Berkley Street 09 Amherst Burial Ground

by Ron Ripley

  “But the file,” David said, gesturing toward the laptop, “it holds a good deal of information. It should also tell us where the One is. The only question now is, do we dig through the file ourselves, or wait until we’re with Frank and Shane?”

  “I’d wait,” Shirley said, “I’m not certain about the extra security the Watchers have. They may have embedded a deletion program in the file that would erase it after a single use.”

  “Alright then,” David said, “we’ll wait until we’re with them.”

  “What’s the Watcher’s next step then?” Marie asked. “How do we stop them?”

  David looked at her and grinned.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I’m impressed,” David said. “That’s all. I’m just impressed.”

  “Their next step,” Shirley said, grinning at them both, “is to find out if the ghost at the intersection of the ley lines is really as powerful as they think. If it is, then they’ll try to reach out to it. If it isn’t, the Watchers will attempt to make it strong enough to test out their theory.”

  “More deaths?” Marie asked. Her voice was hard, unforgiving. David could sense the anger in her.

  It was difficult for him to feel the same. He had brought the Watchers’ own disavowed members to Borgin Keep and fed them to the dead. While he had never considered that others like himself might have been engaged in similar actions at different locations, it wouldn’t have bothered him.

  So long as those beings offered up had been adults. David had refused to sacrifice children.

  He doubted those in charge of the organization suffered from similar qualms.

  “When will they start the investigation?” Marie asked. Her questions, David realized, were those of a detective. She needed all of the information to process the situation and to move forward.

  “They’ve already started it,” Shirley said. “The director has sent an investigator out there. He should report back by the end of the week. I’ll pass along whatever information I can glean. I don’t think I should risk accessing the computer again directly. The director almost caught me this morning.”

  David heard the slight shudder in her voice and he understood. There would have been no excuse for Shirley to have been in the office so early, even if she was Clair’s secretary. She would have been questioned, and not gently. David had been witness to more than a few interrogations.

  Shirley would, in the end, have ended up dead. Either after a short ‘interview’ as they called the interrogations, or after a lengthy torture, if they didn’t believe her answers.

  One more body amongst a thousand others. Another spirit to feed the dead.

  “How will you get the information to us then?” Marie asked.

  “I’ll send an email,” Shirley said, and before either David or Marie could protest, she held up hand. “Not from my own account. Not even from the one I used to send the map. I’ll make a new one. You’ll know it’s mine. I’ll put something about a baptism in the subject line.”

  David nodded. “I don’t like you doing this.”

  His god-daughter looked at him with a maturity he didn’t realize she possessed.

  “Someone has to,” she said. “Or a lot more people are going to die.”

  David remained silent, for what Shirley said was a hard and bitter truth.

  Chapter 17: In Cody’s House

  The interior of Cody Gray’s house had a fresh coat of paint on the walls. A bright white that magnified what little light came through the bare windows. The carpets were new, as were the wooden risers on the stairs.

  Shane and Frank had entered the house through the front door. They stood in the main room. The stairs led up to the second floor and an entryway opened onto the kitchen, where new appliances gleamed in the starlight coming in through the bay window behind the sink.

  And like so many other homes and buildings Shane had been in, Cody’s house was cold.

  “Hello,” a voice whispered in Shane’s ear.

  It was a man’s voice. Confident and friendly, the voice of a man in whom a young man could confide. A father figure for the lost and the lonely.

  Shane turned his head towards the speaker.

  “What is it?” Frank asked in a low voice.

  Shane held up a finger.

  “Ah,” the man said. “You can hear me. That’s wonderful. It’s been a long time since someone came to visit me. It’s difficult, and lonely if I’m being perfectly honest. I find that I just feel better when I can talk to someone. Don’t you?”

  Shane nodded.

  “I knew you would,” the man said cheerfully. “What’s your name?”

  Shane told him and Frank stepped to one side, giving a short nod towards the kitchen. A slight movement of Shane’s hand sent his friend away, leaving Shane alone with the ghost.

  “I’m Cody, Shane,” the man said. “That’s a great name, you know. One of my favorite characters had your name. He was in a book by Jack Schaeffer. Do you know it?”

  “No,” Shane answered.

  “Ah well,” Cody said. “You’ll get to read it someday, I’m sure. Is that your friend who came in with you?”

  “Yes,” Shane answered.

  “He doesn’t look very trustworthy,” Cody confided. “Have you noticed that?”

  Cody’s words pushed their way into Shane’s mind. Each syllable seemed to latch onto him and it was a struggle to keep his mind focused on why they were there.

  “Terribly untrustworthy,” Cody continued, not noticing that Shane hadn’t agreed with him. “I’d be cautious. That’s all I’m saying, mind you. Be careful. You seem like a nice young man and I would hate for you to be hurt.”

  With the last word, Shane shivered. A deep, powerful urge to harm Frank surged through him and he gasped at the strength it took to fight the desire off.

  Cody let out an exclamation of surprise.

  “Who are you?” Cody demanded. “Who?!”

  Shane turned towards the sound of Cody’s voice, and for the first time he saw the ghost.

  Cody was tall with stooped shoulders. Light blonde hair fell to the shoulders of his blue cardigan and his head seemed unnaturally large. The man’s eyes were wide-set and his face was broad and flat. There was a look of shock on his face.

  “Tell me who you are,” Cody ordered.

  Shane resisted, managing a grin. “No.”

  “Got it!” Frank yelled from the kitchen.

  Cody twisted toward the sound of Frank’s voice and when he did so, Shane leaped at the ghost. He slammed his hand through the dead man’s body, the iron ring on Shane’s finger dispersing the ghost.

  An enraged howl filled the house and a heartbeat later Cody was back. He shimmered with energy as he glared at Shane but kept his distance.

  “How did you do that?” Cody asked.

  “It’s a secret,” Shane whispered. “I can’t tell you.”

  “I’ll make you tell me,” Cody hissed. “You don’t know what I can do.”

  “Wrong,” Shane snapped. “I don’t care what you can do.”

  “When I’m through with you, you will care,” Cody corrected.

  With a scream that penetrated Shane’s skull, Cody charged forward again. Shane twisted away, throwing a punch at the dead man. Cody twisted away from the blow, snarled and kicked out, the strike catching Shane in the thigh and sending him spinning back.

  Shane caught himself against the wall, spun around to face the ghost.

  Cody crouched down and grinned.

  Then the ghost straightened up, a look of surprise on his face. He shook his head, unsure what to do.

  Light flickered in the doorway to the kitchen and the curious odor of burning bone filled the house.

  A small spot of blue, tinged with orange, appeared on Cody’s left cheek. It spread like wildfire, and then Cody seemed to understand what was about to happen.

  The ghost let out a shriek, clawed at his own face and then his voice reached a pitch Shane d
idn’t think was possible. Cody’s fingers were devoured by flames that burst forth from the dead man’s cheeks.

  Shane watched, the shotgun held in his hands. He kept the barrel pointed towards Cody and part of him wondered if the ghost would make an effort to attack Frank.

  But the dead man didn’t seem to realize that it was Frank who had lit his remains on fire.

  Shane winced as Cody’s voice rose to a crescendo, and then ended as the dead man vanished.

  A moment later, the sound of water running came from the kitchen.

  Frowning, Shane walked into the room to see Frank at the sink. A cloud of noxious smoke hung about the ceiling above him.

  “Where’d you find the bone?” Shane asked.

  “Looks like Cody’s secret room was in the pantry, behind a false wall,” Frank answered as he turned on the water and splashed it about the stainless steel of the sink.

  “What are you doing?” Shane asked.

  “Washing the ash out,” Frank replied.

  “Why?” Shane asked, feeling confused.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Frank asked in return. “Who wants to see bone ash in a sink?”

  Shane shook his head and laughed at the absurdity of the statement.

  A whisper filled the kitchen and he looked over to Frank, all mirth gone.

  “Oh, hell,” Shane muttered.

  A shape barreled past him, the blurred image of a woman. She screamed as she slammed into Frank, throwing him into the countertop. When she attacked Frank again, the former monk smashed a fist through her, the iron disrupting her and casting her away.

  Frank sank to the floor and gasped, “Pantry.”

  Shane nodded, ran towards the open pantry door, and narrowly missed the ghost as she raced out into the kitchen. He pushed himself into the small closet, felt a loose panel in front of him, and shoved it open. From a small skylight came the dim glow of the moon, casting enough of light for Shane to see by. The sounds of the fight in the kitchen increased and it seemed as though Frank wasn’t doing well.

  Shane’s eyes stopped on a small plate on top of a shelf that stood at eye-level. Pinned to the wall above the dish was an old and worn wedding invitation.

  He reached out, tore the invitation away, and found a small, dark hole behind it. Shane plunged his hand into it, grasped something cold and metallic, and pulled it out.

  In his hands, he found the remains of a severed finger with a wedding band on it.

  Mrs. Gray, Shane thought. He ran with the grotesque item back into the kitchen and had to duck as Frank was thrown against the far wall.

  Mrs. Gray ignored Shane until he dropped her remains into the sink and set them on fire.

  Unlike her husband, Mrs. Gray didn’t stand still.

  She abandoned Frank and charged at Shane. Her punch caught him squarely on the chin and dropped him to his knees, his head screaming in agony.

  No other attack followed, for the flames devoured her.

  Frank stumbled over to the sink, waited until the fire had extinguished itself and then washed her remains away the same as he had her husband’s.

  Shane pulled himself to his feet and looked at his friend. The left side of the man’s face was swollen, blood trickling from the left corner of his mouth.

  “You good?” Shane asked.

  Frank nodded, turned the water off, and dried his hands on his pants as he asked, “Now what?”

  “We go on to the next house,” Shane replied. “We should be able to do another two tonight, since we know where they are.”

  “What about after that?” Frank inquired.

  “Then we go home,” Shane answered.

  “And will you free Lisbeth’s soul?” Frank asked in a soft voice.

  The question caught Shane off-guard.

  “No,” Shane said. “I’m not done with her yet. And we’ve got more ghosts to burn.”

  With that, he shouldered his shotgun and left the house, Frank silent behind him.

  Chapter 18: More Bad News

  Jenna and Gabby sat in Clair’s office. Their eyes were sunken, their faces drawn. They looked as if they hadn’t slept well in days and Clair didn’t care.

  Clair took pills each night to sleep. And it had gotten bad enough that she washed them down with a glass of wine. Only she and the twins knew what was going on, what it was that Shane and Frank were doing to the organization.

  It has to be them, she thought, stifling a curse.

  “How many?” Clair asked, hating the stiffness in her voice.

  “Three on Monday night. Two more on Tuesday,” Jenna answered.

  “They took a breather on Wednesday and Thursday,” Gabby continued, “and then hit us again yesterday.”

  Clair glared at Gabby until the woman added, “Another three.”

  “Damn it!” Clair snarled, slapping the top of her desk.

  “At least they’re small,” Jenna said.

  “The size doesn’t matter here,” Clair spat. “Every single one of them is necessary now. Rousseau didn’t return. We have the One. We’re not losing one ghost in each house. Oh no, we’re losing all of the dead it siphons energy from. It is a horrific ripple in our little pond.”

  “Do you want us to go to Shane’s house?” Jenna asked.

  “Are you serious?” Clair asked after a stunned moment of silence.

  “Sure,” Gabby said, nodding and glancing at her twin. “It’s just him and his buddy, right?”

  Clair took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said, “Were either of you ever informed as to why these two gentlemen are an issue for us?”

  “No,” Jenna said. “We only know that they were causing some trouble.”

  The phone on the desk rang before Clair could enlighten the sisters. A look at the base showed a button labeled “Emilio and Sadie” flashed. Something about the pair tugged at her memory but it wouldn’t reveal itself. Frowning, Clair reached out and answered the call.

  “Hello?” she asked, her voice sharp.

  “Why hello,” a man said. His tone was harsh and unforgiving. “Who’s this?”

  “Evidently the wrong number,” Clair retorted and slammed the phone back into its cradle.

  Before her hand had left the receiver, the phone rang again.

  The same line flashed.

  Feeling anger flare within her, Clair snatched up the phone.

  “You have the wrong number,” she began, but the man on the other end cut her off before she could finish.

  “Where’s Harlan?”

  “He’s not here,” she replied, wary. “Who’s this?”

  “This is Shane Ryan.”

  Clair straightened up. “Shane.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Clair.” The twins leaned in, all hints of exhaustion gone as they listened intently to the part of the conversation they could hear.

  “You’re in charge now,” Shane said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “I am,” Clair replied.

  “What happened to Harlan?” Shane asked.

  “I had him strangled,” she responded.

  A snort of laughter came through the line. “Good. Well, I have to ask, how do you like my work so far?”

  Hatred boiled within her. Gritting her teeth together, she replied, “I’m not. When are you going to stop?”

  “Just as soon as I’ve crushed your organization,” Shane replied in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible.

  “You can’t,” Clair stated.

  “Maybe not,” Shane conceded. “But I’m going to try. And now, I know how.”

  He left an unasked question in the dead space between them and when Clair didn’t speak, he did.

  “I know about the One,” Shane said. “I know where it is. And while I figure out what to do about it, how to go about destroying it, I’m going to continue to disassemble the Watchers. A single ghost at a time.”

  “And what makes you think you’ll succeed?” Clair hissed. “What
makes you think we can’t stop you?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll succeed,” Shane said. “But I know you haven’t been able to stop me yet. Let’s not forget, Clair, that you’ve got an awful lot of real estate to cover. I don’t think you’ve got the personnel to protect everything, and I know for damn sure you don’t have the ability to come at me again.”

  He chuckled, a grim, painful sound.

  “I almost forgot,” Shane added. “Lisbeth sends her regards.”

  The phone went dead and Clair’s hand shook with rage as she put the receiver back.

  “What did he say?” Jenna asked.

  Clair gave the twins a synopsis of the conversation.

  “We need to kill him,” Gabby said, standing up and pacing about the office.

  Clair shook her head. “No. Not yet. Our first priority is protecting access to the One. As soon as we’ve established that we can send out teams to try and intercept him.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Jenna asked.

  “Do you know Linda Grace?” Clair asked, taking a notepad out and jotting a message down upon it.

  “No,” the twins answered in unison.

  “I didn’t think so,” Clair said. She tore the page free, folded it, and handed it to Gabby. “Take this to her. Ms. Coleman will give you Linda’s contact information on the way out.”

  The twins nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them.

  Clair stared at the phone, a mixture of fear and hate churning in her stomach. Shane was far more dangerous than she had believed.

  And once more, she realized how essential it was to kill the man.

  Chapter 19: In Amherst with Linda

  Linda Grace stood at the edge of the woods in Amherst, New Hampshire.

  She was a young woman. Unlike those she knew, Linda existed in a world of silence. She had been born deaf and thus was immune to the verbal assaults of the dead. Linda had discovered that talent the hard way, when as a child she had watched her mother succumb to the ghost of a young man who had convinced her to drink drain cleaner.

  Later in life, Linda had discovered the Watchers by accident, and when they learned of her previous experience, she had found herself employed.