Ghoul Interrupted

  I felt a small tingle of fear when I thought about the long trek back to the car without any protection save my spikes and Gilley’s sweatshirt. And I didn’t know exactly how long it would be before members of the tribe came back from the burial grounds. What if only the Whitefeathers stayed until midnight, but other families came back earlier? All I could do was dig through the piles of stuff and hope we’d get lucky sooner rather than later.

  After forty-five minutes, I knew we weren’t going to get lucky anytime soon. The sun began to disappear into the early-evening sky and the already dim interior quickly grew dark. I was about to dig out my flashlight when all the lights came on.

  I froze. Had someone come in?

  My eyes darted around the room, and I saw Gilley walking away from the light switch in the corner. “Turn that off!”

  “I can’t see!” he told me.

  I marched over to the panel myself and flicked it off. Then I dug through my messenger bag and came up with two flashlights. I handed one to Gil. “Keep the beam low,” I told him.

  “What’s the big deal, M. J.? Everybody’s still at the burial grounds.”

  “We don’t know that, Gil. What if some people come back early?”

  He frowned, still grumbling, “They can take as long as next week and we’ll still be here looking for that stupid book.”

  I gave him a pat on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

  We got back to work and I found myself constantly checking my watch as my nerves began to get the better of me. It was nearly seven thirty and I had a feeling some people would be back any minute. Plus, it was now completely dark out and the persistent nagging thought about walking the four miles back to the car kept tugging at me.

  I noticed that I started to skim the titles of the books in boxes, on the floors, and along the shelves more quickly and I had to mentally check myself a few times to make sure I hadn’t skipped right over the volume we were looking for. I also berated myself for not asking Mrs. Lujan or Heath what the name of the book was, or even what it looked like, but there was no hope for it now.

  And then, just like a lightbulb going off, I had an idea. I sat down on the floor, closed my eyes, and whispered, “Sam! I need your help! Where is this tribal-histories book we’re looking for?”

  I felt a tugging sensation in my solar plexus and I opened my eyes, got back to my feet, and followed the tug.

  It led me to the left side of the room, where Gilley was working with his back to me. In fact, it led me right to Gilley. I walked to him and sure enough, I saw a regular-sized volume in his hand. He was hovering his flashlight over the cover and in the next moment I saw him lift his head slightly and say, “M. J.!”

  “I’m right here.”

  “Eeeeeek!”

  “Shhhhhhh!”

  Gil clutched a hand to his heart. “Don’t do that!”

  “Not so fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, is it, Gil?”

  He glowered at me.

  “What’cha got there?” I asked, pointing to the volume.

  He glared harder.

  I sighed. “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Satisfied with my apology, he held up the text and read, “History of the Zanto Pueblo Tribe, volume one.”

  “Thank—God,” I said, breathing a huge sigh of relief and reaching for the book, but Gil held it away from me.

  “I got it,” he said, flipping to the back.

  “See if there’s anything about the black hawk demon in the index.”

  Gil stopped and eyed me with irritation. “Will you please?”

  “We’re running out of time, Gil!” I said, out of patience myself. “Seriously, look it up and read it to me.”

  Gil handed me his flashlight so that he could hold the book more easily, and I was about to shine some light for him onto the page when outside something slapped against the side of the building hard and the sound was eerily similar to what we’d heard at Teeko’s lodge the night the demon paid us a visit.

  Gilley and I immediately squatted down behind a stack of boxes and froze.

  All was quiet.

  I clicked both the flashlights off and listened.

  Nothing.

  “What was that?” Gil whispered in my ear.

  I was about to tell him that I wasn’t sure when a growling sound rumbled along the wall.

  Gilley made his usual scared-witless squeaking sound. I shook my head at him and squeezed his hand. I could feel him trembling next to me. Then, a slow grating sound began from the outside wall of the library, originating from the far right corner all the way along the wood.

  I followed the sound with my eyes, holding my breath as it grated, and grated, along the wood.

  Gilley crouched even lower and scooted behind me, shivering so badly that I could practically feel the floor vibrate next to him.

  I released his hand and dug into my messenger bag. Careful not to make a sound, I pulled up a fistful of new spikes and held them close to my chest.

  We were near the center of the room, tucked behind a pile of boxes and directly opposite the window I’d climbed in through. I peeked up over the boxes as the clawing continued to gouge its way along the side of the library, and in the next moment a giant black shadow emerged in the window, blocking out the faint twilight from outside.

  I felt myself tense, and I held perfectly still, waiting for the shadow to pass, but only the grating sound stopped while the shadow hovered there.

  Behind me and very faintly I heard Gilley whisper, “Please, God, please, God, please, God!”

  I reached back and tapped him very gently with the flashlights I was still holding. He stopped whispering immediately.

  The demon continued to hover there, as if listening for any sounds of life from inside the library, and I waited for it to start moving again. And then, it did move on, the grating sound against the wood picking up where it’d left off to travel down the length of the building. My fight-or-flight impulse took over, and I scooped my arm under Gilley’s armpit, lifting him to his feet. Then I tugged him away from the boxes and mouthed, “Move!”

  Gil grabbed my wrist and we darted around the piles of books and clutter. I nearly went down when my foot caught on something, but Gil managed to keep me upright.

  Behind us the growling started up again, and there was another slap against the side of the building so hard that it made the walls shake. I didn’t stop, though; I kept pushing us on tiptoe to the opposite side of the building, near the side door. I had no idea if the demon knew we were inside the library. I hoped that it was only trying to scare us into making a sound and reveal ourselves, because if it came inside, we’d be toast.

  “Where do we go?” Gil said, his whisper high and pitched with fear.

  I spotted what I was looking for and pushed him inside the restroom; following him in, I whirled around, closed the door softly, and locked it from the inside.

  The space was somewhat cramped with a single toilet and only a small window at the top of the wall. Gil and I pressed ourselves against the door while we listened for any sound from the demon, but all was once again quiet. Well, save for Gilley’s wheezy panting.

  After ten minutes of silence I finally nudged him and said, “Easy there, Gil. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

  He stared at me incredulously. “I’m not going to give myself a heart attack! That thing is going to give me one!”

  “I think it’s gone.”

  “Yeah, well, you can stick your neck outside and see,’cause I’m not moving.”

  I looked around the restroom. “We can’t stay here, Gil. We have to get out of here before the tribe comes back.”

  Gil’s jaw dropped. “And where exactly do you want to go, M. J.? I mean, there’s no way in hell I’m walking outside in the open tonight with that thing out there!”

  “Maybe we can go to Ari’s,” I suggested. “She might’ve kept a door unlocked and we can get inside and hide th
ere.”

  “How is that going to be any better than hiding here?”

  I stared at the door nervously. “The demon may know we’re in here,” I said. “And if it does know we’re in here, Gil, it’ll kill us for sure. We’ve got to go someplace else and try to hide out until the tribe comes back.”

  “Don’t you think Ari and Brody are gonna be a little ticked off when they find out that we’ve burglarized our way into their home?”

  “Better than someone from the tribe discovering that we’ve burglarized our way in here,” I told him.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not leaving,” Gil insisted. “It’s too risky, M. J.! What if that thing sees us!”

  I sighed. “Okay. I’ll go and make sure it’s safe.”

  “You’re leaving me?” he whined.

  “Yes,” I told him bluntly. Handing over two of the four spikes I held, I added, “You should be safe enough here with your sweatshirt and the spikes.”

  Gil stared at me like I’d gone insane. “It’ll kill you!”

  I cupped his face and looked directly into his eyes. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

  “Don’t go!” he whispered.

  I kissed the top of his head and left before I changed my mind. Making my way out of the restroom and over to the side door, I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob for a full minute before I worked up the courage to open it a crack.

  The cool night air seeped in through the opening, tickling my skin. I listened carefully but heard nothing.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door a little more. Gripping my spikes tightly, I leaned out and swiveled my head right and left. Nothing disturbed the night air.

  Still, my heart was racing a mile a minute and I wondered if this demon could sense my fear.

  I knew from personal experience that most demon-like creatures patrol the lower realms—those realms closest to our plane of existence—but they all need a portal of some kind to emerge into our territory.

  This beastly creature, however, was far bigger and deadlier than anything I’d ever encountered. And I couldn’t imagine what size portal it’d come through, or, for that matter, how the hell we were ever going to find its portal and lock the demon back inside the lower realms again.

  I remembered Sam’s words from my dream . . . what? A week ago? He’d said I’d need to kill the person who controlled the demon. “Well, that’s not happening,” I muttered. I wasn’t going to murder anyone, that’s for sure.

  “What’s not happening?” said a voice right behind me.

  “Eeeeeeek!” I jumped a foot and whipped around.

  “Shhhhh!” Gilley said.

  I grabbed him by the sweatshirt and pulled him close to me. “Stop doing that!”

  “I will if you will.”

  I let go of him and turned around to survey the area. If my squeal hadn’t brought the demon into view, then it had likely moved on . . . for the moment at least.

  I turned my attention back to Gilley. “I told you to stay in the bathroom!”

  “I got scared,” he said meekly.

  I inhaled and let my breath out slowly. “Come on. We’ve got to get to Ari’s.”

  I then grabbed Gil’s wrist and pulled him along with me. It took me a minute to get my bearings, but eventually I located the cul-de-sac where Ari and Brody lived, surrounded on all sides by their relatives. As we neared the house, I could see Heath’s Durango in the driveway. They must’ve taken Ari’s car to the burial grounds.

  “Thank God,” I said. We approached the house slowly and slightly crouched. Gil stuck to my side like glue, and I saw that he was gripping a spike in each hand. Once we got up next to Heath’s car, I happened to glance inside and to my surprise I saw Heath’s keys sitting in the cup holder. “Eureka!” I said, pointing them out to Gilley, who pointed his flashlight inside and nodded.

  “We can drive this back to our rental and leave Heath a message that his car’s at the entrance of the Pueblo!” he said, reading my mind.

  I tried the handle and gave a slight tug. It opened and just when I thought we were home free, the car alarm went off and it was so loud that I had to back away several steps and cover my ears.

  “Make it stop!” Gilley yelled.

  I looked around in a panic. There still didn’t appear to be anyone around, so I relaxed a little. Still, I was very worried the noise would alert the demon before I had a chance to grab the keys and make it stop.

  Fortunately, the alarm didn’t alert the demon.

  Unfortunately, it did alert the sheriff.

  The moment I was reaching for Heath’s keys, a patrol car zoomed down the street and a strobe light clicked on, temporarily blinding both Gilley and me. “Put your hands in the air and step away from the car!” came a booming voice over the loudspeaker.

  Gilley shot both hands in the air. I followed suit.

  “Drop your weapons!”

  “Aw, crap!” I muttered. I’d completely forgotten about the spikes. I dropped those to the ground and Gil did too.

  “And your bag and backpack!” he ordered. “But move slowly!”

  Gil shrugged out of his backpack and I slowly lifted the leather strap of my messenger bag over my head to let it plop to the earth.

  The strobe light stayed on and the driver got out. I squinted into the brightness and made out a man with a gun pointed right at us. I’ve had a gun or two pointed at me before. For the record, it’s not something you really get used to, or wish to have repeated.

  “On the ground!” the lawman shouted. “Facedown with your hands behind your head!”

  I got down and lay flat on the cold dirt and did as he said. I heard his footsteps approach and I held very still, even though a rock poked into the side of my rib cage.

  “Don’t you move!” he shouted at us.

  “We won’t!” I told him. Jeez, for a sheriff, this guy was really flinchy. But then I figured that he had caught us standing next to a car with the alarm going off while we were holding flashlights and metal spikes in our hands. Of course we looked like we were trying to steal it.

  I turned my head slightly so that I could face Gilley, who looked at me with big, round, frightened eyes. “Just do as he says,” I told him.

  A boot landed on Gil’s back and he grunted. Then the sheriff bent and pulled Gil’s hand down off his head, twisting his arm at the elbow to cuff one wrist, then the other, before patting him down.

  A moment later I felt his full weight press on my back too. I winced as the rock bit deeper into my side, but I didn’t protest because I knew it was going to be much worse if I did.

  I felt the cold metal of the handcuffs on my wrists when they were locked tightly behind me, and the guy gave me the same pat down. Then the lawman’s weight lifted off me when he’d made sure I wasn’t hiding a weapon, and I was grabbed roughly by the arm and yanked to my feet. I was then spun around to face him and I realized why he’d been so flinchy. It wasn’t Sheriff Pena; it was his deputy, whose name currently escaped my panicked mind.

  Without a word he marched Gil and me over to the side of his squad car, pushing us one at a time into the interior; then he slammed the door and for a few seconds we were left alone. “Say nothing,” I told Gil. “Let me do all the talking, okay?”

  “A time to worry,” Gil said.

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  Chapter 8

  An hour later my patience was wearing thin. The deputy had left us in the squad car while he went inside the station and didn’t appear to be coming back out. “This blows,” Gilley said.

  “Are your cuffs supertight?” I asked him, leaning forward to try to find a comfortable position, but why I bothered I couldn’t really say, because when your hands are restrained behind your back while you’re in a sitting position for longer than ten minutes, there is no comfortable position.

  “They’re not as bad as yours,” Gil said, and I noticed he was looking down at my hands. “Your fingers a
re turning blue.”

  I glanced out the window again. “The son of a bitch cut off my circulation.” I sat back up again and planted my feet on the floor, arching my back for a moment to angle my hands under me. I squirmed and wiggled and contorted myself until I managed to get my butt through the loop of my arms. “If a life of crime doesn’t work out for you, M. J., might I suggest Cirque du Soleil?”

  I grunted, shimmying my wrists forward to just behind my knees, then had to sit there and pant for a second before craning my neck all the way to the side to mash my face against the back of the seat so I could get my boots through the loop.

  With a sigh I sat back and held up my hands. “Ah-hhh,” I said. “That’s better.”

  “Now what?” Gil asked.

  I tried the door handle. It was locked and there was a cage separating the front seat from the back. I eyed the window. “With a few good kicks I could break us out of here.”

  “Oh, please do!” Gil said with mock enthusiasm. “By all means make a bad situation worse by breaking out of the squad car!”

  “We’re already in trouble,” I reasoned.

  “Yes, but we’re not necessarily facing jail time. Once Heath shows up and vouches for us, I’m pretty sure they’ll let us go with only a fine for trespassing.”

  I laid my head back on the seat and closed my eyes. I’d almost rather risk escaping police custody than face my boyfriend after this. “Do you think he’ll break up with me?”

  “Who, Heath?”

  “Yes.”

  Gilley was quiet for a minute. “Maybe,” he said. “I mean, what you did was pretty bad for a girlfriend, and if I were a straight guy, I’d probably break up with you.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “On the bright side, maybe you and Steven could get back together?”

  I shook my head. “That ship has sailed,” I told him. “He’s dating some new girl.”

  “How do you know?”