Haunted on the Gulf Coast (Gulf Coast Paranormal Trilogy Book 2)

by M. L. Bullock

  In the meantime, I made a mental note to bring a space heater from home. Rubbing my hands together to warm them, I quickly answered another repetitive email question: “How much do you charge?” As I opened the next one, a strange sound caught my attention. Please don’t tell me the office is haunted. I shook the thought away as I tapped on the keyboard again, but I heard another weird sound, like a muffled cry. I turned down the radio.

  “Hey…Midas?”

  Nobody answered. I shrugged it off and deleted a dozen spammy-looking messages. I heard the crying again, and it was definitely coming from the conference room.

  Tossing the throw blanket on the back of my office chair, I walked down the hallway to the conference room, hopeful that I would quickly figure out what the heck that sound was. I had work to do. My sensitivity radar wasn’t going off or anything. It had to be something real, not a spirit, right?

  I couldn’t explain it, but the last few investigations had out and out terrified me. I’d gone on investigations with Midas for years, and more times than not we wouldn’t catch a thing. Not even a questionable EVP. Now, it seemed like every investigation we picked up had some true type of phenomenon happening.

  And yeah, that scared the hell out of me.

  Each time, it was like a shock to my system, a shock I couldn’t buffer. I recently begged off the night investigations, using the baby as an excuse. Midas had asked me to go on the daytime walk-throughs if I felt up to it, and I’d agreed to those terms. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Pete wouldn’t be joining us just yet, but he would soon. I was kind of glad he was back now, now that I knew he was changed. Very changed.

  I heard the noise again and recognized it. Somewhere in this office was a kitten. I turned on the conference room light; I usually kept them off just to keep people from knocking on the door, and it saved a little money. We didn’t really do walk-ins. Clients had to be vetted because there were a lot of strange folks in Mobile. Then I remembered—I had forgotten to leave the door unlocked for the applicants. No wonder Arabella didn’t show up. She probably couldn’t get in! Major mistake, Sierra. I would have to call her later and reschedule her interview. On the other hand, why didn’t she just call and ask me to open the door? Maybe I wouldn’t call her after all.

  “Here, kitty, kitty. Where are you?” I asked a half-dozen times before I heard the tiniest of cries again. I checked behind the chairs, the side table and the corner filing cabinet but couldn’t see a cat anywhere.

  Finally, I heard a loud, mournful meow. And I knew exactly where it was coming from—the ceiling! Oh, crap! There was an old-fashioned drop ceiling in here, and the kitten was obviously stuck up in the attic. I retrieved the stepladder from the storage room and popped it open. I hated heights, almost as much as I hated malevolent spirits, but I had to check on the animal. Couldn’t leave it in the ceiling to die. I reached for the flashlight on the conference table and, with some trepidation, kicked off my high heels and hiked up the stepladder, gently pushing up on the foam panel to access the space above. Thankfully, the ceilings were low enough in here that even someone as short as I was could take on this cat rescue mission.

  “Here, kitty, kitty. I’m coming to help you.”

  Meow, meow…

  The poor animal went into total anxiety mode when he saw me, complete with hisses. Luckily for me, he was no bigger than a minute and had nowhere to go. I shoved the foam to the side and talked sweet to him, but the blue-eyed, fuzzy black cat wasn’t having any of it.

  “All right, now. We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I said as I waved the flashlight in his frightened face. He scrambled out of my reach. The hard way, I guess. I didn’t let it deter me. I climbed up one more step and reached for him again. “Okay, little guy. Maybe your mother will come back later, but I can’t leave you up here.” I waved the flashlight around and didn’t see any other kittens, thankfully. However, I did spot a nice hole at the back of the crawl space. Obviously, that was where the cold air was coming in from and where the kitten had entered, but how on earth had he gotten up here?

  “Don’t give me a hard time, dude. I’m your one and only rescue party.” I reached for him, ignoring his attempts to bite me and scratch me. He was a smelly bundle of fur that I instantly loved. Joshua would hate hearing this, but I was definitely taking this little guy home with me. I was sure Bozo wouldn’t mind. Our dog was the laziest dog on the planet, even though he wasn’t much more than a puppy. If I took the time to integrate our growing family, it would all work out well. As I eased down with the squirming furball, I felt the stepladder wobble beneath me. I began to fall back but refused to turn loose of the frightened animal.

  “Shoot!” I yelled as I prepared to fall, but the fall didn’t happen. Instead, a pair of hands reached up and steadied me at my waist and then quickly let me go. I laughed nervously, thanking the Lord above that I didn’t fall and break my head or something else. “Joshua? Is that you? Perfect timing, sweetie!” I stepped down into the conference room, completely surprised that there was no one there. Not a darn soul. “Joshua?”

  The room felt cold, just like my office. “Midas?” And for good measure, I added, “Cassidy?” I turned around and around in the room, but there was still no one there. No one at all. No way could anyone have moved out of here that quickly. I walked into the hallway and called again, “Joshua, is this a joke?”

  Still no answer.

  Strangely enough, I didn’t feel alarmed. Surprised, yes, but not frightened. Someone had come to my rescue. Someone I couldn’t see. Still, I didn’t press my luck. I took my bundle of whining joy to my office to do a quick appraisal of his condition. He continued to meow and complain but was happy to hang out with me now. A tapping on the front door caught my attention. It was probably my three o’clock appointment.

  “May I help you?” I called from the other side of the locked door.

  “I’m Aaron, Aaron DeSearcy. We have an appointment for three. I’m sorry I’m a few minutes late, but I had trouble finding a place to park.” I immediately wondered about his age. Aaron didn’t look old enough to be much out of high school. He had shaggy dark hair with dark eyes and sported a ball cap with another paranormal group’s logo on it. He was taller than me, but who wasn’t?

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry,” I said as I turned the lock. I’d left the keys in the door earlier, even though Midas and Joshua both hated it when I did that. “Come in, Aaron. We have a team meeting in a few minutes. Perfect timing. My name is Sierra McBride. I’m the office manager for Gulf Coast Paranormal.” Gosh, it felt good to say that. I never grew tired of hearing it. I stretched out my free hand, and Aaron shook it. The phone began to ring, and I knew I must look a sight after my near-death experience. “Where are my shoes? Um, do me a favor. Hold this little guy while I grab that phone and my shoes.”

  “Uh, okay. But cats don’t like me too much.” He wasn’t lying. The black feline hissed again, his fluffy hair raised up on his back. “It’s always been like this.” He put the cat on the floor, and the creature began chasing after me.

  “To be fair, he doesn’t like anyone yet. And you may be only the second human he’s seen. I think you can handle it. Be right back.” I picked up the cat and handed him back to Aaron. Couldn’t risk letting him get lost in here again.

  I scurried to the phone, but the caller hung up before I got there. I scooped up Aaron’s file and carried it back to the front room, stopping quickly to slide on my heels. Sometimes we used this front room for meet-and-greets, and there was also a table at the front. I liked being out here when I expected folks to stop by. I should have done that earlier.

  “I think I’ll get this little guy some water, Aaron, and then we’ll go over everything. Does that sound all right?”

  “You mean I got the job?”

  My heart fell. This wasn’t a job; it was a volunteer position, albeit a highly coveted one. I explained as much, and he smiled. “Oh, to me this will be a job. This is my dream come true, to
be a paranormal investigator, to work with a team of like-minded folks—to work with GCP. I can’t tell you how awesome that is going to be. And you know, Midas is kind of a legend. Is it true that he turned down a television deal?”

  “Yeah, it’s true.”

  Aaron followed me into the break room and watched as I poured some water in a small plastic bowl. I was right; little Domino—that’s what I decided to call the kitten—was thirsty. He’d probably love some milk, but I didn’t have any. “What’s his name? Or have you named him yet?” Aaron asked.

  “I’m thinking Domino. You see that white spot on his chest? He looks like a domino to me,” I said with a smile.

  After the animal drank his fill, I picked him up and walked with Aaron to the lobby area, where we took a seat. “Midas is eager to put a team together, but it’s got to be a team of folks who work hard and with total integrity. From your resume, I see that you have a working knowledge of the equipment we use and some experience in the field. That’s a plus. Sorry to hear that Jase Carter shut down his operation. Jase is a good guy.”

  “Yeah, me too, but it’s understandable with everything he’s facing.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about and didn’t want to pry, so I kept going, consulting the sticky notes I’d left on his application. Pete’s recommendation had put Aaron’s application over the top, and I told him as much. Wow! I’d just hired someone, sort of. I felt honored that Midas would trust me with such a task.

  “That’s great. I can’t thank you enough. When do we start, Sierra?”

  “How about in less than thirty minutes? Is that fast enough for you?” He grinned, and I continued, “In the meantime, I’ve got some papers to pull together for this meeting. I need your signature on a few things too. I have to warn you, Midas will insist on confidentiality for each case—and that’s not negotiable. Like it says in the paperwork, you can’t blog about his cases, post pictures on Facebook. Nothing goes on social media.”

  “I’ll sign whatever I have to in order to work with Midas Demopolis. And you, Sierra McBride.”

  “Great. Follow me, Aaron DeSearcy. And bring Domino.”

  Chapter Three—Cassidy

  After the team had gathered around the conference table and we’d all been introduced to the new team members, Aaron and Domino, Midas filled us in on the latest investigation. I was happy to see Helen and Bruce looking so cozy. “Pack the mosquito spray, guys. We’re headed north to Wagarville to investigate reports of ghost lights at Forrest Field.” He flipped open his folder and spread out some photos. Most of them were grainy-looking, but there was clearly an orb in a few of them. “As you may or may not know, this location is believed to be where a colonial fort once stood. Fort Dixon, to be precise. Recent archaeological work in the area may be the reason for the new uptick in reported sightings, but I’m thinking that these lights may not be paranormal.”

  I passed the photos to Aaron, who sat beside me and listened closely. Gosh, Midas looked like a hundred bucks in his fitted black GCP t-shirt. Nobody rocked a t-shirt and blue jeans like my boyfriend.

  Aaron asked, “What do you mean? Are you saying this might be some natural phenomenon? Swamp gas? Methane leaks that ignite? Saint Elmo’s fire?”

  “What I had in mind was a human culprit. There is a booming black market for stolen archaeological merchandise. It’s possible that the odd light play is simply thieves looking to make a fast buck. If they can rip off artifacts or expensive equipment, they’ll do it.” Midas shook his head at his own words.

  “Or worse, it could be straight-up vandals,” Joshua added. “Might even be someone who doesn’t like archaeologists digging around in their neck of the woods.”

  “I can see that,” Aaron said as he tucked his hat down farther on his head. I didn’t have a good read on him yet, but he seemed like a nice enough guy.

  Sierra cleared her throat and raised her pen. “Yes, but we can’t write off the older reports, Midas. People have been seeing orbs and strange lights in this area for centuries. There are reports of a single light and multiple lights; they’re mostly blue, but some witnesses say the lights are green or yellow. And others say they see the lights move in a formation.”

  “Like UFOs?” I asked, unable to hide the suspicion in my voice. Ghosts? I believed in those because I’d seen them with my own two eyes. Little gray men from another world? I wasn’t so sure. Seeing was believing, as they say.

  “Nothing I’ve read suggests UFOs, guys. But take a look at this journal entry dated 1790. It’s by a man named William J. Bertram, a naturalist who traveled through Alabama while writing his book Travels with William. He recounts a story he heard at Fort Dixon, the story of a young woman named Elizabeth Bosarge who was burned alive outside the fort, apparently after making contact with some type of light. This light sounds like the one people in Wagarville are reporting now.”

  Bruce looked up from his notebook and said, “Fascinating. Is there a description of the light? What are the archaeologists saying about it? As scientists, they must have a theory about all this.” I smiled at hearing the excitement in his voice. The ghost archaeologist obviously was already planning on putting his skills to work.

  Sierra said, “In Bertram’s book, he wrote that the light alternated between shades of green and blue, that the colors changed as it rose from the ground, and that it flickered a few times before vanishing. It was his traveling companion, not Bertram himself, who claimed to have seen this activity.”

  Midas tapped on his tablet. “Our client, Dr. Sharon Lundquist, hasn’t actually seen these lights, but her research assistant has seen them several times. The assistant, Jada, writes that the lights are often accompanied by an electrical charge. She says that it made her hair stand up and that she could smell something burning, like grass or leaves. Another student claims he heard sounds with the light play, like singing.”

  Aaron tapped the table thoughtfully. “What if what they are seeing is not a ghost but an elemental?”

  “Could you explain what you mean?” I asked.

  “Some of the local Native American tribes believe in elementals. They think that under the right circumstances and in special places, these entities can appear. I grew up with these stories, and I promise you the elders of my tribe take this subject quite seriously.”

  My eyes widened. “I take it they aren’t typical ghosts, then.”

  Aaron smiled. “According to the Alibamu and Choctaw legends, there are four classes of elementals: air, earth, fire and water. This one sounds like a fire elemental.”

  Sierra typed on her laptop. “Right. The Forrest Field area would have been Alibamu territory.”

  “That sounds right. Where’s Wagarville? Washington County?” Midas asked the group.

  Aaron nodded. “Yep. My grandmother Nina is Choctaw. I’ve grown up listening to those old stories. She believes that elementals are ancient beings, spirits of the Old People—pure spirits, not human. They lived here before even us. But elementals are rare, and they don’t interact with humans very often. When they do, it’s always with tragic results.”

  “Are they malevolent?” I asked as I chewed on my lip.

  “Not intentionally. At least not according to Nina. It’s just that their nature is so different from ours. The Choctaw believe that to speak to one would make you lose your sanity. You don’t look at them too long, you don’t speak to them and you sure wouldn’t try to touch them. Nina tells a story about a young woman who touched a loa-light and crumbled to dust.”

  “A what?” I asked, surprised to hear that word again. It sounded a lot like the word I heard whispered in Uncle Derek’s garage.

  “A loa, a kind of supernatural light often associated with elementals. It’s a blue lightning fire, ocha’kaw mala’tha lowak, also called loa by the Alibamu.”

  Sierra said incredulously, “That’s kind of like what happened to Elizabeth Bosarge, the girl who died outside the fort in 1789. She and another girl, Marguerite Babinea
ux, snuck out one night because they were curious about the lights. According to Marguerite, Elizabeth touched the loa with her fingers, which created a spark that caused the fire. Nobody in the fort believed Marguerite. She was with a member of the Alibamu tribe at the time, and he vouched for her. But his account was discredited by the Bosarge family and some messy accusations followed. Anyway, Marguerite apparently went mad, and there’s no record of what happened to her. However, the stories continued because these lights kept showing up.”

  “That’s horrible,” I whispered, my mind already filling with images of Elizabeth and Marguerite. Helen gave me a questioning look, and I smiled weakly at her. “How far is Wagarville?”

  Midas answered me in his deep, sexy voice. “It’s about an hour and a half. Not too far. I’m going up in the morning to meet with Dr. Lundquist and take a walk around the place to look for evidence of vandals. If we can’t assign a natural cause to the lights, then we’ll set up a night investigation. Today is Wednesday, so it looks like we could be headed to Wagarville on Friday. Is everyone okay with that?”

  “Sounds great to me,” I said. Everyone else agreed and immediately began talking about capturing images and evidence of elementals.

  “Hey, Cassidy,” Midas called as the group broke up. “You want to ride up with me tomorrow? I’m taking Josh and Sierra too.”

  I squeezed his warm hand. “Maybe, but I’ll have to see. I’ve got this urge to paint now, and you know how that goes. I never know how long that’s going to take me.”

  “I understand,” he said, pretending not to be disappointed. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

  While Sierra tried to convince Joshua to let her take the kitten home, Helen sidled up to me. “You want me to spend the night? It might be a good idea to have someone around, Cassidy.”

  “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, Helen. I’m not sure what the guest room looks like.”

  “Oh, stop. I think my daughter can handle running Dixie House for a night or two if need be.”