Came Back Haunted: An Experiment in Terror Novel #10

by Halle, Karina

  “Oh my god,” I whisper, breathless. “Did you get that?”

  He nods, keeping me behind him.

  Holy fuck.

  Whatever is in that room is a physical being.

  Something strong.

  And I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to match it.

  “Samantha?” Dex asks, voice wavering. “Can you come out of there?”

  “What are you doing?” I hiss, punching him in the side, feeling panic rise in my throat. “She can stay there!”

  He ignores me, keeping the camera focused on the door. I suddenly have an image of what’s on the other side and it’s too gruesome to even entertain.

  “Samantha?” he goes on.

  The EMF climbs to orange again.

  “We’re here on behalf of your husband.”

  The EMF goes down to green.

  “Did you ever think that maybe she doesn’t want to talk to Harry?” I whisper to Dex.

  He lifts his face off the viewfinder and glances down at me over his shoulder, the light causing deep shadows under his high cheekbones. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  He clears his throat. “Samantha?”

  We wait. We listen. I’m prepared to hear the pounding on the door again.

  But there’s nothing.

  Except…

  The low, drawn-out creak of a door opening, coming from down the hall.

  Oh no no no.

  While I keep the flashlight’s beam on the bathroom door, Dex shifts the camera light over, faintly illuminating a door at the end of the hall that’s slowly opening…

  by itself.

  Dex starts walking down the hall toward it.

  “Where are you going?” I cry out urgently.

  He doesn’t respond, just keeps walking.

  I look back at the bathroom, the bloody water seeming to have stopped flowing for now, then quickly step over the stream, and hurry down the hall after Dex, feeling the darkness nip at my heels.

  “Dex,” I whisper harshly, trying to catch up.

  “Let me check it out first,” he says, putting his arm out to hold me back.

  “That’s a first.” But I’m not arguing.

  He steps inside the room and I keep the flashlight shined on him as he stops in the middle of it, looking around. “I think it’s just a study. I—”

  Suddenly the door slams shut with a huge BANG that rattles my teeth, separating us.

  “Dex!” I yell, running to it, my hands on the knob, trying to turn it.

  He pounds on the door from the other side. “It’s locked! I’m locked in!”

  The knob won’t even turn.

  Fuck.

  “Okay, don’t panic,” I tell him, even though I’m seconds from panicking myself. He might be in that room, but I’m in the rest of the house, alone.

  The door starts to jump as he throws his weight against it.

  “Wait, hold on!” I yell at him. “Let me try to pick the lock before you break down a door in a heritage house.”

  I stick my flashlight in my mouth and open my purse, looking for my lock-picking paraphernalia, which I know I packed for exactly this reason. “Are you okay? Are you alone?” I ask him, trying to speak over the flashlight, my words coming out muffled.

  “What did you say?” he asks through the door, but at least he’s stopped trying to break it down. The weird thing is, with his strength, he could have broken it already. I’m guessing it’s not a normal door.

  I take the flashlight out for a moment. “I’m looking for something to pick the lock with. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “I’m alone in here. At least I fucking hope I am. Are you okay?”

  “So far, so good. Just hang on.” I put the flashlight back in my mouth, wishing I had at least organized my purse a little better.

  That’s when a cold breeze flows over me.

  And I mean COLD. Like stepping into a freezer.

  Not good. Not fucking good.

  I lower the flashlight.

  “Dex?” I ask, my voice cracking.

  “Yeah? What? What?”

  “Are you feeling a cold spot in there?”

  “I don’t think so? Are you?”

  I’m about to tell him yes, but then the cold dissipates. “I just was. It’s gone now.”

  “I’m going to break the fucking door down if you don’t hurry up. Atlas can bill us later.”

  “I’m trying,” I tell him.

  Then I drop the flashlight.

  “Shit,” I swear under my breath, crouching down to pick it up.

  I straighten up once I have it.

  And feel a cold breath at my neck.

  I open my mouth to scream, but a hand goes over it, pressing gently but firmly, the smell of cinnamon filling the air.

  Oh my fucking god. No.

  I scream anyway, the sound blocked by the cold hand, and as panic and adrenaline course through me like a runaway train, I bring my elbow back sharply.

  And strike something. Hard.

  “Ooof,” groans an oddly familiar voice that makes my head spin. My first thought is that this isn’t a ghost at all, but a person, maybe Atlas, I don’t know.

  But then the person keeps talking, even as I squirm, trying to get free.

  “I’d forgotten what a fighter you can be, little lady.”

  Little lady?

  WHAT.

  THE.

  FUCK?

  I stop moving, my body as stunned as my brain, which is trying to process whose voice this is, and every single cell in my body telling me my brain is totally right.

  “I didn’t mean to come upon you like this, it’s just better that Dex doesn’t know for now,” the man says in his drawl. “He can’t hear me or see me anyway.”

  And then the hand is removed from my face and I gasp for breath, wheeling around, shining my flashlight erratically.

  I expect to see nothing at all.

  But I do and I gasp again.

  Towering over me, well over six feet, dressed in boots, worn jeans, and a flannel shirt, is Ginger Fucking Elvis. He looks pretty much as he did before he died, thankfully not after he died, since that was a sight I hoped to never see again.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper, my hand at my chest, heart trying to punch through.

  This is not happening.

  “Perry?” Dex says from behind the door. “What are you doing?”

  Maximus folds his arm and gives me a crooked smile. “I didn’t think you’d be so surprised, Perry. I know you saw me at the window the other day.”

  I blink, trying to focus on him. “This can’t be real.” My voice is barely audible.

  “Can’t fully say if I’m real or not,” he says, pulling up his sleeve and giving his skin a pinch. “But I feel real, if that helps.”

  I try to swallow, shaking my head. “No. No that doesn’t help.”

  I close my eyes, trying to breathe in through my nose, feeling like I’m not getting enough air. This is all an illusion, it’s all in my head. I’ve finally lost it.

  “Perry!” Dex yells and starts throwing himself against the door again.

  I open my eyes, expecting Maximus to be gone but no.

  He’s still right there.

  Clear as day.

  Staring at me with an amused twist to his mouth.

  “How is this possible?” I whisper.

  “Because it is,” he says, taking a step toward me, running a hand through his red hair.

  “You’re…you’re dead. I saw you die.”

  “Very true.”

  I remember the demon that was in Michael, Dex’s brother, and how easy it was for it to take his form. “How do I even know it’s you? This isn’t you. This can’t be you.”

  “I reckon I can prove it,” he says, green eyes glimmering.

  Before I know what’s happening, he leans in and kisses me on the lips.

  A hard, wet kiss.

  Oh my god.

  Okay, so it does ki
ss like him, and really this is such a Maximus thing to do.

  “What the fuck?” I cry out softly, pushing back against his chest. Even in death, he’s still built like a tree and isn’t going anywhere. “I’m married now, you jerk.”

  “Perry, what is going on?” Dex yells.

  You don’t want to fucking know.

  Maximus smirks. “I’m well aware that you’re Mrs. Dex Foray now. Just wanted to let you know I appreciate that tattoo you got on your ribs. Very touching. Guess I meant more to you than I thought I did.”

  I can’t even with this.

  I lick my lips, trying to find my voice again. “You did. You do. I mean…just try not to kiss me again, okay?”

  Like, holy fuck. Is this really him?

  Tears spring to my eyes and Maximus gives me a sympathetic look in response.

  “Perry?” Dex says again, his voice more worried now. “Who are you talking to?”

  “No one. Just a minute,” I tell him, disappearing into my head now, making sure my thoughts are blocked from Dex.

  Tell me again why I can’t open that door and let Dex see you? I ask Maximus. Why can’t he know you’re here?

  Because only you can see me, he answers.

  Then how do I know this is real?

  Want me to kiss you again?

  Don’t you fucking dare.

  He grins. I have a connection with you and you alone.

  You have a connection with Dex. A much deeper one.

  Not in the way I have with you, he says, giving me a heated, poignant look. If you catch my drift.

  What? I say, trying to think. Oh my god. Why, because I had sex with you?

  He shrugs. You have a way about you, Perry. You have no idea.

  I shake my head. I slept with Maximus, like ages ago, when I wasn’t even in my right mind, so now I have a connection with him? Is that…is that why I was able to get Dex back from Hell? If I had done the same for Max, would that have worked too?

  I’m not sure, he says, reading my thoughts. Either way, you didn’t have a choice in the matter. You had to leave me. If you stayed a second longer in that house, you both would have died. For good.

  I raise my brow, keeping the light focused on his green flannel shirt. Even dead, he’s still wearing plaid. For good, for good, or like how you died for good?

  I’m still dead, short stuff, he says, folding his arms.

  Then why are you so…real? So here?

  Ask Jacob.

  I give him a sharp look. Jacob? Why?

  He’s the one who brought me here. This is as far as I can go. With him, anyway…

  This makes no sense.

  I don’t make the rules.

  I’m starting to think no one makes the rules. Not even Jacob.

  Feels like it, doesn’t it?

  “Perry,” Dex says again. “Please. Talk to me. What are you doing? I can hear you out there. That is you, isn’t it?”

  “I’m here,” I say absently. “I’m fine.”

  You better go to him, Maximus says, stepping away from the door. Poor guy will have a literal meltdown.

  I frown at him, not liking his choice of words, considering he’s seen many of Dex’s meltdowns over the years. And so then what? I’m just supposed to keep you a secret?

  Do what you like, he says. But I reckon it’s best he figures this out on his own. Come back another time and we’ll see what happens.

  But what then? You’re just going to be here in the meantime? In this house?

  This is my home now, he says matter-of-factly.

  Forever?

  Unless someone brings me out.

  Meaning me?

  He gives me a sad smile. Wish things were that simple.

  Then he brushes past me, that cinnamon smell wafting over me, and disappears into the dark. I shine my flashlight, but all I see is dust dancing in the air.

  There’s no sign of him at all.

  Holy. Fuck.

  “Perry?” Dex is practically pleading now.

  I give my head a shake, trying to make sense of things, and then go to the door. I put my hand on the knob.

  It turns. I thought as much.

  Dex yanks the door open from the other side and then rushes into the hall, pulling me into his arms, holding me tight. “Jesus H. Macy, what the fuck just happened?”

  You have no idea.

  He pulls away, peering at me frantically, trying not to get the light in my eyes. “Are you okay? I heard you talking to someone. Who were you talking to?”

  I swallow. “You must have been hearing things.”

  I feel bad for lying, and I’m not sure why I am. I guess I’m trusting the advice of a dead friend, thinking he might know better than I do. I mean, he’s dead, so he probably knows a lot of things.

  “You look like you were crying.” His hand goes to my cheek as he frowns. “Did something happen?”

  I manage a small smile. “I’m fine.”

  “That scared the shit out of me,” he says, breathing hard. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I nod, pressing my lips together.

  He looks behind him at the room, then shines the light down the hallway, fear in his eyes. “You know what? You’re going to think I’ve totally lost my balls, but how about we wrap this up for tonight?”

  Part of me sighs in relief, because getting out of this house has been a subconscious priority since we stepped in here.

  Another part of me doesn’t want to leave. Now that I know Max is here, I want to stay, see if I can find him again. But if Dex can’t see or hear him, then it feels kind of pointless. I’ve been in this position before, where I’ve seen the ghosts and Dex hasn’t, and I hated it.

  “We can come back another night,” I say to Dex.

  He blinks at me in surprise, then smiles. “Absolutely, baby. This is just the start.”

  We quickly walk down the hall, noting that the blood has retreated under the bathroom door. It feels different now to me, knowing that there’s someone in this house that I care about. A ghost that I don’t fear. A ghost that I miss deeply.

  I mean it’s Maximus! Fucking hell, I mourned that man and everything he sacrificed for us, and now he’s here. He’s back. He’s really back. Not quite alive, and not quite in the flesh but…

  I press my fingers to my mouth. Even though I can’t believe that ginger bastard kissed me, there something thrilling about it. Not that I particularly enjoyed it, or that it was appropriate, but the fact he was actually able to.

  I felt him.

  And it felt just like he used to.

  I just don’t know what the fuck it means. What did Jacob have to do with all this? How come he couldn’t bring Maximus back further than this house? And why is this all connected to Atlas, Harry, and his mother? I don’t believe in coincidences on a good day, but this is a little extreme.

  Good thing I’m going to see my father and sister tomorrow for my birthday.

  I think I need a few words with the Jacob next door.

  Six

  I wake up to Dex’s head between my legs.

  “What are you doing?” I groan, my voice groggy with sleep. I manage to lift my head an inch to see him moving under the covers, feeling his mouth trail down along my inner thigh. Once again I’m ever so grateful for a regular bikini wax.

  “What does it look like I’m doing,” he murmurs against my skin, one hand curling over the edge of the bedspread and pulling it back so I have full view.

  And what a view. Even though I’m still half-asleep, my eyes focus lazily on his dark hair as he makes his way to where I’m already wet. He pauses and glances up at me through his lashes, his eyes simmering, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Do you want me to stop, birthday girl?” he murmurs. His fingers hook around the lacy hem of my underwear.

  “No,” I say, my stomach tingling with anticipation. I prop myself up on my elbows and watch as he drags my panties down over my thighs until they dangle from my right foot.

  He give
s me a quick smile. “Good.”

  Then he dips his head, his wet tongue making contact with my most sensitive parts, the pressure hard.

  “Fuck,” I can’t help but say, the word turning into a moan. My head goes back, my hips automatically rising to meet his mouth.

  I can feel him smiling against me, loving when I’m verbal and loud, which I often am. He’s taking his time this morning. His tongue is flat, lapping me up in slow rhythmic strokes that melt into me, making me feel boneless, like I’m sinking through the mattress.

  I try to watch him as he works me, meeting his eyes as he glances up, his gaze burning. Him and his fucking eye contact, always making things as intense as they can possibly be, and I’m always the first to look away. I know he wants to see into my soul, see me at my most vulnerable, watch me as I come to pieces around him.

  But my head falls back onto the pillow as his tongue grows stiff against me, the hard pressure increasing around my clit before dipping inside of me.

  I reach down and grab his thick hair, holding on, my thighs squeezing the side of his face as he brings his fingers into the mix, one of them slipping inside me as his tongue does circles around and around.

  While his other hand grips my ass, he brings my hips off the bed to get in deeper, the muscles in his arm rippling.

  Holy hell.

  I don’t even know if I’m fully awake yet or this is some wonderful sex-filled dream because this is unreal. Something buzzes at the base of my skull, skirting down my spine until I feel like I’m plugged into an electrical current.

  Then he takes it to the next level, pausing to lick one of his fingers before running it between my ass cheeks. I flinch for a moment, my body caught off-guard.

  He pauses, lifting his head. “This okay?”

  I gulp and say yes through a choking exhale.

  He resumes, his mouth greedy but his finger gentle as he keeps stroking me. It’s wet and suggestive, and fuck, I think I want it.

  No, I know I do.

  He gently inserts his finger, taking it slow.

  Oh. My. God.

  Not that he hasn’t done this before, not that he doesn’t have a fascination with my ass. But right now, this feels so taboo, so wicked and wild that it’s turning me on to the next level. I want more of him, more of this.

  I groan again, nonsense escaping my lips as he starts working his finger and mouth in tandem, deep, slick, and frenzied.