The Ghoul Next Door

by Victoria Laurie

  Foster kept his eyes down, not, I suspected, because he was ashamed, but because he was trying not to trip. The leg shackles only allowed him to take very small steps, and I will admit that I felt not an ounce of sympathy for him because if Sy the Slayer came in at any time, those shackles could be the difference between life and death for Kendra and me.

  Foster took his seat and put his hands up on the table. The chain from his waist made a loud clatter against the table before he finally settled into a fairly comfortable position.

  Bethany’s killer looked us over and I let him without saying a word. I could sense Kendra wanted me to say something to get the party started, but I had to be slow and careful here. At last Foster sat back and seemed to stare at us expectantly.

  “Hello, Mr. Foster,” I said softly. I wanted to keep my voice as level and calm as I could.

  “You the reporter?” he asked, looking from me to Kendra, who was holding a small camera and recording the interview.

  “I am today,” I said.

  He cocked his head quizzically, but I didn’t elaborate. Instead I said, “As we said in our e-mail, we’re here to talk to you about the house on Stoughton Street.”

  Foster’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but it was odd, because I could almost detect some contempt there too. I studied him closely. His nose was crooked and it’d obviously been broken more than once, and there was something about the set of his jaw that made me think that might’ve been broken too. His knuckles were thick the way a boxer’s were, and when I looked into his eyes, I knew he was no innocent. There was an edge to him—probably the exact same kind of edge that Tracy had described belonging to Ken Chamblis.

  “That house is a bad place,” I told him, attempting to gain his trust. “It’s a place where decent guys begin to have nightmares, and if you stay there long enough, you start to lose sleep, and you get the feeling that even when you’re away from the house, something from there is following you.”

  Foster leaned forward, his gaze locked on mine. I had his full attention.

  “Something lives in that house,” I said next. “Something evil.”

  Subconsciously I saw Foster nod his head slightly.

  I raised my hands and hovered them close to my temples. “And that evil starts to get inside your mind. It starts to take over your thoughts. It turns people . . .” I let my voice trail off and watched Foster carefully. He didn’t even blink. It was like he couldn’t believe I knew what’d happened inside that house. That someone was believing in his long-held secret.

  “It turned Dan Foster into Deadly Dan. Am I right?”

  The unexpected happened, something neither Kendra nor I could have foreseen. Dan Foster began to laugh. He shook his head and said, “You have no idea what you’re playing with, little girl,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear him. Then he looked up at me again and added, “You’re playing with the devil himself and if you’re not careful, he’ll come to your house next.”

  I felt a chill go right through me. There was something so foreboding about what he’d just said, and I tried to shrug it off as Foster simply wanting to scare us, but it was hard to continue to look him in the eye.

  I decided to carry on with the interview. If Foster was this cocky, maybe he’d reveal something about the origins of Sy the Slayer. “When was the last time you saw the shadowman?” I asked boldly.

  Foster laughed again like he thought my questions were ridiculous—like I was a child asking why the sky was blue. “The shadowman?” he said, and I knew he was about to toy with me. “I see lots of shadows, lady. One came to my cell two days ago and told me he’d found a new playmate. Said her name’s Mary. I don’t know who she is, or where she is, but she’ll be dead before the month is out. You wait. It’ll happen.”

  My pulse quickened and my breath caught. I knew then that Foster was saying Sy visited him regularly and Sy was referring to me. What I didn’t know was whether Foster knew that I was Mary. I had to work very hard to continue to sit there calmly and not bolt out the door with the intention of booking the next flight out of Dodge. I could also see Kendra turn the camera toward me, and I knew she was as stunned as I was because I’d told her that I’d introduced myself to Guy Walker as Mary. And that Ken Chamblis had turned to me at the bar and called me Mary.

  “Do you know who’s going to do the deed?” I asked Dan.

  He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Won’t be me, though,” he said, holding up his chains with a wicked grin. “The shadowman, he’s got somebody on the outside. I always knew there were others like me.”

  I lifted my cell phone and tapped the photo app to show him the closet from Stoughton Street. Foster leaned forward a little to look and that wicked smile spread. “That Luke name is new,” he said, squinting. “Maybe he’s the guy for the deed. Maybe he’s the one that murdered my sweet Bethany. I loved her, you know,” he added, and I didn’t believe him for a second. “I would never hurt my sweet Beth.”

  I put the phone down into my lap as much to take the image away from Foster as to hide the fact that my hands had started shaking. I knew without a doubt that Dan had been present for at least a portion of Bethany’s murder. He’d been present of mind when he cut her throat. I knew it as certain as I knew anything. Still, Foster seemed to be having fun toying with me and that was good for gathering more information. “Did you know any of the other men the shadow used?” I asked.

  “Nah,” Foster said casually, and I could sense he was lying. What I didn’t know was how many of the other men he’d met.

  “I have a theory about who the shadowman is,” I said, lifting the phone again to point to the photo. “I think he’s the first name in this closet. Sy the Slayer.”

  Dan leaned forward, but it was a bit more like a lunge and he said, “If you’re not careful, he’ll answer when you call his name.”

  Kendra and I both sat back a little and the guard leaned forward and put a hand on Foster’s shoulder. It was a warning and Foster immediately sat back. “Sorry,” he said, but given the sick grin he wore, he obviously wasn’t.

  Still, he was answering all my questions, so I decided to press on. “It’s okay,” I said. “Do you have any idea where the shadowman might’ve come from?”

  Foster shook his head. “Nope.”

  That reply seemed genuine. And then I decided to gauge his reaction to a running theory I had. “Do you think he might have a connection to the house’s landlord?”

  “Lester?”

  I blinked. “Who?”

  “The landlord. Lester Atkins. I only met him once when I signed the lease a couple of years ago. Nice old geezer. Don’t know if he’s connected to the shadowman or not, lady.”

  “Actually, I was thinking of Ray Eades.”

  “Don’t know him,” Foster said, and he was starting to look bored.

  “Ah,” I said, wondering if we’d just hit pay dirt on the owner of the house. I made a mental note to get Gilley to look into a Lester Atkins for later and then tried to think of more questions to ask before I lost his attention completely, but at that moment a sudden and bitter chill came over the room. And it was a chill I was all too familiar with. Foster seemed to be aware of it at the same moment I was, because he sat up straight and his eyes moved from side to side. “Shit,” he whispered. “Here’s Johnny . . . ”

  All of a sudden something dark seemed to appear right behind him and then it was gone. And so was Dan Foster. His body was still in front of us, but his entire expression had changed into one I recognized. Instinctively I sat as far back in my chair as I could. “Hello, Mary,” Foster said. “I was hoping you’d come see me again.”

  Next to me, I heard Kendra’s sharp intake of air.

  Foster turned to her as if seeing her for the first time. “And you’ve brought a friend,” he said. “How nice. A double date.”

  “Sy!” I sai
d loudly to get his attention off Kendra. He seemed far too interested in her. “Who are you and where did you come from?”

  Sy kept his eyes on Kendra, as if he knew it was bothering me. It was clearly bothering her, because she scooted her chair back a bit. “Where did I come from? I came from Sheedy’s. Didn’t you see me there?” he taunted, finally pulling his gaze away from Kendra to stare at me. “I saw you, Mary, didn’t I?”

  “What other eyes have you been looking through, Sy?” I asked.

  Foster leaned back in his chair and laughed evilly. “Through a few special eyes, Mary. Through Dan’s, and Bill’s, and Mike’s, and Ken’s, and Guy’s, and Luke’s. Such willing eyes all of them. They lust for it as much as I do. As much as I lust for you, Mary.” Foster licked his lips seductively and it was all I could do to hold still in my chair and not bolt out of there.

  And then, Foster’s gaze lifted above my right shoulder and he said, “Who’s the old Indian?”

  For a brief moment I didn’t know what he was talking about, but then I realized he must be talking about Sam. “He’s here to protect me from the likes of you,” I told him, bolstered by the knowledge that Sam was right behind me.

  Foster wiped his lips with his fingers. “Oh, yeah?” he said, and I could hear the challenge in his voice. “Maybe I ought to see how safe you feel around that other Indian, Mary. Maybe I’ll go visit with him now. . . .”

  I jumped to my feet, my fists balled and anger coursing through me. “You leave him alone, Sy!” I yelled, but it was already too late. Dan Foster blinked and I knew I was looking at him again.

  “He’ll get to him before you can,” he rasped as if hosting Sy the Slayer had taken all of his energy.

  I didn’t even wait long enough to comment. I grabbed Kendra and ran for the door.

  To say that I urged Kendra to get us home as quickly as possible is to suggest that Gilley can get a little pitchy when he goes all howler monkey. We arrived at my condo and I sprinted from the car even before it’d come to a full stop. I’d called Heath over and over from the prison and from the car, but he hadn’t answered, and neither had Gilley when, in desperation, I’d called him. I didn’t know what was happening, but I feared the worst.

  Skipping the elevator, I took the stairs two at a time, rounding the landing of Gilley’s floor just as he was coming out. “Oh, hey,” he said, holding up his phone. “I was just about to call you back. Sorry I didn’t pick up, I was on the phone with Micha.”

  I ignored him and kept going, pushing my aching muscles to climb the stairs faster. I could hear Gil call after me, but I didn’t have time to explain. Before I’d reached the landing, I called out to Heath, and I didn’t care which neighbors I might be disturbing. “Heath!” I shouted. “Heath!” I got to my floor and my rubbery legs barely kept up as I forced them to sprint to the door. I pounded on it with one fist while reaching into my messenger bag for my keys. “Heath!”

  At last the door was pulled open and my sweetheart stood there. The sight of him, though, made me catch my breath. He stared at me with such intensity that for a moment I felt terrified that Sy had managed to worm his way into Heath’s mind. But then he reached out and took me into his arms and pulled me close. “Em,” he said with a tremendous sigh of relief. “He’s been after me for the past twenty minutes!”

  “Call up your grandfather!” I told him, panting hard but trying to hold on to him as tightly as I could manage. I knew he was under assault and it was my worst fear to lose him to this evil spirit.

  “Call up Whitefeather!” I said next. Whitefeather was another ancestor of Heath’s. A very powerful warrior and spirit who’d helped us once when we’d needed him most.

  I leaned back and cupped Heath’s face between my hands. “Call out to Whitefeather!” I insisted. Intuitively I felt that was the answer and at the same time I also opened up my own sixth sense. The energy around Heath was intense, but as I begged him to call upon his ancestor, there was a shift. It was subtle at first, and then it expanded, growing larger, calmer, more protective. In my mind’s eye I could see the brave warrior Whitefeather, standing behind Heath—the two nearly identical in appearance even down to that gorgeous white stripe of hair at the temple. And then, the energy shifted even more and the tension in Heath’s eyes relaxed. “It’s gone,” he said.

  I sagged against him, squeezing him tight again. “Thank God!” And then I thought about the fright I’d had, knowing Sy was trying to get into his mind. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  Heath’s body shifted and I saw him reach for his phone in his back pocket. “Huh,” he said. “It’s dead. Sorry. I didn’t know you were trying to call me or I would’ve picked up.”

  From behind us I could hear Gilley coming up the stairs. I ignored him and leaned back to plant a kiss on my boyfriend’s lips, so happy to have him fully back and not under attack by Sy the Slayer anymore.

  And then I heard Gilley say, “Hello, Mary.”

  Chapter 13

  Heath and I both stiffened. I was afraid to turn around. “Hey!” I heard Kendra call from the stairwell. “Is everybody okay?”

  I risked taking a peek over my shoulder and saw Gilley, his gaze turning away from Heath and me as he looked toward Kendra slowly climbing those stairs. “Kendra!” I yelled, twisting around. “Go back to your car!”

  But she kept climbing and stopped just a few stairs away from Gilley. “Oh, hey,” she said to him. “How’s your fiancée?”

  “My fiancée?” he repeated. “I only have eyes for you, Kendra.” The way Gilley said her name made me shudder. It was Gilley’s voice, but with more rasp, and the inflections were all wrong. Gone was that slight Southern lilt he had when he spoke, and there was a definite South Boston accent now present in his speech. Also, he reached up with his left hand to scratch at his chin.

  “What’s with you?” she asked him, coming up the next few stairs.

  I rushed forward and grabbed Gilley by the arm. Pulling hard, I twirled him around and pushed him straight toward my condo. “Go home, Kendra!” I shouted, continuing to push Gilley as hard as I could.

  “M.J.!” I heard her call out, but I still slammed the door behind us.

  Heath had read my mind and he was already approaching Gilley with one of the magnetic vests. “Oh, Mary,” Gilley said, reaching down to grab my wrist in a viselike grip. “Don’t play with me. You know how this will end.”

  I winced because Gilley’s grip became tighter and tighter, and just as I was about to cry out, Heath wrapped the vest around him.

  Gil’s hand immediately relaxed and he swayed a little, but then he blinked and it was my best friend again. “Where’s the fire?” he asked.

  I was shaking so much with adrenaline and fear that my eyes misted. “You okay?” I asked him, cupping his face just as I’d done to Heath.

  “Of course I’m okay,” he said. “What’s with you? And why’d you race up here like the place was on fire?”

  I dropped my hands to hug him fiercely. “Would someone please tell me what the hell’s going on?” he snapped.

  I hugged him tighter. With Whitefeather’s help, Heath could fend off Sy. But Gil was a completely different matter. He was already vulnerable to spooks, and now that Sy had been inside his mind, the access door would always be open and Gilley would always be vulnerable. My mind raced with the possibilities of Gilley ending up like Luke, and it was in that moment that I fully understood Courtney’s fierce loyalty to her brother and her fear that she was losing him.

  “Em,” Heath said softly.

  I let go of Gilley, who looked both perplexed and frustrated because he knew we weren’t telling him something. “Do me a favor,” I said to him. “Until I say otherwise, wear this vest.”

  Gil looked down and shifted under the weight of the vest. “When did I put this on?”

  “Just wear it, Gil,” I said
sternly.

  “It’s hot,” he complained. “And why’re you insisting I wear this?”

  I decided to go with a half-truth. “Sy the Slayer paid a visit to Heath. I’m worried that because the spooks like you, you might also be a target.”

  Gilley’s hand flew to his mouth. “He was here?”

  “Sort of,” Heath said. “I managed to fend him off, but, Gil, I think it’s best if while you and I are in the same building, you wear that.”

  Gilley reached down and began buttoning the vest. “I’m going back downstairs,” he announced. “I’ll turn up the air and live in this thing, but, guys, we gotta figure out how to shut this spook down, okay? My honey is coming home in four days and I can’t greet him at the door wearing this!”

  I thought of something else then, that mental note I’d made to myself at the prison. “Gil, can you research one more name for me?”

  Gil dropped his chin and looked up at me in that “Are you kidding me?” way.

  “Just one more name, I promise.”

  “Who is it this time?”

  “A guy named Lester Atkins.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do a search and see if he comes up as a possible murder suspect in any unsolved murder cases. In fact, do a broad search of him and see what you can come up with.”

  “Lester Atkins. Sounds made up.”

  I sighed. I wanted Gilley to leave and have a project so that Heath and I could talk about what to do. “Please, Gil?”

  “Fine, but you owe me,” he said.

  “Yes, yes. I owe you. I’ll just leave everything to you in my will, okay?”

  Gil rolled his eyes, but he turned on his heel and left, so I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “That’s bad,” Heath said the minute the door closed behind Gilley.

  “Really bad,” I agreed. “What do we do?”

  “We have to find the source, Em. Now, more than ever, we have to find out who Sy the Slayer is and where he’s hidden his portal.”