The Mayhem Children (A Project Specter Mystery Book 1)

by Paul Seiple

  A black Escalade pulled in behind Terrence’s sedan. Don, Mason, and a tall woman stepped out of the SUV. The woman almost glided. Her black hair, laced with streaks of gray, waved like tiny hands in the heavy wind.

  “I didn’t expect her to look like Morticia Addams,” Kim said.

  “Who?” Terrence asked.

  “The Addams Family?”

  Terrence shrugged his shoulders and stepped out of the car. Kim followed.

  “The wicked has a strong grasp here,” the woman said, walking over to the tree that had been struck by lightning. She ran her long black fingernails over the damage. She chanted something in a language Kim couldn’t make out.

  “There’s a high level of black magic residing here.”

  Seeing the mask of confusion on Terrence’s face, Don spoke up. “This is Debbie Collier. She’s worked with Mason for years.”

  “I wouldn’t be here without her,” Mason said, trying to reassure Terrence.

  Debbie turned her back to the tree and pointed at Kim. “You’re the one seeing The Mayhem?”

  “I’m not sure what I’ve seen,” Kim said.

  “You know what you’ve seen. You’re just afraid to admit it. Maybe you think if you ignore it, then it’s not real. It’s very real,” Debbie said.

  Debbie walked onto the front porch. Don and Mason were right behind. Kim eyed Terrence. He sighed and started up the steps.

  “Do you see anything?” Debbie directed the question to Kim.

  “Why does everyone keep aski…” The words couldn’t slip by the lump in Kim’s throat. She saw something.

  Debbie smiled. “It’s OK. Tell me what you see. The power of the light will protect you.”

  “The word ‘Mayhem’ written in chalk,” Kim said.

  Debbie bent down, placing her knee against the wooden planks of the porch. She pointed to the entrance of the front door. “Here.”

  “You see it too?” Kim asked.

  “You’re not crazy, Kim Strode,” Debbie said. “This house is poisoned by the left hand.” Debbie stood up and brushed off her knees. “These grounds are cursed with The Mayhem. It’s one of the strongest black magic spells. I’m only going to give this warning once. If you are not of strong mind, do not enter this house. No one will think you are a coward for opting out.” Debbie’s eyes shifted to Terrence. “What lies behind this door will tear your soul apart. Saint Michael medals, holy water; none of those things will protect you. Your only weapon is a strong mind. The evil will try to break you.”

  “If Kim goes, I go,” Terrence said.

  Debbie placed her hand on Terrence’s forearm. “You’ve seen darkness before?”

  Terrence turned away.

  “When you were younger, evil touched you. You’re what I call a conductor. You cannot go inside,” Debbie said.

  “I’m not going to let my partner go in alone,” Terrence said.

  “She won’t be alone,” Debbie said. “You will do her more harm by going in.”

  “How about this, Terrence? I’ll stay outside with you. Kim will be safe with Don and Debbie. Together, they’ve had years of dealing with other world occurrences. Believe me, if Debbie doesn’t want you going in, she has a good reason,” Mason said.

  “I’ll be fine,” Kim said.

  Terrence walked to the other side of the porch and stared into the woods. “If something goes wrong, you scream, and I’m in there.”

  “I know you will be.” Kim eyed the porch floor. The word MAYHEM was gone. She looked at the welcome mat, which read ENTER. “So do we need to do anything before we go in?”

  Debbie ran her palm down the front door without fear of splinters from the distressed wood. She chanted again.

  “I’ve enabled a protection spell, but the evil in this house could be too powerful. We must stay focused. The wicked finds its way into our bodies through our minds.”

  Don pulled a vial from the inside pocket of his corduroy jacket. “It’s holy water. Your gun will do no good against this. Keep the water close.” He handed it to Kim.

  Debbie turned away from the door. “The conjurer of the spell is also a conduit. He or she has no control over the curse once it’s been summoned. Only Satan can unleash the six demons of Mayhem. Not all are present at this house. One very powerful demon that presents as a little girl is here.” Debbie walked to Kim. “You’ve seen The Mayhem, which means you have a connection to the revenge sought.”

  “I think it stems from a case my father worked years ago,” Kim said.

  “We did not tell Debbie about the Silent Six,” Don said.

  “My father was the detective who caught Elvin Hayes,” Kim said. “He killed six kids here in the seventies.”

  “Jessica Challis,” Debbie said.

  “She was one of the children,” Kim said.

  “This was her house,” Debbie said.

  “Yes,” Kim said. “But the Tates have no connection to Hayes or the case. Mason said it’s the house.”

  “Mason is a wealth of knowledge. But he’s wrong about this. Mayhem is a revenge spell. Its purpose to right the wrongs done to someone. Inanimate objects cannot wrong people,” Debbie said. “The demon is not here because of the house.”

  “Well, hopefully, the house will give us answers,” Don said.

  “We shall see. Are we ready?” Debbie asked.

  Kim nodded.

  Debbie opened the door. A chill cut through the doorway. Shivers crept over Kim, leaving a trail of gooseflesh on her arms. The house smelled old, musty with a hint of mothballs. Debbie stepped into the living room. Kim moved to her left and Don to her right. The room was in shambles. Books were strewn over the floor along with pillows from the couch, but there was an eerie silence hovering over the room.

  “Is it here?” Kim asked.

  Debbie didn’t answer. She walked to the staircase. Heat radiated through her fingertips as she touched the wooden bannister. She took a few steps and stopped.

  “We must stay together.” Debbie motioned for Don and Kim to join her on the stairs. “Spirits are cold. They provide no warmth. Touch the bannister.”

  Kim placed her hand on the wood and jerked it back as though it was a hot stove.

  “We already knew this, but we are not dealing with a spirit. This is inhuman. It has the ability to manipulate everything around it. Inhumans do not need to build up energy like spirits. They are already energized,” Debbie said.

  “Pretty little hair. You have such pretty little hair.”

  Something touched Kim’s hair as the little girl’s voice giggled. Kim swatted at the air around her head. She almost hit Don. He fell a step back, catching his balance before tumbling down the stairs.

  “What is it, Kim?” Debbie asked.

  “You didn’t hear it?” Kim asked.

  A flash of movement below caught Debbie’s attention. A blonde girl sat on the couch with her back to them. She was bouncing a tennis ball that was meant for Rocky.

  “You won’t find anything upstairs,” the girl said.

  “Did you hear it that time?” Kim asked.

  “I’m not an it. I’m a little girl.”

  “You’re not a child,” Debbie said.

  “I most certainly am. Look at me.” The girl flipped over on the couch so that she was facing them. Her face was pale, almost sickly, but she looked human.

  Debbie motioned for Kim and Don to get off the stairs. “What’s your name?”

  “Jessica. I’m lonely here. My family left me.”

  “Your name is not Jessica,” Debbie said. “What’s your true name, demon?”

  Humidity filled the room. The air grew stagnant, making it hard to breathe.

  “You doubt me?” The voice of a child was gone. This was much deeper.

  “Jessica Challis is dead,” Debbie said.

  The corner of the little girl’s mouth opened as she smiled. Flashes of green tentacles wiggled out against her chin. “Prove it. There’s no body.”

  “
You wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t dead,” Debbie said.

  “I’m here because there’s been an injustice.” The girl turned her attention to Kim. “Kim Strode, how’s your father?”

  The deep tone rattled Kim. The question infuriated her.

  “How does he live with himself, knowing that he murdered an innocent man?”

  “My fath…”

  Debbie grabbed Kim’s arm and shook her head.

  “Oh, that’s right; he can’t even remember his name. Do you have to wipe his ass?”

  “Don’t answer any of its questions. It’s trying to get in your head,” Debbie said.

  “You’re not playing fair, Debbie Collier. You want me to answer your questions. But you will not answer mine.”

  “What’s your name, demon?” Debbie asked. Her tone was stern.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t take the same path as your son after your husband left you for a younger woman with better lips.”

  “What is your name, demon?” Debbie asked.

  A smirk stretched across the little girl’s face, rippling her almost translucent skin. “I am Lucifer. The bringer of light.”

  “You’re not Lucifer,” Debbie said.

  The girl laughed, filling the room with the stench of sulfur. “What gave it away?

  My voice? It’s not deep enough, is it? No pitchfork?”

  “I invoke you to name yourself, demon,” Debbie said.

  The girl disappeared in a flash of light. She reappeared behind Debbie. The girl stretched her neck like a python around Debbie’s neck. “I am death. Feel my power.”

  Debbie gagged and gasped for air. She reached for her throat and dropped to her knees. Debbie’s pale face started to turn blue.

  Kim fumbled for the holy water. She unscrewed the cap and splashed it on Debbie and the little girl.

  “Silly fool. Not even the hand of God can stop me,” the girl said.

  Rage overtook Kim. Everything she ever disliked penetrated her mind. She threw the vial of water against the wall. Her arms moved beyond her control. She grabbed for Don’s neck, digging her fingernails into his flesh.

  Debbie tried to speak. The girl reached into her mouth and down her throat. Debbie’s vocal cords tightened. She gasped.

  Kim’s grip strengthened. Her knuckles turned white. A bluish hue shadowed Don’s face. He pawed at Kim’s wrists but couldn’t free himself.

  The girl lifted Debbie from the floor, still strangling her from the inside. Debbie managed to grab a vase and heave it towards the door. It missed its mark, landing onto a pile of books.

  “Why don’t you tell me about the time you were touched by evil?” Mason sat on the top porch step next to Terrence.

  “I don’t know what she was talking about. I don’t even believe in this stuff,” Terrence said.

  “Believe in it or not, Debbie is never wrong,” Mason said.

  “Where did you find her?” Terrence asked.

  “I didn’t. She found me. She saved me.”

  “How did she save you?”

  “Debbie came into my life in a dark period. The world of the unknown will show you things you cannot unsee. Too many of those things piled up. I wasn’t sleeping. I was drinking way too much scotch. I was dying. Debbie helped bring the light back to my soul.”

  “Why do you do this?” Terrence asked.

  “Son, there is an evil in this world that goes beyond dictators and terrorist groups who have no value of human life. The hate and violence that fuels the seen evil is an atrocity that has to be dealt with.”

  “But why you?”

  “I do it so others do not have to. Pure evil imprints on your soul. You should know this; you’ve seen it,” Mason said.

  “I never saw it. I felt it.”

  “You don’t have to see it to be scarred,” Mason said.

  Terrence glanced at his watch. He estimated they had been inside the house for about twenty minutes. He stood up and paced. With each step, the wood beneath his feet snapped.

  “You’re going fall through if you’re not careful,” Mason said.

  “It’s taking too long.”

  “Patience is required when dealing with the paranormal.”

  A crash against the front door caused Mason to jump to his feet. The old man grabbed the porch railing.

  “I’m going in,” Terrence said. The door was locked. He reached for the door knob but pulled his hand back from the scalding heat. Terrence lowered his shoulder and slammed against the wooden door. There was no give. It was as if the door pushed back. “Get out of the way.”

  Mason stepped to the side. Terrence backed up to the edge of the steps and pictured the front door being a six-feet-five, three-hundred-and-fifty-pound lineman standing between him and the end zone. He hit the door with everything he had. It swung open. Terrence stumbled into the house. Debbie was levitating about two feet off the ground and Kim was choking Don.

  “Kim,” Terrence said.

  Debbie fell to the floor. Kim let go of Don. He crumbled against the wall.

  “It wasn’t me,” Kim said.

  Debbie crawled to a table. She used it as support to steady herself. She tried to speak but could only muster a cough.

  “Help me get them out of this house while there is time,” Mason said.

  Kim reached for Don. She was too weak to lift him. Terrence hoisted Don up, draping his arm over his shoulder. He extended his other hand to Kim. Mason put his arm around Debbie and led her outside.

  The door slammed behind Terrence. He eased Don onto a rocking chair and turned to Kim. “Are you all right?”

  “I had no control of my body,” Kim said.

  “It’s the strongest inhuman I’ve encountered,” Debbie said. Her voice was different. Raspy. As if she was lifetime smoker. “Don?”

  “I’m alive.” Don coughed and spit over the side of the rocker.

  “How do we deal with this?” Terrence asked.

  “We need to leave. The house will not confine the demon,” Debbie said.

  Terrence helped Don to the SUV. Kim, Debbie, and Mason were right behind. Terrence and Mason got Don situated in the backseat. Debbie placed her hand on Kim’s.

  “It’s connected to you through your father. You’re not safe anywhere. It’s a good thing your father is with the witches,” Debbie said.

  Terrence turned and saw a figure in an upstairs window. “Please tell me I’m not the only one who sees a little girl.” He pointed to the window.

  “I see it,” Mason said.

  The little girl waved.

  “What does it mean if I can see it now?” Terrence asked.

  “We’ve all been touched by Mayhem,” Debbie said.

  “And can you translate that from paranormal to English?” Terrence asked.

  “It means we are all in great danger,” Mason said.

  The little girl turned into a mist that fogged up the window. The words “Don’t Leave Me. I’m Lonely” appeared in the condensation.

  “It means we are carriers now,” Debbie said.

  “Like a virus?” Kim asked.

  “Much worse. It’s gotten too strong. We need to find the source before one of us does something we cannot come back from,” Debbie said.

  “We have to trace it back to Elvin Hayes,” Mason said.

  “And how do we do that? My father knew him better than anyone. There is nothing in his journals about this,” Kim said.

  A soft sensation tapped Kim’s thigh like a gentle touch. Startled, she bounced into Terrence.

  “You OK?” Terrence asked.

  A nervous laugh escaped Kim’s clenched teeth. “My phone.” A text message flashed across the screen.

  I need to speak with you and Terrence immediately. My office in thirty minutes. -Judith.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Kim said, shoving her phone back into her jeans.

  “What is…” Terrence’s phone rang before he could get the question out. JUDITH RICHARDS popped up on hi
s phone.

  “Let it go to voicemail,” Kim said.

  After about thirty seconds, a voicemail notification appeared. Terrence read the visual voicemail aloud.

  Simms, I need you and Strode in my office in…twenty-seven minutes. If you’re not here, I will send officers to find you.

  “It seems important,” Mason said. “Go. We will head back to the museum and figure out what to do next.

  Eighteen

  Kim and Terrence sat in a small waiting area, big enough for only two chairs and a small coffee table littered with out-of-date magazines. The walls were a pale yellow and plastered with awards and photos of Judith Richards accepting the awards.

  “It’s unbelievable. She told us we had to be here in thirty minutes. Now she’s ten minutes late,” Kim said, glancing at her watch.

  “She’s probably performing for the television cameras,” Terrence said.

  “Well, if she isn’t here in five minutes, we’re leaving,” Kim said.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Strode,” Judith said, walking by them to her office door. A cameraman was only steps behind. “My office.” Judith motioned for the cameraman to stay in the reception area.

  “What’s this about, Judith?” Kim asked, shutting the door behind her.

  “Sit,” Judith said.

  “Is this what it’s like to be called to the principal’s office?” Terrence asked.

  “Much worse, Simms. You’re lucky I didn’t have both of you locked up when you entered the building,” Judith said. “If it were up to Mary English’s family, you would be on death row right now.”

  “English had family?” Kim asked.

  “Wait, we didn’t do anything wrong,” Terrence said.

  “Try explaining that to Mary English’s sister,” Judith said. “Try convincing her that you had to use deadly force on a seventy-three-year-old woman with two bad hips and a body riddled with osteoporosis.”

  “Mary English’s sister died a few years ago,” Kim said.

  “She has another sister who lives in California. She changed her name after the Silent Six case and moved away,” Judith said.

  “Well, I don’t care what English’s sister thinks. She was going to shoot Terrence. I did what I had to do to protect my partner,” Kim said.