DarkMan: Ghosts and Haunted Houses (The Spirit Guide Book 3) Page 4

  Jesse moved back and charged at the door. His shoulder impacted with a crunch, but the door didn’t even budge. It was thin and flimsy so it should have at least flexed away from him, but nothing happened. He may as well have pushed into the wall.

  “Gail!” he screamed. “Gail!”

  Once more he stepped back. This time he looked to where the handle was, and bending at the waist, he kicked at the door just below the brass. It jarred back through his hip but he ignored the pain and kicked again, harder this time but still the door wouldn’t budge. A fit of anger and desperation saw him sending kick after kick at the door in a wild frenzy. This time, they landed all over the place.

  Panting, he stopped and inspected the damage, only there was none. The door wasn’t marked and looked exactly as it had when he first arrived.

  There was no way he was breaking in until the spirit wanted him to. Maybe Gail and Margie were all right, but he wouldn’t take that risk. There was more than one way to skin a cat.

  Quickly, he went back to the Jeep and grabbed his go bag. It contained everything he should need for just this situation.

  Rushing back to the door, he searched in the bag and pulled out a few items. Placing them on the carpet in a line, he selected the first… a bottle of Holy Water.

  The air was heavy, hard to breathe, and a sense of panic rose up in him. He fought it down and splashed the water over the wood of the door, concentrating on the area where the handle was, hoping it would break the seal of the spirit.

  Nothing happened, and a great sense of disappointment crushed down on him like a pile of bricks. Could he help her? Could he get her out in time?

  As if to mock him, the EMF meter needle hit the red line and stayed there. Then the meter let out a horrendous shriek. He had turned off the volume, but now it was back on and warning him that something was here. He wanted to stomp on it. He knew there was a spirit. It had Gail and Margie and he was powerless to help.

  Gail watched Margie launch into the room just as the lights went out. The door slammed shut and the pressure in the room rose to such a point that it made her ears pop.

  It was so dark, so quiet, and fear, like a beast, stalked the shadows.

  Gail held her breath and listened. Something moved in front of her. For a second, terror gripped onto her heart and squeezed so hard that she wanted to gasp. Then she heard shuffling and realized that Margie was trying to stand. The woman had explained that the power kept going out. Maybe this was easily explained. It didn’t matter… Gail had to help her.

  “Margie, are you alright?” she asked, and was surprised that her voice sounded confident.

  “I’m scared,” came a weak reply. “He’s here.”

  “Stay calm; we’re together.” Gail started to shuffle across the room, making her way toward the door, but purposely going around where she thought Margie would be. “Stay where you are while I try to open the door.” Gail just wanted to keep talking, to keep Margie calm and focused on her voice.

  Slowly she made her way across the room until her hand hit the wall. The paint was cold to the touch, so cold she wanted to pull her hand back.

  Was something behind her?

  Instead she slid it along, searching for the door frame, but it wasn’t there. She tried to remember the room layout. The light switch should be somewhere near her, so she kept searching on that cold, painted wall.

  The paint was now warm and slick and she wanted to pull her hand away, almost as much as she wanted to spin around to see what was behind her in the darkness.

  Her fingers found the light switch and she flicked it on and off a few times. Frustration was gaining on her, winning a little battle against her fear, but the lights stayed off, and the room was still as black as tar.

  Keep moving, she told herself. If she stopped to think then panic would surface. There was something about the dark that felt unnatural. Hadn’t Margie said that the street lights at the back of the house provided ample light? If so, why couldn’t they see?

  At last, she found the door frame and, fumbling in the darkness, she searched for the handle. There it was; the cold brass slipped in her sweaty fingers, but she gripped it tightly and tried to turn. Nothing!

  It was as if it was held from the other side, and if so, the person was much stronger than she.

  “Jesse,” she called. “Jesse can you hear me?”

  Leaning over, she put her ear to the cool wood and listened. There was nothing but the rasping of her own breath.

  “He’s coming and we can’t escape,” Margie said, in a voice that was both desperate, yet resigned.

  “We stick together,” Gail said. “I will get you out of this. Now stay where you are. I’m coming to you.”

  Slowly she made her way to where she thought Margie was. “Hold out your hand.”

  “How?” Margie asked.

  “How what?”

  “How will you get me out of here?”

  Gail wanted to sigh and to say she had no idea, but she didn’t. Margie kept talking so the sound guided Gail to her, and then she took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Come, let’s sit on the bed.” Slowly they stepped toward where they thought the bed was.

  Gail worried that their eyes were not becoming accustomed to the dark. It was as if they had gone blind, and the thought sent a chill through her and raised the hairs on her arm. She pushed it aside as they found the bed and both sat down.

  “Well, how will you get me out of here? How will you save me from him?” Margie asked in such a matter of fact voice that Gail had to fight down her tears for the poor woman.

  “My boyfriend, Jesse, and I have seen much worse hauntings than this one. He will be working to free us and I will try and contact the spirit.”

  “No, don’t!” Margie’s voice was quiet but filled with fear.

  “Don’t worry. I think you will find that he is just lost, that he doesn’t know he’s dead, and if we talk to him, he will most likely leave.”

  “No... NO!”

  “You have nothing to fear,” Gail said, but the words died in her mouth as the room was filled with blue light. It was strangely beautiful, and yet cold and so desolate, she wanted to die.

  The light seared into their eyes and then formed into an orb that whizzed back and forth in front of them. With it came a buzzing and a pressure that built in Gail’s ears until she had to clasp her hands over them to prevent the pain.

  Just as she was about to scream, the pressure dropped and the orb stopped directly in front of Margie.

  It hung in front of her face. The blue light highlighted her cheekbones, giving her a gaunt, skeletal look. Her eyes were so wide that they couldn’t open any further without splitting, and her mouth was open as if in a scream.

  Gail tried to speak, but a lump had formed in her throat, and all that came out was a croak. She knew she had to take control of the situation, to talk to the spirit, but she couldn’t think what to say.

  The feeling of desolation was gone and replaced with wonder. It was all so beautiful, so pure, and she couldn’t believe that the spirit meant them harm. She felt the need to watch and observe, that if she interrupted this, the spirit would leave, and part of her didn’t want it to go.

  The orb moved away so quickly her eyes couldn’t keep up with it.

  Margie let out a yelp of fear and Gail squeezed her hand, hoping to impart comfort. Before she could turn to see if it had helped, the orb rushed forward so quickly she thought it would crash into Margie.

  In a way, it did. The light grew around it, forming into an oblong glow around a dark shadow that pushed Margie back onto the bed. Her hand was ripped from Gail’s and she was pushed to the floor, landing with a coccyx-breaking jar.

  Margie screamed and fought, kicking and flailing against the light as it forced her down onto the rose bedspread.

  It was no longer a thing of beauty, but a sinister and malignant presence that filled the air with the cloying scent of decay.

  Margie was fightin
g, but first one and then the other of her hands was pinned back against the bed, held there by nothing but a shadow.

  “Stop this!” Gail shouted, as she climbed to her feet and tried to pull the shape from Margie.

  Nothing happened.

  There was nothing to grab onto, nothing to hold, and nothing to pull off. Her hands flailed helplessly as she watched the fear and anguish consume the older woman. Her mind was spinning out of control as she watched the woman’s terror and could do nothing to help her.

  Margie froze and the air grew colder. Gail could feel the other woman’s terror and knew she was Margie’s only hope. That thought stopped her in her tracks. The time for panic was over; she could do this.

  Closing her eyes, she reached inside and searched for the spirit. It was a way of calming her own mind, of honing her senses. Once that was done, she let her mind leave her body and search for the spirit. At first she couldn’t overcome the panic as she heard the way Margie panted and gasped, but she pushed such thoughts away and pulled her mind back to the spirit.

  He was all that counted, for if she could contact him, then she had a chance. Margie had a chance...

  Again, she breathed deeply and felt with her mind. What it touched was cold, dark, and angry. There was a bitterness that filled her mouth with bile and weakened her knees. The spirit didn’t want to communicate. It knew it was dead and relished in the fact. As she tried to communicate, it lashed out at her mentally.

  Gail rocked on her feet but she kept calm. She had his attention, and she was going to drive the brute out of here if it was the last thing she did. Still with her eyes closed, she reached down and took Margie’s hand. It was held above the woman’s head, but as she touched it, she felt the pressure release.

  Margie had the use of one hand and she tried to pull it clear to use it to fight, but Gail held it firmly.

  “Trust me,” she whispered, and then went back to concentrating on the spirit.

  “Leave this place, you are not welcome,” she said, and felt the air ease just a little.

  “Begone, from here and leave this woman in peace.” The glow got brighter, changing from blue to angry red and Gail wanted to run from it, to hide, only she wouldn’t.

  “You are dead and no longer welcome here. There is a place for you, a place of peace. Look for it and I will guide you.”

  In answer, the orb turned blue once more and rushed at Gail. It hit her like a football in the stomach, and she was sent crashing back across the room. Gail hit the wall and shook her head to clear it. Her shoulder hurt and she was stunned, but otherwise unharmed. The orb was approaching the bed again, but now she was angry. This was going to stop, and it was going to stop now.

  “Leave!” she shouted as she walked toward the bed. It was hard to see. The dark room was filled with the blue light that seared into her eyes and made everything around it even darker.

  “Leave or I will find your bones and destroy them.” Gail reached deep down inside and sent all her energy at the spirit. Like a physical force, they crashed together, and she was rocked backward once more. This time, she held her ground. Grunting, she forced her will against that of the spirit, and she felt a touch of fear as well as the anger.

  “I will find you. I will salt and burn your bones if you don’t leave now!” Gail gave one final almighty push. It hurt so much to hold her will against that of the spirit, and she knew she was losing. It was taking all her energy, all her life force, and she wondered how long she could keep it up.

  “Go!” she shouted, but her voice was weaker. Her chest and stomach hurt as if she had ripped something inside, and the room started to tumble.

  “Leave!” she screamed, and the orb was gone. The room plunged into darkness and tumbled away from her. “Jesse,” she whispered just before she hit the floor.

  Chapter 8

  Jesse kept working on the door. He had tried everything he knew, including calming his mind and trying to contact his spirit guides. But none of them was answering; none was prepared to help.

  “Rose,” he called to the dog. The big brindle boxer from his childhood had been the most helpful of his spirit guides. She had saved Gail in the past, but even she wouldn’t appear tonight.

  “Old man, help me,” Jesse called, as he held a hand to the door, trying to feel what was beyond, trying to feel for some weakness while controlling his own panic.

  Once more there was nothing. The old man scared him a little with his constant infernal grin. Jesse could never work out what he wanted, but he had helped in the past.

  “Sylvia, please help me.” Calling Sylvia was his final choice. She was his grandmother, and he knew she was one of his spirit guides, but even she refused to communicate with him. He knew he must have done something wrong, but try as he might, he couldn’t work out what it was.

  With no answer and no help coming, despair hung heavy on his shoulders. Despite this, he wouldn’t give in. So far he had tried force, and then he had prayed, said an exorcism, tried Holy Water and salt, and called on his spirit guides. Nothing gave him entry to the room. In a fit of anger, he kicked out at the door and as he pulled away he saw that it had dented.

  Euphoria rushed through him and he grabbed for the handle. It turned, and as he opened the door, the lights came back on.

  The spirit was gone.

  Gail lay on the floor of the bedroom, crumpled like an old doll and tossed aside in a fit of anger. White hot pain tore through him as he rushed to her side. Margie was crouched on the bed, cowering against the wall. There was a bruise across her cheek and her wrists were worse than before, but Jesse only had eyes for Gail right now. He rushed to her side and dropped to his knees.

  Reaching out, he checked her pulse; it was steady and strong. Her skin was cold, but he could feel it warming beneath his fingers. This was normal for someone who had been touched by a spirit.

  Jesse scooped her up into his arms and looked at the bed. Margie nodded her head and he nodded back. Carrying Gail, he rushed from the room and deposited her as gently as he could onto the sofa.

  Margie came up behind him. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, but he could hear that she was trying to regain control. He stroked a strand of brunette hair from Gail’s head.

  Her eyes flickered open and then closed again.

  Gently he stroked her forehead. “You are safe; he has gone,” he whispered, as she gradually opened her eyes again and smiled up at him.

  “Hey baby, how are you?” he asked.

  “I’m okay… Margie?”

  It was just like Gail, always worrying about others first.

  “She’s here, she’s fine,” Jesse said. “You take it easy.”

  Gail nodded but she sat up and rested back against the worn sofa.

  “I could make some tea,” the recovering Margie said, and Jesse turned to her and had to fight down his anger. This wasn’t her fault. She must be terrified and she was just trying to help to stay calm.

  “Thank you,” Gail said, “that would be nice.”

  Margie left the room and Jesse pulled Gail into his arms. He hugged her close and gave her his body heat to chase away the chill left by the spirit. A touch of guilt nagged at him. Margie would be even colder and she believed this was her husband. From the look of her, the spirit had attacked her again, and it looked bad. They had to send this evil back and they had to do it quickly.”

  “I’m okay,” Gail whispered against his ear. The touch of her breath sent a shiver down his spine and filled him with the heat of love.

  “I don’t think it’s her husband. The picture of Alan shows a kind man with such a big smile; I doubt he could ever be like this.”

  Jesse nodded. He hoped she was right for Margie’s sake, but if she was, it would make it so much harder to find out who the spirit was and to get rid of him.

  “I felt anger and contempt from this spirit... and such fury towards Margie that I fear for what he will do.”

  Jesse nodded. On that he could most definite
ly agree.

  Margie walked back in with a china teapot and three china cups and saucers. For a moment, Jesse thought of the shop, Occult Mysteries, but he shook it aside. Margie was just the type of proper lady who would use china cups.

  “Thanks,” he said, as she handed him a cup with a shaky hand.

  Once they were all seated, their delicate cups sipped from and placed back on the saucers, Jesse knew he had to decide what to do. So much for this being a nice easy job they could solve in a few hours.

  “I know this is very frightening, Margie,” he said gently, “but we need to know as much as we can about what happened and about your husband.”

  “No,” Margie said as she spooned sugar into her cup and stirred it without looking at him.

  “No?” Jesse shook his head in confusion. Did she want them to leave?

  “It was not my Alan. This thing that keeps attacking me... I cannot believe that it could be my sweet and gentle Alan,” her voice dissolved into tears.

  Jesse looked down at his own cup, unsure of what to do as Gail went to sit next to Margie. She took the older woman in her arms and hugged her tightly.

  “I believe you,” Gail said. “I felt the spirit and I do not believe it was your husband. I felt such terrible rage and contempt and I don’t feel that from the picture of Alan.”

  “Gail,” Jesse said, trying to stop his wife. She was letting her emotions get involved in the case, and that was a mistake. A man had died and his wife was now being attacked by a man. It only made sense that it was him.

  “If it was Alan, why would he turn over his own photo?” Gail asked.

  Jesse was about to reply, but she was right; why would he? “Maybe it’s guilt at his behavior?” Even to his own ears that sounded weak.

  Gail turned and gave him such a look that he wanted to sink into the sofa and hide from her. She was right; this wasn’t Alan, and he was hurting Margie by looking for the easiest option.