by H. P. Bayne
Dez asked anyway. “What other stuff?”
“Oh, we do a Ouija session, sometimes we use automatic writing. And Ian always tries to channel a spirit in the course of the evening.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Sully said.
Roy stepped toward him, grinning. “That warning would be awesome to get on camera. Could we go through that again?”
Sully’s heart pounded as the light snapped on atop the camera. He was startled at the feel of someone touching him, and he turned to find Ian clipping something to the back waistband of his jeans.
“Mic pack,” Ian explained as he feed a lapel mic on a wire to Sully. “Feed this up under your T-shirt and clip it to the zipper of your hoodie. Keep it turned on while we’re shooting, but shut it off in between to preserve battery power. And for God’s sake, shut it off if you need to use the bathroom. Nobody needs to hear that.”
Roy snorted his appreciation at Ian’s potty humour.
Sully did as Ian directed while Dez was similarly kitted up. Ian showed them where to find the switch to shut off the packs, then returned to Leanna’s side. They’d been arguing before, but as Roy’s camera turned to them, they gave every appearance of a couple in love.
Leanna snagged Sully’s arm and tugged him over. Sully cast Dez a helpless glance, but Dez could do nothing besides stand there, off-camera, looking bemused.
Leanna set herself, Ian and Sully up where she wanted them, then nodded to Roy.
“Rolling,” Roy said.
Nothing happened.
Ian leaned toward Sully, hissing, “Ask your question again.”
Sully couldn’t remember what had been asked, but suspected he knew what they were after. “What are you planning to do in here tonight?”
“Cut!” Ian shouted. He glared at Sully. “You sound wooden.” He turned to Leanna. “He sounds wooden.”
“Other than appearing on news footage, it’s his first time on TV,” Leanna said. “Be patient.” She met Sully’s eye in the light from Roy’s camera. “We’ll skip your question and work it out in voiceovers. We’ll start from the point where I explain our process to you.”
They messed around with that for another ten minutes, Sully forced to repeat several times his warning about this not being a good idea. Finally, Ian having gruffly conceded it sounded sufficiently natural, they left it and began the walkthrough.
With Roy and Ian both carrying hand-held cameras and their lights turned away, Sully met Dez’s eye in what was left of the light and shook his head.
This sucked, big time.
Then, with a gaggle of ghosts in tow, the group of them set off to explore the prison in the dark.
In what Sully took to be true dramatic style, they left the most problematic parts of the prison for the end, ensuring a build-up toward the basement level with its row of solitary confinement cells and, eventually, the upstairs death row.
Sully was relieved when Ian played true to character, insisting on taking the lead on the psychic interpretation of the place. As far as Sully was concerned, he’d be just as happy to keep his own observations to himself, Dez and their client.
Ian had no similar hang-ups.
A few seconds after walking into the basement laundry room, Ian clutched at his head with one hand and grasped the wall for support with the other.
“Oh, this room,” he moaned. “Terrible crimes have taken place in here. Terrible, terrible crimes.”
Sully thought the most terrible crime was Ian’s acting, but he held his tongue and his expression in check.
With lights off, Sully couldn’t see across the room to the corner where the ghost he’d communicated with stood, nor along the wall where the pacing spirit endlessly ran. A check of Roy’s screen as well as Leanna’s—she’d taken charge of the second camera for parts of the walkthrough—revealed nothing paranormal. Far from surprising in Sully’s view. Rarely did ghosts appear on camera as little more than a mist, an orb or, at best, a shadow. Full-bodied apparitions on film happened, he supposed, though he didn’t see it occurring here. These ghosts would more likely do everything possible to avoid cooperation with a ghost-hunting crew.
“What do you see?” Leanna asked her husband in hushed tones, revealing her own acting ability left a little something to be desired.
Sully glanced up at Dez, barely visible in the glow from Roy’s back-facing screen. The two of them shared a smirk.
“There have been deaths here,” Ian said. “Murders.”
Sully lifted a brow. Of course, the laundry room’s dark reputation was well-known, as was the fact people had met violent ends here. Even so, maybe Ian was onto something legitimate.
Ian dragged in a ragged breath, then another. Suddenly he shouted two words. “Officer Stelman!”
Sully jumped at the sudden vocal explosion.
“He says his name is Officer Stelman,” Ian said. “He was murdered in this room.”
Sully recalled a name similar to Stelman from his and Dez’s research. Of course, it wasn’t Stelman. It was Stelmach. And while Stelmach was indeed among guards who’d been murdered inside the prison, it had been on the main floor, in one of the common areas, during a riot. What was more, Sully had been through the prison several times now and hadn’t seen nor sensed any correctional officers besides Coving. Certainly, no murdered guard haunted this room. Sully suspected the guards killed at Pineview had crossed over long ago.
While Ian’s ongoing conversation with a nonexistent entity proved amusing to Sully, he sensed the ghost in the corner wasn’t so tickled about things. The feeling of dread was building from that direction, leaving Sully to debate what was best to do. He could ignore it and stay out of the way of the cameras, but his compassionate nature overruled his own comfort.
Hoping to go unnoticed, he skirted past Roy and edged toward the far end of the room, using the wall and the dim glow of the ghost to guide him through the dark. Having reached him, Sully made sure his mic pack was off, then looked him in the eye.
“Remember those people I told you about?” he whispered to the spirit. “This is them. I’m sorry. I’m not with them by choice. You don’t have to be afraid. They’ll do whatever it is they do, and they’ll move on.”
The man didn’t appear placated.
Sully tilted his head. “Do you see something I don’t?”
“Who are you talking to?” Leanna called out. Undoubtedly talking to Sully.
He sighed, although he kept the sound of it to himself. He suspected what would happen the moment he told them about a man in the corner. The crew wouldn’t leave the poor spirit alone the rest of the night.
He flipped the pack’s switch back on. Time to turn on his own acting ability. “There was a man here, but he’s gone. Maybe it was Stelman.” He forced his eyes wide as his gaze shot to where he assumed the darkened hallway to be. “He’s over there now!”
The lights from both Roy’s and Leanna’s cameras spun toward the doorway. “Where?”
“Hallway!” Sully shouted. “I just saw something move past the door. It was headed toward the Hole.”
Immediately, the lights from the screens disappeared amid the sound of rushed footsteps. Dez grunted and swore from that side of the room, presumably as someone stepped on his foot.
Another flip of the switch, and Sully turned back to the ghost to offer a wink. “Better?”
The spirit still appeared uneasy, but the dread was gone.
A small flashlight snapped on, allowing Sully to see Dez as he made his way over, limping and rubbing at his shin.
“I guess the ghosts don’t like the idea of being on TV any more than I do,” Dez muttered.
“You okay?” Sully asked.
“Someone kicked me during the stampede. You didn’t actually see anything, did you?”
“No. Sorry. Wish I could have warned you.”
Speaking of lack of warning, Sully had none either as a cold touch gripped his hand. Within the same second, an image flashed into his b
rain.
Coving. Coving watching the crew as they’d stood in the laundry room only moments ago.
The vision let up right after, returning Sully to himself.
Dez’s light had found Sully sometime during the brief vision. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I came over here because I was worried about the man in the corner,” Sully said. “I thought he was anxious about the crew, but that wasn’t it exactly. He saw Coving. Coving is watching the crew.”
Sully pushed Dez’s hand down, taking the light from his phone’s flashlight with it. In the ambient glow, Dez’s eyes widened.
“Damn,” he said. “Do you think he’ll try to hurt them down here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Sully huffed out a breath. “I really hate this. I mean, I really, really hate it. I know Coving’s around, but I can’t see him. And because of all the other ghosts everywhere, I’m having trouble tuning in and sensing him either. God, Dez, what if I can’t get a handle on him at all?”
Dez gripped his shoulders. “Hey, you’ll get a handle on him, all right? Don’t worry. You’re freaking out right now because you’re letting in a lot of other psychic crap. You need to get yourself centred.”
There went Dez on one of his moments of being smarter than Sully on psychic matters. Sully gave him a grateful smile and patted his chest.
“Sometimes you make me look like an idiot,” Sully said.
Dez returned the grin. “Nah. You do a good job all by yourself.”
Sully turned back to the man in the corner. “I’ll do what I can to keep them out of here, all right? And I’ll keep my word to you. By night’s end, I’ll get this fixed.”
The man nodded at him. Not convinced, but seemingly willing to entertain Sully’s delusions. And maybe he was delusional. Maybe Dez was wrong, and he wouldn’t be able to centre himself. Then nothing he tried would be enough to allow him to keep his word to the trapped ghosts and Ed and Lachlan and anyone else who was counting on him to make this place safe.
Yet he’d surprised himself more than once in his life by all the things he’d learned he could do. If Jack thought he could do it, there had to be something to it, didn’t there? Surely Jack, with all the things he saw, would know.
And if Jack was wrong, and Sully couldn’t manage it, the reaper was right outside with Flynn and Aiden.
One way or another, Sully told himself, they’d get this done.
A sense of calm flowed through him, centring him as Dez had said. Sully solidified it, following an old trick he’d learned from Marc and their Wiccan friend Raiya Everton by envisioning his aura glowing brighter and stronger. He pictured himself sealing off the holes created by his own and others’ fears and his own doubts. He went one further, picturing Dez’s aura and envisioning it as a solid wall of light and protection. When he could no longer feel any breaks in either of their armour, he stopped.
“You good?” Dez asked.
Sully nodded. “I’m good. You?”
“Surprisingly good.” He smirked, the promise of dry humour to come. “Can’t imagine it’ll last long.”
“We’ll make it last as long as we can. When we start sinking, we’ll take a break and recentre. We can do this.”
“Can’t imagine we have much choice.”
Sully shook his head with a small smile. Then, with Dez’s phone flash guiding them, they made their way into the hall to find the crew.
18
The crew wasn’t difficult to locate. Ian had gone off on another tangent, this time about a man stabbed at least one hundred times inside his cell in the Hole.
Sully peered into the cell over Roy’s shoulder. While he could see Ian there, hunched over his belly as if channelling spirit pain, no spirit was present.
“Where is he, Ian?” Leanna asked from beside him.
Ian lifted a hand, pointing to a spot immediately beside him. “Here. Right here.”
The spot was empty. Sully didn’t sense a single spirit in here, murdered or otherwise. Even Coving seemed to have moved off elsewhere. Were the guard here, Sully was certain he’d at least sense his energy, particularly with no other spirits immediately around him.
Leanna stepped closer to Ian and the two of them waved their hands through the spot he’d indicated.
“It feels cold,” she said. She turned to Roy. “Do you see anything on camera?”
“Nothing,” Roy said.
“That’s so weird,” Leanna said.
Sully stepped away from the door, intending to seek out Coving’s ghost. He thought if he could at least get a sense of him and build some familiarity with the energy his spirit emitted, he could teach himself to lock in on him later, once it came time to force him to cross over.
He didn’t get far.
“Sullivan?” Leanna called out. “Come here a moment.”
As if shot, Sully came to an abrupt stop. As he entered the small cell and approached Leanna, he thought he had an inkling of the dread inmates must have felt entering these solitary cells.
She snagged his arm and towed him in the rest of the way, until he stood next to her. “You can see the murdered dead. What can you see in here?” She indicated the spot between her and Ian. “Can you describe him to us?”
Sully once again cast his eye over the spot. Still nothing. He tried something else in case this happened to be a non-murdered spirit, reaching out a hand and seeing if he could feel the cold spot. Nothing there either. The air down here was cooler to start with. He’d experienced cold spots before, and he knew well the chill of manifested spirit energy. This wasn’t it.
Ian was watching him intently, something akin to a warning in his stare. Sully shook his head at Leanna. He didn’t want to have to say it out loud.
“What is it?” Leanna pressed.
Damn it. “There’s nothing here,” Sully said.
Ian snorted. “Of course, there isn’t. It’s moved off.”
Sully eyed Ian. Sure it had
Ian continued. “Psychics are like magnets. Sometimes they’re perfectly aligned and everything sticks. Other times, they’re polar opposites, and the friction they create does more than push each other apart; it repels spirit too.”
The theory was crap, but Sully found a glimmer of hope within the words. “Fair enough. We’ll leave you to it here and check around the place on our own.”
Leanna’s fingernails dug painfully into his arm, even through the sleeve of his hoodie. “No, I really want you with us. Please.”
He caught it in her expression, the truth behind the plea. She was no longer acting. She was afraid. After what she’d witnessed during her first visit to the place, she had every reason to be. What was more, Sully realized she must know the truth about her husband’s so-called abilities. Whether Ian actively made things up or whether he merely made a lot of ill-based assumptions he believed were true, Sully wasn’t sure. Either way, Ian wouldn’t be able to offer Leanna or anyone else protection from the spirit world. She was smart enough to know she’d need it.
“Okay,” Sully told her. “We’ll stay nearby. But we’ll keep out of the way of the cameras, all right?”
She didn’t seem pleased, but while she cast Ian a glare, she didn’t say anything further.
Not yet, anyway.
Instead, she led the way from the row of solitary confinement cells and back up onto the main floor. From there, she took the group of them through the sound-barrier wall, then up the stairs.
Sully’s heart pounded as they neared the second floor. No question where they were headed.
Death row.
Hell’s Gate.
He wasn’t sure he was ready for this.
Perhaps buoyed by her own anger at Ian, Leanna didn’t pause or slow until she’d reached the cell in question. Though she stalked more than walked, tension radiating from her, as she turned toward Roy’s camera, she had her game face on.
“We’re right outside Hell’s Gate,” she said for the benefit of the not-yet-existent
audience. “The condemned cell, where for years, inmates spent their last days before their dates with a hangman’s noose. It’s believed the men who were imprisoned there in life haven’t left.”
Her eyes travelled Sully’s direction. Sensing she was seeking confirmation from him, Sully remained hidden behind Dez. No matter. Ian had promptly pushed to the front of the queue, back in television psychic mode.
“The energy rippling from this cell is incredible,” he said as he brushed past Leanna and entered the cell.
When Leanna cast another glance toward Sully’s partial hiding spot, he pretended not to notice. She stalled only another moment, then entered the cell behind Ian. Even from here, their voices muffled by the solid stone walls, Sully heard Leanna’s words to Ian.
“I’d like to bring Sullivan in here.”
“Why?”
“Because what’s the point of having a guest psychic if he’s being pushed out of the way at every turn?”
“This is my show!”
“Our show,” Leanna corrected in a growl.
Roy stood in the doorway, his body language suggesting he wasn’t sure what to do.
Leanna gave him direction. “Could you turn the camera off for a minute, please, Roy?”
“Uh-oh,” Roy muttered. Though he stopped recording, he kept the machine turned on, allowing him to snap on the light atop it to guide himself back toward Dez and Sully.
Inside the cell, another light came on, likely from Leanna and Ian’s shared camera. Not five seconds later, the argument continued, only worse.
“You can be such an asshole, Ian, you know that?”
“I’ve been doing this for years. I’m not going to be upstaged by some scruffy upstart.”
Dez leaned toward Sully. “Hear that? You’re the scruffy upstart.”
Sully elbowed him hard in the gut, drawing a grunt and a laugh.
Roy gently guided them a little farther down the hall. “Sorry about this. They argue a lot. They act a certain way when the cameras are on, but they haven’t been getting along in real life. Like I said before, Ian can be a jerk. Seriously, if it weren’t for this show, they probably would have split up a while back.”