Ghouls Gone Wild

  Gopher continued down the last few steps to the sidewalk and raised his arm to hail a cab. “I figure,” he said over his shoulder, “that unless you can prove that a ghost was responsible for pushing that van down the hill, we’re going to spend a long time in a Scottish jail. We’ve got to get evidence on tape that not only does the spirit of Rigella actually exist, but that she’s powerful enough to cause some serious damage.” When I looked at him skeptically, he added, “You saw the way our own barrister responded to the idea that a ghost moved the van down the street. He laughed in our face and he’s on our side, M. J.!”

  Gopher had a point. Still, I wasn’t fully convinced by his logic. “It’s too dangerous,” I told him just as a cab pulled to a stop in front of us.

  “Yes,” Gopher said, holding open the door and waving us inside. “But the alternative isn’t much better.”

  I stewed on that the whole way back to the inn. When we got out of the taxi and headed inside to the sitting area, I made sure to put Gilley in a chair close to the fire and rub his shoulders supportively.

  “Gopher’s right,” Heath said, taking up the seat across from us.

  “I know,” I groused.

  “We’re all doomed,” Gilley moaned, burying his head in his hands.

  Just then Meg came in with Wendell, and the puppy must have sensed Gilley’s distress because he went right over to him and nudged his shin. Gil looked down forlornly and picked Wendell up, cradling him in his lap like a talisman.

  “You guys okay?” Megan asked, noticing the glum mood.

  “No,” I said softly. “Not really.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  I smiled at her. “You can watch Wendell for me for the next couple of days. I won’t be around much.”

  “Where’re you going?”

  “On a bust,” I said firmly, then addressed my team. “Gil, Heath, we need a plan.”

  Several hours later Gilley was looking a little more like his old self as he suggested for the tenth time, “Guys, I’m telling you, information is power! We’ve got to do some more homework on this Rigella chick and her coven.”

  “But what will that gain us?” I asked. My suggestion had been to skip the history lesson and go straight into the close with a truckload of magnet grenades, pound them into the walls every five feet, and hope that we got lucky and shoved one square into her portal—the gate she used to travel from the lower, nastier realms to our plane. Barring that, I knew that if we went in the close and started to agitate her by pounding in the magnets and disrupting the electromagnetic frequencies, she’d show herself by emerging from her portal and then we’d get her on film. Once we’d documented her, we could chase her back into her portal, shove a spike into the gateway, and the ghost of the Witch of Queen’s Close would be locked in the lower realms forever, unable to interact with the living and cause any more havoc. “I say we attack her underground and we don’t let up until we’ve got her cornered and on film. Then we’ll shut her down for good.”

  “But, M. J., we don’t know that her portal is even in the close!” Gilley said. “And we know that she’s just as comfortable aboveground as below and she can attack in both places. The close appears to be only where she died—”

  “Which is the most typical location for a ghost’s portal,” I argued, cutting him off. “And why my idea is the most sound.”

  But this time, Heath wasn’t on my side. “I think it’s too risky to assume that, M. J.,” he said gently. “Gilley’s right. We have to find out more about her and isolate each and every possible location for her portal. I think we then have to hit all those suspected locations at once, and hit them hard.”

  “That would involve more people than just you and me,” I reminded him, and why I was so against the proposal, which Heath had mentioned earlier on in the discussion. “And that would also mean sending unqualified people into harm’s way.”

  “Not necessarily,” Heath said, his voice calm and reasonable. “I mean, we could give them all sweat-shirts like Gilley’s to protect them, and if we can pinpoint the two most likely locations and have a few others as options, then you and I can handle the hot spots and have our crew deal with the others for backup.”

  “I think it could work,” Gil said. “In fact, I think it’s our only choice, really.”

  “I agree,” said a voice right behind me. I looked up to see Gopher coming in to join us.

  “Surprise, surprise,” I said woodenly, still irritated that our producer was mining our current predicament for ratings gold.

  “We’re in,” said a female voice behind Gopher. I craned my neck farther and saw that Kim and John had also just come into the room. “That is, if you need us,” she added shyly.

  “We’ll need you,” Heath assured her.

  “If only to help get the witch on film,” Gopher said. We all looked at him and he added, “The union rep called. A complaint’s been filed. We’ll have to do our own camera work for the rest of the shoot.”

  “Okay,” Gil said, and for the first time in several days I saw his face take on a slightly hopeful cast. “We do our homework, find out everything we can about the witch and her coven, and shut the spooky bitches down.”

  That night I moved into a new room with Gilley. I was still worried about the ferocity of the witch and wanted to be close enough to protect him should she rear her ugly face again.

  For all the trouble he’d been through recently, he had a much easier time of getting to sleep than I did. At least the sound of his soft snores brought me a little comfort. I tossed and turned and slept restlessly throughout most of the night, until about three a.m., when I finally fell into a nice deep slumber.

  I don’t think it was much after that when my dreams turned disturbing. A woman with sharp features and jet-black eyes interrupted the cozy chat I’d been having with my high school English teacher. With a firm clasp on my wrist the stranger yanked me out of class and pulled me into a long, dark cave. “He’s marked,” she told me, her voice cutting into my dream like an icy dagger.

  I knew exactly whom she meant, and I knew exactly who she was. “You keep away from him!” I shouted at her, feeling a small surge of energy trickle through me as I stood up to her.

  “He’s one of them,” she replied. “Therefore, he’s cursed.”

  I could feel my hands ball into fists. “He’s done nothing to you!” I shouted. “Nothing! What happened to you and your family took place hundreds of years ago with people long since dead! Leave their descendants in peace.”

  “I cannot,” she said simply. “It would defy the curse.”

  I could feel myself growing frustrated, but I worked to lower my voice, thinking maybe I could reason with her. “But why?” I asked her. “What will you gain? The people from the village who came after you were panicked by their fear of the plague and their own superstitions. If they had been in their right minds, I’m sure they never would have caused you or your family harm.”

  The witch spat derisively on the floor. “Bah!” she snapped. “You know nothing! This is what they did to my family!” And with a wave of her hand the darkness of the cave behind her became illuminated by a soft glow punctuated by the flicker of torchlight as shadows bounced and undulated along the walls. I could hear something of a roar in the distance. Angry shouts echoed incoherently all the way down to where I stood with the witch. From around a corner dashed a group of five women. I squinted and saw that they struggled to carry a beaten and bloodied female whose limp body hung between them. As they dashed forward toward us, I gasped when I saw that one of the people struggling with the weight of their burden was the very image of the woman standing next to me. Another girl—clearly related to the witch—shouted, “She’s dead, Rigella! Our sister is dead!”

  Rigella stopped abruptly, panting heavily under the labor of carrying her broken sister. Steeling a look behind her at the bouncing shadows, she gave one curt nod and lowered the body gently to the floor. She stroked her cheek, while her sisters all cried, then kissed her lightly on the forehead and stood. She then grabbed the hands of two of her other sisters. “Quickly!” she said. “
To the back of the close!”

  One of the women—more of a girl really—stopped next to the body and refused to move. “That’s where they send the sick ones!” she protested. “Rigella, we can’t go in there!”

  “We’ve no choice, Sabina! We’ve already lost Daire! My love’s been driven to his grave not half a mile from here! And now our sister Vacia, beaten to death by that murderous crowd! We’ve got to hide and the back of the close is our only hope! Now no more arguin’! Follow me and not another word out of you!” With that, Rigella dashed forward again and the other women followed—except Sabina, who continued to stand undecided by the body of her sister. She gave one last forlorn look to her fleeing family and squatted down and lifted Vacia’s head into her lap, stroked back the tangle of hair from the bloodied face, and began singing a soft lullaby.

  My heart felt panged because it was obvious that Rigella thought Sabina was still with her as she and the others raced by where we stood to disappear down the close. And all too soon the angry mob chasing the witch and her family came upon Sabina and the body of Vacia.

  Sabina did nothing more than hug her sister when the mob reached her, and they quickly surrounded her, blocking our view. What happened in the next instant was hard to see, but I could hear angry words and then a bloodcurdling scream. The mob backed away quickly, and to my horror I could see as they stepped aside that they’d set Sabina on fire!

  I turned away, sickened by the scene, and shouted, “Stop!” to the cold stony face of Rigella in front of me. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Rigella, but please don’t make me see any more of this!”

  Her lip curled up distastefully and I knew I hadn’t endeared myself one iota to her. “Gillespie was the man who set the torch to my sister,” she said as the images behind her faded back to black. “And he and all his descendants will pay!”

  “No!” I told her firmly. “You leave Gilley alone! I mean it, witch, because if you dare to hurt one hair on his head, know that I will stop at nothing to hunt you down and destroy you!”

  Rigella smiled wickedly at me. “Oh, you may try,” she said derisively. “But while you labor to find out where I am, I can accomplish my task by doing this.” Rigella calmly held up her right hand and snapped her fingers.

  It was odd, because the sound her fingers made wasn’t the small snap I expected. Instead I heard a noise like an electric current being sparked—and it was loud. Loud enough to wake me.

  I sat bolt upright in bed, my pajamas soaked with sweat, and shouted, “Gilley!”

  He came instantly awake. “What?!”

  My heart was pounding and I threw off the comforter, fumbling in the dark for my slippers. “Whatever you do, don’t turn on the li—” and that was as far as I got before Gil snapped on the bedside lamp.

  There was a loud ZZZZZT! and a blue flame surged from the cord connected to the light all the way down to the outlet. Immediately after that, a small explosion of electric current, sparks, smoke, and heat shot out of the wall.

  Gilley screamed and flew out of bed as the area behind his headboard erupted in flame. “Fire!” he screeched, and I reached for his hand and pulled him toward the door.

  “Get out of here!” I shouted, opening the door and throwing him out into the hallway. “Warn the others!” I commanded, then ran back inside, picked up my pillow, and began smacking it against the flames.

  I pounded in earnest against the wall, but my pillow quickly caught fire and the smoke became intense. Out in the hallway an alarm sounded that was high-pitched and painful to the ears. I ducked low and coughed some more, thinking now was a really good time to leave. I put my shirt up to my mouth, closed my eyes, stuck my hand out, and felt for the door.

  But I couldn’t find it. I was completely blinded by the smoke stinging my eyes. I kept hitting hangers, and luggage. I knew that the exit was close by, but the more I turned this way or that, the more disoriented I became.

  I tried not to panic, but the heat was growing intense. Where was the door? Was it to my right or behind me? I coughed again, and again, as the fumes filled my lungs and my eyes were stinging so much that I could no longer keep them open even a slit. I wanted to scream for help, but I could only cough, and I sank to my knees thinking that maybe I could crawl out of the room. I made it about three feet before the intensity of the smoke and heat wouldn’t allow me to move another inch. Ohmigod! I thought. I’m going to die here!

  No, you’re not,a voice inside my mind said, and I immediately thought of Samuel Whitefeather. I’ve brought you some help.

  That’s when I felt a strong arm snake around my middle and lift me off the ground. I was barely aware that I was moving, and it wasn’t long before the thick black smoke seemed to wane down to a gray misty haze and as I fought for breath, it became just a bit easier.

  There were other people brushing against me and my rescuer, everyone moving urgently in the same direction, while the sound of the alarm continued to drown out all other noise. And then the warmth of our surroundings vanished and I was hit hard by a cold breeze.

  “Bring her over here!” someone shouted above the noise of people and sirens and alarms. “Heath! Over here!”

  In the back of my mind I now knew that it was Heath who had rescued me, and that made sense in a way, but I was really too busy trying to suck in air without coughing it back out again to focus.

  Before long I realized I was on the ground and someone was throwing a blanket over my shoulders while I shivered. I wiped my eyes and was able to open them a crack, but they still leaked tears and stung fiercely. “How are you?” Heath’s gentle voice asked.

  I coughed twice more before answering, “I think I’m okay,” I told him. “How are you?”

  Through my watery eyes I could see Heath smile. “I’m fine,” he said. “I always could hold my breath longer than any of my friends.”

  “Jesus, M. J.!” Gilley squealed. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Is everyone all right?” I heard Gopher ask. I didn’t even try to open my eyes again. I just let the tears do their work and wash out all the soot.

  “I’m fine,” I said, my voice a little ragged.

  “Our lamp exploded!” Gilley exclaimed. “And M. J. shoved me out of the room first, and I ran down the hallway to the alarm thinking that she’s right behind me but she’s not! She stayed in there to fight the stupid fire!”

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said, trying to make light of it.

  “This is not funny!” he yelled at me. “You could have died in there and then where would I be?” His voice cracked as he said that last bit and he started to cry.

  That tugged at my heart a little. I’d known Gilley so long that I could barely remember a time when he hadn’t been my best friend. I knew from a few nights ago what it felt like to fear for the life of the other. “Aw, Gil,” I said, wiping my eyes and trying to peer out at him. “Don’t be like that.”

  Firefighters and rescue workers appeared on scene and we were told we had to move farther away from the building. I realized why when I caught a glimpse of the inn. The entire second story was now completely engulfed in flames. I got to my feet and my knees buckled. Heath caught me again and pulled me close to him for support. Even though most of my senses were fuzzy, I was aware that he was quite warm and it felt good to have him next to me. “Did everyone make it out okay?” I asked, suddenly feeling hot and a little bothered.

  Gopher answered. “All our crew made it,” he said. “But I’m not sure about the other guests. They’ll do a head count here in a little while, I think.”

  I nodded, then gasped. “Wendell?”

  “He’s here,” Meg said, and she placed the puppy in my arms. “We heard the alarm and got out right away.”

  I hugged the little guy and smiled when he licked my face, which had to be covered in ash. “She all right?” someone with a brogue asked our group. Belatedly I realized he was talking about me.

  “Fine,” I said, but at that moment I had another coughing fit.

  “Why don’t you come with me,” the paramedic said gently. “I’ve go
t some oxygen to help you breathe right over here.” I tried to refuse, but Heath was still holding me by the waist, and he rather unceremoniously picked me up again and trailed behind the paramedic to a white ambulance, where I was covered in yet more blankets before my vitals were taken and an oxygen mask was secured to my face.

  I tried to take deep calming breaths, but my lungs burned and my head started to ache. I closed my eyes and leaned against the side of the cab, barely aware of the conversations around me.

  Still, I managed to catch the gist of what was being said. “The lamp just exploded!” Gilley repeated. “If M. J. hadn’t shoved me out of the room, I’d have been toast!”

  “It’s an old inn,” Gopher was saying. “They’re bound to have electrical issues now and again. Still, I’m surprised that turning on a light caused that!”

  At this point I pulled down the mask and said, “It was Rigella.”

  Heath laid a hand on my knee. “The witch?” he asked.

  I felt a little tickle in my lower plexus and squinted down at his strong hand resting right on my kneecap. Uh-oh, I thought. “Yes,” I said after taking a few more deep pulls from the oxygen mask. “While I was sleeping, she showed up in my dream and pulled me into another OBE. One of her sisters was literally torched by one of Gilley’s ancestors. Which is why she’s targeting him specifically.”

  There was a squeaking sound that I recognized came from Gil. “She tried to set me on fire?!” he shouted. “Ohmigod!”

  “Yes, but she didn’t succeed,” I reminded him. “And she won’t.”

  “How do you know that?” he demanded, his eyes close to panic.

  I took another deep inhalation before answering. “Because she’ll have to come through me.”

  “And me,” said Heath.

  “Yep, me too,” Gopher added.

  “All of us,” said Kim, and I could see she was also speaking for John and Meg, who were both nodding.