Mack's Perfectly Ghastly Homecoming (Mack's Marvelous Manifestations Book 2)

by AJ Sherwood

  “We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Mack promised her firmly. “I’m not leaving until we do.”

  11

  I fumed as we walked out. I didn’t like the attitude of that man one iota, but I could admit to myself that I might have lost my temper just because he’d struck an ugly, dark part in my mind. A place of pitch-black pain existed in me because of adults just like him who had made my childhood hell. I could feel my adrenaline kick up a notch, the fight-or-flight instinct rearing its head, although I was all fight at the moment. I was not about to be bullied, not as an adult. Not when I knew that I was right. I hoped being an FBI agent would afford me some protection here and keep the president from trying anything.

  Hoped. Prejudices ran deep here. I couldn’t afford to be complacent.

  “Y’all call me Connie, everyone does,” the secretary informed us. She smiled at us in delight, and her attitude drew me a little out of my funk. At least someone was glad to see us. “And can you clarify for me, are you both mediums?”

  “No, ma’am,” Brandon responded, eyes crinkling up in the corners with amusement. “I’m about as sensitive as a brick. Mack’s the medium. I handle the living world; he handles the dead.”

  “That is a very good way to put it, cher,” I noted to him. I matched his smile for a moment. My phone rang in my pocket and I answered it promptly. “Hello?”

  “Hey, this is Ken. Wanted to tell you, we’re making pretty good time. Should be there in about an hour and a half or so. How about we meet you on campus?”

  I was eager to get started, so readily replied, “Sure. We’ve met with the president of the school and he’s a non-believer, so expect some trouble there.”

  A gusty sigh. “Of course he is. Okay, I’ll pass that on. You been to the dorm building yet?”

  “Not yet. We’re on our way to it. The situation’s escalated since the initial report. There’ve been more students hurt.”

  A female voice spoke in the background, then Ken relayed, “Falisa says to hold off on entering, then. Wait for us to get there.”

  I was a bit relieved to hear that. “Okay. We’ll get hotel rooms set up, then, while we’re waiting.”

  “Sounds good. See you soon.”

  “They requested we wait until they get here,” I shared. “Connie, can you round up the students who were hurt? If I could speak to them, I can get a better idea of what’s happened.”

  “Sure, of course,” she assured me. “What else?”

  “Give us a key to the building and full access.” I thought about it, but there really wasn’t much else to do. “Other than that, I’m not sure.”

  Brandon handed her a business card. “That’s both of our numbers, just in case. We’ll be back in about an hour. We’re going to get hotel rooms set up for all of us.”

  Connie took the card in a firm grip. “I understand. I’ll have at least a few students for y’all to talk to when you return.”

  After that came a lot of logistics. We chose the Juliet Hotel, as it sat relatively nearby and had a slightly better rating than some of the other hotels. The rooms were nice, it came with a spa that we would likely need at some point, to destress, and it was ghost-free. Okay, no, it had the one who was nodding off in the hotel lobby, but he and I exchanged a nod, and he seemed quite content to just sit there and people watch. If he would mind his business, I’d mind mine.

  It took an hour to get checked in, and get our bags into the room, and I took advantage of the hotel Wi-Fi to send Sylvia a quick email to update her on the situation. If the president tried to go over our heads, best to give my boss a head’s up now.

  Then we returned to campus. This time, Brandon parked in the dorm building’s lot nearby to make it easier on us. We still had a lot of tools and things in the back of the SUV. I really hoped we wouldn’t have to break those out. The president would hit the roof if we had to demo his precious building.

  As we unloaded, a trio of road-weary people climbed out of their SUV. A glance showed it also had government plates on it, and my hope rose sharply. Was this them?

  Brandon must have spotted the same plate, as he gave a wave before approaching. “Hey. I’m Brandon Havili, Paranormal Activity Division. You our other team?”

  “That’s us.” A woman with mahogany skin and a multitude of colorful tiny braids wrapped around her head approached with a hand outstretched. She wore comfortable looking yoga pants and a shirt-dress thing over the top that emphasized her pear-shaped build. “I’m Falisa Tate. This is my husband-slash-partner, Ken, and our proby, Delaney.”

  I liked her smile, the vibe of her, and the aura she carried. Beau possessed a similar one. She was clearly a medium and a good one, as her aura was strong and confident.

  Brandon shook hands, then gestured towards me. “This is my medium, Mackenzie Lafayette.”

  “Enchanté,” I greeted, closing my hand over hers.

  “Nice t’meet ya,” Falisa responded, clearly getting the measure of me.

  Ken blinked at me. He was as pale as his wife was dark, a sharp juxtaposition, and he seemed the affable sort. Or at least, the nose too large for his face and the sleepy brown eyes leant that impression. Or maybe it was the ginger beard halfway down his chest that made him seem more laidback. He was lean and lanky, the spiky ginger hairstyle making him seem even taller. “You sound like you’re from here, Mackenzie?”

  “Mack,” I encouraged him with a smile. “And yes, born and bred thirty minutes north of here. Part of the reason why I was called in. Delaney, nice to meet you.”

  Delaney’s aura wasn’t quite as strong or confident, and I had the feeling he was barely into his training. As a first impression, I wasn’t sure what to make of him. His overall appearance was black on black, the multiple piercings and inky dyed black hair giving him a severe look. He almost looked goth, but not, at the same time. It was like he’d aimed for a specific style and missed. He gave me a handshake and smile, seeming both eager and curious as he analyzed the situation. “Thanks, good to be here. This is quite the first case for me.”

  “Yeah, I bet,” Brandon agreed. “Alright, well, we met with the executive secretary—her name is Connie; she’s the one who called us in. She’s giving us full access to the building and is arranging for the victimized students to come in for interviews.”

  “You did some good prep, there, thanks.” Falisa sounded straight from the Bronx. I had to wonder how she and Ken had met, as he didn’t. “Alright, let’s see if we can head in, get a feel for the place.”

  We trooped towards the front doors. I didn’t see any signs of life near the building—a distinct contrast to the rest of campus, which was bustling with students. But as we approached the doors, a lone girl walked through the foyer. She spotted us and came forward, opening the door, pulling an earbud out as she did so.

  “Hi?” she greeted uncertainly, pushing blonde hair out of her face.

  Falisa flipped a badge open and gave her a smile. “Special Agent Falisa Tate, FBI Paranormal Activity Division. We’re here to investigate claims of a ghost. Can we come in?”

  “Oh my god, please do,” the student said, immediately shoving the door open wider. “It’s getting really bad in here. I wouldn’t be in here at all if I didn’t have laundry to do. Come in, come in. I’m Jessica.”

  I took two steps inside the door before I came to an abrupt stop. I could hear Ken talking to the girl, but the words were just background noise to me. The atmosphere of the place captured my full attention.

  There’s a certain look to the sky right before a hurricane comes in. It’s green and aquamarine and grey, a strange wash of colors you never see at any other time. It was near impossible to describe and equally impossible to miss. I’d told Brandon at Edmée’s the atmosphere there was bad, like a Category Five hurricane about to tear through. This was worse by a factor of ten.

  Spectral energy flooded the place, some of it icy cool in color, like icicles. Another line was a darker, sickly grey, sometimes edgi
ng on black, and it darted through the halls and what I presumed to be up the stairs, too.

  Falisa came to stand at my side. “Mack, you see it too?”

  “Bad energy in here,” I answered uneasily. Agitation tightened in my gut. A year ago, even, I’d have taken one look at this place and run. “That white, that could be the original ghost haunting the place. The black, though, that’s something different. Something rotten for sure.”

  She nodded, not disagreeing, then pointed dead ahead. “You see the trail of that yellow? Kinda looks sickly.”

  I squinted, followed where her finger was pointing. “Yeah. Yeah, I see that. It’s all mixed in with the black in places. What is that?”

  Falisa waved Delaney in closer. “See it too?”

  Delaney squinted as well. “Yeah. You know what that is?”

  “Not surprised it don’t look familiar to you,” she said. “That, boys, is a malevolent. I see it far too often. Sometimes they’re summoned, sometimes they wander in on their own, looking for a place to dig into.”

  “Someone summoned this thing, whatever it is?” Delaney looked dismayed now. “Shit. So what is it?”

  “Hmm, can’t tell just by looking. We’ll have to hunt it down. I wouldn’t put it past some stupid punk to have summoned it, though.”

  Disgusted, I threw both of my hands into the air. “You know how many cases I see because people do stupid things? I’m constantly telling people not to mess with spirits. Don’t do Ouija boards, don’t talk to no dead people, don’t fuck with demons, don’t summon anything, don’t mess around in abandoned buildings. If you’re considering a thing, ask yourself, ‘Would a white person in a horror movie do this thing?’ If the answer is yes, then for the love of heaven, don’t do it.”

  Falisa gave me a high five. “Preach it, Mack.”

  “Know anyone messing around with a Ouija board?” Brandon asked Jessica.

  The student vehemently shook her head. “In this building? You’d have to be certifiable.”

  “Fair.” Brandon turned to me. “Honey, what do you want to do? From what you’re saying, it’s really not safe in here right now.”

  “Place gives me the willies, no mistake,” I agreed, thinking hard. “Jessica, how many students are in here? Right now?”

  “No one’s staying here right now,” Jessica answered with spread hands. “This is the dorm everyone on campus avoids, and after this shit-fest with the ghost? Everyone who was here has found somewhere else to sleep for a while.”

  “How many would you say live here, though?”

  “Um, maybe seventy-five live here altogether? Less than a hundred. I’m not sleeping here, I’m only here for laundry.”

  “We’ll guard you until the laundry’s done, then stay clear until we’ve dealt with this.” Falisa waved a hand to indicate the mess of the situation as a whole. “Jessica, anything happen to you?”

  “Yeah, I got stuck in an elevator for about two hours last week. Haven’t dared use it since.” She cast an uneasy glance towards the stairs. “Although the stairs aren’t any safer, what with people getting pushed down them.”

  “What else has happened?” Brandon encouraged.

  “Well, we’ve had more than a few go down the stairs, like I said. Rachel twisted her knee so bad she’s off it entirely, went to stay with her parents. Um, more than a few have woken up with really bad scratches on their backs. We’ve come in with our rooms totally rearranged, stuff thrown into the hallways. I think the worst was Kevin. His arm was broken because a bookend got thrown at him.”

  That was not a good tally and I glanced at Falisa, seeing the same grimness I felt reflected back at me. “Is that all?”

  “All that comes to mind, yeah.”

  “When did it start?”

  “Well, the friendly ghost has been here since…like, the ’70s I think. But this new one, the one that’s hurting us, came in about three weeks or so ago, I think. At least, people started getting hurt then.”

  Three weeks. That gave us a timeline to work with.

  Ken offered kindly, “Let us help you with that laundry and get you back out of here, okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Jessica responded in overt relief. “Laundry’s down in the basement. I can walk you guys around, if you like?”

  “We might take you up on that. Delaney, go with her.”

  With a shrug, Delaney followed Jessica down the stairs.

  Falisa took another look around, her mouth pulling down sharply at the corners. “Yeah, I don’t like this whatsoever. Mack, you ever worked with another team before?”

  “Only in training,” I answered honestly. “I have worked buildings this big before, though.”

  “So you’ve got some experience, good. I might shuffle Delaney between us so he gets experience working with someone other than me.”

  I nodded, as I didn’t have a problem with that. “Want to set up bases?”

  “It’s a good thought. You have enough salt on hand for that?”

  “Yeah, about twenty pounds of it left over from my last case.” I waved a hand towards Brandon, who stood by and listened intently. “We can handle that, if you’d like.”

  “If you don’t mind. Take Delaney with you. We’ll get the walkie-talkies out and all tuned to the same channel. This is definitely a case where we need to stay in contact. I don’t know what the hell this is, yet.”

  And that was the problem, alright. Until we figured this out, we wouldn’t be able to do much. Blindly trying to exorcise something did not work.

  Brandon, always quick on the uptake, went quickly out to fetch the road salt and probably three hundred other things, as the man believed in being over prepared. It was, as far as I could tell, a Havili creed.

  As he ducked out, Falisa leaned in to ask in a lower tone, “How long have you two been partners?”

  “Almost fourteen weeks,” I answered, not taking offense at the question. “Brandon was in training to be an anchor before he met me, so he’s good on that. He’s still catching up with the spectral end of the job. He loves spookems, though, and he’s hard to rattle, no worries there. He was SWAT before he came to me.”

  Falisa relaxed a hair, smiling at me. “Good, I was a little worried. Newbies on the job don’t always handle surprises well. If he was SWAT, I have to assume he’s got better nerves than most.”

  “The man’s a rock. Not much can get past Brandon.”

  “I assume he’s fully equipped?”

  “And then some.” On that point I was confident. “We’ve got demolition tools in the SUV too, if we need those.”

  Falisa grinned, the expression a trifle shark-like. “Good to know.”

  Brandon came back in with the bag of salt casually slung over one shoulder, and in his other hand he held four blocky LED lights. I looked at those and felt like smacking my head for being an idiot. Extra lights were always a good precaution, mostly because spirits liked to drain batteries.

  “Good thought,” I said. “I’d forgotten you picked those up.”

  “Portable lights, good call,” Ken agreed, joining us. “Let’s stick one of those in each circle of salt. Three stories…hm, maybe one circle in each hallway? Something we can run into and take refuge if shit hits the fan.”

  Sounded like a plan to me. “Let’s do it.” I was all set to ask a question when a piece of paper caught my eye. I turned to get a better look and my jaw just about fell off. Above the front door was a slim piece of paper taped to the molding, white on white, which was why it hadn’t caught my attention before. One glance at the design and I had a feeling I knew where the bad ghost had come from. “Futain.”

  Brandon immediately whirled to look where I did and he squinted a little. “That’s a talisman. Wait, is that drawn right?”

  “More or less.” Falisa marched up closer and stared hard, hands planted on her hips. “But it probably looks wrong to you because it’s hung upside down.”

  “Uh…if memory serves, hanging a talisman upside
down is a bad idea.”

  “You’re correct, cher,” I said grimly. “A properly drawn talisman hung upright will ward off evil spirits. A talisman hung upside down will do the opposite and open the four corners, invite them in. Whoever did this had no clue what they were doing.”

  Falisa groaned, loud and long, sounding utterly done. “Damn it all to hell and back. Well, we know how that thing got in. Let’s get this off and keep an eye open for more of them. We absolutely do not want to invite anyone else into this party.”

  I agreed heartily. “Cher, can I get a lift?”

  “Always.” With no discernable effort on his part, he lifted me up to sit on his right shoulder, balancing me there so that I could grab the talisman and yank it down.

  “Merci. Falisa, want to burn this?”

  “Sure. Let’s clear this building first, burn them all at once. I have a bad feeling this talisman isn’t the only one.”

  We couldn’t very well split up to set up bases, not with only one bag of salt. We trooped through the hallways, getting a feel for the place and figuring out the best spots to put the salt circles. I kept a sharp eye out for talismans as we went and found another at the top of the stairs, above the elevator. It was a bad sign that there were indeed multiples lurking throughout the building.

  The hall was an interesting mix of old and new. The tiles looked old and worn in, and I was unclear if the off-white color was intentional or a testament to time. The walls either had faux-marble paneling or white beadboard, the painted section above it either grey or creamy white. The floors stayed tiled until we got to the second story, and then became a gold-brown wood. The university seemed to make an effort to keep the place up, as the trim and doors had all been recently painted grey, the floors clean. Their efforts were utterly ruined by the inky, sticky aura that pervaded the place like a dark mist.

  Brandon’s warm hand settled on the small of my back, and he leaned in to murmur, “What’s wrong?”

  “Place has a bad vibe, cher,” I answered, still staring uneasily about us. “It’s like swimming in a dark pond.”