Ghouls Gone Wild

  Those spirits who fall into Cameron’s category of being aware of their death but still refusing to move on are tough customers when it comes to convincing them that they would be better off letting go of this world and moving to the next. Still, I couldn’t very well leave Cameron in a constant state of worry over his unborn child, because I knew that his connection to real events in the present and future might be obscured by the fog of the ghost world.

  Ghosties aren’t always conscious that time is passing, and I believed that it was highly possible that Cameron’s child could be born, grow up, and live a completely full life and Cameron would never be the wiser. He might always believe that his wife was still pregnant.

  “Are you still connected to him?” I asked.

  “Barely,” Heath whispered.

  “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s over there, trying to talk to the pregnant woman.”

  I had a jolt of clarity at that moment and reached out to squeeze Heath’s hand. “The baby!” I mouthed.

  “What?” he mouthed back.

  “Cameron’s child could be in danger from Rigella!”

  Heath’s eyes darted to the pregnant girl sitting forlornly next to Bonnie. “Shit,” he whispered. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  He squeezed my hand back, and I felt a jolt of electricity shoot up my arm so I pulled my hand abruptly away. Heath seemed startled by the move, but he didn’t comment, which was a relief.

  We waited until long after the service had ended and almost everyone else had filed up to pay their respects to Bonnie and Cameron’s wife. We were the last to approach them and I hoped they didn’t notice that we’d come in jeans. “We’re so sorry for your loss,” I said when we reached the pair.

  Bonnie didn’t seem to recognize me at first, but she took my hand and said, “Thank you.”

  There was a little awkward pause after that, so I added, “We were in your shop the other day.”

  Recognition blossomed in her eyes. “Oh, yes! The mediums from America. How lovely of you to come by and pay our Camey your respects,” she said kindly.

  “Of course,” I said, completely relieved that she didn’t seem to be aware that it was our van that had run her brother over. I wanted to ask her about the charm she’d given me, and maybe ask her if I could purchase another one, but this didn’t feel like the time or the place. Instead, my eyes swiveled to the woman next to Bonnie. “I’m so sorry you lost your husband,” I said, wishing there was something else I could say to take that awful, sad expression from her face.

  Her eyes snapped to mine and there was a flash of anger there. “He wasn’t my husband, you rude cow!” she barked.

  I took a step back, utterly shocked by her reaction. Bonnie quickly placed a protective arm around the woman’s shoulders. “There, there, now, Rose,” she said, a tinge of red hitting her cheeks as she looked apologetically at me. “She didn’t mean any offense.” Rose ducked her chin and tears leaked out of her eyes. I felt terrible for having mentioned something to cause her additional pain.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said hoarsely.

  Bonnie attempted a smile. “Rose has had a terrible time of it. My brother never got around to asking for her hand and so this is a terrible thing to have happened to a poor pregnant lass.”

  “I completely understand,” I said. “And again, I’m very sorry for your loss and to have spoken out of turn.”

  Bonnie gave me a sympathetic pat on the arm and said, “Not to worry, miss, and thank you again for showing such kindness to us by coming by.” She then turned back to Rose and said, “Let’s get you home, deary, and into a nice hot bath, shall we?”

  Rose’s chin hadn’t lifted after she’d snapped at me, and she continued to weep miserably and stare at the ground. Heath and I moved out of the way, allowing the pair to pass, and we waited until they were out of earshot to say anything. “That stung,” I admitted.

  Heath wrapped his own arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “She didn’t mean it,” he said gently. “She’s just hurting right now and wants everyone else to hurt too.”

  “Oh, I really do understand,” I told him, trying not to feel the heat of his body pressed against mine. “I just wasn’t expecting it and would rather not have encountered her, to be perfectly honest.”

  “Yeah, well, then I’m not sure you’re going to like my next suggestion.”

  “You want to follow them?”

  He looked at me in surprise. “How’d you know?”

  I pointed down the aisle to the departing women and to the little orb traveling along right behind them. “I figured you’d want to chase after Cameron and work some more on convincing him to cross.”

  Heath smiled. “Come on,” he said. “But let’s try not to make it too obvious.”

  It was a fairly quick trip to Bonnie’s. She lived two blocks away from the church, and Heath and I didn’t even have to get in our car. We just followed about fifty yards behind and halted the moment we saw Bonnie and Rose walk up to a lovely cottage with a clay-tiled roof and cute yellow shutters.

  It tugged at my heartstrings to watch how caring Bonnie was with Rose. The pregnant woman waddled slowly, and Bonnie offered her an arm and a gentle word now and again to coax her along.

  Once they’d gone inside, I lost sight of the gray little orb. “He went in,” I said.

  Heath nodded. “I’m trying to get him to come back out,” he said, and just like that, I saw the orb reappear.

  “Wow,” I said with a smile. “You’re good.”

  “I didn’t do it,” he confessed.

  “Then who did?”

  At that moment a clicking noise called our attention and we turned to see a man with an umbrella which he used like a cane to walk down a street just opposite the one Bonnie lived on. I thought I recognized him, even though we were a bit too far away to make out his features. “That’s Fergus,” Heath whispered.

  I glanced back in the direction of the orb. It was crossing the street and moving rapidly toward the ghost-tour guide. “Maybe they were friends,” I said, remembering that Fergus had come to the funeral.

  “Maybe,” Heath said, his eyes far away. “But maybe not.”

  I was about to ask him what he meant by that, but I didn’t have a chance because in the next moment Heath was grabbing my hand and tugging me across the street. We followed behind Fergus and the orb, keeping back far enough not to alert Fergus to our presence.

  By now the sun was starting to set and there was a chill in the air. I wasn’t cold, thanks to Meg’s most recent shopping trip, but I still wished for some gloves. Well, at least one glove. My free hand was cold. The one Heath was holding had grown all warm and tingly.

  Abruptly, Fergus turned a corner, disappearing from view behind a huge hedgerow. Heath and I trotted forward to the edge of the foliage and peeked around the corner.

  The Scotsman was approaching a dead end with one lone house in sore need of some upkeep. “He must live there,” Heath said.

  But the older gentleman showed no signs of going up the walk to the front door. Instead, he kept well to the side of the house and entered a cluster of woods. “Where the heck is he going?” I wondered.

  “Do you think he saw us and is trying to ditch us?”

  “Only one way to find out,” I said, tugging on his hand and trotting after Fergus again.

  We approached the woods cautiously. The sun was setting rather quickly now, which gave the woods a particularly creepy cast. Heath and I continued to edge deeper into the trees, and I no longer felt a tingle as I gripped his hand tightly—I felt nervous.

  “I don’t think I like it in here,” I said. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  Heath nodded. “I know what you mean,” he agreed. “Do you by any chance have any magnetic grenades on you?”

  I groaned. “No,” I said. “I’m completely unarmed.”

  Heath stopped. “Maybe we should head back.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end again and I sensed something terrible lurking in these woods. “I think that’s a great idea,” I whispered. “And I also think we should hurry.” br />
  Heath and I turned as one, took a single step, and came up short. We were both too stunned to move, because not ten feet in front of us was a big black broom.

  It was lying on the ground looking particularly creepy, and for a moment I had to struggle to breathe. “Where’d that come from?” I whispered, taken aback by its sudden appearance.

  “It wasn’t there a minute ago,” Heath said. “See? That’s the path we’ve been following, and it’s lying right in the middle of it.”

  I moved forward to inspect it and attempted a laugh. “Harry Potter fans would love it!” I joked, trying to shrug off the memory of the broom from my dream. The one on the ground was a perfect duplicate. “I mean, it looks like something right out of the movie, right?”

  Heath didn’t respond, so I added, “Heath, someone’s got to be messing with us, right?” I glanced back at him, but his eyes were locked on the broom. I continued to try to rationalize it. “Seriously, dude, it’s a little cliché, don’t you think? The witch rises again and we come across a creepy-looking broom on the ground? If it weren’t so dopey, maybe I’d buy it,” I added in an extra-loud mocking voice.

  Heath’s eyes finally pulled away from the black stick on the ground. “You think?”

  I forced myself to laugh again. “Sure!” I said. “It’s an obvious joke, and a lame one at that. Someone’s just trying to screw with us.”

  I looked back down at the broom and swallowed hard, trying to push down my own nerves. I wouldn’t admit it, but the similarity to the one from my dream was really unsettling me. “Oh, this is ridiculous!” I said, and bent to pick it up to prove that it was just a harmless piece of wood. But without warning, the broom snapped up to stand erect just a foot away from me. My heart began to slam against my chest. “Wires,” I whispered, backing up just in case to stand next to Heath. “It must be on wires or something, right?”

  But just as I finished that sentence, something emerged slowly from the ground. It was a black shadow, vaguely in the shape of a person, and I watched in horror as it reached out an arm to grab hold of the broom. In the next instant the broom was off the ground, and the shadowy figure appeared to be riding it. It then sailed through the air with tremendous speed. Heath and I barely had time to drop to the ground and I could feel it whiz over my head and hit a tree with a loud crack. “Holy shit!” I yelled, scrambling to my feet. “What the—” My voice cut off as three loud thwacks sounded all around us. Heath and I pressed our backs against each other and turned in a circle. Two more identical brooms with black shadows astride them were clacking loudly against nearby trees, joining the first one as they taunted and teased us.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I gasped.

  “If you’re thinking we should get the freak out of here, then yeah!” Heath said, and without another second’s hesitation we took off running as fast as we could.

  Behind us we heard what can only be described as a series of cackles—high-pitched and terrifying like a pack of hyenas mocking our flight.

  Heath was faster than I, and he began to inch away, which sent an added shiver up my spine because if he gained too much ground, I knew the spooks riding those brooms would focus on attacking only me. At least with Heath beside me they’d have to split up and we might have a chance to make it out of the woods.

  “Wait up!” I tried to shout, but I was so terrified that the sound was barely above a whisper. Something long and slender whizzed by me and cracked me on the head and I nearly tumbled to the ground.

  When I’d regained my footing, I saw that Heath had slowed enough to grab me under the arm and pull me forward. I risked looking over my shoulder and saw that the brooms and their shadows were still chasing us, weaving in and out among the trees, but just then one of the brooms caught a branch and it skidded to the ground.

  “Heath!” I said as I pulled him to one side to avoid getting hit by an oncoming broom. “We’ve got to zigzag! If you go right and I go left, and we move in and out of the trees, I think we can lose them!”

  He looked at me with large, frightened eyes, but he didn’t question me. Instead he let go of my arm and took off to the right. I headed left, ducking under limbs and looking for trees that were smaller with branches a little lower to the ground. I figured if I could cut a path through the smaller trees, it might slow the witches down. The tactic worked brilliantly as was evidenced by the series of thwacks that sounded behind me when the brooms encountered the foliage and got tangled in the branches.

  The only problem was I’d lost complete sight of Heath, but I knew if I stopped to see where he’d gone, the spooks would only gain ground on me. I wanted to call out to him, but it was all I could do on this mad sprint to keep focused as I wove through the trees and tried to keep my footing. I knew I had to make it out of the woods as fast as I could. I doubted the witches would chase me through the streets of Queen’s Close. At least, I hoped they wouldn’t. I also hoped that Heath had the same plan and that we’d find each other once we cleared the woods.

  And I’d almost made it out when I darted around a tree and nearly ran right into one of those brooms. Somehow the spook riding it had managed to get ahead of me and double back. A loud crack behind me told me that at least one more of the ghosts was still chasing after me from behind, which meant that I was now trapped between them.

  I stopped dead in my tracks, my chest heaving and my back up against a tree. The first shadow and her broom hovered about four feet off the ground as if she was waiting for me to make a move. Very quickly she was joined by a second spook, who’d cleared the trees and come around to hover about three feet away from her sister.

  My mind raced through options. The last threads of dusk did nothing to help me and only made the surrounding woods murkier. In mounting panic, I shouted out Heath’s name. There was no response. The ghosts seemed to notice my desperation and took that as a sign to frighten me a little more.

  They began to spin their brooms in place, side by side, slowly at first, then building in speed like horizontal tops until the black spiky tails were just a blur. They were twirling so fast that they started to hum, then buzz, like two enormous wasps, quivering menacingly on the edge of the wood, ready to attack.

  My heart was hammering hard inside my chest, and my cheeks and hands stung where my bare skin had been scraped by foliage. Tears sprang to my eyes and blurred my vision as a well of fear and panic bubbled up from inside. I blinked rapidly and willed myself to think of a way out. I thought my best chance might lie in darting to my right, as the brooms were crowding my left side, but just before I was going to take that option, there were several loud thwacks and the violent rustle of leaves, and out of nowhere, the third witch riding a broom with a long crack down its middle appeared.

  Immediately, I wondered what had happened to Heath, and my pounding heart skipped a beat as I thought about how the fracture had gotten into the wooden broomstick. I thought maybe it could have happened if it’d struck something—or someone—very, very hard.

  And that made the unbidden tears stream down my cheeks with earnest, but another emotion surfaced almost as quickly. I got mad. And by mad, I don’t mean just a little pissed. I mean royally ticked off. My eyes darted to the ground and right away I spotted a long thick stick. Without thinking it through clearly, I dived for the stick, snatching it tightly as I rolled to one side just in time to avoid being speared by one of the brooms.

  Another came at me and I managed to block it by gripping the stick firmly in both hands across my chest and knocking the attacking witch and her broom out of the way. I then sprang to my feet and used my weapon like a sword to knock the third witch-riding broom down to the ground. The smoky spook riding it tumbled away, and in the meantime I stomped on her broom with both feet, holding it pressed against the earth.

  The other two witches attacked again and I had a hell of a time beating off their brooms while keeping my balance on top of the third broom, but I managed to land a really good blow to the cracked broomstick that sent it spiraling into a tree, where it hit hard en
ough to break the broom right in half, and the smoky spook riding it vanished into thin air. I was stunned to see both halves of the broom then fall to the ground, lifeless and still. But I didn’t have very long to dwell on it, because the remaining broom ratcheted up the attack, coming at me with a fury and bombarding me with pokes and prods until I finally lost my balance and fell forward off the trapped broom.

  The witch who’d been riding it sprang from the ground to reclaim it and she and the broom both rose up quickly and she got her revenge by swinging hard against the backs of my knees. I cried out in pain and sank to the earth, barely getting my stick up in time to block the first broom, which was aiming right for my head.

  By now I was exhausted and the muscles in my arms ached from swinging my weapon and using it to block the brooms’ blows. I knew I couldn’t keep this up much longer. I had little doubt the brooms were being controlled by Rigella and two of her sisters, and I also believed she would kill me if she could.

  And if I couldn’t fight, then I might as well run for it. Turning around to face the witches, I raised my stick and feigned a forward attack. The ploy worked; both brooms backed away, which allowed me just enough time to turn and bolt out of there.

  I still held tightly to my stick, just in case I should become trapped again, but pretty much all my remaining energy went into zigzagging wildly through the trees. I could hear the spooks give chase as branches split and broke behind me. It was hard to see now—there was very little light left from the setting sun—but I still managed well enough to avoid slamming directly into a tree. One of the brooms was not so lucky.

  I heard a tremendous crash, followed by two more thwacks and then the sound of splintering wood. Chancing a glance over my shoulder, I clearly saw one of the brooms crash to the ground in three pieces, and I silently thanked God that two were down and only one more broom threatened me.

  By this time I’d lost all sense of direction and wondered if I was running in circles, but abruptly the woods ended and I found myself dashing straight out into the open.

  It was a little lighter here, and I quickly assessed that I had stumbled onto a huge well-tended lawn . . . with no cover.