The Tenth Ward

by Rockwell Scott

  Rand wasn’t sure, but he thought there was a shadow of a smile on Shindael’s face. Surely he knew how hard Rand was fighting to maintain his composure.

  The elevator dinged and the door opened behind him. Rand turned his back on Shindael and left.

  And when he got down the hall, then looked over his shoulder, the demon had disappeared.

  39

  Rand woke at six o’clock the next morning when Rachel got up for work. She showered in his bathroom, did her makeup, and dressed quietly.

  “You all right?” Rand asked her as she headed for the door. He propped himself up on his elbow in bed.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Didn’t sleep that well.” She left without another word.

  Rand frowned. Neither had he. All the events from the hospital the night before still lingered on his mind. That, and Shindael’s threat.

  He threw off the covers and pulled on a pair of sweatpants before he went to the kitchen. He found Libby sitting at the table. She had put on a pot of coffee, and the aroma drifted through the air.

  “What’s up with Rachel?” Libby asked. “She walked by, but didn’t say much.”

  “She said she didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Ah.” Libby eyed him for a few moments. “You don’t look that great either. Did you two have a fight?”

  “I just woke up, Libby. Of course I don’t look great.”

  “No. It’s not that. You seem… worried.”

  Rand busied himself at the refrigerator so he didn’t have to make eye contact with his daughter. Sometimes it freaked him out how well she could read him.

  “Dad? Is everything actually over? With the thing?”

  “Yes, it’s over.”

  “Then why—”

  “I don’t know,” he said, more terse than he meant to. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

  Libby didn’t seem to buy his answer. “Fine. Go back to bed, then. I’m heading to school.”

  She swiped a banana and a granola bar from the counter and hustled out the front door, returning his coldness.

  After she left, the house was silent and still. Too quiet. Rand had to find a way to occupy himself, to take his mind away.

  Sixteen days had passed since Karax had told Georgia when she was going to die.

  It was now the seventeenth day, and Rand knew it would be one of the longest of his life.

  He felt helpless and hopeless. Like an inmate sitting on death row waiting for the final hour. If Georgia was meant to succumb to her illness on the seventeenth day, there was nothing he could do to change her fate.

  At least what I did was not in vain, he told himself. If it does happen, I still gave her peace for her last day on Earth.

  Although the thoughts did little to comfort him.

  Around six in the evening, he heard a car pull up in front of his house. When he drew the curtain aside, he saw it was Rachel. Odd. She hadn’t mentioned she was coming back after work.

  He opened the door as she walked across the yard. When Rand saw the look on her face, he knew something was wrong.

  He had seen that expression many times before.

  “You all right?” Rachel asked. “Have you left the house today?”

  “You didn’t say you were coming over.”

  “I know,” she said. “I was on the way to the store. Thought I would stop by for a minute.”

  It was a beautiful fall evening and the air chilled him. The sun was setting over the trees. The two of them stood rigid, and Rand waited.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” Rachel said, suddenly very serious.

  Rand set his jaw. “Go ahead.” Although he already knew what was coming.

  Rachel took a moment to form her thoughts. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this.”

  He’d heard many break-up lines in his life. That one in particular seemed to be the most popular.

  “It’s my work,” Rand said. Not a question.

  “Yes. I know you help lots of people with what you do, but it’s just too much for me, especially this past week. All that weird and crazy stuff happening. I can’t take it.”

  “I’m sorry it affected you like that,” Rand said. “It’s the nature of the job, and these things happen.” Still, that didn’t make it okay for her to be collateral damage.

  Rand remembered Shindael’s promise—how the rest of his life would be a war with hell that would affect everyone he cared about. The safest thing for Rachel would be if they stopped seeing each other altogether.

  “It’s just too much for me,” Rachel said. “I know I can’t ask you to stop doing it.”

  Rand swallowed a hard lump in his throat. She’s right. She can’t. Even if he wanted to give it all up, it was too late for that. Shindael had already made that clear.

  Rand reached out and stroked her arm, and she leaned in to his touch. “I get it. This is not for everyone. If you feel unsafe with me, then there’s no other way. You have to take care of yourself first.”

  “So you’re not mad?”

  “Of course not. Sad, definitely. I care about you a lot. But if what I do is too much, then it’s best for us to head our separate ways.”

  Rachel looked like she might cry. It was a shame he was so accustomed to the women he cared about leaving him because of the supernatural monsters that attacked him. There was a time when women ending relationships with him had upset him, but he’d become numb to it long ago. Ever since Tessa had left him, no other breakup had had quite the impact. Honestly, that worried Rand. His life of fighting the demonic was eroding the things that made him human.

  Rand walked Rachel back to her car. As she got in and drove away, he wished her the best. She deserved to find a normal, great man who wasn’t followed around by evil spirits wreaking acts of terror.

  In a different life, he could have given that to her.

  For a moment, he imagined what it would be like if he gave it up. A new life, settled down alongside someone, without the fear of the demonic.

  But people needed him. They depended on him. There would always be another case around the corner.

  And when he remembered Shindael’s words, he knew that wasn’t even an option anymore. So he didn’t dwell on the fantasy for too long.

  Rachel drove away. He stood at the edge of his yard and watched her turn out of the neighborhood.

  On top of his feelings of dread and uncertainty, he now felt worse. Not her fault. She had no idea that today was significant. The only person he had told about the seventeen days was Katie.

  When he went back inside, he had a text from her, asking if he’d heard any news.

  Not yet.

  She responded a minute later.

  I’ve been praying.

  Rand knew he should have been as well, but was also aware it wouldn’t change anything.

  He forced himself to get into bed at ten o’clock. He called Libby before he turned his lamp off. She was staying with her mom, and they chatted for a bit.

  “Oh my God. She broke up with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Really? I thought she could handle you for the long haul.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. Are you all right? Do I need to come over there?”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “That isn’t a good thing.”

  “I’ll live.”

  They said goodnight and hung up. Libby hadn’t brought up Georgia.

  That’s good. She would have mentioned something if she had heard.

  Rand tossed and turned all night, drifting in and out. When he finally managed to fall asleep, Shindael’s face filled his dreams, scaring him awake again.

  Around seven in the morning, he trudged out of bed and into the living room.

  Day eighteen. If she was meant to go, she’ll be dead now.

  That was why he’d gotten his black suit altered and dry-cleaned before Tessa’s engagement party—so he’d have it in the event of an unexpected funera
l.

  He thumbed his cell phone, debating on whether or not to call Nick Collins. He would say he was calling to check on Georgia, see how she was doing after her ordeal. Then he would know for sure. No more wondering.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  Not yet.

  His heart was heavy, sitting like a stone in his chest. If the worst had happened, he just wasn’t ready to hear it.

  That day, he only had morning classes. So, he headed over to campus, did his thing, and then ducked out after the lessons were over so he wouldn’t get held up by anyone.

  When he got home, Libby’s car was in the driveway. It wasn’t her day to stay with him, and even though he and Tessa didn’t adhere to a strict schedule with her, Libby usually told him when she was planning to come over.

  He found her laying on the couch. “What are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you, too.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Normally you give a heads up. I don’t think I have any food here.”

  “I figured you’d want company after what Rachel did.”

  “No need,” he said, setting his bag on the floor beside the door. He dropped his car keys on the nearby table.

  “But I also brought you a gift,” Libby said, sitting up on the couch.

  “I don’t want gifts, either. You know how I am. I’ll get over it after six or seven beers.”

  He walked toward the kitchen to grab the first of those beers from the fridge, and then a figure caught the corner of his eye, startling him.

  It was her.

  Georgia.

  She stood off to the side of his kitchen, out of sight from where he’d come through the front door.

  “I was supposed to scare you. Did it work?”

  As he stared at her, oxygen cannula dangling from her nose, he couldn’t help but break into a huge smile. He almost started crying. He walked up to her and wrapped her in a tight hug.

  Georgia’s body was rigid and awkward. “Uh. What did I do to deserve this?”

  “You’re still here.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Rand let her go and looked down at her. She gave him a curious, suspicious look, but it only made him laugh. “Nothing. It’s just good to see you.”

  “You’re not sick of me yet?”

  Libby joined them in the kitchen. “She’s your gift, by the way.” To Georgia, she said, “He never greets me like that.”

  “You must not bring enough demons into his life.”

  Day eighteen and she’s still alive, Rand thought. His entire body lost the tension that had built up over the last twenty-four hours.

  “Come on,” he said. “This is a celebration. I’ll cook something. What do you two want? I don’t have any food so, Libby, you’ll have to go to the store to get some stuff.”

  “What are we celebrating, exactly?” Libby asked. She and Georgia both gave him a weird look.

  “We just are.”

  Beer forgotten, he pulled out his pots and pans to prep for dinner. Georgia Collins showing up in his house had made him happier than he’d been in a long time.

  For now, at least, he could forget about Shindael and Karax and all the rest. They’d be back on his mind in the morning, for sure, but that evening, he was a free man.

  People like Georgia were the reason he would never give it up—people who were helpless and confused, and had nowhere else to turn.

  They were why he fought. They were why he lived. They were why he served.

  Randolph Casey will return!

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  Hey there.

  Thank you for spending your valuable time reading my book, and I hope you enjoyed it.

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  - Rockwell

  Also by Rockwell Scott

  The Gravewatcher

  Every night at 3 AM, he visits the graveyard and speaks to someone who isn’t there.

  Eleanor has created an ideal life for herself in New York City with a career that keeps her too busy, just as she likes it. But when she receives an anonymous message that her estranged brother Dennis is dead, her fast-paced routine grinds to a halt. She rushes to Finnick, Louisiana — the small, backward town where her brother lived and temporarily settles into his creepy, turn-of-the-century house until she can figure out how he died.

  But that night, Eleanor spots a young boy in the cemetery behind Dennis’s house, speaking to the gravestones. When she approaches him, Eleanor’s interruption of the boy’s ritual sets off a chain reaction of horror she could have never prepared for. The footsteps, the voices, and the shadowy apparitions are only the beginning.

  Eleanor learns that the boy, Walter, is being oppressed by a demonic entity that compels him to visit the graveyard every night. She suspects Dennis also discovered this nightly ritual and tried to stop it, and that is why he died. Because there are others in Finnick who know about Walter’s involvement with the evil spirit and want it to continue, and they will do whatever it takes to stop Eleanor from ruining their carefully laid plans. Now Eleanor must finish what her brother started — to rescue the boy from the clutches of hell before he loses his soul forever.

  The Gravewatcher is a supernatural horror novel for readers who love stories about haunted houses, creepy graveyards, and battles with the demonic - the truest form of evil that exists in our world.

  CLICK HERE to view on Amazon.

  Also by Rockwell Scott

  A Haunting in Rose Grove

  A malevolent entity. A violent haunting. A house with a bloody history. Jake Nolan left it all behind, but now he must return.

  Jake has it all — a new home, an amazing girlfriend, and nearing a promotion at work. Best of all, he feels he’s finally moved on from the horrors of his traumatic past. But when he learns that his estranged brother, Trevor, has moved back into their haunted childhood home, Jake knows his past is not quite finished with him yet.

  Jake rushes to the old house in Rose Grove — a small town with a tragic history — to pull his brother from that dangerous place. But it’s too late. There, he finds Trevor trying to make contact with the spirit that tormented them years ago.

  And Trevor refuses to leave. He is determined to cleanse the house and remove the entity. But the supernatural activity becomes too much to handle, and Jake knows they are both unprepared for the fight. Worse, the entity targets Daniel, Jake’s young nephew, and wants to bring him harm. And when the intelligent haunting shows signs of demonic infestation, Jake realizes they aren’t dealing with a mere ghost.

  Jake attributes the evil spirit for driving his parents to an early grave. Now it wants to claim the rest of the family, and the only way Jake and Trevor will survive is to send the entity back to hell.

  A Haunting in Rose Grove is a supernatural horror novel for readers who love stories about haunted houses and battles with the demonic — the truest form of evil that exists in our world.

  You are only one click away from enjoying this scary tale. Start reading today!

  CLICK HERE to view on Amazon.

  About the Author

  Rockwell Scott is an author of supernatural horror fiction.

  When not writing, he can be found working out, enjoying beer and whiskey with friends
, and traveling internationally.

  Feel free to get in touch!

  www.rockwellscott.com

  rockwellscottauthor@gmail.com