Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper

by JL Bryan

  “So you do like working with Jacob?”

  “I’ll let you know after tonight.”

  When I called Jacob, I said, “We need your help again.”

  “Who is this?” he asked.

  “I thought you were psychic,” I replied.

  “Ellie?”

  “Yes. Save my number in your phone. You need to come with Stacey and me today.”

  “Yeah, slight problem with that,” Jacob said. “I’m employed. I’m already walking into work.”

  “You’re an early bird.”

  “You gotta be, if you want to eat worms,” he said. “Sorry, my boss won’t let me off. They stuck me with a senior partner who’s a real…well, he’s very determined to exceed his clients’ expectations in a time-efficient manner.” The sudden shift in his voice told me he’d probably crossed paths with some co-workers at the accounting firm. “I can’t just step out. He doesn’t even know about my…hobbies.”

  “Okay, one sec.” On my phone, I pulled up the weather channel. “Can you get out by five?”

  “Sure, if I want people to think I’m a slacker.”

  “This is serious. We have to be able to depend on you, Jacob.”

  “Six-thirty,” he said.

  “Too late. Can’t you bring a computer and work on the way? It’s a long drive.”

  “A long drive where?”

  I finally talked him into it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  To save time, we picked up Jacob right from work, a tall block of a building with its black-glass windows overlooking the fountains and gardens of Johnson Square. He was on his phone, speaking rapidly to a client, a laptop case in one hand. He nodded at me as he climbed into the back of the van and sat in the bucket seat we’d had to plunk into place for him—the rear seats were usually gone to make room for gear.

  He didn’t finish his call until we’d reached the western edge of town.

  “Mind if I compile some financial statements back here?” he asked.

  “Compile whatever you like,” I replied.

  Once again, we made the three-hour drive to the ghost town of Goodwell. Stacey parked us right by the cemetery gate. I looked out at the overgrown graves. The sun was already below the horizon, the sky turning purple. The moon was full.

  “Should I grab a trap?” Stacey asked.

  “We just want to talk with Mercy and see what she can tell us. I don’t think taking her prisoner is a good first step.” I unlocked the cemetery gate and pushed it open. Voices seemed to whisper all around us. I tried to tell myself it was just the grass, weeds, and leaves blowing in the evening wind, but I doubted it. I kept my flashlight pointed at the ground, not wanting to startle any spirits away.

  “Oh…wow.” Jacob stopped a few paces inside the gate, and Stacey bumped into him from behind.

  “What’s with the roadblock?” she asked him.

  “This place is pretty unusual,” he said. “I’m feeling a lot of…loose spirits. That doesn’t make any sense, but normally, in a graveyard like this, the ghosts are kind of rooted to their little spots, or hang close to them. Here, it’s like a bunch of spirits who don’t really belong.”

  “Sounds accurate.” I walked to the bench under the sprawling oak and retrieved Mercy’s trap. It had popped open just as programmed. If nothing else, we’d recovered one trap on this journey.

  I pretended not to hear the footsteps, or to notice the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes, but chill bumps prickled all over my body. Invisible things began to touch me in a fairly unfriendly way, grabbing at my limbs. I felt one icy fingertip on my face and jerked away from it.

  “They’re all crowding around you,” Jacob said. He held up a hand. “Wait, wait…they’re all talking at once. Wow, they’re really mad at you, Ellie. They’re saying you took them from their homes and stuck them here.”

  “I did,” she said. “They should have stopped harassing the living.”

  “They just got a lot louder.”

  “Can you find her or not?” I asked. There had been plenty of time on the drive over to tell Jacob about Mercy and show her picture to him.

  “It’s hard to…everybody be QUIET!” he shouted, as though he stood in the middle of a loud concert, or maybe the world’s largest daycare center. All I could hear was leaves shuffling and sticks breaking. He pointed in the general direction of a tall, leaning obelisk. “You, right there. You’re Mercy, aren’t you?”

  “You found her?” Stacey asked.

  “She’s furious. At you.” Jacob pointed at me. “She looks ready to attack.”

  “Mercy, can you hear me?” I asked.

  “She’s nodding, and she’s kind of stalking up on you,” Jacob said.

  I could feel the air growing cold and heavy around me, in a way that reminded me of the Treadwell house foyer when she was still haunting it. Probably the same temperature and EM reading, though I didn’t have my instruments to check.

  “Mercy, now that I understand better, I’m truly sorry I took you away,” I said. “You were the one holding back the dangerous spirits, weren’t you? You were trying to warn the living.” I’d figured this much out after Louisa said a number of ghosts had inhabited the house, but most of the activity had ceased after Mercy’s death in the foyer. “That’s why you were the only one everybody saw. You were the guardian of the house, the protector of the living.”

  “I’d say she looks less angry now,” Jacob whispered. “She’s listening.”

  “Captain Marsh did murder people, just like you told the police. Occult, ritual murders. Jacob says Captain Marsh thought he could extend his life through black magic, which is pretty useful when your main hobbies are smoking, drinking, and consorting with prostitutes. All the other ghosts are his victims, aren’t they? He’s the one holding them all there.”

  “Wow, she’s excited,” Jacob said. “I almost can’t focus on her. She’s like a blur of energy. Ever seen the Tasmanian Devil in those old cartoons?”

  “That’s why you killed him, you found out what he was doing. But even stabbing him to death didn’t stop him. He kept on killing people after he died,” I said. “Because he liked it, I guess. He liked having all those ghosts to boss around. But his first murder was his own wife. He poisoned her because her constant praying and churching didn’t fit the life he decided he wanted. You can’t be practicing the dark arts in a house filled with prayer. And his niece, Louisa—she knew that old ghost was killing a boarder here and there, but she didn’t care. She was on his side. Maybe because he left her the house. Do I have it about right?”

  “She’s nodding so fast her face is a blur,” Jacob said. “It’s kind of sick to watch.”

  “Mercy, we just need to ask you something,” I said. “How did you hold all the ghosts back for so long? Tell us everything you can about Captain Marsh and how we can stop him.”

  Jacob looked at the empty space behind me for a minute, not saying anything.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “She’s clamming up,” Jacob said. “I don’t know, she just got quiet…”

  “Anything you can tell us at all,” I said. “We came a long way to speak to you.”

  “She…” Jacob shook his head. “She doesn’t want to tell you anything. She doesn’t trust you.”

  “Because I trapped her and took her away?”

  “I would guess so. She…wait.” Jacob squinted and tilted his head, as though struggling to hear. “She won’t tell us, but she’ll show us.”

  “Okay, show us,” I said.

  “Back at the house. She wants to come back with us.” Jacob gave me an apologetic shrug.

  “So…I should go grab a trap, then?” Stacey asked.

  “Not a trap,” Jacob said. “She wants to hitch a ride with somebody.”

  “Wait,” Stacey said. “It sounds she like she wants somebody to invite her to possess them? Is that right?”

  Jacob nodded.

  “That’s your department, Jacob,” I s
aid. “She can possess you.”

  “Uh, what?” Jacob asked, giving me a look that indicated he didn’t quite agree with my plan there. “Possess me?”

  “It falls under psychic stuff, if you ask me,” I replied. “That’s you.”

  “The girl’s got a point,” Stacey added, taking my side.

  “I’m not…” Jacob looked at the empty space beside me again, then smiled wickedly. “It doesn’t matter what I want. She doesn’t want to possess me. She wants…you.” Jacob pointed at me.

  “Me? Why?”

  “Because, like I said, she doesn’t trust you. She wants to keep an eye on you.”

  “But she trusts you?” I asked Jacob. “She just met you.”

  “And I haven’t imprisoned or kidnapped her, so I have that going for me,” Jacob said. “Those are her terms—she possesses you, Ellie, and goes back to the house, or she won’t help us. She’s worried you’ll betray her or use the information for some other purpose than exorcising Captain Marsh.”

  This didn’t exactly appeal to me. Possession is typically associated with nasty, twisted sorts of ghosts who want to use your body in ways that are violent, destructive, or just plain disgusting. Things I would rather do than get possessed by a ghost include eating a bucket of live leeches, swimming in piranha-filled waters while bleeding from a dozen cuts, and sticking my head into the mouth of a hungry, hungry hippo.

  “What other purposes could there be?” I asked, desperate to change the course of the conversation.

  “She thinks you might be working with Captain Marsh,” Jacob said. “I mean, she had him trapped in his corner of the house, and you’re the one who unleashed him, along with his host of captive spirits. Maybe you want to help him, or learn occult stuff from him. That’s what she’s afraid of.”

  I sighed. Time was wasting, and I didn’t think Mercy would change her mind very soon. From her perspective, I was the enemy. Apparently she was a fan of the “keep your friends close, your enemies closer” philosophy—so close that she would actually be inside me.

  “You know what?” I said. “We have to get moving. Just tell me what to do.”

  “You’ll let her possess you?” Jacob asked.

  “Yes! Let’s just get it over with.”

  “I think all you have to do is invite her,” Jacob said. “Out loud. State your intention clearly.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to steel myself against the danger I was allowing inside me.

  “All right,” I said. “Mercy, you can hop inside me for the ride back to the house. You cannot have control of me, though. And it’s just for tonight. When we’re done, you have to leave me in peace.” I really had no idea whether my conditions were binding. I didn’t exactly have a supernatural lawyer handy to review the terms of the contract. For all I knew, once she was in me, I would be her prisoner for life.

  I felt the cold heaviness close in around me, just as when Mercy had attempted to rip the silver necklace from my fingers. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, and the world grew even darker. I shivered, thinking I would pass out.

  If you’ve ever had an ice-cold snake slither into your head and coil down your spine, freezing your heart and guts, making the rest of your body turn as numb as a corpse, then you’ve had a somewhat milder experience than letting a ghost possess you. It was terrifying, sickening, and disturbing. I wanted to scream, vomit, and run away all at once.

  Then she settled into me, filling my stomach with ice. I felt off-balance and cold, but I seemed to retain control of my mind—as far as I could tell, anyway.

  I had my doubts once I heard myself speak through my Novocain-numb jaw.

  “Let’s go get that bastard,” I said. The voice had a much deeper Southern accent than my own, and a bitter, frosty edge.

  Stacey and Jacob shared a worried look. I turned away from them and stalked toward the van, impatient to confront the murderous monster lurking in the old mansion.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I had Stacey drive us back to Savannah, since I wasn’t sure whether it was safe for me to drive while under the influence of an angry ghost.

  Cold fury built inside me, mile by mile, and I gripped my tactical flashlight like it was a shotgun and I was on the way to settle a backwoods family feud.

  Mercy’s memories flickered across my mind like half-remembered nightmares. At one point, I lost touch entirely with the world around me. I found myself fearfully descending rough-hewn plank stairs into a dark, freezing space framed by rock walls.

  In the darkness, I saw a girl, maybe nineteen or twenty years old, lying on a mound of smooth river stones. I felt like I knew her. Her short dress had been cut open, and so had her arms and throat, as if someone had intentionally drained her blood. Strange symbols were carved all over her body. Her eyes were open and lifeless.

  She was my friend. He’d killed my friend.

  I started in my seat, back in the van now, the dream vanished.

  “Ellie? Ellie?” Stacey was saying.

  “What?” I snapped, rubbing my aching head.

  “Okay, good,” Stacey said. “You looked really tranced out for a minute there. You were even drooling.”

  “I was not!” I protested, before finding my chin and shirt slippery with my own slobber. How embarrassing. Fortunately, I had other things on my mind, so I wiped my mouth and glared at the road ahead. It was midnight, and we were almost to the house.

  When we arrived, I jumped out of the car, opened the back of the van, and made sure my utility belt was fully loaded. Then I popped open the ghost cannon case, strapped the battery pack onto my back, and stomped toward the front door of the house. I hadn’t said a word. I was completely focused on the job at hand.

  “Uh, hey, Ellie?” Stacey said, jogging up beside me. “What’s the plan here?”

  “We go in and get him.” My voice was a low growl, not entirely my own. Mercy’s hate for Captain Augustus Marsh filled my body like cold fire.

  “But the cannon just chases him away, right? Ellie, slow down!”

  I leaped up the steps, despite the heavy and unwieldy ghost cannon in my hand. Mercy’s ghost seemed to lend me supernatural strength, while also taking away control of my mind and body. I was more like a passenger along for the ride.

  I unlocked the front doors. Apparently Mercy didn’t feel like stopping to answer Stacey’s question.

  I stepped into the dark foyer. Despite the almost total lack of light, I could see fairly well, which I also credit to Mercy. Ghostvision. I didn’t need my night vision goggles, or even my flashlight. I holstered the flashlight and hefted the cannon in both hands.

  Stacey and Jacob followed me inside, standing behind me. I didn’t say anything to them. I was too busy looking up at the row of shattered balusters. I snorted.

  “That was his pathetic way of getting back at me,” I said, but it wasn’t really me. It was Mercy’s voice. “Trying to dishonor my space. But I don’t care about that at all.”

  “Where do we go now?” Stacey asked.

  I hesitated, then led them down the hall, into the kitchen. I could hear voices above me, and for the first time they weren’t distorted beyond audibility.

  “They’re back,” someone said, a female.

  “He’s not going to like that,” a male voice replied.

  “We’ll stop her,” hissed another female.

  I didn’t care. I walked through the kitchen and threw open the rickety wooden door to the cellar. I looked down into the freezing darkness…then I hesitated, suddenly filled with doubt.

  “Okay,” Stacey sighed, pointing her flashlight into the darkness below. “If we have to. I just wish you’d tell us what’s going on, Ellie—”

  “This isn’t right,” I said. I spun, almost knocked Jacob over with the big ghost cannon, and dashed to the narrow back stairs. I jogged up, not looking back.

  “Okay, wait!” Stacey ran up the steep stairs with me, while Jacob reluctantly followed.

  The second-
floor hallway was crowded with ghosts.

  It was the gang I’d seen in the cellar two nights earlier, the drifters and prostitutes from across the decades, the transient people Captain Marsh had been able to kill without drawing too much interest from local authorities. I recognized Mr. Junkie, now in his 1940s fedora and patched coat, syringes planted all over his arms and back. A faceless blond woman wore the fringed red dress I’d found in one of the wardrobes. The seventies hooker girl in the hot pants lingered in a shadowy corner, smoking a phantom cigarette and watching us with hollow, empty eye sockets.

  They fell silent and turned toward us. I hefted the ghost cannon.

  “She’s back,” Mr. Junkie said.

  I advanced, and the herd of ghosts drew back from me as one, retreating to their shadowy doorways, repelled as though they were water and I were a dense drop of oil flowing past.

  I can’t say whether they were driven back by me with my ghost cannon ready to fire, or by the presence of Mercy inside me, the formidable ghost who had made it her mission to keep them trapped and powerless all these years.

  I felt a kind of kinship with Mercy then. We’d been doing the same job, protecting the living against the dead. We approached it from slightly different angles, of course.

  “Stacey, the stairs,” I said. She dashed ahead and opened the door to the very steep and narrow staircase that twisted its way up to the master suite.

  “I don’t mean to slow you down there,” Jacob said, “But there’s a bunch of spirits staring at you. I don’t think they wish you well.”

  “I know,” I said. I ran up the steep stairs, somehow keeping my balance while holding the hefty ghost cannon ahead of me.

  I reached that weird hallway landing, where the stairs to the third floor led up to the right. To the left, the hallway extended a few feet and dead ended into nothing.

  I turned left.

  I ran up to the wall and smacked it hard with my fist, then I kicked it. I snarled in frustration—actually snarled like a wild animal. That had to be the angry ghost inside me. I set down the ghost cannon, drew my flashlight, and banged the butt end against the wall, trying once again to find a spot that rang hollow.