I thought the house had already told me what it wanted…leave. But since I couldn’t claim any knowledge regarding things that go bump in the night, or any other time of day, in this case, I didn’t contradict Holly.
“All right then. Let’s go.” I took a step forward to lead Holly into the house.
“Not so fast.” Preston grabbed my arm. “I’ll go. You’ve had enough of its games.”
Both of Holly’s eyebrows shot up, and she looked between Preston and I. I didn’t know what to think so I had no comment other than, “Uh, okay.” If I didn’t have to go back in that house until the spirit was eradicated I’d be happy.
“I’ll bring clothes down for you. Anything else you need?” he said.
I named a few things, then he and Holly strode forward toward the back of the house and the infamous French doors.
I watched as they entered the house, amazed for the second time the doors allowed them entry. To pass the time, I did barn chores. By the time I heard them coming back, the barn was so clean we could have lived in it, and I was exhausted.
They rounded the corner, Preston carrying two large suitcases, my suitcases. I lowered myself onto a hay bale, in anticipation of bad news. Their expressions gave nothing away.
“Well?” I said. The need to know ate at me. They’d been gone an hour so they’d encountered something…or someone.
Holly cocked her head. “Very interesting, I’ll say that. A very interesting case, indeed.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll carry these upstairs for you,” Preston said and he strode to the stairs leading to his apartment.
I watched him go then snapped my attention back to Holly who had a quizzical expression on her face.
“He’s never been like that with anyone,” she said.
“Preston?”
“Yes. I’ve never seen him so…enamored before.”
Enamored? “What?”
“Honey, you’d have to be blind not to see it.”
I sat dumbfounded, torn between nurturing the excited feeling of having Preston attracted to me and the urgent need to know what they’d encountered in the house.
Holly cleared her throat rousing me from my thoughts. “So the house…”
“Yes, what happened? What did you find?”
She shook her head then paused a moment to apparently consider her words. “There’s evil in that house that I cannot comprehend.”
My eyes grew wide. She laid a hand on my shoulder. “You have an extremely angry and vengeful specter the likes of which I’ve never encountered.”
My mouth fell open. “What do I do?”
“You need professional help. I’m going to call in a favor or two on this one, but it might take some cash to get it done…”
“No problem.”
She nodded. “I’ll get back to you in a day or two. In the meantime, stay with Preston and do not go in the house.”
Chapter Five
Preston’s rock solid presence steadied me over the next several days while we waited for Holly to return. He made me feel like a princess, cutting flowers from the garden to grace the kitchen table during the day and candle-lit dinners in the evening. Things no man had ever gone out of his way to do for me. Thoughts of his bright blue eyes and deep raspy laugh made me smile, while his touch erased thoughts of anything else in my brain.
The easy way he laughed, his passion for race horses, the lone dimple on his left cheek, the scar that crowned one eyebrow all drew me closer to him. He never seemed to rush into anything, always took his time analyzing things whereas I jumped with both feet and hoped I landed on firm ground. I guess, as they say, opposites attract.
One evening I rose from the couch and stretched, intending on heading for bed. Preston had continued to insist I sleep in his room.
“I’m done in,” I said as I turned to look at him.
Preston stood from his place beside me on the couch. He gripped my shoulders, pulled me toward him and enveloped me in his arms. I melted into him. I found myself falling hard for this gorgeous, kind, considerate man.
I pulled away and looked into his eyes. He lowered his head and claimed my lips. I froze, my legs almost collapsing beneath me. Automatically, I wrapped my arms around him.
Minutes passed, us locked in each other’s embrace. Slowly, Preston pulled away and I felt the comfort from his heat dissipate.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he said, his arms dropping to his sides.
My cheeks warmed. “I’m glad you did,” I said, my voice soft.
He smiled and I saw the opportunity for a loving relationship in his eyes. If only I could rid my house of the haunting specter…
****
After several days of coordination with Holly and her colleagues, they converged on the property. Holly along with two men, Doug and Kevin, asked numerous questions. Most of the inquiries were in regard to Aunt Victoria, which, of course, I couldn’t answer. Preston took a stab at a couple of questions but really couldn’t provide much insight.
“We don’t have much to go on,” Doug said. “But we’ll give it a whirl.”
Carrying black suitcases, all three of them marched toward the house. I assumed the suitcases held their ghost-fighting weapons, whatever those might be. Preston turned to me and laid his hand on my shoulder, most likely trying to convey his confidence this would all be over soon.
I looked at Preston and he grabbed my hand in his. “Scared?”
“Yes. After what Holly told me, I cannot believe they are going in there.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, a scream pierced the air. Preston and I rushed out of the barn to see Holly suspended in mid-air just inside a set of French doors. Doug and Kevin did everything they could to pull her back down with no result. Suddenly, whatever held her released and she landed with a thud on the floor.
We ran to them. Doug pulled Holly to her feet, dragging her outside the house. He and Kevin stared pale-faced in disbelief at the house.
“You need a priest,” Holly said, her voice quivered. Her gaze snagged mine, and I saw terror swirling there. “The power here is nothing we can handle.”
Fabulous…In my mind’s eye all I saw were snippets of the movie with the possessed little girl whose headed twisted around. Weren’t there flies in that movie? I hadn’t seen any flies in the house. So did I really need a priest? I shook my head.
“Seriously, you need a priest,” Holly said, as if she heard my thoughts.
“Okay. Ummmm…I don’t know any. Do you have suggestions?” I asked.
“Father Pat,” Preston said. “He’s the priest at the Catholic church in downtown. I’ll give him a call and see if he’s willing to help.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Preston.” I felt tears begin to form. “I’ll be right back,” I said. I needed a few minutes to gather myself before I ended up in a puddle on the floor.
I walked into the barn and sought out Snow’s stall. An old one-eyed retired broodmare, Snow lived the good life. Eating good food, being groomed when time allowed and enjoying the Florida sunshine. I visited her often over the past several days. I think her mellow personality kept me sane.
I hugged her and she wrapped her neck around me, probably looking for the apple I normally brought with me. I walked to the edge of the stall and sat down. Snow nuzzled my neck. What kind of new life was this? An evil house with a penchant to hurt people, no job, no direction…nothing had gone right since I’d moved all because of a stupid ghost. Would I ever be rid of the spiteful spirit occupying my home? I wallowed in self-pity for a few more minutes, then straightened my spine.
Determination flooded my veins. I stood up and squared my shoulders. Giving Snow a pat on the neck and a kiss on the nose, I walked out of her stall ready for battle. I had never been one to back down from a challenge, and I wouldn’t start now. I would not give up my chance of a new beginning. I would not let evil stand in my way. I would fight. If I had to raze the house to th
e ground to eradicate the ghost then I would do so.
I walked out of the barn and saw Preston wave at the truck headed down the lane. Apparently, Holly and her friends had had enough for the day. I couldn’t blame them though I hoped they didn’t think me rude.
“Hi,” Preston said when he saw me.
I stopped in front of him. “How do I get in touch with Father Pat?”
Preston grinned at me. “I’ll give you the number.”
We walked up the stairs to the apartment. I crossed my fingers this priest could help us.
****
The dark blue sedan stopped in front of the barn at the same time I rounded the corner. A tall, lean, gray-haired man dressed in a long black dress coat climbed out of the car. His clerical collar was just visible above the lapel of the coat.
“Father Pat,” I said in greeting. “I’m Leslie Harrison.” I offered him my hand.
“Miss Harrison, it’s nice to meet you.” He shook my hand, his grip firm but polite.
I nodded as Preston joined us.
“Preston McClay.”
“Mr. McClay.” Father Pat shook Preston’s hand then turned his attention back to me.
“On the phone you said you have a ghost problem.”
“Yes. We had a medium and a couple of paranormal investigators come take a look. The medium said we needed a priest.”
“Holly Langform?”
“Yes. You know her?”
“Absolutely. Holly is a good friend as well as a parishioner of Holy Trinity.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I have to say, my dear, if Holly said you need a priest you have a dire problem, indeed. Why don’t you tell me what’s happened?”
I nodded and recounted the events yet again, making sure to add the facts surrounding Aunt Victoria’s death. It didn’t sound as foolish as the first time, I wondered if that was a good thing or if I had just accepted the insanity of the situation.
When I finished, he nodded, then stood silently for a few seconds. “All right. Let me grab a few things out of my car, then we’ll head inside and see if we can’t convince this spirit to leave.”
“Father, I prefer Leslie stay outside. I can help you.”
Father Pat’s gaze swung to me. I looked at Preston and my cheeks heated with either anger or embarrassment, perhaps a little of both. In a way I understood why he wanted to shield me from all of this. Finding Aunt Victoria probably added to his protective nature but I had to see this through. “This is my house, Preston, and I intend to help banish this ghost.”
Preston gave a nod but obviously wasn’t happy about my decision. If he wanted a relationship with me then he’d have to get used to my stubborn streak. Unfortunately, I’d been told that streak was long and wide.
Father Pat retrieved the items he needed and stashed them in the pockets of his coat, except for a large silver cross dangling from a thick chain. He donned the necklace as we strode to the ominous French doors. They were locked.
The priest walked up to the doors and uttered something in Latin. Suddenly, the multiple sets of French doors started swinging open and closed repeatedly. What sounded like a hiss came from inside the house. I wanted to run the other direction but Father Pat stood like a pillar. Another Latin phrase and the doors ceased. The good father opened one set and walked inside, Preston and I hot on his heels.
Bone-chilling cold permeated the house. Frost clung to the walls, windows, all the appliances in the kitchen and countertops. A rank smell like that of a rotting animal carcass accosted us, making me gag. Whispered words in a language I didn’t understand, though I had the distinct impression they weren’t words of welcome, filled the air. Father Pat seemed untouched by any of it, his expression one of supreme peace and deadly determination which seemed contradictory.
We moved farther into the house. Drawers and cupboards in the kitchen began to open and close, slamming shut, making my heart jump each time. Silverware spilled onto the floor and plates, cups and saucers flew through the air, shattering on contact with the walls. Drinking glasses rattled in their cabinets before following suit. Preston and I ducked and dodged the dinnerware and glasses while Father Pat stoically trudged forward blatantly ignoring the assault.
Quietly, he chanted a Latin phrase. It grew louder as we advanced deeper into the house. The chaos around us also grew in relation to the volume of the priest’s voice until shouting reigned.
All at once, everything quieted. Items, just moments ago flying through the air, fell to the floor with a crash. The smell all but vanished, the cold seemed to lose its grip and the demonic mumbling ceased.
“Is it over?” I whispered.
“Don’t be fooled. It’s regrouping,” Father Pat said, the serenity never leaving his face.
Preston took my hand and squeezed it, not letting go. I wondered if he was as scared as me. I hadn’t stopped shaking since we walked into the house. I was unsure I could handle the stress and fear much longer.
“Be gone!” Father Pat’s booming voice made me jump; for such a peaceful-looking man his authoritative voice would make anyone’s knees quake. I wondered if the ghost felt the same way. Probably not.
The floor beneath us started to rumble. I held Preston’s hand in a death grip, determined not to let go regardless of what happened. A screech I could only describe as otherworldly rent the air. My breathing increased, my lungs felt like fire.
The temperature plummeted, our breath like smoke in the frigid air. The rank smell returned tenfold and demonic words echoed through the house.
Father Pat pulled something from his coat, a small bottle. Holy water? What could it do against such evil? My question was answered within seconds when Father Pat turned to Preston and I and sprinkled water on us.
The rumbling increased. Pictures fell from the walls and vases, pitched from their perches, shattered on the undulating floor.
“We have to find its location,” Father Pat shouted over the din.
Why in the heck would we want to do that? I figured Father Pat had done this before so who was I to question? My head told me to run screaming from the building, but my heart wanted to press on, end this evil.
“The attic,” I said as the light bulb in my brain flickered on. The bowing attic door and the banging and footsteps all came from the attic so that had to be the specter’s hideout. Though I wondered why a ghost would need a place to hide. Weren’t they normally invisible? Existing between worlds?
The father nodded, and we carefully made our way to the stairs. Climbing the steps proved quite a challenge as the carpeted stairs tried to buck us off like rodeo broncs. The screeching increased with each step we gained, by the time we reached the landing I wished for ear plugs and an energy drink.
I never let go of Preston’s hand, drawing courage from his steady presence. He helped me each time I stumbled, and I did the same for him. Our fledgling relationship might have a chance even faced with such ridiculous adversity. I mean who met Mr. Right because of a haunted house? If we lived through this ordeal, I hoped we could make a go of it.
Windows shuddered in their frames while curtains swirled around them and light fixtures swung like circus acrobats from the ceiling. The temperature continued to fall, leaving us shivering while trying to navigate the treacherous terrain.
The stairs to the attic made the main staircase look like a cake walk. Rubber tread on the wooden steps snapped at us like alligators and boards lifted and shimmied with every movement. I gripped the safety railing with my free hand to steady myself but it turned into a slithering life-like being causing me to let go and fall to my knees. It took nearly twenty minutes to climb the twelve steps.
At the top, the attic door bowed and contracted while a piercing blue light shone beneath. Banging and screeching took center stage. Father Pat’s lips moved but over the ruckus I couldn’t hear what he said. With a thunderous roar that threatened to push me backward, the door ripped from its hinges and, luckily, flew away from us, into the ro
om smacking the wall and breaking to pieces. I whispered the Lord’s Prayer, but as we stepped into the room fright clogged my throat.
In the blue-illuminated room, what looked like black tar dripped from every surface, the light from the outside completely blocked out. The smell of death nearly overwhelmed me. My stomach heaved, and I fought to keep from spilling its contents on the floor. Then I saw it, a black shape hovering just above the floor, blue surrounding the edges of the figure. Its face contorted in such an expression of rage it made it difficult to see what the beast actually looked like. Though it had the body of a man, long claws protruded from its hands and short leathery-looking wings curved around its shoulders. It hissed, showing long canine teeth, its eyes glowed fiery red.
Father Pat mouthed something and the creature bounced backward but immediately moved forward, apparently unaffected by Father Pat’s incantation. It pinned me with its gaze, and I heard its grating voice in my head.
I enjoyed driving that senseless old woman to her death. Her fear tasted so good. You’ll meet the same fate, but first you’ll do as I demand. You’ll help me dispel the nuisance from MY house.
Involuntarily I moved forward, toward Father Pat. My hand slipped from Preston’s grasp, and images of Father Pat’s headless body and Preston’s bloodied face flashed through my mind. I trembled at the gruesome scene and couldn’t fathom such a thing. I met the creature’s gaze and stared into the sinister red eyes.
Though I was more afraid than I had ever been, I refused to be the demon’s pawn and fought against the creature in my mind.
I will not be dominated! Leave this place never to return. You are not wanted here and I will never submit to you, never do your bidding. Leave now!
I stopped moving and stood firm and defiant in the creature’s gaze. Mentally, I repeated my command to leave, never to return.
The beast bellowed, then swiped at me, its claws gleaming. Preston grabbed my hand and pulled me out of its reach at the last second. I felt the wind of its movement pass within a hair’s breadth of my face. It had gained power since I’d seen the faint outline of a man in the upper story window. I wondered how it had done such a thing, but that was neither here or there. I steadied myself and took a step forward, not wanting to show fear or weakness. Then I directed my gaze back to the demon, continuously telling it to go away.
Hauntings in the Garden, Volume One Page 18