The Trail of Ruins

by Shannon Reber

  THE TRAIL

  OF RUINS

  A Madison Meyer Mystery

  Book 5

  SHANNON REBER

  Copyright © 2018 by Shannon Reber

  First Edition

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  Published by Magic Fire Publishing

  This book is a work of fiction. Incidents, names, characters, and places are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Resemblances to actual locales or events or persons living or dead, is coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Table of Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  Author’s Note

  About The Author

  “Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”

  ― William Shakespeare

  ONE

  My day had begun with hope and a very bright outlook. The brightness of my mindset had dimmed but the hope remained. It wasn’t my usual setting although I was enjoying the way it felt.

  Peace had become my new normal. There was so much in my life that was good. So what if a few bad memories played through my mind, trying to pull me down into a catatonic state of depression.

  Okay, a few things had been really bad recently. Other things had gone right. It was an amazing thing to feel optimism for the first time in my life.

  I was in such a good place mentally, my last failed phone call didn’t even weigh that heavily on my mind. The shaman I had been trying to contact was apparently out of the country and the secretary I’d talked to at his office had not wanted to share any information about how soon he’d be back. I could handle that. All I had to do was get into the guy’s records and find out for myself.

  My sister needed me. That was a mix of worry and peace in my mind. Yes, it was stressing me out. It was also a really good feeling.

  The cat yowled loudly and bumped his head into my leg, pawing at me to get me to move. Twitter was the size of a small panther, so having him paw at me was not a comfortable thing. And his head bump was a little like being hit by a car.

  I shifted back, letting the cat jump up onto my lap, his purr making my whole body vibrate as he settled himself on my legs. I smiled at the big lug and scratched under his chin like he was so fond of. His big, black body drooped over the sides of my lap but neither of us cared.

  Since the cat had interrupted my work, I took that time to stretch and glance around the office. The map of Pittsburgh I had placed on the wall was full of red pins. I had marked every place where a paranormal event had happened. There were a LOT of red pins on that thing and it was all over the city and surrounding areas.

  I had wanted to do it on my phone but Erkens had convinced me that the old-school way was better. It turned out, he was right. Seeing it on the wall like that made our situation even more real.

  Everything else was like it always was. Books were scattered over the desk. Coffee cups lay around. The layer of dust, salt, and iron shavings covered everything. It was neater than it had been, though couldn’t be called clean by any stretch of the imagination.

  Erkens looked the same as well. He wore a polo shirt and jeans, a mix of business-casual and retired cop the mainstays to his look. His slight paunch, jowls, and perpetual grump still made me think of a bulldog.

  I was the same as well. Black was my typical look, with jeans and sneakers, clothes that were casual and comfortable. It was something I liked about the office, the fact I wasn’t required to wear either a uniform or anything dressy.

  I tucked my dark hair behind my ears, wondering what our new case was. I knew we had one by the amount of time Erkens had spent on the phone that morning. I hadn’t been listening to his conversations, so I just had to wait and see what was going on.

  Erkens slammed his phone down after another minute and let out a groan. “Whatever is happening in this city, I need a break from it,” he complained, jabbing a finger into the desk. “Ghosts killing folks. Werewolves attacking on the quarter moon. Demons kidnapping girls. Cursed objects. And now a revenant? What is this city coming to?”

  I shrugged a little. “I’d rather deal with a revenant than another ghost,” I said, searching our database for information.

  It was a little cumbersome with the cat sprawled over my lap. He had no intention to move, so I just had to work around him. For some reason, having him there always helped me focus.

  Our file on zombies was from a mix of folklore and a few first-hand accounts. Those stories were a little gruesome. Then again, all stories of the undead were like that.

  Zombies were a common theme in modern fiction but myths about them went back centuries. The dead coming back to life for whatever reason was not a new idea. The types of beings who qualified as revenants varied from region to region, though.

  The most common stories were simple fiction with a tiny grain of truth. Most of the time, the reanimated body wasn’t out to snack on their family like popular fiction made it seem. The majority of those creatures came back because they had unfinished business, much like a ghost.

  “Come on,” Erkens grumped, getting to his feet with another groan.

  He did a lot of groaning recently. It was easy to see that his long life of chasing bad guys in any and every form was catching up to him. I knew he had hired me so he didn’t have to do so much heavy lifting but he hadn’t slowed down yet.

  He suppressed a yawn with a wrinkled, calloused hand. “We have an interview with the program facilitator at Dead Man’s Hollow. Let’s see if this guy is crazy or not.”

  My blood ran cold. Dead Man’s Hollow? Holy bluescreen of death.

  Unconsciously, I reached over to touch my side where the helm of awe tattoo sat. It was a protection from most forms of evil. I hoped it would count as a protection from a place that had freaked me out since I was a kid.

  Okay, so I was being stupid. I was eighteen years old, a paranormal investigator. I should not be afraid of an urban legend about a place that was actually a conservation area, one I would love under normal circumstances.

  A chill worked its way up my spine at the idea of going back there. But it was my job and I needed to nut up. I could handle it.

  Twitter sat up and bumped his head into my chin. Cats could be highly intuitive and Twitter was smarter than the average feline. He knew I was scared and wanted to comfort me. There was no doubt in my mind.

  I scratched his chin a little more before I stood up and set him back down on my chair. “Um . . . what’s the case?” I asked, pulling my hair back into a knot as I watched the cat turn in about thirty-seven circles before he laid down.

  Erkens walked to the protections cabinet and took out one of the bags. “I’d rather get your impression of the guy’s story without tainting your opinion with my own feelings.”

  I blink
ed rapidly and nibbled on my bottom lip. “But you said a revenant. And you also said Dead Man’s Hollow.”

  He nodded, his brows squished together as he peered at me.

  My mouth worked silently for a few seconds before I could get any words out. “Uh, there’s lots of different forms of revenants. Zombies. Ghouls. Jiangshis. They’re basically just a reanimated corpse, right?” I squeaked, my mind already whirling through possibilities.

  Erkens handed me the bag. “That’s true.” He picked up a shotgun and loaded a box of shells into his case along with two huge knives.

  My knees trembled as an ache rose in my chest. “This is going to be a bad one,” I complained, my skin crawling even at the idea of being in that haunted place, let alone dealing with some undead beastie.

  Erkens glanced back at me and raised his brows. “How is it that a girl who runs head-first into danger without the slightest hesitation is afraid of some zombie-type thing?” he questioned, looking genuinely baffled by me.

  I ran my suddenly clammy hands down my legs. “I’m not afraid of revenants. My first experience with the paranormal world was on a field trip to Dead Man’s Hollow when I was a kid. It was just some older kids trying to freak me out but I swear I saw something.” I closed my eyes, trying to force back the fear that had almost incapacitated me as a child.

  Erkens didn’t laugh at me like I’d feared he would. What he did was motion to my necklace, another helm of awe. “You have nothing to be afraid of and you know more now than you knew back then. I’d pit you against any creature stupid enough to screw with you.”

  My lips quivered up in a small smile. He was right. I was protected and I knew how to deal with a lot of different paranormals.

  I glanced at Twitter who had apparently been a gift from Aldora, a Valkyrie I had met on my first case working for Erkens. Yeah. Whatever was going on at Dead Man’s Hollow, we could handle it. Erkens and I were a good team and with Spencer and Ian pitching in as often as they could, I had absolute faith in us.

  We walked briskly out to Erkens’ new truck, neither of us speaking. I was busy trying to force back the image of the ghost I’d seen as a kid. Erkens was just being his usual self.

  His truck wasn’t new by any means. He had gotten it a few days before and had looked as excited as a little kid with a new toy. It was a tough, rugged vehicle that looked ready for anything.

  He preferred his truck to my little crossover SUV since it was electric blue. He said my car was nothing more than a homing beacon. I didn’t care. The Flash and I had a bond. I still didn’t argue about which one we drove.

  It took us half an hour to get out to one of the trailheads that led to the Hollow. Thirty minutes of Erkens’ quizzing me about different ways to deal with revenants calmed me down quite a bit. As soon as we pulled into the parking area, though, my calm flew out the window.

  The May air was warm, bringing the smells of nature to us as we got out of Erkens’ truck. Trees. The river in the distance. Wildflowers. Earth. It was the kind of place that should have given me absolute peace. It might have if my skin didn’t feel so quivery.

  There were only a few cars in the parking area, most with bike racks attached to them. The trail system was eight miles long and passed through beautiful country. I could understand the appeal of biking through there, although it wasn’t something I would choose to do.

  I dug my phone from my bag to send Ian a text as we walked toward the trails. I almost jumped out of my skin as I heard footsteps coming up from behind me. I whirled, my hand already wrapped around a vial of salt.

  But it wasn’t a ghost. What was behind me was nothing more intimidating than a guy. I looked more closely at him as my heart settled itself back into its proper position in my chest.

  He was in his mid-forties with shaggy, salt and pepper hair and a well-trimmed beard. He was lean and tan, a guy who looked like he should be wearing a cowboy hat as he plowed a field. His red-rimmed eyes and saggy posture told me all I needed to know about the man.

  He had lost someone he loved but their death hadn’t been the end. This had to be the guy who’d seen the revenant. His haunted expression told that truth as though ‘grief-stricken’ had been tattooed across his forehead.

  I recognized the guy immediately. He had been there on the day my encounter had happened. He had been the one to pull me out of the river and called for the paramedics.

  Erkens held out his hand to the guy. “Mr. Holtz, I’m TC Erkens and this is my associate, Madison Meyer,” he said, his voice brusque and businesslike.

  The guy shook his hand, then offered it to me. “You look familiar,” he said in a dull voice.

  I shook his hand and gave him a tiny half shrug. “I was here seven years ago with an Environmental Science class.”

  He thought about it for a second before his eyes widened. “You’re that little genius girl from North Allegheny High School, the one they called ‘Little Einstein’. Eleven years old in an AP class,” he said, his eyes wide as saucers.

  I did my best not to grimace. I hated being called ‘Little Einstein’ but it seemed that taunt would always be with me.

  His eyes moved to look at my head like he expected to see a profusion of scars or something. Since the last time he’d seen me, I was being loaded into an ambulance with blood gushing from my fractured skull, it probably shouldn’t surprise me that he remembered me.

  He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure you were going to survive,” he said in a shaky voice.

  “I did,” I said inanely, my mind filled by what I had seen that day.

  Mr. Holtz cleared his throat again and made a small motion toward the trails. “Uh, if you’d like to see, I could show you . . . where I saw him,” he said quietly, his voice as lifeless as though he was the revenant.

  My mouth went dry as an ache pulsed behind my eyes. “Mr. Holtz, what did you see?” I asked, no longer caring about my own experience in those woods so many years ago.

  He glanced at me and cleared his throat. “I . . . saw my son,” he croaked, his eyes going damp like he was about to cry. “A few years ago, Deke was diagnosed with Leukemia. He fought it like a little hero, did all he could to keep OUR spirits up when his body was wasting away from the chemo. It was hell. Then, it was just gone. He was declared cancer free.” He stopped, glancing around the forest like he was looking for something. “We thought it was over but he got the flu and . . . he was gone.”

  Erkens gave Mr. Holtz a far more compassionate look than I would have expected. “How long ago did Deke pass on?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

  Mr. Holtz shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Eleven months ago,” he said, not looking at either of us as he finished his story. “I was just pulling into the parking area a few hours ago when I saw him. My boy was in the woods.”

  My heart broke. That poor man had been through so much. Whatever made him think his son had come back, I hated the idea of him being put through any more pain.

  Mr. Holtz looked around the lush, green trees that surrounded us. “He wasn’t a ghost. I’ve felt the spirits that roam these woods. Deke was not one of those. He looked just like he did on the day he died, even wearing the suit and sneakers we buried him in. Somehow, my boy came back.” He turned his eyes from one to the other of us before he spoke. “I just stood there and stared but I blinked . . . and he was gone. A group had just shown up and it distracted me for a few seconds.”

  Huh. I had just read something in our file about a Gespenst. It was a revenant who roamed the earth looking for peace. Could that be it?

  Mr. Holtz gave us both an earnest look. “I need you to figure out how he’s back and make it stick. I don’t care what it costs. I don’t care what I have to do. My son is out here in these woods. I want him home.”

  TWO

  Deke Holtz shivered. He was cold. He was hungry. He was so scared.

  He sniffled as he huddled in a corner of that dark basement, the one bulb hanging from the ceiling bar
ely lighting anything at all. What he was able to see was an ordinary enough space but he’d always been creeped out by basements. He’d been sure there were monsters in them.

  Now, he knew there WERE monsters in the basement. It was him. He was dead. He knew it was true. How had he come back to life?

  Deke flinched when the sound of footsteps creaked on the floor above him and a muffled voice floated its way through the floor. He didn’t know what was going on. Why had the man grabbed him? Why had he shoved him into the basement? Why hadn’t that mean man let him talk to his dad?

  Tears slid their way down his cheeks. Deke wanted to go home. He wanted his mom to hug him and call him her little angel. He wanted his dad to ruffle his hair and call him pal. He even wanted to see his sister.

  But the hunger was tearing through him. He was ravenous. And anger rose inside him.

  “Crybaby,” a disembodied voice jeered from the darkness.

  Deke whipped his head up. No one was there. Maybe he wasn’t the only monster locked in that basement.

  THREE

  My heart ached as Erkens and I got back into his truck. It was such a mess, a stupid, heartbreaking disaster. Glenn Holtz believed his son had come back to life and he wanted us to . . . to what?

  I didn’t understand why he’d called us. Why wouldn’t the guy just go out into the woods and look for the kid rather than calling a paranormal investigator? Something was weird about the whole situation.

  Erkens glanced at me as he started his truck. “Will you please find out where the boy was buried?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse with what I guessed was suppressed emotion.

  I didn’t speak. I just took out my phone and looked up Deke’s obituary. I did my best to shut off all emotion. It was no easy feat. The death of a little boy was tragic. Adding the paranormal element was horrible.

  I swallowed back the lump that rose in my throat as the little boy’s picture came up. Deke Holtz had been ten-years-old. For a child to die so young was crushing.