by Amy Ravenel
The rattle of nerves came from one direction. The steel of determination floated in from the other. McKenna Ellison pushed them away as she walked down the aisle, passing the empty wooden pews. She searched for one emotion out of the many filling her heart and head. One emotion that identified the spirit she hunted for. He was there. He had been there at the last investigation. He would be there again.
During the last investigation, the ghost’s anger and rage had filled McKenna’s heart. Her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth the whole night. It had taken all of her effort not to let it consume her.
She was prepared this time. She took a deep breath and focused, her eyes searching the pulpit. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
“Getting anything?” Tabitha Lawson met McKenna in the middle of the aisle. The streetlights outside the windows reflected off her short, blond and pink hair. She held up her electromagnetic field detector, a black box with a series of colorful lights at the top. Only the first two were lit. “No fluctuations yet. The energy is stable around here.”
“I don’t feel anything either.” McKenna sat in one of the hard pews. “I don’t get it. He was here last week. We have the proof.” She pushed up her sleeve. Purple and blue marks marred the white skin. “I have the bruises.”
The pew creaked as Tabitha sat next to her. “Maybe he decided to move on by himself. I mean, who wants to haunt the First Baptist Church for the rest of your life?”
McKenna cocked her head to the side. “True.”
The lights on the detector lit all the way across at the same time McKenna developed an urge to hit someone. Sucking in a breath, she doubled over and clutched her stomach. Pain bloomed in her middle. It was like having her gut punched.
She let out a long, slow breath, fighting the war raging inside her. Her muscles tightened and ached.
“He’s here,” she said through clenched teeth.
Tabitha switched on her walkie-talkie. “Aaron, Drew, bring in Mrs. Corr.”
McKenna watched the pulpit, zeroing in on the anger. The air around her grew colder. She wrapped her arms around herself, standing on shaky legs. Strong emotions knocked the wind out of her every time. But the pain and the fighting urge subsided.
She slid into the aisle and straightened. “Pastor Jones? Someone wanted to come talk to you.”
The pulpit shook.
“Her name is Elizabeth. You loved her once, right?”
A small, leather-bound Bible sailed past her head.
McKenna swallowed and kept moving forward. Her fingers clutched the box of salt she carried. She hoped it would be enough to disembody the ghost long enough for everyone to get out of harm’s way. “We’re here to help, Pastor Jones.”
A heavy wooden object slammed into McKenna’s shoulder. She gasped at the pain but remained still. The object clattered on the seat of one of the pews. A cross? Pastor Jones tried to hit her with a cross? She shivered. The anger grew stronger. Her muscles tensed, ached.
The ghost of Pastor Jones had terrorized the First Baptist Church for eight years. His outbursts during services drove the congregation away until the church was abandoned. It sat empty for three years. Two months ago, a new preacher had wanted to renovate it and make it usable again. But the ghost had other plans, and several workers were hurt on the job. Out of options, the current pastor asked Restless Spirits, Inc., to help send the ghost packing.
After extensive research, the Restless Spirits team – McKenna, Drew, Tabitha, and her husband Aaron - realized that Pastor Jones had died in a car accident after seeing his fiancé Elizabeth with another man. Hoping that was the reason he was so upset, they found Elizabeth, and the woman explained what happened.
“Stanley was always a little jealous,” she had said. “So, when he saw me with my friend Tom, he went crazy. Punched him right there.” Elizabeth had sighed. “We were only talking. I hadn’t seen him since college and I was asking about his family, but Stanley didn’t believe me.” Tears had pricked the corners of her eyes. “He died in the car crash later that day. We never got to work things out.”
McKenna thought they should do exactly that as long as they could keep Elizabeth safe.
The door in the back squeaked open. A small circle of light bounced down the aisle. As it came closer, McKenna made out the shapes of Elizabeth Corr and Aaron Lawson.
“Where’s Drew?”
“He’s keeping an eye on things at the command center. I wanted him to be able to get help if we needed it.” Aaron held one of Mrs. Corr’s hands while keeping a protective arm around her.
“It’s so dark in here.” Mrs. Corr’s light voice filled the empty space. “Why can’t we turn on the lights?”
McKenna took Mrs. Corr’s other hand. It was cold to the touch. “This way we can see where he is if he chooses to appear. His energy will give off light.”
“Plus, I don’t want to give him any more energy he can pull from.” Aaron’s voice was gruff.
“You know that’s only a theory,” Tabitha said.
“We’ll argue about this later.” Aaron’s clothes rustled as he shifted. “Mrs. Corr, would you like to start?” His voice was gentle with her.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.” The older woman shook in the cold.
“Get out!” The loud deep voice boomed through the church.
Mrs. Corr stiffened. “Is that any way to treat me after eight years, Stanley?” McKenna jumped at the command in Mrs. Corr’s voice. She stopped herself from answering with a “no, ma’am.” Aaron, however, mumbled the answer under his breath.
A light formed on the edge of the stairs leading to the pulpit. As it brightened, the air chilled. McKenna huddled against Mrs. Corr. Long sleeves and a jacket were going to be her outfit for the next hunt, whether it was summer or not. Pastor Jones’s rage ebbed, giving McKenna some much needed relief. Warm love came from Mrs. Corr, and McKenna held on to it.
“Go away!” Pastor Jones’s loud words held less malice.
Aaron encouraged Mrs. Corr to take a step forward. She did, and the ghost glowed brighter, taking the shape of a man. Mrs. Corr’s eyes widened in the light, but she showed no signs of fear.
The shape growled. He grabbed a chair and threw it at them. All four of them ducked. The chair crashed into the pews behind them.
McKenna swallowed. So much anger and hate. Over a wife who he thought was unfaithful? Ghosts did tend to let things fester, and they could harbor more emotions than they died with.
Mrs. Corr cleared her throat. “Stanley, it’s me. It’s Elizabeth.”
McKenna prayed the spirit was intelligent enough to recognize the older woman.
The ghost cocked his head at her, his eyes flashing red.
Mrs. Corr let go of McKenna’s hold and took another step forward. Aaron made a move with her, but McKenna waved him off. He let go of Mrs. Corr’s other hand. Pastor Jones’s anger vanished, an edge of curiosity replacing it.
“I think he recognizes her,” McKenna whispered.
Aaron shifted from foot to foot. “I don’t trust him.”
Tabitha took his hand. “Give her a chance.”
“Stanley, I know you think I was seeing someone else, and we never got a chance to work it out.” Mrs. Corr placed her hands over her heart. “I cried for a solid year after you died. Nearly died of a broken heart myself. If someone told me you were here the whole time, I would’ve spent every day here.” She sighed. “You can’t stay here, Stanley. You have to let me go. You have to let us go.” Her breath hitched.
McKenna’s heart broke for the couple, for the love and life they never got to share. She brushed away the wet tears on her cheeks.
Mrs. Corr straightened. “I love you, Stanley. I always will. And someday, I’ll join you. But I can’t do that as long as you stay here and try to hurt people.”
Pastor Jones dimmed as he took a step towards Mrs. Corr. The older woman stood where she was and let him come to her. She reached out a hand, shivered a litt
le when Pastor Jones touched it.
“Go on, Stanley. Let other people learn about love and light in this building again. Let it be a good place again.”
Pastor Jones leaned forward, his eyes a deep brown instead of bright red. He planted a kiss on Mrs. Corr’s cheek. She rested her hand on the spot where his lips had touched.
He inclined his head to McKenna, Aaron, and Tabitha. McKenna let out a breath as all the anger dissipated. The warmth of love filled her heart.
Pastor Jones glanced behind him, seeing something no one else could see. He gave one last look to Mrs. Corr before walking up the stairs. His glow brightened into a blinding white light. McKenna held up a hand, blinking in the brightness. The light disappeared, taking Pastor Jones with it and leaving the quiet and the dark in his wake.
McKenna touched Mrs. Corr’s shoulders. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
“I will be, my dear. Do you think he passed on?”
McKenna mentally reached out, searched for any emotional sign of Pastor Jones. She picked up Aaron, Tabitha, Mrs. Corr, and Drew, but no sign of the ghost. “I think so.”
McKenna patted Mrs. Corr’s hand. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
Mrs. Corr slid into the passenger seat of her husband’s Honda. “I’ll be fine, dear. It breaks my heart that Stanley was stuck there for all these years.” She smiled. “I’m glad he’s at peace.” She beamed.
“We won’t know for sure until we check in with Pastor Marion.”
“He’s gone on.” Mrs. Corr tapped her chest. “I feel it in here.”
McKenna let go of her hand. “Then I believe it, too.” She stepped back as Mrs. Corr closed her door.
“Thank you, all of you, for letting me be a part of this.” The older woman paused, her dark eyes thoughtful. “I didn’t believe you when you first told me, but I knew I had to be here. Thank you for letting me help.”
“Thank you for helping.”
The engine rumbled. Mrs. Corr waved goodbye, and the car drove off into the night.
Taking a deep breath, McKenna headed back to the church, her heart lifted. She had been working for Restless Spirits for a year, and it still amazed her how much good they could do. How much good she could do. Years before, she’d struggled with her empathy. Everyone else’s emotions crowded hers out, and keeping her sanity wasn’t easy. It was still a struggle, but Tabitha and Aaron had helped her learn the control she needed. Control she had lost when her older brother died ten years earlier.
He, along with their grandma, was the only other person in the world who knew what it felt like to feel everything at once.
She shook off the dark thoughts. No thinking of Jason’s mysterious death tonight. He would be proud of her work with the paranormal investigation agency. She had helped a soul move on. It called for a celebration.
The church’s heavy front door swung open. Drew walked through, a camera bag in one hand and a tripod in the other. “There you are. Aaron was grumbling about where you went to.”
“Had to see Mrs. Corr off. She handled this whole thing better than I would have.”
“That was so cool how she stood up to him.”
“You weren’t even in the room.”
Drew lifted the camera bag. “Saw the whole thing on this.”
“Did you catch anything that proves Pastor Jones moved on?” McKenna rested her hip on the railing.
“Nothing as far as I can tell. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone.” Drew shrugged. “I’ll review the tapes tomorrow to see if I missed anything.”
“No bright light? Weird.” McKenna smiled. “I’ll be happy to help you out with that.”
“It’s a date.” Drew continued to the van parked out front.
McKenna climbed the stairs to find most of the equipment packed away. Tabitha clicked a case closed while Aaron packed the last of the small items. His brown eyes caught hers.
“Mrs. Corr make it out okay?” he asked.
“She did. Said she’ll be fine.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You believe her?”
“I do. Her emotions matched her words. She’s a lot stronger than we thought she’d be.”
Tabitha laughed, her blue eyes twinkling. “After meeting her, I had no doubt. I hope I’m like her when I’m in my fifties.” She bumped Aaron’s hip. “I’m already married to someone as grouchy as Pastor Jones.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Aaron wiped the sweat off his brow. “I need a cigarette.” He pulled a pack from his shirt pocket and tapped the bottom of it on his palm. Tucking a cigarette between his lips, he headed for the door.
Tabitha wrinkled her nose. “One of these days, I’ll get him to quit.”
“But today is not that day,” Aaron called back to her.
McKenna laughed as she picked up the box of small equipment. She stepped back out into the cool night air. Drew took the box from her before she started down the stairs.
“I can carry that,” she said.
“Yeah, but I’m closer to the car.” Drew marched down the stairs and slid the box into the back of the van. He shut the door, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Not a bad night if I do say so myself.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the van.
McKenna joined him. “It was a good night.” She tuned into each member of the team. Tired, a little grumpy on Aaron’s part, but proud over all.
Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” broke the quiet night. Drew pulled his phone out of his back pocket, his eyebrows lifting. “What’s Tristan doing calling me at two in the morning?” He pressed the button. “What’s up?”
Drew’s good mood plummeted. The change was like someone shoved a fist into her stomach. She pushed away from the van and rested a hand on Drew’s shoulder.
“Slow down, man. Are you sure?” He adjusted the brim of his ball cap. “She said what?” Drew paced away from McKenna. His confusion and sadness were so strong they shoved through her mental shields.
She took a step forward. “Drew?”
Aaron and Tabitha moved closer to the van.
“What’s wrong?” Aaron asked.
“I don’t know.”
Drew hung up, jammed his phone back into his pocket, and paced back to the van. “I’ve got to go. Zack…my friend…he’s dead.” His gaze flickered to the van. “My car’s at the office.”
“I’ll drive you,” McKenna offered. “What happened?”
Drew blinked. “Somebody pushed him out of his bedroom window.”
Dread filled McKenna’s stomach. “Where does he live?”
“Hidden Forest Apartments.”
“Oh, God.” McKenna closed her eyes. “Not again.”
4
Tristan took a step back as Kayla’s words echoed in his head. She pushed him! Who pushed him? Was the legend true? Had the ghost done this? His heart pounded against his chest. The White Lady’s visit came back to him: her hand on his head, his body tiring the longer she held on. Why didn’t she kill him? Why was he alive and not Zack?
The noise in the hallway pulled him out of his thoughts. People ran past him and down the stairs. Giving one last look at the door, he followed the flow of traffic. He needed to find out what exactly happened.
He shoved people out of his way as he raced down the stairs. Ignoring their angry comments, he made his way outside. It didn’t seem real. Was he still dreaming? He had talked to Zack earlier that night. His friend had been alive and vibrant and safe.
Tristan slowed down as he approached the crowd gathered in the parking lot. Did he really want to see this? Did he want to know? Kayla’s voice cut through the chaos.
“Let me through! Zack! Oh, God! Zack!”
He had to get out of his own head. This wasn’t about him. Sucking in a breath, he pushed his way into the mass of people. Sirens blared in the distance. Help was on the way.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tristan saw Kayla disappear into the crowd. He picked up his pace, weaving in and out. Nasty comments followed in his wake, but
he didn’t care what they said. He reached Kayla and dropped to his knees. She was kneeling beside the body.
“Shit!” he said.
Zack lay still, his blue eyes open to the sky. His face was frozen in fear, and his mouth formed a silent scream. The iron smell of the dark red blood permeated the night air. Kayla crouched beside him, her shoulders shaking with sobs. She reached for him, but Tristan held her back.
“Kayla, what happened?” He rubbed her shoulders.
“I don’t know.” Her voice shook. “I don’t understand any of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“The White Lady. She was there, out of nowhere. She grabbed Zack and pulled him out of the bed. And then she pushed him through the window.” Her sad brown eyes met Tristan’s. “I couldn’t move. It was like I was pinned to the bed.” She paused for a moment. “She said I was free.” Her face crumpled, fresh tears falling from her eyes. “I…I don’t…” She pressed her lips together and gave into her grief.
Tristan swallowed as he wrapped his arms around her.
Kayla grabbed his shirtsleeve. “It was the legend. It’s true. It has to be true.” Her breath hitched. “What if she comes after you next?” She let go, fire in her eyes. “I told him we should leave. I told him.” Her fists pummeled Tristan’s chest. “He said she was harmless. Harmless!” She hit him over and over until she sagged in his arms.
Tristan didn’t fight back. He took the punches as they came. His eyes were glued to Zack’s body. It was like seeing it on a movie screen or through the eyes of someone in one of his visions. He didn’t want to believe it was real, that he could reach out and touch it.
Someone shook Tristan’s shoulder. “Sir, I need you to step back, please.” A young female police officer stood behind him.
Tristan nodded. He stood, his body reacting automatically, and helped Kayla to her feet. She stayed close and let him pull her away from the body. The crowd parted to let them through as the officer followed them.
“My name is Officer Lopez,” the woman said, a pen and pad in her hands. “Did any of you have a relationship with the victim?”