Cursed: Paranormal Women's Fiction (Mid-Life Haunts Book 1)

by Nhys Glover

  It was stronger than I liked, but at least the creamer had helped a little.

  “Calling it a curse makes it sound as if you don’t think Herbert and his idiots are totally wrong,” he said carefully, after taking a swallow of his black, well-sugared coffee.

  A cold chill spread up my arm, and I rubbed it in an ineffectual attempt to warm my skin. My eyes looked around the room. Though most of the patrons had returned to their own business, a few eyes still looked our way. But they weren’t what concerned me now.

  A presence was nearby. A familiar presence. But I was struggling to put a name or face to it. An older woman… an old lady. Someone I knew as a child.

  Of course! My Gran’s best friend, Miz Millie.

  As soon as I’d identified her, a stream of chaotic images started pouring into me, one after the other. The frantic barrage had me jerking back, sloshing coffee over the edge of my cup.

  “What’s wrong?” Jake asked, instantly on alert.

  But I was too preoccupied with the horrible, frightening images to answer him. Surely not. I must be getting it wrong. Surely no one would do those things to a young girl.

  “Cleo… What is it?” Jake demanded, keeping his voice low by sheer force of will.

  “Who lives in Millicent Adams old place? Do you know?” I asked instead.

  “Miz Millicent? God, I don’t know. She lived down on Fern Street, didn’t she? Why, what has she got to do with this?”

  “Yeah, I think it was Fern. A few streets up from the High School. Little chocolate box of a place barely big enough for one person.”

  He nodded, still not sure what I was on about.

  “Something bad is happening there. In the cellar. I didn’t even know the place had a cellar,” I said distractedly.

  Jake froze, his gaze plastered to me as if I’d suddenly turned into a zombie from the apocalypse. “What are you talking about?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to close out the horrific images. “I got it, Miz Millie, I got it. Enough!”

  The choking sound coming from the other side of the table had me opening my eyes to look more closely at Jake. He was freaking out, without moving a muscle, he was freaking the hell out.

  “Why are you talking to Miz Millicent?” he choked out.

  Damn! Now what did I do? The man already had it in for me. What would he think if I told him the ghost of a past citizen of our fair town was standing at our table pleading for me to help?

  But I couldn’t just ignore her, not if the images she sent me were true. And I had no reason to doubt they were. Whoever was living in her house was keeping a teenage girl captive in the cellar and torturing her. Another girl a few years younger was trying to help the girl. That one seemed to know Miz Millie was there. It was she who had sent the ghost for help. How was that possible?

  I straightened my shoulders and met Jake’s gaze. “Whoever is living in Miz Millie’s old house is torturing a girl in her cellar as we speak. There’s a second girl. But I think she’s safe enough. But the other one is almost dead. You have to do something. Please. I know this sounds crazy. I know you have no reason to believe me. But please, check into it… Now!”

  Jake’s gaze moved from one of my eyes to the other and back again, looking for lies there. He saw none.

  “I can’t just barge into someone’s home on a whim,” he said.

  “Check who lives there. The county records. The girls must be in school. Or one of them, at least. I’m not sure about the other. Please…” I pleaded.

  Jake rose slowly to his feet and headed for the door. When he looked back over his shoulder to where I was still sitting, he lifted his brows.

  “You coming?”

  Terrified and relieved, I scrambled after him, almost forgetting my bag as I did.

  “On my bill, thanks Kathy!” he called back to the waitress, whose mouth had fallen open as we hurried out.

  I raced to keep up with Jake’s long strides. By the time we reached the Municipal building I was panting like a marathon runner on their last mile.

  As he pushed open the glass doors he glanced around the big open plan administrative office for the person he was after. He spotted an old battle-axe of a woman who was glaring at me from behind horn-rimmed glasses.

  “Mavis, who lives in Millicent Adams’ old house now?” he barked.

  She blinked several times before looking skyward. “I… I think that’s a rental. Owned by the Church of Divine Light.”

  “Herbert’s Church? Fuck!” Jake cursed quietly so only I could hear.

  “The tenants would be on the electoral roll, right?” he demanded of Mavis again

  “Sure… probably, if they’re not too recent. Give me a minute!”

  The old lady moved fast for someone her age. Faster than I’d moved trying to keep up with Jake Killian. She opened an old metal filing cabinet and was busy letting her fingers do the walking. While we waited, I shifted from one foot to the other like a kid in need of a toilet. I wasn’t sure I didn’t. I was terrified! In all the years I’d experienced ghosts, none had ever come to me with a problem like this.

  “Okay, yes. Got it. Kevin and Shirley Jones.”

  “They’ve got a couple of kids in school,” offered a woman in her mid-thirties I thought looked a little familiar. “The young one is in my Hester’s class. They’re newish to town. Part of that Church. Sanctimonious pair,”

  “What class is that, Jess?” Jake asked.

  “Third Grade at the Elementary School. They’re talking about closing it down next year.”

  Jake raced out the door, heading for the sheriff’s office at the front of the building. We both flew in the door like the zombies were on our tails. Every eye turned our way, startled. Jake ignored them all, striding for his office. I didn’t know what else to do but follow in his wake.

  He picked up his phone. “Get me the elementary school.”

  Whoever he spoke to must have asked who he wanted. His answer was, “Office Manager.”

  A few moments later he was talking again. “Hello, this is Sheriff Killian. I need to know what you can tell me about a new enrollee in Grade Three. A girl with the last name of Jones.”

  After a moment, he began nodding. “In the high school? Right. You sure? I understand… Thanks. Can you check to see if Faith is in class now?”

  Another few seconds and he was nodding again. “Great. Now can you put me through to the high school office?”

  While he waited, he looked over at me. “Faith Jones is the girl in third grade. She’s in foster care, as is her sister, who's in high school. Faith called in sick today. I’m tracking down Lauren, the other girl, now.”

  His gaze flicked away as he began to speak to someone on the other end of the phone again. In a few minutes he had the information he needed. As he hung up he was frowning.

  “Lauren Jones isn’t in class either. She’s been absent all week. No reason for the absence on record although it seems like she’s regularly absent due to sickness.”

  My eyes opened wider. This wasn’t good. This really wasn’t good.

  Jake was striding out his office door and down the corridor toward the back of the building before I had properly processed this news, which seemed to support my accusation of child abuse. I raced after him.

  We flew out the back door to the parking lot used by all the government employees. When Jake headed for a patrol car that had sheriff written on the side in gilded letters, I knew we were driving. Or I hoped I was going along. Now I was committed, I was determined to see this through.

  9

  We drove up the tree-lined street looking for the right house. I spotted it first and pointed. Jake braked hard and was out the door without looking back. I’d had a few moments to regain my breath by then, but I was now having to race to catch up again. I really needed to start doing some cardio.

  At the front door, he began pounding his fist against the wood.

  “What are you going to do? You don’t have a
warrant to search the premises. You said so,” I bleated.

  “I’ll tell you when I decide. It’s still just a crazy notion of yours. Just because those girls aren’t in school today doesn’t mean squat. Summer vacation is just about to start. They could have left early…” He pounded on the door again.

  My ears caught the sound of footsteps on bare floorboards on the other side of the door. A moment later the door opened a few inches and a small, mousey woman looked out at us.

  “Sheriff Killian, ma’am. You Mrs. Jones?”

  She nodded mutely, obviously terrified.

  “Your eldest daughter has been absent from school for the last week without reason. Your youngest is out today. I’d like to see both girls, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  The woman’s mouth dropped open. She radiated guilt and fear as forcefully as she would have if she shouted it.

  “I… I’ll have to get my… my husband. Wait…”

  She began to shut the door, but Jake stuck his foot in the gap and pushed. Unable to stop him, Mrs. Jones stepped back and let us into the small living room. All the drapes were drawn and only a table lamp illuminated the space. The furnishings looked like the same ones Miz Millie had had all those years ago. But they were nowhere near as well tended.

  Mrs. Jones scuttled away down the short hall and turned right. The sound of her footsteps on stairs told me that she was heading for the cellar.

  Jake must have come to the same conclusion because he followed after the woman. I shadowed him yet again.

  At the top of the stairs, we heard raised voices and crying. A child was crying.

  In the next instant, a small girl came crawling up the stairs on her hands and knees like a crab. She seemed to be scrambling as fast as her legs would carry her. She looked utterly terrified and disheveled her clothes filthy and bloodstained.

  “Help her, please! Help her!” she cried as soon as she saw us.

  Her little face was pinched and pale. A bruise was blossoming on her cheek.

  Jake hauled the child up the last few steps and pushed her into my arms. Without a word, he charged down the stairs. I clung to the sprite in my arms, feeling her little body trembling like a leaf in the wind.

  “I think they killed her,” she murmured into my shirt.

  I tightened my hold on her even more. I didn’t know what to say.

  Voices were raised. Shouts, a crashing thump, screams and a loud sob. A few heartbeats later, Jake was thundering up the narrow stairs with something in his arms. It looked like a bundle of bloody clothes on its way to the washing basket. Until I saw long, filthy red hair dangling down to the step.

  “Is she alive?” I demanded as soon as Jake took the final step.

  “Not sure. She’s unconscious. So much blood. You couldn’t believe the amount of blood down there. The bastard tried to stop me taking her,” he muttered, panting with exertion as he fled down the hall towards his patrol car.

  There would be no time for calling an ambulance. Nor was I remaining behind with the little girl. Not if it meant staying with the monsters who inhabited Miz Millie’s house.

  “I’ll sit in back and hold her,” I told Jake as we reached the car. “Faith, you sit up front.”

  Jake seemed incapable of speech. His expression was dark and forbidding. Dangerous. Had I not known where he was directing his ire, I would have been terrified.

  Instead, I clambered into the back of the patrol car and waited for Jake to lay the unconscious, bloody girl across my lap. She stank of urine and blood and something I took to be incense. It was certainly herbal in nature.

  As the others climbed into the front, I studied the girl’s face. She was a true redhead, with a snub nose covered with freckles. Dark rings weighed down her eyes as if she hadn’t slept for a week. Dirt, bruises and blood marred every inch of skin I could see.

  How old was she? Fifteen, sixteen? Not quite a child.

  “What did they do to her?” I asked Faith, my voice graveled with pent emotion.

  Faith turned around to look at me through the grate, her eyes wide. “Exorcism. They’ve been trying to exorcise her demon all week.”

  Huge tears welled in her grey eyes, reminding me of a cloud ready to burst.

  “She has a demon?” Jake demanded, as if he believed in such things.

  Faith shook her head hastily, sending her scraggly blonde braids in every direction. “No… No, of course not. But she can just move things… with her mind. When Mrs. Jones saw her do it, she told her husband and… and…” She swallowed as the tears began pouring in earnest from her eyes. “They all came and went. They wouldn’t let me go down there. I heard her screaming and… and them chanting. I didn’t know what to do. I snuck down when they left her at night. She was in an awful state, and it only got worse.”

  “Who came and went?” Jake demanded, so loudly the girl jumped and cringed back against the car door.

  “Way to go, Killian. Scare the already terrified kid, why don’t you?” I snapped.

  Jake drew in a few deep breaths before apologizing in a much calmer voice. “Sorry sweetheart. Who came and went?”

  “Members of the church. I told you. It was an exorcism.”

  “Pastor Herbert’s church? The Church of Divine Light?” he said softly.

  Faith nodded mutely.

  For a moment or two the air was blue with Jake’s colorful swear words. Faith covered her ears. I satisfied myself with feeling for a pulse in the injured girl’s neck. I felt it almost immediately. But it was erratic.

  “We going to the medical center?” I asked.

  “It’s quicker than trying to get her to Franklin. Hopefully, they can do emergency care, and an ambulance can take her on from there.”

  I nodded. It was the wisest course of action.

  “Did that old lady tell you to come?” Faith asked me, looking at me through the metal grid again.

  I didn’t have the energy to come up with an excuse a child would understand. And if she already saw ghosts, what was the point?

  “Yeah, she did. You did the right thing, Faith. You probably saved her life.” I nodded at the girl in my arms.

  Faith looked doubtfully down at her sister. “I should’ve done something sooner. I was just too scared. At school I could barely think straight, I was so worried. But I couldn’t tell. Mr. Jones said he’d kill her outright if someone came. But she was dying anyway. I knew that. So when I saw the old lady I… I asked her to get help.”

  “And she did. You did fine. Don’t worry. Look, we’re at the medical center now. They’ll help your sister,” I said, relieved to see the front of the center appearing on my side of the car.

  The next minutes were a blur. Jake got Lauren out and carried her quickly inside. I got Faith out and, holding her tiny hand, followed the sheriff inside where organized chaos was already in full swing. Staying out of the way, but still close enough to see what was going on, I watched as the nurse and doctor went into action.

  Jake hovered, explaining what had happened to her as best he could. How did you explain that a child had been the victim of crazy religious zealots attempting to exorcise a non-existent demon from her? All because she had telekinesis. Thank the gods they hadn’t realized that Faith could see ghosts. She’d probably learned to ignore them long ago so people didn’t call her crazy. Just like I had, thanks to Mom.

  For another ten or fifteen minutes, which felt more like three hours, we waited to hear whether Lauren would survive or not. All the time, I stood with the young girl pressed to my side, doing what I could to make her feel safe.

  But how safe would she be if they sent her back to those madmen? Maybe they’d be arrested. Surely child services would not let them keep children after this.

  However, I’d heard horror stories about the system before. Because there were so many abandoned children and so few quality foster parents, many less than humane and nurturing people were allowed to take those children. In many cases, it was out of the frying pan and i
nto the fire.

  Once his part was done, Jake began pacing the waiting room, obviously as concerned as I was by what was happening. Each time he looked at me and Faith he shook his head. I wasn’t sure what he meant by it, but I just focused on green eyes that were no longer hostile.

  What did I see in them now? Confusion, doubt, uncertainty? Was he trying to come up with a logical explanation for what had happened?

  “You know Faith?” he finally asked me.

  I hope I telegraphed my surprise at the question. “No, I only got here the day before yesterday. She’s too young for me to have known her twenty-five years ago.”

  “But she moved here recently,” he replied tersely, looking down at the girl who was nervously staring up at him. “Where did you live before you came here, darlin’?”

  “Philadelphia. Lauren and me lived with our folks in Philly till they died. Then the Joneses fostered us. They had to get permission to move us out-of-state. They came here because of the church. Free housing. But it was such a little house. Lauren and me didn’t even have a proper bedroom. Then she accidentally let them see what she could do…”

  “Move things with her mind?” Jake pressed, clearly still uncertain what to make of all that was happening.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, only too aware of the curious onlookers in the waiting room.

  Luckily, Jake had kept his voice down as he questioned her, so the oddness of our conversation wasn’t going to become fodder for the gossip mill.

  “And you don’t know this lady?” he pressed.

  Faith looked up at me in confusion. “Should I? No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  “What are you getting at, Sheriff?” I huffed out, thinking I actually knew what he was getting at.

  “I’m trying to work out how you knew what was going on. Were you a part of it, but then your conscience got the better of you, and you had to tell me?” he rasped, his temper rising.

  “If I had known, or been a party to this horror, surely Faith would have said she knew me, wouldn’t she?” I pointed out, barely controlling my own rising fury. “You heard her say she sent the old lady for help. I was that help.”