by H. P. Bayne
Sully smiled more fully and nodded.
Just as well, because a couple of seconds later, Leanna burst through the door. Her wild gaze swept the reception area before settling with relief on the brothers. She closed the short distance and seized each of their arms.
“You need to help, please!”
Dez stiffened. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Roy. Ian’s insisting Roy do a lone vigil inside Hell’s Gate. I argued against it, but Ian’s lost whatever was left of his mind. He said some awful things to Roy, questioning his value to the show and suggesting his place on the team hinges on him doing this.”
“We can’t reason with him,” Dez said. “You saw what he pulled with Sully.”
“I know, and you’re right. You can’t reason with him. And what’s more, Roy can’t say no. He’s been doing this as long as we have. He’s tied to the show. It’s the only job he’s ever known. I know Ian won’t be happy about what I’m about to suggest, but I don’t care. Will you go up there with Roy, keep an eye on him? If anything were to happen to him, I’d never forgive myself—and I know, despite everything, Ian wouldn’t either. It would be the end of him. Please.”
Sully reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need to beg us or anything. Roy’s a great guy. Of course we’ll look out for him.”
Leanna heaved a breath, relief written all over her face and in the release of tension in her shoulders. “Thank you so much.” She started back toward the door leading out, turning before exiting. “At the end of the night, maybe you can give us some contact information for your friend who does the cleansing. I think we very much need it.”
Sully nodded, and Leanna smiled once and left.
Dez again met Sully’s eye. “You okay? To be going back up there already, I mean?”
Sully’s response wasn’t completely reassuring. “Okay as I’m going to be, I guess. We don’t have a choice, anyway.”
Wasn’t that the truth, Dez thought. Now that they were dealing with Roy’s life instead of Ian’s, their options had become a whole lot more limited.
A few minutes later, Ian stalked inside with Leanna right behind. He didn’t say a word to Dez or Sully, simply brushing past and making his way down the hall, presumably toward the downstairs room they’d set up with the monitors. Leanna cast the brothers a quick, nervous glance, then trailed after Ian.
Roy entered a moment later. His eyes, Dez noticed, contained unshed tears, and the man quickly ducked his head.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he said. “I don’t mind telling you, I’m terrified.”
Dez dropped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re terrified because you’re a far smarter man than Ian. But don’t worry. Sully and I’ve got your back.”
Roy pinched at the inner corners of his eyes. When he lifted his head a few long seconds later, the tears were gone. “Thank you. You’ve got no idea what a relief it is to have the two of you here.”
He turned from Dez to Sully. He studied him for a moment, then shook his head and hugged him. “Thank you,” he said again.
Sully patted his back. “It’s okay. We’ll deal with this. I won’t let anything bad happen to you in there.”
Roy pulled away and looked Sully in the eye. “We’ve got a locked-off camera on the death row walkway. Ian will see you there, and he won’t like it.”
“So he doesn’t like it,” Dez said. “If Ian has a problem he wants to take up with us, we’re good to go.”
Roy managed a laugh. “You guys want a permanent job with us, by chance?”
Dez shared in the laugh and patted the man’s shoulder. “Roy, not on your life.”
20
Sully led the way into the main prison, then through the sound barrier door.
He listened to the unintentionally loud clang of his and the others’ boots as they climbed the metal stairs, wondering for not the first time whether it sounded the same when a ghost made the walk. Usually, he didn’t mind being unable to hear the dead as it amounted to one less demand on his already overtaxed senses. But he had to admit, there were times when the ability to hear a threat coming would be helpful. Certainly, Ed had heard the ghost prior to his attack.
They made their way onto death row and, from there, to the end of the range and Hell’s Gate. As they approached, Sully’s eyes first went to a red light straight ahead, a sign the team’s locked-off camera was functional and recording. Ian would have seen them by now—all three of them—and he would be pissed. Sully resisted the sudden urge to offer a childish smirk or a middle finger to the camera.
Instead, he let his gaze drift to the windows in the wall between the east and west-side tiered ranges. During the day, those windows would throw light down the catwalks and onto the common area below. Right now, they gave Sully a view of the moon high overhead and, below, a trio of spirits waiting outside. Flynn, Aiden and Jack had moved into the area bathed by exterior lighting, enabling Sully to see them in their spirit form. Jack caught his eye and nodded. Sully nodded back.
His nerves defrayed a little more.
Unfortunately, poor Roy’s nerves had picked up the slack. Sully could feel the tension rolling off him as they reached the door to the condemned cell.
Roy paused on the threshold, staring wide-eyed into the shadows within. Sully gently pressed past him and entered first, taking a moment to scan the space.
“Anything?” Dez asked from behind him.
Sully gave it another few seconds, reaching out with his sixth sense. He couldn’t feel anything. Sometimes, it was like that, as if even trapped spirits were able to lie dormant for a brief time. People encroaching on their space, however, had a habit of waking them.
Only a matter of time.
“It’s quiet at the moment,” Sully said. Could be this was a perfect time for Roy to conduct his vigil.
Dez stepped aside, making room for Roy to enter, and Sully joined Dez on the walkway outside. Might be Ian could be persuaded to overlook Sully and Dez’s nearby presence if they remained on the catwalk. He wasn’t so likely to look favourably on their being directly inside the cell for what was supposed to be a lone vigil.
Sully had barely exited when Dez jumped toward the door. Sully spun in time to see Dez tugging at the door and Roy apparently trying to pull it shut.
“What are you doing?” Dez demanded.
“Ian told me to close myself in. We always do when we visit prisons. It helps us and the audience to better envision what it must have been like for the prisoners.”
“Don’t close the door,” Sully said. “If something goes wrong, we need to be able to get in there quickly.”
“I don’t have a choice.” And judging by his mournful tone, Roy really believed he didn’t. “I won’t close it all the way,” he said, keeping his voice lowered. “But I need to close it enough Ian won’t throw a fit. Believe me, half an hour of being partially sealed inside a haunted cell is better than years of dealing with his snide comments.”
“Do me a favour, at least,” Sully said. “Bunch up your coat and jam it against the frame. It should keep the door from fully closing.”
“I guess I can do that.” Roy did as asked, but he didn’t appear sold on even this much.
“You ever think of quitting?” Sully asked. “I mean, seriously, is this worth it?”
Roy shrugged. “This is all I know how to do.”
Sully had heard a similar explanation from Pip not so long ago as to why he continued working at a prison he feared. Sully had gone his whole life feeling trapped into fixing problems for ghosts, all because of the abilities he’d been born with. He’d often wondered why people willingly spent time in severely haunted locations. Until the past few days, it hadn’t truly occurred to him some of them might not have much of a choice either.
Clearly reluctant, Dez released the door, allowing Roy to close it most of the way.
Sully stood next to Dez in the hall as they listened to Roy’s voice in the cell.
<
br /> He’d spent the past twenty minutes talking quietly to whatever presence he thought might be nearby. So far, Sully had yet to sense any spirit in the immediate vicinity.
“You feel anything yet?” Dez whispered to Sully, not for the first time.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t get it.”
Sully shrugged. “I think I do. Roy’s not like Ian. He’s not arrogant, loudmouthed or disrespectful. The spirits won’t feel threatened or angered by Roy in the same way they would by Ian. Most importantly, I think, Coving won’t think Roy’s the sort of person who needs put in his place.”
“Neither is Ed. Didn’t stop him being attacked.”
“I was thinking about that,” Sully whispered. “Coving died in the seventies. People were far less accepting back then. Jerk like him no doubt would be a massive bigot. Discovering a gay couple now owns his prison probably didn’t sit well with him.”
Dez nodded. “Yeah, makes sense. Can’t wait for you to send that bastard packing.”
Sully and Dez had been leaning up against the wall. The sound of footsteps drew them to standing.
“Ghost?” Dez asked.
“Can’t be. I can hear it too.”
Dez frowned as the maker of the noise came into view on the stairs. “Speaking of bastards.”
“What the hell is going on up here?” Ian demanded as he stormed over. Unsurprisingly, he’d brought with him his gaggle of ghostly onlookers—prison dwellers no doubt eager to watch a fight.
“Nothing,” Sully said.
“Yeah, you know what? I can see that much myself. The whole reason we do lone vigils is because it tends to attract the spirits. You think anything’s going to communicate with Roy while he’s got a pair of bodyguards lumbering outside on the walkway?”
“You can’t—” Sully started, but Ian raised his handheld camera and shouted over him.
“Hey, Stelmach, you asshole! Where are you, you son of a bitch? Someone’s in the cell, and you’re acting like you don’t care! Come and get him! Teach him a lesson!”
Sully shoved Ian. “What the hell are you doing? Stop it!”
Ian shoved back. “You stop it. This is what we do! If you don’t like it, you can go fuck yourselves.”
Dez shoved in between them, standing with crossed arms as he glared down at Ian. “If you’re so keen on having a ghost attack someone in there, why don’t you offer yourself up? Or is it just easier to throw Roy to the wolves? You scared, Rogers?”
Ian looked like he wanted to push Dez, but faced with Dez’s formidable presence as he was, he promptly came to his senses and backed off. Physically, anyway. “Fuck you. I’m not scared.”
“Fine.” Dez jutted his chin toward the mostly closed cell door. “Trade places with him. Go show the world what a big man you are.”
“Why don’t you do it?” Ian countered. “I’m stuck with the pair of you tonight. Maybe you should make yourselves useful.” His lips curled up into a nasty smirk. “Or are you scared?”
Dez took a step forward, causing Ian to take one back. “Damn right, I’m scared. Only a complete moron wouldn’t be. This stuff isn’t a joke, or haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“I’ve got protection. I don’t need to be scared.”
Sully recalled what Ian had said earlier about a spirit guide. Unfortunately, if he did indeed have someone with him, the entity wasn’t powerful enough for Sully to sense. Sully had been doing this a long time, and he’d never once had a feeling he was watched over by some heavenly being continually surrounding him with a wall of protection. He’d had the ghost of his birth mother for many years, and he’d had other spirits around to help him, but they were all strictly earthbound. Maybe Sully had help he hadn’t yet clued into, but he wasn’t willing to stake his life on it. And he definitely wasn’t willing to stake anyone’s life on Ian’s assertion.
“Placing too much faith in an outside force will get you killed,” Sully warned him. “Even if you have a spirit guide, you’re seriously overtaxing him or her, doing things the way you do. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but the only thing that saved you earlier was me.”
“Bullshit. You think I’m full of myself, you oughta look in a mirror sometime.”
The ghosts swirled around Ian, Sully and Dez, faces reflecting anticipation and delight. Trapped in a testosterone-ruled prison with nothing much to do for excitement, a fight was sure to put a grin on the face of an inmate or two.
At least someone was having fun tonight, Sully thought.
The cell doors on the range slammed shut. Every door along the catwalk clanged, metal on metal, at the same time, sending a shockwave along death row.
Sully jumped. Dez gasped. Ian yelped.
From inside the cell, Roy yelled. “Guys? Did one of you do that?”
“No,” Sully said. “Come out. Something’s happening.”
Handles had been fitted to the cell doors for the purposes of hostel guests, but although Sully could hear the Hell’s Gate handle rattling, nothing happened.
“Sully? I can’t get out. It’s locked.”
Sully’s attention had been largely fixed on the stairs. Now it went to the cell door.
Dez was already there, his fingers gripping the handle. He jiggled it, but it barely moved in his grip. “He’s right. It’s locked.” Then to Roy, “What happened to your coat?”
“I don’t know! It’s inside with me. I swear I jammed it in there.”
And a ghost, no doubt, had pulled it out. Sully gritted his teeth as he considered what this must mean.
Ian tried one of the other doors. “This one’s locked too.” A grin broke out on his face. “I don’t believe it. This is amazing!”
“Shut up,” Sully said. One more word out of Ian, and he was likely to forget he was a pacifist.
He took another look around. The place had gone quiet. Deathly quiet. What was more, the ghosts previously circling them had vanished.
Dez paused at the door to Hell’s Gate, head snapping toward the staircase. “Do you hear that?”
Sully moved closer to Dez. “Hear what?”
“The footsteps. They’re coming up the stairs.” He turned wide eyes on Sully. “Don’t tell me you can’t hear that.”
Ian swung his camera toward the second-floor opening to the staircase. “Hey, you two, turn your flashlight off.”
Dez turned to Sully, eyebrow lifted. Sully considered it, then nodded. Dez clicked off the cellphone’s flashlight.
They stood in the dark, the moon and Ian’s back-facing screen the only light in the place.
“Guys?” Roy moaned from inside the cell. “What’s happening?”
“It’s okay, Roy,” Dez said. Then, leaning toward Sully, he whispered, “It is okay, right?”
How to answer that question, Sully thought. It most definitely was not okay. He felt it now, the energy belonging to Coving moving slowly and methodically toward them. He couldn’t hear the footsteps or see the ghost, but he sensed him as easily as he had earlier. He was coming, and he was pissed.
Dez’s hand found Sully’s back, fisting up the material of his hoodie. “Sull?”
“I know. I can feel him.”
“What do we do?”
Sully shifted to the side, as much as Dez’s grip would allow. He peered through the small plexiglass window into Hell’s Gate, wanting to see if the mob entity was back. All he saw was Roy’s panicked face staring back at him.
“Roy, step to the side,” Sully said.
He did, allowing Sully a view inside the cell. Sure enough, there, toward the rear of the cell, directly beneath the high, barred window, stood the fuzzy, indecipherable entity haunting Hell’s Gate.
“Open the door,” Sully told the spirit. “Let Roy out.”
He wasn’t overly surprised to be disobeyed.
Dez’s grip tightened, causing the front of Sully’s hoodie to pull taut across his chest and abdomen. “Sully?”
The presence of Coving was nea
rly upon them. Ian’s camera had turned toward the floor of the walkway.
“The footsteps,” Ian muttered, awe heavy in his voice. “They’re right in front of me.”
Undoubtedly, since Coving was right in front of him.
Sully stood as straight as Dez would allow, summoning every ounce of courage he possessed. He stared into the blank space in front of him, certain he was now face to face with the murderous ghost.
“Whatever issue you have here, it’s not with the man in the cell,” Sully said.
He reached back and tapped on Dez’s hand, a silent urging to release him. Dez did.
“Your problem’s with me, Coving,” Sully said. “And I’d say your problem’s a pretty big one.”
The challenge had been laid before Coving. Now, Sully had to wait for a response.
And hope he’d be able to handle it.
21
Sully continued to stare ahead at the space before him as, slowly, a plan formed.
Maybe it was time the prisoners gave back to Coving.
Unfortunately, Coving moved first. And it wasn’t against Sully.
The energy brushed past. Within seconds, Sully heard Roy gasping for breath inside the cell.
Sully slammed up against the door and tried the handle. Still locked.
Through the window, he saw Roy stretched high up against the wall, held there by an invisible force.
“Coving, let him go!” Sully yelled. “He’s not a threat to you!”
“Get out of the way,” Ian demanded. “I need to record this.”
Sully didn’t turn, but judging by the grunting sound from Ian, Dez had given him a firm shove.
“Rogers, you come anywhere near this door again, and I’ll turn you into a pretzel,” Dez warned.
Ian argued and Dez argued back, but Sully had stopped listening. His attention had moved firmly within the cell, to where Coving clearly meant to kill Roy.
Sully reached out psychically, delivering another blow to Coving as before. Only this time, the spirit barely moved. It was as if he’d learned Sully’s abilities and, having done so, managed to absorb the attack. At least Sully hoped that was the explanation, since the alternative meant his gift wouldn’t work through the cell door. And if that was the case, Roy was screwed.