by AJ Sherwood
Our exorcist was apparently not in the mood to fuck around. She wasn’t giving this malevolent spirit a chance to run. I whole-heartedly approved.
I turned in place, looking at the group sitting on the front steps, and gave Delaney a thorough once-over. He looked hangdog. His shoulders were pulled in and slumped, he couldn’t seem to look up past his own shoes, and he only moved when Falisa prodded him. Wow, not emotionally mature enough to take a scolding, was he?
If he pulled his head far enough out of his ass to actually be useful tonight, I’d be very surprised.
Falisa came around to stand next to me. “What’s the plan?”
Eli didn’t look up as she answered. “I want to corner this thing on the main level somewhere. Probably the open common room, so we’ve got room to maneuver. We’re hedging our bets, though. We’ll set up four possible places to trap it so we’re not caught short.”
I liked that, having multiple backup plans. “Where should we start?”
“Start on the third floor and work your way down. If a room is clear, salt it completely and block all access. Line the full room. I don’t want to give this bastard any room to maneuver. I’ll follow in behind and do sigils on all the floors so he can’t pass easily from one level to the next.”
Ken, behind me, commented sardonically, “I thought we were the Salters.”
I glanced back at him in question. I’d not heard the nickname before.
Eli shrugged at him, expression a touch wry. “It’s not that we don’t use salt. It’s just that we generally don’t need to. In this case, I’m not above using anything that will get this thing trapped into a single room. I’m not interested in chasing it about the building for several days.”
That seemed fair enough to me. “Ken, Falisa, if you want to take the right side of the stairs, Mack and I can take the left.”
“Delaney, Quinn, go with them. Work the other side of the hallway,” Eli requested, her attention already back on the circle she was drawing. “I’m done here. Let’s lock this down as quickly as possible.”
Nothing about this process would be fast, so I understood why she wanted all hands on deck. I just dreaded working with Delaney. He must have felt the same way about it as he was reluctant to move and only carried lights in his hands. Like he was already prepared to just drop everything and walk away. Yeah, I didn’t trust him at all.
Still, we had our marching orders. And the sooner we got this done, the sooner we could leave.
17
Brandon didn’t seem to trust Delaney, and I didn’t blame him. I shared the feeling, in fact. Ken looked exasperated with him but didn’t choose to say anything. They fortunately took the other side of the hall from us so we didn’t have to work around him.
We didn’t interact that much as we went into each dorm room, salting along the interior walls. Whoever would have to clean this up later had my sympathies, as we were making a hell of a mess. And I had a feeling it would get worse before it got better.
Entering the fourth or fifth room—I’d honestly lost track—Brandon started on one side, me on the other, shaking salt directly out of the bag as carefully as we could to make a straight-ish line along the baseboards.
“Love. I’m just curious. The spirit you exorcised at Edmée’s. It was doing similar stuff to the one here. Breaking things, overturning furniture, hurting people. I know it was on a smaller scale, but still the same sort of antics. You think it would have gone malevolent eventually?”
“Eh, maybe. It had already become twisted because of its obsession with the house. If people had left the house alone, though, I think it would have eventually gone back to being a normal spirit. It wasn’t trying to be malevolent. This thing, whatever it is, is doing its best to become as bad as possible.”
“So that’s why you could exorcise the other one yourself, but not this one?”
I realized belatedly that in all the confusion, I’d never properly explained this to him. No wonder he was seeking clarification. “Yeah. Basically, it’s a power level difference. You’re aware that I’m one of about twenty mediums in the division who can exorcise?”
He gave me a proud smile. “Yeah, Beau told me.”
I preened a little under that pride. “Well, even though I can do it, I’m not always the strongest power in the room. And it does take something out of me. Escorting a cooperative spirit along is one thing. Even forcing one to manifest and pass doesn’t take much energy in comparison to exorcising something that’s fighting you. That has the power to fight back. So when we come into situations like this, I’d prefer not to. If I really was pushed, and had the time to set up a proper trap, I could probably manage. I’d have to take the following two days off and just sleep, but I could probably do it.”
“Ouch. If it would’ve been that brutal on you, I’m glad you called in Eli.”
“Yeah, she’s a much saner option.”
The walkie-talkie clipped on my belt crackled to life. “Hey, we’re tackling basement level,” Booker reported in his soft-spoken voice. “You guys okay up there?”
I put the salt bag down long enough to answer him. “Yeah, we’re about five rooms in. It’s quiet so far. I’m seeing traces of the friendly ghost here and there. What are we going to do about her?”
“Help her pass if we possibly can,” Falisa put in. “She’s probably ready to escape this crazy situation.”
“I’m with Falisa on this one,” Eli agreed promptly. “Whoever sees her, don’t hesitate. Just get her out of the line of fire.”
That was more or less what I’d expected.
I knew there to be two schools of thoughts when it came to spirits. Some people viewed them like you would a tall tale, or Bigfoot—something not really real. Even the people who believed in them didn’t really think of them as people. They were scary noises in the dark of the night, knocks and rapping, shadows. Nothing more. But then there were those who understood these were people. Without bodies, sure, but still people. I was glad to be working with mediums who understood that the ghosts were people.
A gunshot rang out, muted through the floors, but clearly audible.
Alarm shot through my spine, and I didn’t even glance at Brandon. I broke out into a sprint, heading down the stairs as quickly as I could, holding the half-empty bag of salt to my stomach as I moved.
The walkie-talkie crackled to life again. “I need a medium!”
Brandon answered, charging at my heels, “Mack’s on his way!”
I could hear the others running after us, but I didn’t look back, didn’t confer. Unease twisted my gut. Something bad had happened. I knew it to be true even if I didn’t have all the facts yet. The stairs wound down to the main floor, and I hit the tile so quickly I nearly slipped on it, my shoes not having enough tread to get traction. I grabbed the banister for balance and kept going. I almost lost my grip on the salt bag, but tenaciously clung to it with my fingers.
Even over the drumming of my heartbeat in my ears, I could hear noises from below. Two more shots rang out, then the spray of water and a screech—an ungodly sound that went high like a train whistle. Shit. They were battling that thing down there. What the hell had happened that had stopped Eli from taking care of it?
Rounding the last corner of the stairs, I took the situation in at a glance. Eli was down, her head on Booker’s shoulder, legs splayed out along the stairs in a boneless way that indicated she wasn’t conscious. Booker was hunched over her protectively even as Quinn stood over them both, firing away.
Firing at what, was the question, as the miasma was so thick down here it looked like a cave. It was pure darkness. I couldn’t make anything out ahead of me. Quinn had to be firing blind. Or maybe not, as he had goggles on.
I didn’t hesitate. This wasn’t a situation that called for calm planning. I threw myself forward, standing at Quinn’s elbow, and shook the salt out along the bottom step. “Brandon, fire water over my shoulder!”
Bless the man, he immediately
did that, barely three seconds after the words tumbled free of my mouth. With that cover fire in place, I could bend and really create a solid line, giving us a barrier in the enclosed stairwell. Only with it in place did I whip out the chalk from my pocket and hastily scribbled two staying circles on either side of the wall. My fingers shook, a slight tremor, and haste made me clumsy. I forced myself to slow down enough to make the seal solid. We’d be screwed in all the wrong ways if I made a mistake here. As soon as it was in place, I activated the seal with my own power, a slap of the palm against it, then moved to the next.
Those in place, I almost called it good, but the force behind me wasn’t diminishing. If anything, the edges of the miasma seemed to seep across my salt line. That was not a good sign, to put it mildly.
I made a snap decision and turned towards Brandon. “Cher, give me a lift.”
“Hop on,” he said, patting his own back.
With the aid of the stair behind him, I did so, hopping onto his back and getting the extra two feet I needed to reach the ceiling. He put a single arm under my thighs to help hold me in position. It was awkward as hell drawing a circle overhead like this, but I managed it. As I worked, I heard Falisa and Ken conferring with Booker and Quinn.
“What the hell happened?” Falisa demanded.
“Damn thing threw a full bottle of detergent at her, hit her right in the temple,” Booker relayed, sounding both pissed and worried. “The miasma was so thick down here we were turning back, planning to lay a salt line down on the stairs and wait so all of us could tackle it. We had no sightlines. Eli didn’t have a chance before this thing ambushed her.”
I could see how it had happened. It was too damn dark to make anything out down here. “Is she alright?”
“Took a hard knock, other than that, I don’t know. She’s breathing, at least. I poured holy water on it, just in case. She’s got a split here on the temple that’s bleeding.” Booker was now more worried than pissed. “Where’s Delaney?”
“Out the front door, I booted him that direction.”
Slapping the seal active, I slid down Brandon’s back. “Merci, cher.” Turning, I took them in. Quinn was lifting Eli carefully into his arms, Booker arranging her head and supporting it as they moved. Yeah, we weren’t doing anything else tonight. “Let’s retreat for now. I’ve got this thing properly sealed. Let’s get her to the ER, call this in. Quinn, load her into the Tahoe. I know where the hospital is.”
For once, Brandon let me drive. He did keep a sharp eye on me, though, all the way to the ER doors. Ken and Falisa stayed behind to lock the building down so no one else could accidently blunder into that mess. Delaney was probably still hiding in the car, but I wasn’t about to waste energy worrying about him. Eli started to come around just as we made it to the doors, which was a good sign. Quinn and Booker carried their wife in, and that left us the lovely job of finding a parking spot in a too-small parking lot and then the even greater privilege of calling our boss.
Since neither of us wanted to do it, we put her on speaker so we could both talk to her. I didn’t know how that was better, frankly.
Sylvia answered as usual on the second ring, sounding grumpy instead of foggy. So she’d still been awake? “What.”
“Bad news, boss,” Brandon said apologetically. “Ghost got the drop on your sister.”
There was silence for a full second. Then Sylvia gritted out, “How bad?”
“She’s getting x-rays now,” I said. “Probably a light concussion, as a bottle of detergent hit her temple. We’ll know more soon.”
“God. You’d think with two anchors, she wouldn’t get injured like this. Instead, it only seems to invite bigger problems for her to deal with. Alright, back up, tell me what the hell happened.”
Brandon did, with me pitching in and filling in details he couldn’t possibly know. It was unfortunately a short explanation that could be summed up in a general phrase: Shit hit the fan.
Sylvia let out a low, steady stream of air, a sure sign of stress. “Gentlemen, I do not like the sound of this. I’m really upset my sister was hurt. I want you to get in there and get me a better status report. Quinn and Booker both suck at doing that.”
I was a little glad for the marching orders, so I quickly left the Tahoe and let Brandon handle the phone for a few seconds. I could hear his deep voice as he spoke to her, as I met him at the tail end of the vehicle.
“Yeah. Yeah, it was bad enough that even I could see it. Mack put a line of salt down on the floor and drew barrier sigils on both walls and the ceiling. Eli had already drawn sigils on the floors to keep it from going through the ceiling, so it’s well and truly trapped downstairs. How we’re going to get back in there and deal with this thing is another question entirely.”
“With enough light, you should be able to. Or undo the seals and invite it up to play on the main level. It’ll be mad enough to burst free of the area you imprisoned it in, I bet.”
She was likely right. But then, for all that Sylvia was now an administrator, she’d started out in the field. She had experience to back her up. “I hope it will, at least. I’m not really anxious to beard the lion in its own den.”
“I don’t blame you for that. I’m saying this now, too. If you have to flood holy water throughout the whole basement in order to get this thing, I’m willing to pay for any water damage.”
“Don’t think that’s not tempting,” Brandon grumbled. His face was set, a tic in the corner of his jaw adequately saying he was pissed about this whole thing. I shared the sentiment perfectly. “Okay, we’re entering the hospital now.”
I saw Booker first, standing near the nurse’s station and filling out paperwork. Going to his side, I touched his arm gently to get his attention. “How is she?”
“Doctor says she’s okay,” Booker relayed with a relieved smile. “She’s got a doozy of a headache, and we’ll need to watch her tonight, but it’s not serious enough to be a concussion. Her hard head saved her.”
“I’ll tell her you said that,” Sylvia drawled.
Booker turned to find Brandon with phone in hand, then his eyes went to the screen and he saw who was on the line. “Oh, hey, Sylvia. I was going to call you in a minute.”
“Booker, the day you call me of your own initiative is the day I know Armageddon is upon us. How’s my crazy sister?”
“Cranky, livid, and she has a headache. She’s swearing she’s going to march right back in there tonight and deal with this thing.”
“You told her no, I hope.”
“I didn’t tell her a damn thing. She and Quinn are arguing it out. I know better than to get in the middle of that.”
“You are the smartest of the three. What’s your take?”
“She probably should rest, get her equilibrium back tonight. We can tackle this in daylight hours when this thing’s a little weaker.” Booker looked to me and Brandon as he spoke, judging our reactions. “If everyone else is game to go back in?”
I nodded agreement. “I can’t speak for everyone else, but I am.”
Brandon shrugged. “Where he goes, I go, so…Sylvia, I can check in with Falisa and Ken and get back to you on them. They were locking the place up behind us as we left.”
“Do that. And Booker, get my sister to call me. I want to hear how she is directly from the horse’s mouth.”
“Sure thing.”
I ran a hand through my hair, stressed myself. I had never in a million years suspected Eli would get hit so hard and fast like this. She apparently hadn’t either, as her guard hadn’t been up. Who would have thought that after blowing all the windows out a mere four days ago, the ghost would have enough power to strike again this soon? I may have underestimated it. We all had.
We’d not make that mistake again.
18
I’ve got experience in situations like this one, where a loved one is down and hurting, and the frustration over being able to do nothing lives and breathes. I’d felt that way the entire time Do
novan had been recuperating from the acid attack. I’d seen him as much as I could, skyped him often, trying to help. And it had never felt like I was doing enough for him. The memory would probably never leave me. It made me more sympathetic towards someone else who had a loved one hurt.
Eli’s injury was minor, and she’d been ordered to rest for a full forty-eight hours before attempting to work again, but she’d bounce back fairly quickly. The news relieved her husbands, but it also had to irritate them that they’d been right there and failed to protect her. It had to grate. In their shoes, I’d be one unhappy camper.
Because of that, Mack and I worked up a plan. I found a local gym we could pay a daily fee for, threw some workout clothes into a bag, and then headed across the hall to where their room was. Booker answered the door on the first knock.
I found Booker a little hard to read, honestly. He had a natural resting poker face. Even now, it was hard to read him. It was the tense, stiff way he held himself that indicated how upset he really was.
Oh yeah. Definitely needed to draw them out of this funk. “Hey. I wondered if you and Quinn wanted to hit the gym with me. Workout, maybe do some sparring.”
Quinn magically popped up behind him. “Now?”
“I mean, I can give you a few minutes to throw gear together,” I offered magnanimously.
Quinn’s upper lip lifted in a sneer at the teasing, but he also cast a worried glance behind him. I assumed he was worried about leaving Eli alone.
“Mack’s staying here,” I offered, which was also part of the plan. “He’ll be right across the hall the whole time. He’s got The Witcher to watch.”
“Damn right I do!” Mack called from our room.
I cast him a wry glance over my shoulder. I knew exactly which scenes he wanted to watch, too. “Should I be jealous?”
“Nah. You’re all yummy and built like he is.” Mack’s head popped into view. “I order you to go maintain those muscles.”