by Alexie Aaron
The Siege
A Haunted Series Novel by
Alexie Aaron
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
~
Copyright 2014 – Diane L. Fitch writing as Alexie Aaron
ALSO BY ALEXIE AARON
HAUNTED SERIES
in order
The Hauntings of Cold Creek Hollow
Ghostly Attachments
Sand Trap
Darker than Dark
The Garden
Puzzle
Old Bones
Things that Go Bump in the Night
Something Old
The Middle House: Return to Cold Creek Hollow
Renovation
Mind Fray
The Siege
PEEPS LITE
Eternal Maze 3.1
Homecoming 3.2
Checking Out 9.1
Ice and Steel 9.2
CIN FIN-LATHEN MYSTERIES
Decomposing
Death by Saxophone
Discord
I dedicate this book to my children, Kelly and Aaron. They have taught me so much from where to place a comma to how to get through a horrible day and come out smiling. And to my husband Jim who has never stopped believing in PEEPs. He slaps down my business card faster than Murphy swings his axe.
To all the readers who have reached out with encouragement or a slap on the wrist, thank you. You are who the books are for. Enjoy.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Alexie Aaron
Chapter One
Dave flew past Cid and the camera as the room erupted in chaos. The fledgling paranormal investigator hit the wall hard. Audrey ran to assist the fallen sensitive but was restrained by a multitude of ribbons twisting around her ankles. The wrapping room’s reels squealed, spinning wildly, the material torn from the bobbins, encircling first her limbs then her body. Audrey fought the pull of the sateen and grosgrain but to no avail as they moved around her at an amazing speed. She tried to move against the swirling colors but became too dizzy and began to fall. Mike lunged and caught her before she hit the floor. He pulled out his pocket knife and began cutting the ribbons as fast as he could, trying to stop the progression of the fibers as they relentlessly wound their way around her body, moving quickly towards Audrey’s neck.
“Burt, you better get in here. We need help!” Mike called out. The cut ribbons fell around him like snow only to be replaced with more winding and twisting satins working their way around the two of them.
“Burt’s on his way,” Ted informed the team.
“Any word on Murphy?” Mike asked as the cupboard holding the wrapping paper burst open.
“Sent him into the house as soon as Dave hit the wall,” Ted reported.
Mike turned to see Dave being lifted off the ground. The second-story window slid open. There seemed to be a momentary tug of war going on. He prayed it was Murphy on one end of the sensitive. “Dave’s heading towards the open window,” Mike reported. “Ted, you better get in here! We’re up shit’s creek!”
Ted picked up the iPad and transferred the com to the thin device. “Jake, activate Curly, and monitor all transmissions.”
The monitor flashed a brief assortment of saluting soldiers, generals, and, finally, President Obama saluting with a coffee cup, before bringing up the mobile bot’s program.
Ted took the stairs two at a time, ruing the morning when he’d sided with Burt that they didn’t need Mia there. Dave Hult, the young sensitive, had the ability to see ghosts, and Burt and Mia had given him hours of training, but the young man was no match for poltergeists - neither were they.
~
Mia drew the afghan around her shoulders. The loss of the late autumn sun had chilled the house. She yawned, rising from the couch where she had been spending an hour flipping through the baby furniture catalogs Ralph had dropped by. Mia carefully stepped around Maggie, their mixed-breed dog, who lifted her head, interested as to where her mistress was going.
Mia walked over to the thermostat in the hall and upped the setting from the programmed 68 degrees. Normally she would have been gone during the evening with the rest of the PEEPs crew and wouldn’t have noticed the chill. It was more than warm enough to keep Maggie comfortable, but Mia wasn’t equipped with a thick fur. She headed into the kitchen and winced when the lights automatically lit as she passed the sensor. Ted was economizing. He had all the rooms of the house fitted with motion sensors. They would turn on the overhead lights when a human would walk into a room and turn them off if there wasn’t any movement for ten minutes. Many times, Mia had found herself suddenly in total darkness. This was particularly inconvenient in the bathrooms.
She frowned at the empty coffee pot. She’d already had her allotted two cups of coffee for the day. Mia lifted the box of herbal teas Cid had left her and thumbed through the selection, taking out something promising to energize her. The sharp aroma of spices filled the air as Mia wrestled the mesh bag out of the packet.
“Where the devil is the little tab?” she asked, pulling the round disk from its container. She made a face as she examined the dried leaves, berries and stems contained in the bag. “If I wanted to drink the woods, I’d go suck a tree!” she said, shaking the bag in frustration. It burst open, scattering the contents over the counter and onto the floor. “Bloody hell,” she cursed, angling her large belly so she could see the extent of the spillage on the floor. She put her hand on her stomach as the newest Martin let his displeasure be known for the sudden movement with a large kick. “Hey, you, settle down. Don’t make me come in there,” Mia said, patting her abdomen softly. She worried that, at seven months pregnant, she was humungous. Ted, her husband, was a tall fellow. But she was assured by her mother-in-law that he was only eight pounds and twenty-two inches long at birth. “At this rate, they are going to need a crane and a backhoe to deliver you, buster.”
Mia walked over to the mud room, grabbed the vacuum, and rolled it over to the largest concentration of tea. She swept the rest of the contents of the spilt tea bag from the counter onto the floor. Shoddy housekeeping, but who was watching? She turned on the machine and rolled it over the mess. A loud crunching sound filled the room when the beater brush pounded against the dried berry stems. A nice aroma wafted upwards. Mia stopped her vacuuming a moment to appreciate the scent.
The pulverized cloves and cinnamon sticks made her hungry. She opened up the cookie jar and reached inside to find it empty. Opening up the breadbox, she found that, aside from a few stale English Muffins, there wasn’t anything in there. Mia, a true investigator, deduced that Ted had loaded the mobile command center with treats before he left. This meant that Mia would either h
ave to bake herself a treat or… She smiled. “Cid’s got to have something stored away,” she said to Maggie who wandered into the kitchen, puzzled that there wasn’t any bacon frying. Maggie rounded the wooden table and stopped dead in her tracks. Horror filled her as she backed away slowly.
“What’s the matter?” Mia asked as the dog ran out of the kitchen. “Ouch!” Mia complained as she stubbed her toe on the forgotten vacuum. “Oh, I get it. Come on, Maggie, it’s not even on,” Mia complained as she rolled the vacuum back into the mud room and grabbed a jacket. She wrestled on the non-maternity fleece and gave up after several tries at connecting the two halves of the zipper. She pulled it off, tossed it on the floor and grabbed Ted’s sweatshirt. Aside from the arms being too long and the material stretching tight over Mia’s bump, it would do. The message, I’m a Steam Punk, rested over her baby bump. She rolled up the sleeves and slid her feet into the UGGs her sister-in-law Hallie had given Mia at the baby shower last month.
Hallie proclaimed, when Mia examined the gift at arm’s length, that she herself couldn’t bend over to tie, zip or buckle any boots after her fifth month of pregnancy with her last child. Mia had not been impressed with the bland super-slipper looks of the boots and had tossed the things at the back door, never intending to wear them. But Hallie’s predictions were right, and Mia found herself, more and more, sliding her feet into the softness of the boots. However, she still wished they weren’t adorned with pink soles. Pink was not a look, the tough paranormal investigator cared to wear.
She opened the back door and waited for Maggie, who would brave the vacuum if it meant an unscheduled trip outside. Mia flipped on the outside lights and made her way carefully down the porch steps, heading across the yard to the converted barn. “Let’s go and see if Uncle Cid has any treats for us,” Mia said, patting the top of Maggie’s head. They made their way over to the barn. Maggie ran up the outside steps and danced on the small second-story deck, waiting for Mia. Mia called up to the dog, “We better go in through the office. Cid has been locking his outside door, and I don’t have the key.”
Mia stopped suddenly, sensing something was amiss. She whirled around and took in the shadow-filled yard. The woods seemed to be closing in on the property. She would ask Murphy in the spring if he could cut back some of the encroaching woodland. She knew that the tender saplings that survived the winter would be relocated. Murphy was hesitant to destroy any of the trees, but the berry bushes and other brush he would excise without a thought.
Mia caught a movement overhead. A large great horned owl was out hunting. Not that she wished the creature to miss a meal, but part of her wished for the safe return of the prey to their dens. Mia knew all about the circle of life. It wasn’t that she disagreed with it; she just didn’t want to be a witness to it. The feeling of dread left her as suddenly as it had arrived. It was as if a window that was open had slid shut.
Mia slid off her glove as she approached the door. She pressed her thumb to the pad quickly. A click sounded, alerting her to the lock disengaging. She opened the door and once again was blinded by the overhead lights turning on.
“Hells bells,” she complained as she fought the blue dots that drifted before her eyes. She stepped aside as Maggie bounded in. The dog wasn’t often allowed into the PEEPs office. The sensitive equipment wasn’t large-dog-friendly. Mia scanned the sleeping monitors, satisfied that Jake was with Ted in the mobile command center and not spying on her. Mia moved to the small kitchenette and frowned when she opened cabinets to find that the really good snacks had been appropriated for the present investigation. All that was left were healthy things containing enough grains to seed the back forty. The refrigerator’s offering was meager at best. Mia closed the door with a slam.
Maggie trotted over with a look of concern.
“I’m alright, girl. It’s just that we may have to continue our search. No bacon here for you or treats for me. We have one last hope, but it means we have to be stealthy.”
Maggie only understood no bacon; the rest was just biped gibberish. She did, however, recognize the twinkle in the little blonde’s green eyes. It meant mischief was afoot. She followed the woman up the interior stairs.
Mia sighed with relief as she turned the knob of Cid’s apartment. He may lock the door on the outside but found no need to bar entry to anyone who had permission to enter the office or workshop. Cid too had been victim of Ted’s motion-controlled lighting. The small apartment blazed with light. Mia held her tongue; she had run out of obligatory curse words. Looking around, she smiled as she saw that Cid had taken the time to decorate his space. The décor was a cross between college castoffs and recycled pallets topped with box store cushions. Mia smiled, seeing that Cid had adorned his walls with snapshots of his friends and family. Mia stopped and studied Cid’s family a moment, pondering if they realized what a remarkable son they had. “Of course they know,” Mia answered aloud. “Parents know before the child begins to suspect.”
Maggie studied Mia a moment. Did she say begin or bacon?
~
Cid pulled his eyes away from the viewer and looked around the room. Murphy had given him the ability to see him, but that didn’t translate through the digital camera lens. All the viewer showed was Dave floating in a push-me pull-you motion towards the second story window. Cid could now see their greatest asset, the ghost of Stephen Murphy, holding on to Dave’s legs, pulling with all his might.
Ted slid into the room and dodged empty cardboard bobbins and rollers to make his way across the wrapping room’s floor. He grabbed onto Dave’s waist and gave a mighty tug. The invisible forces that held on to the investigator let go, sending Dave, Ted and Murphy head over heels to the far side of the room. The room was filled with laughter. It sounded like a canned, sixties laugh track. Cid angled his head and swore he could hear the static of an improperly tuned-in television set.
“A little help here,” Burt called out.
Cid turned around, quickly focusing the camera to film the lead investigator, armed with only a long cardboard tube, defending himself against a monster made up of gift boxes. The monster stood seven feet tall, its head just missing the ceiling by inches. It, likewise, wielded a cardboard tube, lunging and parrying like Errol Flynn Junior.
Ted picked up a hatbox lid and shouted, “Duck!” He spun the lid in Frisbee fashion into the midsection of the monster.
The monster buckled, and the boxes fell to the ground.
“Team out!” Burt ordered. “Help them.” Burt pointed to Mike and Audrey who had lost the war of the ribbons and were now encased in a cocoon. Mike managed to guard Audrey’s neck with his arms while tucking his head down to avoid the strangulating fibers from cutting off his air supply.
Ted picked up the investigators by the shoulders while Dave struggled with the weight of their combined legs. They pulled the multi-body cocoon out into the hall where Ted began frantically cutting the two free of their colorful bonds.
Burt stood his ground waving the empty tube as Cid backed out of the room, still filming the reassembling box monster. As soon as Cid cleared the doorway, Burt ran out, slamming the door after him.
Cid set the camera down and worked alongside Ted to free Audrey and Mike. He saw that Murphy had taken up a guard stance at the door, moving his axe from hand to hand, but he looked like he’d rather be elsewhere than in a house rampant with poltergeist activity.
Ted’s phone sounded. He grabbed for it before the musical homage to Mia could be heard. “Mia, what’s wrong?”
“Whoa, nothing’s wrong. You sound out of breath,” she observed.
“I’m rather busy…”
“Spill it,” Mia ordered.
“Poltergeists have taken over the wrapping room,” Ted said and went on to explain the situation they had just barely gotten through. “There doesn’t seem to be any way of controlling them. Hell, we can’t even slow them down,” he confessed.
“Have you tried salt water?” Mia asked through a mouth
ful of pilfered blueberry scones.
“No,” Ted admitted.
“Just take a pound of Morton’s and a gallon of warm, not hot, water. Mix them together and divide the mixture amongst three, maybe four, spray bottles or, better yet, put the whole mixture into a bug sprayer…”
Burt watched Ted nod his head. He normally would have been put out by Mia’s interference, but he had to admit it was a bad call not including the sensitive in this investigation. Although they were armed with the inexperienced Dave, sensitives couldn’t really see the energy-driven poltergeists any more than the non-sighted could. But Mia had an instinct and calmness about her that was special. When it came to paranormal investigation, she not only thought outside of the box but lived there.
He was about to have Ted ask her to join them when the techie turned off his phone and shoved it in his pocket.
“Well?” Burt asked expectantly.
“She wants me to pick up milk on my way home,” he said.
“That’s all?” Burt interrogated.
“Oh no, she’s got a recipe for keeping the little buggers in there quiet for a while. We simply douse the area with concentrated saltwater. Spritz them like some cat owners do to their pets when they misbehave.”
“That’s cruel,” Audrey said.
Burt looked down at her. Welts from the tightly-wound ribbon were forming on her face and arms. “I’m surprised that you’re siding with the poltergeists.”
“Oh no, we can nuke the little shits as far as I’m concerned, but to spray water in the face of a cat… Come on, that’s mean,” she said, trying to disengage herself from Mike, whom Cid still hadn’t unwrapped totally.
Burt, who had faced a bellyful of nasty cats at his Aunt Alice’s when he was young, wisely chose to keep his mouth shut.
“Hold still,” Cid ordered. “I’ve almost got the two of you apart, and I don’t want to cut you.”