“What?” Jonah demanded, then waved as if swiping at a fly at his ear. “Shut it, Derek. I’m trying to find out.”
She didn’t want to tell them how risky this was.
“I’ll be back. I’m only sayin’. Just in case.” She opened the door and climbed out.
Before Jonah could protest further, Eliza took off walking as fast as she could without breaking into a run. Getting to the front of the cemetery didn’t take long, but a crime scene tape barrier guarded by a burly deputy stood between her and getting in to find Norton. The deputy stood, slouched against the stone wall that encompassed the cemetery grounds, using a toothpick to dig in his mouth with more vigor than a miner digging for gold.
At her approach, the deputy straightened, threw down the pick and walked toward her.
Good fortune smiled on her as Pete Norton, dressed in what looked like a blue neck-to-toe onesie, stepped out of the caretaker’s cottage door.
“Mr. Norton,” she shouted and waved her arms, trying to gain his attention. “Over here.”
Norton’s head swiveled around looking to find the source of the voice. He spotted her and returned her wave.
The deputy stepped in front of her. “Ma’am, you gotta get back. Don’t be botherin’ the investigators.”
“It’s okay,” Pete said, striding up the path. “I’ll speak to her.”
The deputy gave a huff and strolled back to his spot at the wall. Norton ducked under the yellow tape barrier. “Mrs. Devoe. How are you doing?”
Eliza shrugged off the question and then pointed at the cemetery and the activity inside. “This here have something to do with my son’s case?”
“I can’t really talk about an ongoing investigation,” he said. “But I can say we’ll be making an arrest soon.”
“Okay. Good.” Eliza put a hand inside her knapsack and took hold of the stick figure. “I was hoping you could help me with something.”
Norton smiled. “If I can. What is it?”
“I’m sorry, by the way.”
“For what?”
Eliza drew out the figure and showed it to Norton. He gazed at it, his brows furrowing in confusion and his mouth grimacing. She placed a hand on his shoulder. At her touch, his features went slack and his eyes took on a vacant, glassy stare.
“There are just a few things I need you to bring me.”
He nodded as she gave him the list.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Your will is mine.”
Fifteen minutes later, as she sat waiting in her car, Pete Norton handed her a brown paper bag through the window. She glanced inside and counted the items.
All there.
“You are free,” she told Norton.
She started the car and pulled away, leaving the CSI standing in the street, staring after her.
* * * * *
Jonah’s pulse quickened as Eliza pulled her car to a stop in front of the place he’d once called home. The rapidly dusking sky warned Jonah that Jessica should arrive any minute with Belinda.
“I wish I could go inside with you,” Eliza said.
Derek leaned from the back seat. “Me too, buddy.”
“I know.” Holding the rolled end of the paper sack in one hand, Jonah opened the car door and climbed out. He hesitated a moment before forcing himself to move up the walk to the front door. He heard Eliza’s car pull away but refused to look back. The only way now was forward. The only option was saving Belinda.
* * * * *
When the sun fell beyond the horizon, Mike watched one of the CSI unit techs turn on the battery-powered spotlights to illuminate their continued work in the grave. Frank’s body had long since been photographed and removed to the county coroner for autopsy. But the techs continued to sift through Frank’s burial spot searching for trace evidence.
By far the strangest discovery was that the grave contained no body other than Frank’s. Had the Morrison kid removed Jessica Bundy? And, if so, what had he done with her? In all their searching, they’d found no trace of her apart from a broken casket. Was Morrison so sick that he had the body with him somewhere?
Another oddity, more sinister than strange, Belinda Cruz had not surfaced.
His DMV search revealed no vehicle registered to the caretaker or his girlfriend. No stolen vehicles had been reported. So, unless Jonah had borrowed a vehicle from someone—improbable since he had no known friends other than the Cruz girl—how could he be hiding so effectively?
His cell phone rang. Expecting an update from local law enforcement, Mike answered on the first ring. “Talk to me.”
“This is the sheriff’s department dispatch. We got no hits on the APB issued on Jonah Morrison,” the female voice reported.
Mike scrubbed at his forehead, trying to rub away the piercing pain in his skull. “So you’re calling to tell me you’ve got nothing?”
The voice on the other end hesitated before speaking again, but when she did, the words tumbled out in a rush. “Not nothing, but the sheriff thinks it’s nothing. I’m thinkin’ it’s something. But since the sheriff said it’s nothing, I’m not supposed to bug you with it. So this could cost me my job or at least get me a reprimand—”
“Just tell me what you got,” he interrupted. “The sheriff doesn’t have to know.”
“Okay, good,” the voice said with a sigh. “My Aunt Ginny lives over on Hackberry Street and her friend Abby Taylor lives on Mulberry, one street over.”
The pounding in his head started to beat double time. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“Well…see…Abby called Aunt Ginny and said she saw some lights and people moving around at the old Morrison house. That place has been vacant since that nice couple was murdered by the slasher all those years ago. So my aunt called me and told me—”
Of course, Mike thought, tuning out the rest of the dispatcher’s story and rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. Why wouldn’t the kid go back to his childhood home to hide? Made total sense.
The dispatcher continued, interrupting his thoughts, “Since Abby Taylor has more than twenty false intruder reports this year alone, the sheriff thinks she’s whacked. But I think it’s worth a looksee. Even if Abby is paranoid about criminal type stuff going on in her neighborhood, don’t mean she ain’t right this time.”
“Yes,” Mike said. “She very well could be.”
“I can’t send nobody out there though. The sheriff—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll check it out.” Mike was already on the move, striding through the cemetery toward the front gate and his car parked a block away. “If I need backup, I’ll let you know.”
Even as he said the last, Mike knew he wouldn’t be asking for any help. This guy killed Mike’s partner. He vowed he’d take Jonah Morrison out himself.
* * * * *
Jessica should be here by now. What if something had happened to Belinda? Maybe she was already—
Shaking his head as if shaking off the thought, Jonah placed a battery-powered lantern on the kitchen counter and switched it on. The glow illuminated the center of the room, leaving the edges in shadow. Someone had long ago scrubbed the floor tiles clean, but Jonah could still see the blood stain in his mind’s eye. He could see his mother, her throat gaping open.
“No!” he shouted, the sound echoing in the empty house.
If he let his emotions spiral, all would be lost. He had to hold it together a little bit longer.
A noise from the front made Jonah jump and whirl around. He heard a door open and scuffling movements. And then, from the shadows, Jessica—holding a bound-and-gagged Belinda in front of her like a shield with a steak knife poised at her throat—came toward him, her rotted features even more ghoulish in the dim light. Her head swiveled this way and that, as she glanced around. After which she directed her milky eyes to him.
“Good boy. You came alone and you didn’t bring a weapon,” she said. “I’m glad you can keep your word.” Jessica’s gaze went to the
floor and then to the ceiling. “And your witchy friend didn’t leave any of her artwork.”
“Don’t worry,” Jonah said. “There are no charms in here.”
“This place holds such memories.” Jessica glanced around. “I’ll never forget when I was your neighbor. The family barbecues. The Christmas parties. The look on your mother’s face when I slit her throat. The shock on your father’s face when I stabbed him in the gut.”
Jonah gagged, struggling to swallow down the vomit that invaded his throat.
“I can see you cherish those happy memories too,” Jessica said in a sickly sweet tone.
“Enough,” Jonah said. “Just let Belinda go like you promised and I’ll give you what you want.”
With a cackle, Jessica stepped forward until she stood just a few steps from Jonah. She moved the knife away from Belinda’s throat and pushed her aside. Jessica maintained a grip on Belinda’s arm keeping her from moving too far away. “That’s enough for now,” Jessica said. “Do the ritual and she can leave afterward.”
“No,” he said. “How do I know you’ll keep your word? Once you take my body…”
Belinda began to struggle and shout behind her gag. Her eyes flashed with anger and she shook her head.
“That’s a risk you’ll have to take,” Jessica said. “I’m not letting her go yet. But I could kill her now instead, if you don’t do what I want.”
He really had no choice. Jonah knew the only way to end this was the ritual.
“All right. Have it your way.” He unrolled the top of the sack, reached inside, and pulled out a wooden box. After he opened the lid, he drew a purple glass ornament from inside.
“Throw the box over here,” Jessica demanded.
Jonah complied, tossing it to the floor at her feet, the edge cracking against the tile floor as it landed.
Jessica stomped on the box and it splintered apart. “We wouldn’t want to trap me inside that little wooden coffin now, would we?”
Grimacing, he removed a pocketknife from his pants and unfolded it to snap the blade into place. When he took a step forward, Jessica waved her own knife.
“Be careful with that,” she warned. “We still don’t know what would happen to my soul if you destroy this body while I’m inside.”
Jonah didn’t need a reminder of that. It was the only reason he was even dealing with this bitch instead of blasting her with a flamethrower.
“I need a body part and a possession for the ritual,” Jonah reminded her.
Considering him, she cocked her head to the side causing the last patch of long, blonde hair that had once been Jessica Bundy’s pride and joy to sweep forward over her shoulder.
“Do you wanna do this or what?” he demanded impatiently.
Without releasing Belinda, Jessica whipped the blade around. Jonah’s breath caught, but before he could react, Jessica cut through the thumb of the hand grasping Belinda. Then she reached up and ripped the gold cross necklace from around her neck. Dragging Belinda a few steps to the counter, she placed both items on top.
“Good enough?” she asked as she backed away again.
“Yeah.” Jonah picked up the thumb, his own skin crawling at the feel of the rotted flesh in his hand. He quickly placed the digit inside the ornament and replaced the glass stopper. Ordinarily he would have put the necklace in the box. Since that wasn’t possible now, he held the ornament in one hand and the necklace in the other as he recited the words of the ritual, “Ad captandum animum. Grab the soul.”
Outside, the wind whipped up, shaking the kitchen windows.
“Anima Emerge. The soul must come forth.”
A glowing mist slowly emerged from Jessica’s grinning body.
“Yes. Yes,” Jessica screamed orgasmically. The mist continued to stream forth and swirl in the air, eventually loosely forming a figure Jonah recognized from the newspaper clipping he’d seen of Sarah Beth Walker. Then the form morphed into a hybrid of Jessica and Sarah Beth.
Jonah held the ornament up. “Alligaverit anima ad hoc. Bind the soul to this vessel.”
At his words, the image split into two, one half heading for the ornament and one half heading for the necklace.
Just as the last of the mist escaped her body, Jessica released her hold on Belinda and lunged at Jonah, jolting him and knocking the ornament from his hand.
Bringing her bound hands up, Belinda ripped the duct tape from her mouth. “No.”
The ornament smashed against the tile, leaving the thumb lying among the shards of glass.
Jessica’s corpse body—the soul having completely escaped—collapsed in a heap on top of the glass.
The soul mist that had been heading for the ornament stopped and turned. The two portions of mist merged together to create a ghost in the form of Jessica with no traces of Sarah Beth now. “I’m free. Now I can choose the body I want. But I can’t very well take your body, Jonah. Considering I planted evidence that’s going to put you in prison for the Slicer murders, I choose Belinda’s body.”
Jonah stepped between Belinda and the ghost.
“Really, Jonah?” Jessica said. “You don’t wanna get in my way. I can destroy you and just take what I want afterward.”
“Run. Get outside,” he yelled at Belinda, praying she would do what he said. “Use the back door.”
To his relief, Belinda dashed around him to run to the rear of the house.
“What a joke. You know I can just pass through you anytime I want, right?” Jessica smirked.
“But you enjoy playing with me.”
“Like a cat with a bug.”
Once Belinda reached the safety of the door, Jonah dashed after her. He only got a few steps before he felt Jessica’s ghost slam into him from behind. Excruciating pain radiated through him as if somehow Jessica’s ghost had injected napalm into his veins. But he knew better. That kind of agony could only be caused by a demon taking up residence in his body and destroying his soul.
A demon who could use his body to slaughter at will.
Chapter Sixteen
Jonah’s sight slowly faded as he felt Jessica’s consciousness take control of his eyes. Through the blur he saw Belinda grasp and twist the doorknob with two hands.
Thank God. At least she’d make it out.
The back door blasted open knocking Belinda back. Jonah’s ghost friends, with Derek at the lead of the formation, flew in like a squadron of fighter planes. Beyond them—on the live oak where his father’s head had once hung—the ornaments from Jonah’s cemetery tree glowed.
His friends had arrived. But were they too late?
* * * * *
Derek shouted an order to the other ghosts to create a perimeter around him and then he dived into Jonah’s body, penetrating skin and musculature. Having unintentionally passed through other living people since becoming a ghost, Derek knew he’d encounter skeleton, spine, and organs. But on those occasions, his stay inside had been brief, leaving just a slight impression. This time, Derek had time to examine his surroundings and it was like his Biology 101 textbook come to life, except for the invading black mist seeping into every part of Jonah.
Acting on instinct, Derek grabbed at the blackness moving up Jonah’s spine to his brain stem, and ripped it away.
Cool. He could touch and hold other spirit matter.
Plucking and tugging at the optic nerve, fingers, heart, Derek worked frantically. He felt as if he were picking fleas off an infested dog. He could barely clear one before another was covered, but he refused to give up. He tore at the mist, moving it out of Jonah’s innards until finally a tipping point had been reached.
The black mist pulled together a mass the size of a basketball and then it rammed Derek in the gut, giving him a pain worse than the time he’d had appendicitis.
Ouch. Dammit. Not so cool when the spirit matter touched him.
Derek was forced back a step, leaving only his front half immersed in Jonah. The mass morphed into the form of Jessica Bundy superim
posed over the bones of Jonah’s skeleton. Without her typical smirk, for the first time the hag appeared worried. Derek almost laughed. At last she’d given him something to really grab onto. He seized hold of her neck with both hands and jerked back as hard as he could. Jessica clawed and punched at him as the two of them wrestled. When Jessica yanked to the left, Derek moved with her instead of resisting, and the motion sent both of them tumbling out of Jonah’s body and through the kitchen counter.
Jonah choked as if he’d coughed up a huge hairball.
The other ghosts converged, each taking hold, restraining Jessica from reentering Jonah.
“I’ll destroy you all if you don’t let me go,” Jessica screeched. Then she turned on the biker dude ghost in front of her and opened her mouth wide. For a moment nothing happened, but then his essence started to disappear inside her giant maw; she appeared to be sucking him in, pulling his spirit into her mouth like a huge soul vacuum cleaner.
“Get outside,” Derek yelled at still-choking Jonah.
Jonah blinked and swiveled around, his eyes widening at the sight of the ghosts grappling with one another. Finally, he seized Jessica’s thumb from amongst the glass on the floor and bolted to the backyard.
Thank you, baby Jesus.
Derek pulled back a fist and punched Jessica right in her perfect upturned ghost nose. Jessica howled and her hands flew up to her face. If she’d been corporeal the bitch woulda had one broken and bloody nose. Derek couldn’t help feeling a little satisfaction at her obvious pain, even though his knuckles didn’t feel so great. The blow had the desired effect breaking off her attack on the biker. But the respite didn’t last long and Jessica quickly recovered enough to begin attacking the soul of the soccer mom ghost.
“Let Jessica go,” Derek ordered.
When they did, sure enough, Jessica immediately released the soccer mom’s soul and darted away, quickly closing in on Jonah’s departing figure. Derek rushed after her into the backyard. Outside, the night sky was clear, the stars twinkling and the moon luminous. Derek imagined the scent would be a mixture of clay earthiness, overgrown grass and alcohol. He really wished death hadn’t taken away the sense of smell.
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