicked on the kettle and pulled the EMF meter and his tablet from his pocket. While the water boiled, he checked back over the readings--all was calm. There had been nothing since the last incident. Maybe they would have a peaceful night.

  The card game was finished when he brought the three drinks back. Margie was on the sofa and Gail sat in one of the chairs. They both looked beat.

  “Why don’t we drink this and then you two get some sleep while I take the first shift?”

  “Sounds like a great idea,” Gail said.

  “I don’t think I could sleep,” Margie said, as she took her drink.

  Jesse knew what to do. He yawned just after he handed it over and watched as Margie’s face mirrored his. One thing he had learned after way too many sleepless nights was that it was hard for a tired person to resist a yawn. Once their body started to yawn, it would relax them and naturally lead them down to sleep.

  He really hoped nothing happened tonight. It would give them time to recuperate and to rebuild their own strength. But if it did, he wanted Margie and Gail rested.

  They sipped their chocolate in silence, and Gail took Margie’s cup as she fell asleep leaning against the arm of the sofa. Gail covered her with a blanket and came back to join Jesse in the chair.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Jesse whispered.

  “I should stay awake.”

  “No. If something happens, we need you strong and alert. I will stay awake and wake you if anything occurs.”

  “What about you? You look exhausted.”

  “I’ll be fine. Sleep. Come on baby, get some sleep now.”

  Gail nodded, put her cup down, and curled her legs up in the chair. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and was asleep before Jesse could count to ten.

  It had been a hard day and night and she was exhausted. Now all he had to do was make sure that he could stay awake and see that they made it safely through to morning.

  Taking the cups back to the kitchen, he rinsed them out and then drank a glass of water. Before he returned to the other room, he set the vibration alarm on his phone to go off every 30 minutes. It was something he had done before when he was on a spirit watch. Though he would try not to fall asleep, sometimes it was impossible to resist, especially if a strong spirit wanted you to sleep. This way, he would sleep for a maximum of thirty minutes at a time.

  Returning back to the living room, he got out his book on animal spirit guides and started to read once more.

  It was three hours later when the book tumbled to the floor as Jesse fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 22

  Frank was tired, yet the red rage filled him with a fire that would not let him rest. Samantha had thrown away their love for this!

  Through the window, he could see the cheap furniture and the home so tidy that it didn’t look lived in. Everything was brown or magnolia. The faded old sofa where his love lay asleep; the cream carpet, so insipid and so impractical. The only color was the red rug that lay in front of the fire and, of course, the snow globes that sat on the mantel.

  How could she breathe in such a place? How could she leave him for this man... that old man?

  No… it made no sense. Fury caused him to fly along the edges of the window, looking for a way inside, fury at the woman who had ripped out his heart, who had made life so empty that he had ended it in a desperate drive off the cliff.

  That moment came back to him, the feeling of despair and desolation, the depression that had driven him to join her.

  Once he had made the decision, it all fell away and he was excited again. The anticipation had bubbled inside him, filling him with hope and a euphoria like none he had ever known. In his mind, he had believed that Samantha was calling him, willing him to join her in eternal peace, and he had gotten into his car full of enthusiasm.

  For some reason he had taken the snow globe with him. It had been the last thing he had bought her. Their last day out they had purchased it and it sat on the passenger seat as a reminder of happier times.

  It hadn’t taken long to drive out to the place where he knew he would die. It was a difficult stretch of road with such a steep drop–off, and only a flimsy piece of crash barrier to prevent accidents. The wooden posts that held it in place had been rotten for years, and he knew that if he hit it at the right angle they would break, and he would plunge to his death and a glorious reunion with his love.

  He approached the bend, his arms locked solid. Sweat appeared on his brow, back, and hands. It was hard to turn the wheel, and for a moment his leg wouldn’t obey him. It wouldn’t push down on the accelerator pedal and the car started to decelerate.

  On the dashboard he had a picture of them; it was just two months old. For the first time he saw something in her eyes… a distant look. Had she been thinking of this glorious moment even then?

  Yes, she had to have been. That thought freed his foot and he pushed it down hard. The engine revved, and as the turbo kicked in, the BMW leaped forward like a horse freed from the stalls. He slammed the wheel left.

  A momentary panic filled his throat with bile, but it was too late. The windscreen was filled with green as they rushed towards the drop. It was so beautiful, the patchwork fields dotted with the white of sheep and the darker green of trees. The bumper hit the barrier and they slowed slightly.

  The car screamed in agony and he was thrown against the seatbelt, as the metal held for a heartbeat, then it gave.

  The wood must have broken as expected. The BMW reared over the barrier and it tore into the bottom of the car, squealing and scraping. Then there was nothing. The engine revved and they were flying, sailing out like a heavenly being as he reached towards his love. White light filled his vision and then he was hit in the face with what felt like a brick.

  Airbag, he thought and he lost consciousness.

  When he woke, he knew it was too late to change his mind. The pain was excruciating, but it was not as bad as the doubt. The feeling that he had been tricked was like a serpent in his mind.

  His legs were broken, his chest crushed, and he was lying upside down. Something metal had pierced his stomach and something warm was running down his face. The last thought he had was is that mine? as his intestines slipped out and went past his face.

  The next few days had been frightening and confusing. It had been maybe a week before Frank realized that he was dead and that Samantha wasn’t. He didn’t understand how he knew. He couldn’t see her, but he clearly knew she had cheated and faked her death, and he was angry… so very, very angry.

  His world was just that snow globe, the small area around the church, and whenever he moved, he kicked up the snow and it fell all around him. At first it had been magical, but after a while it drove him mad. The only thought in his mind was revenge, vengeance--he would have it, no matter what.

  Samantha was sleeping comfo
rtably while he was out here, all alone and so cold. The fire burned inside him and he circled the bungalow looking for something--he just didn’t know what.

  Once he had been all the way around, he noticed the gas pipe that ran along the bottom of the bungalow. He had a plan and after a few more circuits, saw that it was ready. It was perfect. Now all he had to do was say his goodbyes.

  Once more, like a whisper on the wind, he slipped through the wall and found himself inside. He didn’t understand how he did it, how he materialized, or even how he moved. It only seemed to happen when he was angry, and the angrier he got the more substantial he became.

  As a blue light he hovered over Jesse, anger dimmed his light, and he began to form into the shape of a man. This form would be more useful for what he wanted, so he built up the anger. How he wanted to rip out this man’s eyes! How he wanted to cut his throat and hang him from the ceiling! No, that would be too easy. He wanted him to go to hell--he wanted him to burn.

  Pulling away, he ignored Gail and crossed to Samantha.

  Her face was older than he remembered. How he wished they could have grown old together, though maybe he would have made her have a little plastic work. The lines around her eyes were not flattering.

  Gently, he reached down and almost touched her cheek. His hand hovered above the skin he remembered so much… so soft, so smooth, and he wished that she could be his once more. Only there wasn’t time. His plan was in motion and he wanted to move back to watch from a distance.

  Now he had to wake her. It would be no fun if she slept through his revenge. His fingers still hovered above her cheek. Pulling them back, he slapped her as hard as he could and then stood up to watch.

  Samantha, or Margie as she now called herself, woke with a start. Her hand went to her cheek and her eyes opened lazily. For a moment he thought they would close again and that he would need to slap her once more.

  Then she saw him. Her eyes burst open and she let out a scream.

  Behind him the air was disturbed, but he didn’t look. The fear on her face, the terror in her eyes was intoxicating.