Charles’ hand trembled as he pulled the hair from the flame. “Did anyone else see that?”
The pitch rose in Oscar’s voice. “I didn’t see anything, but I heard a weird noise.”
Monica glanced at Charles. “What did you see?”
He swiped at his face with a free hand. “Two blood red eyes staring at me.”
The stench hovered in the air. My stomach clenched. This was how the nightmares of the scabby creature always began—with the smell of rotting flesh. “Monica, don’t go any further with this. Let’s get out of here.” I held out my hand to her.
“What did you see?” Charles asked.
“Nothing, but I got a real bad feeling. We need to stop now.”
“Ooooh.” William wiggled his fingers in the air. “The little football player is scared.”
Monica patted at my outstretched hand. “I only saw red sparks and a little smoke. There’s nothing too scary about that, is there?”
I knew she was desperate to find a cure for her husband, but she didn’t have a clue as to the depth of the evil possessing him. “Okay. Go ahead if that’s what you feel you have to do, but be ready in case something weird happens.”
Her throat muscles ripped when she swallowed. “I’m ready.”
I sat down in the chair and nodded for Charles to continue.
He appeared about as reluctant as me, but he stuck the bloody ends of the hair back into the flame. A black puff of smoke popped out of the lock of hair. Charles flinched. The hair slipped from his fingers and landed on the flame. The entire lock of hair ignited.
The blood sizzled as a black spiral of smoke rose up. The putrid stench intensified. A gurgling, grunting noise bubbled from the candle wax. Red sparks shot through the air. A ball of fire about the size of a basketball burst from the burning hair. Thick black smoke bellowed upward and hovered over the candle. The smoke transformed into the terrifying creature of my nightmares.
Long, sharp claws slashed at those sitting at the table. Screams of terror filled the air. Chairs crashed over backwards onto the floor. The demon reared his ugly head and opened his mouth, showing filthy, green snaggled teeth. A bloodcurdling screech gushed from his throat. The thing lunged at any movement, but couldn’t move from the center of the table. The creature was held—tethered to the candle, or perhaps to the lock of hair trapped in the burning flame.
I hadn’t moved in my chair, but the filthy thing saw me—sensed me somehow. The ugly, ratty looking man lunged at me, gnashing his sharp teeth close to my face. The creature howled a deafening roar. Spit from his opened mouth slapped against my cheek. My stomach knotted from the disgusting smell.
Monica stood behind the chair. She attempted to escape, but the demon caught her movement and lunged at her. She stumbled backward. Her back smacked against the wall. She turned her head when the creature stuck his scabby face next to hers. I sprang from the chair and forced my body between them.
“Get away from her,” I shouted.
Needle sharp claws swiped at my chest, but I stood just beyond his reach. When he swiped again, I made my own lunge. I grabbed the tablecloth and yanked it. The candelabra tumbled over, the flame gutted out, and the creature vanished. A small plume of black smoke rose from the smoldering clump of burnt hair.
I took a deep breath to calm myself, but the smell of rotted flesh caught in my throat, and I gagged on the stench.
Monica made a whimpering noise. I turned and put my arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.”
Her body shook as we stumbled across the floor. As we neared the French doors, loud banging rapped on the glass panes. Lisa’s voice shouted from the other side. William crouched on the floor. His hand held the knob.
“Let go of the handle.”
William glanced up at me. The look of terror showed in his eyes. “It’s locked.”
I shoved his hand aside and opened the door.
“What happened?” Lisa stood in the open doorway. Tears filled her eyes. “I heard screaming, but I couldn’t get the door open.”
I put my other arm around her and led them both to the kitchen table. Monica collapsed into the chair. I glanced at the half dozen people hovering around us. The screaming must have attracted their attention.
“Somebody get her a drink,” I demanded.
Several glasses containing various colored liquids scooted across the table toward her. She picked up the closest one and downed it in a single gulp. She propped her elbow on the table and held up two fingers. “I need a cigarette.”
Instantly, a long white cigarette was shoved between her clenched fingers.
“No, Mom.” Lisa took it from her. “You promised to quit.”
Monica swiped her hand over her face. “All right, just get me something to drink. Wine. Not the hard stuff.”
Zorro nudged me in the ribs with his elbow. “What happened in there?”
I glanced at Lisa. Her wide eyes stared at me as she waited for an explanation. I couldn’t lie to her face, so I looked at Zorro. “One of the candles tipped over and a little fire broke out.”
Chapter Thirty–Six
I glanced at the French doors. No one else had come out of the dining room, and none of the people in the kitchen seemed eager to venture in. I dreaded the chore, but I had to go back in and bring out the others. “Stay here,” I said to Lisa. “I’ll be right back.”
In the dining room, the ghostly glow persisted and I tripped over William the vampire’s legs on the way to the light switch. I spun the knob, turning the chandelier to its highest setting. Light flooded the room.
A stench lingered in the air, but the presence of evil had vanished. Thick, black smoke hovered near the ceiling. The edge of the tablecloth spilled onto the floor and the candelabras at either end lay turned on their sides. In the center, water from the broken flower vase saturated the table top and dripped onto the floor.
Charles sat at the table, a blank expression on his face. Something kicked at the tablecloth on the other side. I walked further into the room. Oscar lay under the table, curled into a fetal position. I glanced over my shoulder at William crumpled on the floor. He blubbered like a little baby.
They were a pathetic looking bunch, but I had no sympathy for them. I’d warned them, told them not to continue, but they ignored me. Even ridiculed me with their haughty I’m older and more experienced than you crap.
These crybabies had to push aside their fear, gather their courage, and man up. That’s what the coach preached when our team faced a fierce advisory. Perhaps giving them a challenge would help them snap out of their stupor. I clapped my hands together to get their attention. “Okay, let’s get this séance started.”
The collective fear showing in their eyes made me cringe. Remorse set in. These weren’t football players, and I wasn’t a coach. I set aside the pep talk and held out my hand to Oscar. “Do you want some help getting up?”
He barely moved. I shoved my hands under his arm pits and hauled him to his feet. His wobbly legs didn’t hold him, so I plopped him in a chair. I glanced at Charles. “Do you need help with anything?”
His head moved from side to side as if in slow motion.
I took a couple steps toward William. “How about you?”
“I think I wet myself.”
I held up both hands and backed away. “Sorry, but you’re on your own.”
I grabbed an upturned chair and positioned it near Charles. “Do you have any idea what that was?” I sat in the chair and waited for him to gather his thoughts.
The blank look in his eyes lessened and his tongue flicked across his lips. “I need a drink.”
“Water?”
“No. Something stronger.”
“Crap!” My frustration had reached its limit. “I see that scary thing every night in my dreams, and I haven’t turned into an alcoholic.”
“I’m sorry, but my throat is too raw to talk.”
I grumbled all the way out the French doors. “I need
three glasses and a bottle of wine,” I yelled to no one.
While I waited, I put both hands on the table and leaned closer to Lisa. “How’s your mom doing?”
Her shoulders shrugged. “She’s on her third glass of wine.”
“This is only my second.” Monica lifted a full glass of white wine as if making a toast. “And I’m right here, so quit talking about me like I’m not in the room.”
My cranky mood jumped a notch higher. I ignored her and talked to Lisa. “Hope your mom is doing better than the others. If think Oscar and the vampire both need to change their underwear.”
Mama Dubois touched the back of my hand. “How is my son?”
I dialed down my response. “He’s doing all right. The smoke is still thick so we have to air out the room. It’s probably a good idea if nobody else goes in there right now.”
I glanced at Monica, hoping she’d catch on to the story I wanted Lisa to believe. “How are you doing after the little fire? Any lingering effects from the smoke?”
Her eyes rolled up in her head before she took another swig from the glass.
Zorro set a wine bottle on the table and scooted it toward me. He placed three empty glasses upside down next to my hand. I wondered if he was a butler or waiter, and not a guest.
Monica flicked me on the arm with the back of her knuckles. “I hope you’re not drinking. We’ll need a driver if we’re going to make it home tonight.”
“I’m not.” I changed my voice to imitate an actor I’d seen in an old western. “White man’s firewater no good for injun.”
“You’re Native American?” Her eyelids narrowed as she looked me over. “That would explain it.”
“Explain what?”
“That look you’ve got going. The tall, dark, han—”
My laughter burst out before I could stop it. “See that,” I said to Lisa. You’re mom thinks I’m handsome even if you don’t.”
Lisa gasped. “I never said that.”
“You said I wasn’t cute like a baby,” I teased.
“And you’re not. You’re very masculine.”
“That’s the same as handsome?”
“Yes, silly.”
“Okay.” I kissed her on the cheek. “And don’t call me silly.” I grabbed the bottle and threaded my fingers through the stems of the glasses. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
William had somehow managed to crawl to the table and was trying to climb into a chair. I filled the wine glasses and set one in front of each man before taking a seat at the head of the table. “Well, Charles, have you figured out what that thing was?”
After several gulps of wine, his attention focused on me, but his eyes still had a dazed look. “It wasn’t real.”
Maybe he was just trying to convince himself, but I didn’t buy into it. “It felt real enough to me. The ugly thing almost bit off my head.”
“No. If it was real, it would have killed us all.”
The trembling from Oscar and William made the solid wood table shake, but I ignored them and studied Charles. “How about you? Are you for real? Do you have any psychic abilities?”
He nodded. “But my power is not as strong as yours. Not even close.”
“If that thing wasn’t real, then what was it?”
“It was the manifestation of a demonic force.”
“Why did it jump out of the burning hair?”
“That was Stratton’s hair,” Charles clarified.
“So what you’re saying is, if somebody set fire to Stratton’s hair or blood, that ugly looking creature would pop out?”
His head shook. “It was created by the psychic energy in the room—your energy. It’s threatened by your power. This was an attempt to frighten you away.”
“He did a damn good job. I was scared. But what’s he trying to frighten me away from.”
“Kyle Stratton. His body is possessed by the demon.”
“Come on, Bishop,” I said a little sharper than I intended, but I was impatient for an answer. “It doesn’t take a psychic to figure that out.”
His eyelids narrowed as he studied me. “Your aura is in disarray. You feel out of body. Angry, even hostile.” He clasped his hands together as if to pray and touched his fingers to his forehead, then pointed outward. “Focus. Channel your psychic energy, and your ability will grow stronger. You could be a powerful force against the demon world.”
“Oh, no.” I leaned back in the chair to distance myself from his suggestion. “One demon is about all I can handle. Besides, my mom said I could deny it and refuse the gift.”
Charles jerked forward in the chair. “Your mother has the gift also?”
Crap. I hadn’t meant to blurt that out. But maybe it wasn’t so bad that he knew. If he actually had some ability, he might be able to help. “Not my mom. My dad, but he died when I was a kid.”
“So you have no idea how to channel your energy?” He settled back into the chair. “I could help you—teach you.”
“You could teach me?” I snorted out a sound of disgust. “About the only thing I could learn from you is how to drink a full glass of wine in two gulps.”
“You can trust me.”
“Oh, yeah?” Trusting my life to a stranger didn’t seem like a wise choice—especially since I figured ninety–nine percent of what he’d tell me would be bogus. I summoned all my agitation and focused it on him. “Well, I know this. If you’re not for real, if you feed me a line of crap and that ugly, stinking demon gets me, I will channel all my energy at you. I’ll hunt you down and find you. And when I do, I’ll tear you apart.” I didn’t know if that was possible, but Charles bought into it because his entire body trembled.
After a moment, he calmed down. “I won’t mislead you. I have some ability, but what I lack, I make up for in knowledge. I have resources and know other psychics. Whatever you need, knowledge, information, I’ll try to help.”
“Good. Then tell me how to get rid of this demon.”
“He’s very powerful.”
“Does that mean he can’t be killed?”
“Demons are almost impossible to destroy, but they can be driven out of the body they possess. A weak demon can be vanquished with a simple ceremony, or by the touch of a person with a unique power, which I suspect you have. Stronger demons are harder to expel, but when he is driven out, he seeks another soul unless he’s contained.”
Charles paused to chug more wine. “If the demon is powerful, like the one I believe possess Kyle Stratton, you may end up killing him as well as the demon. I don’t think you want to chance that. But if you do succeed in driving the demon out, and you don’t contain him immediately, he could invade your body no matter how strong your soul is.”
“How do I contain him?”
“Salt. Demons are earth bound. If you sprinkle a circle of salt on the ground, you can contain the demon. He can’t cross over. Dig a hole, drive the demon into it, and cover it with salt.”
“You make it sound real simple.”
“I’m certain you understand it’s not. When the demon departs the body, he’ll manifest himself as he did tonight, only he’ll be real. If you make the slightest misjudgment, deviate from my instructions in any way, he’ll destroy you and anyone around you. My advice is to not attempt this.”
“And if I do?”
“Exorcists believe strongly in a higher power, but even the best of them have some source of protection in the form of a sacred religious object or talisman.”
“I have a strong belief, but I’ve never put it to a test. There is something I would trust with my life. The love I feel from my father and grandfather. It’s all around me.”
“Love can be powerful, but you need some sort of symbolism to channel your belief.”
I loosened my tie and unbuttoned my shirt. “Do you know what this is?”
Charles leaned over the table and stared at the scar on my chest. His eyes widened as he sucked in a deep breath. “How did you get that?”
; “It doesn’t matter. I know what it means, but what does it do?”
“I’ve seen that symbol on medallions, but never on the skin. The mark you have will protect you from all evil. No demon can enter your body, nor can it control you.” He leaned back in the chair. “No wonder the demon is threatened by you. You have a powerful presence, not only from your psychic energy, but from the power of the protective symbol etched on your chest.”
Shadow Keeper Page 24