John cleared his throat and stood up. “Thank you, Pastor Williams. Brothers, it is with deep regret that I introduce this motion.”
I would have bet that his depth of regret went about as deep as a paper cut.
“I move that Pastor Mike be removed from the pastorate of Knox church and be given a four-month severance package from the date of termination.”
I fought to keep my face composed. I had to hand it to John; four months was generous. Most pastors were given two at most. Some friends of mine had been given only a month to find another position, which, considering how long it took to get a job in the church world, put many of them in serious financial trouble.
Timothy looked down the table at the other elders. “Is there a second to this motion?”
No one raised his hand. John grimaced and looked around at his allies, but they all avoided his gaze.
“Is there no one to second the motion?” Timothy said.
I couldn’t believe it. A week before, over half of these men had been rabid dogs about Mike’s dismissal. Now, not only did they look reluctant, they looked scared. I expected this meeting to be long and drawn out, but if no one seconded John’s motion, it was dead. No discussion would be needed.
We sat in awkward silence for about a minute.
Timothy swallowed hard. “Hearing no second, this moderator declares that the motion may not be brought before this body of elders for a vote.” He paused and then smiled. “I would like to take a moment of personal privilege to say that I’m very glad you all chose this route. I’ll do whatever I can to help this situation move forward. Things can be fixed by God’s grace, and I’m more than willing to be that agent, but only if invited. Now, I turn my moderator duties back over to Pastor Mike.”
“Thanks, Tim. I appreciate it,” Mike said as he took over the meeting. “Well, guys, I am sure you will be glad to get back to your families earlier than expected tonight. Obviously, we need to have some more meetings soon on how to move forward, and I certainly am in favor of Tim helping us. But for now, let’s pray and then we can figure the rest out as we go, if there are no objections.”
No one raised any objections, and John stared at Mike with his mouth open.
As Mike closed in prayer, my mind whirled. Did I suddenly have an obligation to tell people what I knew? Could I even prove any of it? All I heard was a conversation. I couldn’t even prove that it wasn’t his wife Sheila on the phone and that they were playing some weird game.
I bolted for my office at the final Amen. I needed the refuge of my little space. Just as my nerves were starting to calm, someone knocked at my door.
“Aidan?” Mike called out.
“Yeah. Come on in.”
He opened the door and sat down. “So, that was unusual, eh?” He leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head.
“To say the least.”
“I actually had Sheila calling real estate agents.”
“I’m sure.” I had no interest in prolonging the conversation.
“I wonder what happened.”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe a ghost appeared to them or something.”
Mike stared at me for a moment, with no smile, no frown, just blank. Then he laughed.
“That must have been it. Or maybe it was a case of he-who-is-without-sin-casting-the-first-stone.”
Strange reference.
He stood up and stretched. “All right, man, you doin’ okay? Any more on Amanda’s murder?”
“No, not a word.” I still didn’t want to talk to him, but I couldn’t be rude either.
“And how are things with the lady cop? Is she a believer?”
I wanted to ask why it mattered to him. “Well, we are just at the friend stage right now. Not dating.”
He nodded. “Are you going to stay here for a while?”
I wanted to get as far away from the church as possible. My stomach churned, and I felt dizzy. “No, got some errands to run tonight.”
“Okay. I think I’ll stay a bit and work on my sermon. By the way, thanks for filling in at the last minute for me this past Sunday.”
“That’s my job.”
He smiled. “That it is. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I gave him the finger after he turned around.
Packing up my stuff, I went outside to call Jennifer.
“Hey, how was the meeting?” she asked.
“Short. Unexpectedly short.”
“I guess so. I didn’t expect to hear from you for a couple of hours.”
“I know. Long story that I’ll explain later. Meet me at St. Patrick’s in fifteen minutes?”
“I’ll be there.”
From one strange situation to another…
Chapter Twenty-Four
I pulled up to St. Patrick’s and saw Jennifer’s Mustang among the ghost hunters’ cars.
She stepped out of the car, dressed in hip hugging jeans and an Ohio State sweatshirt. It didn’t matter what she wore, Jennifer always had the ability to get my blood pumping. She walked over to me and smiled.
“So tell me, what is this going to be like?” she asked, handing me some coffee from Cup O’ Joe.
“I haven’t the slightest clue. This will be a first for me.” I pressed on my bandaged head.
“Are you all right?” she asked as we walked to the door. “Does it hurt?”
“It does, but it’s not that,” I said. “It’s the meeting earlier. It made no sense at all. And Mike is cheating on his wife.”
“What? Are you going to say anything?” Her eyes searched my face.
“I have no proof.” I shook my head. “I overheard his side of a phone conversation, that’s all. And if I’m gonna be fired, I want to make sure it’s for the right reasons.”
“I guess you’re right. Sucks though.” She frowned.
“IFS,” I said, smiling a little.
“What?”
“Never mind. Let’s go inside.”
We walked up the stone steps, and the smell of honey wax hit us as we entered the building. All the lights had been turned off. Four candles, split between the two sides of the door, cast a glow that lit the entryway.
“Where is everyone?” Jennifer whispered.
“In the sanctuary, I think.”
We went into the chapel where the team sat before Father Neal. The flickering altar candles illumined the sanctuary. Everyone read the prayers of the Anglican service from the Book of Common Prayer.
Father Neal stood at the head of the sanctuary clothed in the white alb of a clergyman. He chanted the prayers with a passion I had never seen.
“From all evil and mischief; from sin, from the crafts and assaults of the Devil; from thy wrath, and from everlasting damnation; from all blindness of heart; from pride, vain-glory, and hypocrisy; from envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness; from fornication, and all other deadly sin; and from all the deceits of the world, the flesh, and the Devil; from lightning and tempest; from plague, pestilence, and famine; from battle and murder, and from sudden death; from all sedition, privy conspiracy, and rebellion; from all false doctrine, heresy, and schism; from hardness of heart, and contempt of thy Word and Commandment.”
“Good Lord, deliver us,” everyone responded in unison.
Murder, pride, fornication, uncharitableness, and maybe the Devil … I hadn’t been delivered from any of those in the past few days. I couldn’t say “Good Lord, deliver us” because I didn’t believe He would. He hadn’t been with me in the past, not that I could remember, anyway.
Still, I couldn’t deny the beauty of the Anglican service. It had rhythm and form, thoughtful words, beauty and mystery. As I knelt to take communion, knowing I shouldn’t, I took the wafer and dipped it into real wine. As I chewed on the wine-soaked wafer, I couldn’t help thinking how this way of taking communion seemed right and holy.
After Father Neal gave the benediction, we followed him into his office. I didn’t feel sleepy this time, but rather the op
posite as if I had drunk four Red Bulls in a row. The light of the room pulsed and flared.
“Okay, everyone,” Reg said. “Darrin and I reviewed the evidence.” He paused. “You know I don’t exaggerate, but I’m telling you all, this is by far the strangest evidence we have ever collected.”
Darrin agreed. “And I think we can thank our new preacher friend for that.”
I looked up. “What?”
“The spirit or spirits, or whatever the heck was in that house, seemed terribly interested in you,” Darrin said, twirling his cigarette.
“Why were they were so focused on Aidan?” Jennifer asked.
Everyone looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “This is Detective Jennifer Brown from the Columbus City Police Department. She is investigating Amanda’s murder. I have been helping her a bit, and I told her about this meeting. She is just interested in what you all do.” I wished I didn’t talk so much when I got nervous.
Zoe came over to Jennifer and offered her hand. “Detective Brown, it is a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to St. Patrick’s.”
“Please, it’s Jennifer. And I’m not here on official business. Just curious.”
“Of course, but your help may be required before the evening is over.”
Jennifer looked at her, puzzled. “Well, I’ll do what I can.”
“Welcome, Jennifer,” Reg said. “Maybe you can shed some of your luminous knowledge on us.”
Jennifer nodded, trying to suppress a smile.
“So, why were they so focused on me?” I broke in, a bit impatient at the discussion.
“I have my theories, and none are pleasant,” Father Neal said, gripping his cane.
“Let’s hear them,” I said.
“No, not yet. We must view and hear the evidence first.”
“Okay, so what did you all find?” I drummed my fingers on the table.
“Many things, actually. The most I have ever seen or heard. But let’s all move to the conference room. It has a projector and speakers that will serve us better,” Reg said.
As we walked, I grabbed Darrin. “So, what the hell did you guys find?”
“Better that you take it in yourself, preacher man.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I barely believe what I saw and heard myself. If someone had told me, I would have said they were crazy.”
“Darrin, come help hook all this up,” Reg said as we entered the room.
I sat down by Jennifer, and she leaned toward my ear. “They all seem a bit grim,” she whispered. “Were they like this last night?”
“No, not at all. They were serious, but not like this. The night went well, other than my getting attacked. Or whatever the heck it was.”
She nodded. “They must have found something bad.”
“I guess. What could it possibly be? JFK telling us who really killed him?”
She looked at me, lips pursed.
“What? What did I say? You don’t believe all this, do you?” I asked.
“I don’t know what I believe, but these people don’t seem like kooks.”
“How do you know?”
She frowned at me. “I’m a cop. Most cops develop a bullshit detector. I might be wrong, but these people don’t seem like they are out to fool you. Or us.”
“I didn’t say they were. I like them, but even the best people can be deluded.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Like you?”
Before I could offer a sarcastic response, Reg cleared his throat, and Jennifer turned her attention to him.
“Okay, Zoe,” he said. “If you’ll get the lights, we can start. Aidan and Jennifer, I need to tell you a bit about how we review evidence. We take everything, audio and video and download it onto computers. That way, we can review everything at once.”
“How much do you usually get?” Jennifer asked, more curious than I was.
“Well, the total is usually somewhere around thirty to forty hours of audio and visual evidence. We have the handheld cameras, the motion cameras, the microphones we place in the house, and the digital recorders. So, a lot to go over. Thankfully, Darrin and Kate are on break from school, so the three of us got through it by working nonstop since last night.”
“How do you sift through all that so quickly without missing anything?” Jennifer asked.
“We’ve gotten good at it,” Darrin said, smiling. “Plus, the audio is easy. You just look for the humps. When we put the audio on a particular program, we can see if anything has been recorded by the sound waves.”
“Ah, got it.” She nodded.
“And visually, you can usually spot something out of the ordinary,” Darrin said.
“Usually?” I asked.
“Well, we’re human, my dear preacher. We have been known to miss things. But in this case, it was not possible.”
Reg reached down to the computer and flipped a switch. The screen projected on the wall at the end of the conference table. We watched as the mouse moved around the screen and clicked on a file. “Okay, first the videos. There were only a few things caught that were considered unusual.” He clicked play, and a video from one of the night-vision cameras began. “Now, watch the middle of the screen.”
A figure crossed over the center of the video.
“Holy shit!” Jennifer blurted before covering her mouth.
“Let’s see that again as I slow it down,” Reg said. He played it in slow motion, and we saw the figure again, but this time in more detail. It was black and solid and carried something long and pointed in its hands.
“Is that a rifle?” Jennifer asked.
“We believe it is,” Father Neal said. “We have looked at this tape quite a few times tonight.”
“A Civil War era rifle, to be exact,” Kate jumped in. “Look at the bayonet at the top.” She took out a laser pointer and shone the red dot at the long knife-like object.
“So, what is a Civil War era ghost doing in this house hurting a baby?” I asked, confused.
“We’ll get to that,” Reg replied. “But for the record, we don’t believe this ghost is doing the hurting. Something is going on here that we’ve never seen before.” Reg went on as if he were giving one of his physics lectures. His very matter-of-fact scientific voice somehow made everything believable.
I looked at Jennifer, whose face gave nothing away. She stared at the screen, fingers on her mouth and lost in thought.
“The rest of the videos are very similar, dark figures moving at a fast pace. We couldn’t make out anything clearly, but we saw Victorian Age outfits, Native Americans, and just about every era of Columbus, Ohio.”
Reg reeled off each video, five in all. “Now, Jennifer and Aidan, you need to know that we rarely have this type of video evidence.”
“What do you mean by rarely?” Jennifer asked, leaning forward.
“Like, we’ll usually see something in one out of every ten cases. These five videos would normally mean about fifty cases of work.”
Jennifer continued to stare intently.
“There is even more to it,” Reg continued. “And here, what we don’t see is very interesting.” He pulled up another video. “This was taken just after Father Neal walked into the house for his blessing. Notice, the moment he lifts up his cane.”
The screen flashed white, and then the video moved as if someone had put it on cartoon fast forward. Dark figures swirled all around Father Neal, but none touched him because of the faint white line that surrounded him. Then the video stopped. “The camera went dead about five seconds into Father Neal’s blessing. To do that, it would take an energy burst beyond anything we have ever seen before. These cameras aren’t battery operated, they are plug-ins. There’s no scientific reason for it to happen.”
Reg took a deep breath. “If that was all the evidence we had, it would have been one of the most successful investigations I can remember. But there was more on the audio.” He pulled up another program, and a few bo
xes of wavy green lines dominated the wall. “Let’s start with the least impressive. This was recorded during Aidan and Darrin’s adventure in the basement. You’ll hear Aidan ask the ghost a smart aleck question.”
Jennifer looked at me and smiled.
Do you like Darrin’s singing?
We waited a few seconds and then we heard it. A low, digital sound.
NO.
“Let me loop it,” Reg said.
And then we heard it again.
NO. NO. NO. NO.
Jennifer leaned forward. “How do we know that is not Darrin or Aidan?”
“It wasn’t one of us,” I said. “Because all Darrin said was ‘funny.’ I remember.”
“Yes, actually you can hear Darrin say that here,” Reg said, pointing at a grouping of green lines. “Plus, to answer your question, Jennifer, the frequency is much lower than either Aidan or Darrin’s voices. They both register low, but this statement is beyond what can be achieved by the human voice.”
Jennifer nodded.
“Now, for the most impressive and, to be honest, the ones that have us all a bit scared. When we get an EVP, it is normally just a few words, scratchy and hard to hear. These next few are, well, different.” Reg pressed play, and a male voice came out of the speakers, whispering, but with no distortion.
He is stirring. The Bone Masters have come. Direct us. Show us the gates.
I stared at the screen in disbelief and then looked over at Father Neal. He didn’t react. They must have played it for him before we got here.
“And now, the next one,” Reg said.
Follow the Path. Go to the Gates. Go to Nebo. Blood is waiting. He is waiting. Open his gate.
My heart raced. “I’m sorry, did that last bit say, ‘Open his gate?’”
“Yes, it did,” Reg said as his voice cracked. “And here is the next one.”
The whole room seemed to hold its breath. A kid’s voice, low and frightened played over the speakers.
3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series) Page 19