Ghoul Interrupted

  Heath’s beautiful bare derriere was just disappearing into the bathroom. Gilley’s jaw fell open right before that door closed in his face again. “You’re getting a lot of that,” I told him.

  “Because you are both a couple of killjoys,” he said.

  I offered him my hand. “Pot, meet Kettle!”

  He slapped it away. “Do you want to hear what I found?”

  “Yes, but I would’ve preferred to hear it twenty minutes from now.” I shuffled over to my suitcase, and began to rummage around for some clean clothes.

  Gilley rocked back on his heels. “Twenty minutes, hmm? My, he’s not quite the stallion I thought he was.”

  I threw my sweatshirt at him. “What’d you find out, Gil?”

  “I think I located the guy who woke up your demon.”

  My head snapped up from the suitcase just as the door to the bathroom opened. “What?” Heath and I said in unison.

  Gil moseyed over to the chair by the window. “I came across an unusual report in the Pueblo sheriff’s system,” he said, taking a seat and leaning back to look smugly at us. “A dead body was found in the hills not far from your Pueblo, Heath, about ten days ago.”

  “Just a dead body?” Heath said.

  “Well, not exactly,” Gil told him. “They only found a few pieces. Only what was left of him.”

  “Ewww!” I said. “Gil!”

  “You asked,” he said without a hint of apology. “Anyway, the report curiously states that the cause of death was likely from a mountain lion.”

  I eyed Heath. “Seems like there’s a lot of mountain lion attacks around here.”

  Heath nodded, then focused on Gilley again. “Did they mention any cougar sightings or evidence to back up their theory, like paw prints or animal droppings in the area?”

  “Nope,” Gil said. “Well, aside from some claw marks in the dirt, that is.”

  My brow furrowed. “What kind of cougar leaves claw marks in the dirt but no paw prints?”

  “An imaginary one,” said Heath. “That’s our demon, Gil. Good work.”

  Gilley blushed. “Thank you,” he said, looking pointedly at me. “It’s about time someone appreciated my efforts.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Did you get a location for the body’s discovery?”

  Gil pulled out his iPhone and tapped at the display. “Not an exact location, but from what I gather, it was found near this stretch of road, right . . . here,” he said, swiveling the display around so we could see.

  Heath and I approached Gil’s outstretched arm together and eyed the screen. “Huh,” said Heath when he took a good look at where the body had been discovered.

  “What’s ‘huh’?” I asked.

  Heath lifted the phone away from Gilley to scrutinize the screen. “That’s not far from where my aunt Bev crashed into the tree.”

  My eyes widened. “Whoa, really?”

  Heath nodded.

  “So, wait a second,” I said, trying to sort through the order of the events. “Someone woke this thing up by trespassing on your tribal lands?”

  Heath nodded, but he appeared clearly troubled. “It’s also not far away from our burial grounds.”

  I remembered that Vernon and Rex had thought that Bev was going to check out Milton’s planned grave site when her truck went off the road. “Do you think there’s a connection between this demon and those burial grounds?” I asked. When Heath looked at me curiously, I added, “I mean, could someone have put it there to protect the dead, and an outside trespasser woke it up and angered it into taking action?”

  Heath shook his head. “The burial grounds are sacred, but I’ve never heard of anyone putting a demon out there to stand as a lookout. I mean, it’d be far too risky to future generations if the thing woke up by accident and started attacking the people it was meant to protect.”

  “Like it’s doing right now?” I said.

  “Exactly,” he agreed.

  “Isn’t the funeral of your aunt and uncle today?” Gilley asked.

  Heath went a little pale. “Yeah.”

  I felt a chill go down my own spine. “Will they be buried in that area?” I asked, pointing to the phone, which still displayed the red dot for the road leading to where the unidentified man was found.

  “They will.”

  “That could be bad,” I told him.

  Heath nodded again. “It really could.”

  “We’ve got to warn your family,” Gilley said. “Even if your mom and your cousin Ari are the only ones to listen, they should know.”

  Heath pulled out his own cell phone and walked out into the hallway without another word.

  While he was out talking to his family, I took a very quick shower, returning from the bathroom to find Heath sitting moodily in a chair while Gilley played a game on his phone. “I take it the Whitefeathers didn’t take the warning well,” I said the moment I saw his face.

  “Not so much.”

  “Who’d you talk to?” I pressed.

  Heath sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “My cousin, my mom, then my uncles.”

  “Your mom didn’t believe you?” I was surprised that Mrs. Lujan wasn’t supportive.

  “Oh, no, she believed me, but both she and Ari are still going to the funerals today.”

  I went over to sit on the bed across from Heath’s chair. “So where do we go from here?”

  He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor. “I’m going to the funerals to look out for my mom and my cousin. I think, since the whole tribe’s going to attend, there might be safety in numbers. If anything looks off, I’ll haul my mom and Ari the hell outta there. You guys should stay here where it’s safe, and wait for me to get back.”

  I looked at Gilley. He seemed to really like the last part of that idea. “Actually . . . ,” I began.

  “Oh, here we go,” muttered Gil.

  “. . . what I didn’t have a chance to tell you yet, Heath, was that your grandfather came to visit me last night.”

  Heath looked up from the floor. “What’d he say?”

  “He said what you just said, that the whole tribe was going to be at the funerals today, which includes the sheriff and his deputy, right?”

  Heath squinted at me. “Probably.”

  “And how long do your tribal funeral ceremonies last?”

  “All afternoon and into the night,” he told me. “They’ll start around three with the actual burials taking place around five and then there’ll be a feast and ceremonial dances in honor of Milton and Bev. It’ll probably finish after midnight.”

  “Sooooo . . . ,” I said, drawing out the word while I gathered the courage to propose Sam’s idea, “what Sam had suggested was that while the whole tribe attends the funeral, we could sneak into the library and read the histories.”

  “Uh,” said Gilley, “who’s this ‘we’ you’re talking about?”

  “You and me.”

  “I was afraid that’s who you meant.”

  “M. J.,” Heath said patiently. “I can’t let you onto Pueblo land. It’s against our laws to allow a nontribal member onto the property during sacred ceremonies. I’d get into major trouble if you two got caught.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Then don’t let us onto the property.”

  Heath frowned. “That felt too easy.”

  I shrugged. “I respect your position and your tribal laws, Heath.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” I told him with a firm nod. “Now, how about we grab some grub?”

  Heath and Gilley exchanged a worried look but didn’t comment further, and after I’d had a chance to check on Doc, we all went out to get something to eat.

  Later that afternoon Heath left, telling us he wouldn’t be back until very late, and the moment he was out the door and safely down the hall, I pulled out my phone and began searching for a rental car agency.

  “What’re you up to?” Gil asked.

  I held a finger to my lips.
“Hold on.”

  Gilley folded his arms across his chest and stared disapprovingly at me until I was finished reserving the rental car and turned to explain my plan to him. “Why do I think I’m not going to like what you’re about to say?”

  “Because you won’t.” I then got right to the point. “We have to break into that library.”

  Gilley’s jaw fell open. “Are you crazy? Or do you just plan to drive me completely nuts?”

  “Do you have a better idea for finding out what the heck we’re dealing with?”

  “I have fifty better ideas!” Gil practically shouted.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m listening.”

  Gilley’s lids blinked rapidly. “We could wait for Mrs. Lujan to go to the library for us!”

  I shook my head. “Rex told her last night before Heath’s house burned down that he wasn’t granting her access to anything but the funerals.”

  “Well, then we’ll just have to wait until he changes his mind.”

  “Gil,” I said evenly. “We can’t wait. We have to go and figure out what the heck is out there today.”

  “But you heard Heath!” Gil protested, digging his heels in. “He said it’d be a violation of tribal law to allow us onto the Pueblo during the funerals!”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “That’s why we’ll be the ones totally responsible for trespassing, and not involve Heath or his mother.”

  Gilley narrowed his eyes at me. “Oh, well, if that’s all we’ll be doing, then of course, let’s drive right over there!”

  “I’m ignoring your sarcasm,” I told him, turning to dump the contents of my messenger bag out onto the bed and sighing again at how little we had in the way of protective ghostbusting equipment. None of the stuff Gil had ordered to arm us had arrived yet.

  “I’m not going,” Gilley snapped when I’d turned my back to him.

  “Fine. I’ll go alone.”

  “I mean it, M. J. I’m not going.”

  “I heard you.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I’m sure you are.” I had two spikes, two flashlights, and nothing else useful in my bag. I repacked those and moved over to my suitcase to get out some warm clothing.

  “You can’t talk me into it,” Gilley snapped.

  “I’m not trying to,” I said, checking my watch. I’d have to pick up the car, head to the hardware store, and hope I found some more metal spikes and a good magnet to magnetize them with before heading to the Pueblo.

  Behind me I could feel Gilley’s eyes boring holes into my back. Without looking at him, I moved to the door. “Watch Doc for me, okay, Gil? I’ll be back around seven.”

  With that, I walked out into the hallway and headed down the corridor. No sooner had I gone ten steps than the door opened up behind me and Gilley shouted, “Fine, okay? I’ll come! Just stop with all this pressure!”

  I smiled slyly and waited for him to catch up. Wrapping my arm around his shoulders when he came abreast of me, I said, “Thanks, Gil.”

  “Whatever,” he grumbled. “If we get caught, I’m going to say you kidnapped me.”

  I stopped the car in front of a row of orange cones at the entrance to the Pueblo. There was a sign strung across the cones that read:

  ZANTO PUEBLO CLOSED TO TOURISTS TODAY.

  I pulled the car over to the shoulder and hid it behind a large sagebrush. Beside me, Gilley looked nervous and bulky in his magnetized sweatshirt, which sagged comically all about him. “How many extra magnets did you glue onto that thing?” I asked. We’d hit pay dirt at the hardware store on both magnets and spikes.

  “Just a few,” he said.

  I eyed him skeptically.

  “Twenty.”

  I chuckled. “Pretty soon it’ll be too heavy to wear.”

  “It’s fine,” Gilley assured me.

  I made a point to sniff the air. “Maybe it’s time to trade that thing in for a less fragrant version?”

  “It smells?” Gil asked, sniffing at the material.

  “Big-time.”

  “Well, I can’t wash it.”

  “I know, which is why I suggested a new one.”

  “No way,” he said. “This is my lucky sweatshirt.”

  I decided to stop arguing about it, grateful that he was along for the ride. I hadn’t wanted to face trespassing and breaking and entering alone.

  “Come on, buddy,” I said, getting out of the car with my messenger bag.

  After locking up, I pocketed the keys and Gilley and I began to make our way along the road toward the Pueblo. After we’d walked quite a way, he asked, “Jeez, how far is it?”

  “About two miles from the road,” I told him, lying through my teeth. It was closer to four miles.

  Gilley stopped walking. “Uphill?”

  I stopped too and turned back to him. “Naw,” I lied again. “Just around that ridge it levels out.”

  “Oh, okay,” he said, and began walking again.

  Twenty minutes later Gilley was reading me the riot act. “Two miles my sore ass!” he complained. “We’ve been walking for hours! Uphill!”

  “Will you please keep your voice down?” I warned.

  “I’m not walking another foot!” he suddenly said, planting himself in the middle of the road like a five-year-old.

  I kept going, waving good-bye to him over my shoulder. “Fine, Gil. I’ll pick you up on the way back. After dark. When the demon is most likely to be out and about.”

  He was next to me in a hot second and we continued on for another thirty minutes when the Pueblo finally came into sight.

  By this time Gilley was wheezing and sweating profusely in his already well-scented sweatshirt. “There,” I said, pointing. “You see? We made it.”

  Gilley glared sideways at me. He was panting too hard to comment.

  Once onto the main living area, which felt eerie because it was deserted, I edged Gil over to the left, behind where most of the public buildings were located. The library was clearly marked and stood right next to the sheriff’s station. “Be really quiet,” I told him as we crept along the side of the building. “This is the sheriff’s station.”

  Gil placed a hand on my arm. “You’re sure Pena and his deputy are at the burial ground?”

  “Kind of but not entirely sure,” I whispered. “Which is why I’m asking you to be quiet.”

  Gilley nearly growled at me. “Of all the harebrained, stupid ideas you’ve had, M. J. . . .”

  “This is your favorite?” I asked with a winning smile

  Gilley’s glare became downright murderous.

  I decided to quit while I was ahead. “Over there,” I said, dropping the grin and pointing to the side of the building. “That looks like a side entrance.”

  “How’re you planning to get in if it’s locked?”

  I shrugged. “I thought I’d figure that out when we got there.”

  “Oh, perfect!” Gilley snarled. “What a great plan that is!”

  I moved over to the side door and tested the handle. It was locked. I looked back to see Gilley still huddling next to the sheriff’s station. I pointed to the front of the library to tell him I was going to try the front door. He crossed his arms, scowled hard, and shook his head. Encouraging.

  I edged to the front of the library and peeked around the corner. All was quiet. Even the dog that I’d heard barking from a few days ago was quiet. I didn’t like it, but I moved to the front door anyway. I tested the handle. Locked.

  “Crap,” I muttered, glancing around. And that’s when I noticed that a window along the front was cracked open. “Eureka!” I mouthed, moving over to it. Carefully I pushed on the pane and it lifted with only a slight creak.

  I stopped again and eyed the area. Still quiet. I shoved hard on the rim to make the opening big enough to let me in, then hoisted myself up and slid over the sill into the dim interior, which was musty and cluttered.

  I blinked several times until my eyes adjusted, then made my way throu
gh the tightly packed volumes of books, pottery, scrolls, etc., to the side entrance.

  I opened it with a big old “Ta-da!” smile only to find that the spot where I’d left Gilley was completely empty. “What the . . . ?” I said, looking right and left but seeing no sign of him.

  I leaned out of the entrance and craned my neck around, trying to spot him, but he was nowhere in sight, and the longer I looked, the more panicked I got. “Gilley!” I called in a harsh whisper.

  “What?” came his reply right behind me.

  “Eeeeeeeek!” I screamed, and let go of the doorframe, only to land hard on the top step.

  Gilley leaned over and placed a hand over my mouth. “Shhh!” he said.

  I slapped his hand away. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

  Gilley helped me up. “It’s your own fault for insisting that I come with you.”

  It took a bit of effort, but I resisted the urge to argue with him. Instead, I closed the door quickly and shooed him deeper inside.

  Once we were in the main room, Gil put hands to his hips and declared, “This place is a mess!”

  “I know,” I said.

  “How’re we supposed to find this tribal-histories book in all this?”

  I looked at Gilley expectantly. “Isn’t that your area of expertise? I mean, you’re the guy who knows how to find the needle in the haystack.”

  Gil grinned. “I am good, aren’t I?”

  “The best,” I said. Sometimes, the only way to get Gil to do what you want is to pile on the flattery.

  Gil surveyed the area with renewed interest. “Well, there’s not a computer in sight,” he said. “Which means all my normal methods for locating the book are out.”

  “Then what would you suggest?” I asked.

  Gil pointed to an area off to the left. “I’ll take that section,” he said, before moving his finger all the way over to his right. “You take that section and we’ll meet in the middle.”

  “Awesome,” I said, already moving off.

  Gil caught me by the arm. “Do we know what this book is called?”

  “We’ve got no clue.”

  “Awesome,” Gil mimicked, but with far less enthusiasm.

  He let me go and we got to our tasks. My section began over near the open window and I could see from outside that the sun was sinking fast. It’d taken us a little longer than I’d anticipated to get here and I also hadn’t factored in that the library would be this cluttered and disorganized. Locating the histories book would take some time, and time was something we weren’t in large supply of.