But an odd sound coming from the back of the house disturbed the quiet. On high alert, he crept toward the back of the house, weapon in hand.
Concerned that the moonlight might illuminate his approach, Rome dropped to a crouch, hoping to blend in with the dark shrubbery and trees surrounding the house as he advanced toward the sound that was a groaning roar, a beastly echo of the past. Like listening to a soundtrack of Jurassic Park.
He would have fired his weapon immediately if he didn’t think his eyes were deceiving him and, for a few terrible moments, he stood frozen watching an inconceivable sight. He looked away from the atrocious scene for a few seconds. He surveyed an overturned trash can, and its lid that had been flung a few feet away. In an attempt to comprehend the sight that his brain refused to grasp, he continued focusing on inanimate objects, like the stuffed green trash bag with red handles, that slowly rolled back and forth near the toppled trash can.
Steeling himself, Rome forced his eyes to zoom in on what appeared to be the wide V-shape of a woman’s outspread legs. There was something on top of her. Something vicious, inhuman, and unafraid. The thing didn’t jump up in shock; it didn’t dart off into the night after being caught in the act of rape.
Unapologetically, it humped, growled and clawed the ground as it ferociously thrust itself in and out of Ms. Abramson. The widow didn’t move. Her body was still. Lifeless. The poor woman was better off dead, Rome decided as he finally steadied his hand, aimed, and fired.
The gunshot was loud. The creature’s pained howl was louder. The big hairy thing rose up, revealing an angry face with furtufted ears, cheeks, and forehead. Rome froze, unsure of what he was looking at. The thing was hideously ugly, with its mouth agape, roaring mad and dripping thick saliva.
While Rome stood, momentarily transfixed, the creature bounded up the trunk of a tree, swung from its branches, raced to the top, and then launched itself across the abyss between trees, hurtling through treetops like nothing Rome had ever seen.
Rome fired off wild, badly aimed blasts in rapid succession, splintering bark, shooting off limbs and branches, while the beast ran free. Determined, Rome dashed between trees, tripping and stumbling, arms stretched skyward as he continued to fire shots.
There was a sudden thump of something hitting the ground. Thinking he’d most likely toppled one of the smaller trees, he moved forward to investigate. Rome stopped cold. The creature, big and animalistic, lay on its back, groaning in pain. Rome stepped closer, forcing himself to look at the monstrous thing. It twisted and panted and foam bubbled at the corner of its mouth. Its growl was weak, yet laden with menace.
Standing at close range, Rome fired over and over into the beast’s snarling face until he’d emptied the clip.
Unbelievably, the maniac’s bullet-ridden face ignited and became enflamed. Nanoseconds later, the fire raged down its hairy body. A sudden whoosh and the creature became a dark swirl of thick smoke that swiftly tunneled deep into the earth, as if hell bound.
There wasn’t much left to identify the killer; just a few smoldering clumps that quickly turned into a pile of ashes.
The crime scene indicated that the widow was taking out the trash when the beast attacked her. Rome knelt down to look for a pulse, but didn’t expect to find one on the poor ravaged woman. His eyes involuntarily swept downward, settling on the gaping, bloody hole in the crotch of her pants. He cringed.
As an officer of the law, Rome should have secured the crime scene at the Abramson home and reported the murder. But what could he say about the assailant? That it looked like Sasquatch and had burst into flames after being riddled with bullets?
Would anyone believe that the perpetrator had gone poof? It was a preposterous story, and Rome knew that he’d be considered a suspect, taken into custody, and labeled a maniac cop.
At the top of their long list of questions, the investigators would want to know why Rome had been prowling around Chestnut Hill while off duty. Mentioning his planned date with Jen would inevitably bring up the names of her high-profile employers. Jen wouldn’t appreciate him dragging the Provosts into this mess.
It was too late to save Ms. Abramson, and there was no point in voluntarily surrendering himself to an interrogation that could last for hours. At least not now. He’d deal with the interrogation and possible arrest after he knew for certain that Jen was all right.
Of course, DNA found on Ms. Abramson would eventually exonerate him, but in the meantime, wild horses couldn’t stop him from getting to Jen.
Leaving the dead woman lying on the ground, he raced to his truck. A beastly murderer had been on the loose in Chestnut Hill. Jen and the little boy she took care of were most likely at home all alone, and Rome’s single-minded thought was to make sure Jen was unharmed.
Confident that her looks mesmerized, Eris admitted the dashing young man inside, sizing him up with an unmistakable glimmer of approval in her eyes. She’d seen him before, sitting in an automobile gawking up at her during her precarious attempts to cross a bridge that would evaporate in the blink of an eye if she dared to dawdle.
During those distressful times, she didn’t have a moment to spare and had never appraised the gentleman. Now she realized that he was a fine looking male specimen, elegant, and garbed in high-quality finery. His physical qualities appealed to her. This human male looked worthy enough to be her mate. It was a pity his life would have to end tonight.
Eris had heard the desperate messages the man had left on the nanny’s talking device. “I love you, I miss you, I need you,” he’d declared over and over. His words had burned Eris’s ears. She despised it when male attention was focused on another female. After hearing his love pledges, Eris had flown into a jealous rage, prompting her to bite and inflict pain on the redheaded governess even though her she had no immediate need of nourishment.
Her limbs were holding out quite well and showing no signs of fading. Still, the governess had no right getting compliments.
In a jealous rage, Eris had stomped down the cellar stairs to bite the little trollop with her own razor-sharp teeth.
Surprisingly, the feeling of her teeth cutting into human flesh and the girl’s responding scream gave Eris a bout of dizzying pleasure. Now that she’d developed a liking for biting, Boozer would no longer be necessary for that task.
She batted her lashes and fixed her indigo eyes on the chivalrous young man, who was there to save his damsel in distress. Well, it wasn’t going to happen.
“Greetings,” she said, ushering him in. “I’m Eris, the new governess.” A magnificent smile blossomed on her face.
“Romel Chavis,” he replied. Though he was shocked to find himself face-to-face with the ghost lady from the bridge, he forced himself to appear as calm and as normal as possible. This particular spirit usually wore a mask of anger; her smile was unexpected and disarming.
Her satiny, dark skin looked life-like, as if it would be soft to the touch. She had strong features and her blue eyes enhanced her unusual beauty. No longer naked, she was wearing an old-fashioned ball gown.
There were blood stains on the bodice, making Rome wonder if her last breath had been stolen by a violent and jealous lover a couple of centuries ago.
The presence of this apparition probably had Jen freaked out. No wonder she hadn’t returned his calls. Most likely, she and the kid, terrified that a spirit was roaming openly throughout the house, were huddled together, hiding somewhere in the enormous home.
Rome knew that the average lost soul believed that he or she was still alive. This ghost was badly confused and would have to be guided to the light with gentle kindness. She struck him as having the potential to be become stubborn and malevolent if she was told she was dead. He sighed, his eyes bouncing around the foyer, straining to spot Jen.
It wasn’t customary or usually necessary for Rome to have to speak to ghosts. And he hadn’t met one yet that had spoken to him; until now. He felt foolish, talking to something that was apt to vanish in
to thin air, but he went through with the ritual anyway. He even went so far as to extended his hand, hoping the spirit who called herself Eris would go poof the moment her ethereal hand passed through his solid, human limb. Her palm pressed against his. It was warm and soft to the touch, shocking his senses.
“Would you like to join me in the living room? It gets rather lonely at night after I put the little one to bed.”
Rome eyed the outdated ball gown. “I don’t mean to be rude, Eris, but you’re not the governess. I’m not calling you a liar; I’m sure you were on top of your nanny game back in the day.” He chuckled at his humor. Eris stared at him blankly.
Rome cleared his throat. “What I’m saying is that I think you’re lost.”
Eris winced. Offended, she placed her palm against her chest.
“Seriously. I’m not trying to upset you or anything, but the child you took care of is no longer with us and you would be better off if you joined him.”
Eris smiled a patient smile. “He’s upstairs and he’s tucked safe and sound in his bed.”
This wasn’t going well. And after that weird-ass encounter with that crazed creature, he needed to check on Jen and make sure she was all right. This talkative ghost was holding up progress.
It was time to speed things along and point her in the right direction. Which is? he asked himself. Hell, if he knew where the white light was located. He’d never had to take his finger and physically point it out.
Merely making the suggestion to go toward the light usually helped the spirits on their final journey. But after watching Eris running around on Piper’s Bridge, something told Rome that she was going to require a GPS or a printout of Mapquest directions. She seemed too complicated a personality to simply take his word and keep it moving.
Rome regarded Eris closely, his eyes dead serious. “Listen, you’re a spirit now and you don’t belong here. There’s a new governess…well, we call her a nanny. Her name is Jen. She has flaming red hair; she’s pretty unforgettable,” Rome said, unable to suppress a sudden smile as he pictured Jen’s face.
The spirit maintained an amiable expression, but there was a change in the atmosphere, subtle, but unpleasant, making him more anxious than ever to talk to Jen.
“Will you let me help you find your way to the light?” he pressed.
“Pardon?” Eris asked, her mouth upturned pleasantly, while sparks flickered in hrt eyes, informing Rome that her smile was fake. This was a discontented spirit.
Rome’s palms felt suddenly clammy. “The dead can’t hurt you,” his grandma had always said. Remembering her words, he tried to ignore the angry flashes in Eris’s eyes.
Okay, granted the dead can’t hurt you, but what about that creature that raped and killed Ms. Abramson. There was no doubt in Rome’s mind that the Sasquatch-looking monster was something from another dimension.
What if the beast had gotten its claws into Jen? Suppose there was more than one Sasquatch on the loose? For all he knew, there could be a pack of hellish rapists terrorizing Chestnut Hill.
With the grotesque image of that maniac fresh in his mind, he pushed Eris aside, and sped through the living room. Overcome by a growing sense of dread, he moved swiftly from room to room, yelling, “JEN!”
Darting through the kitchen and out the exit at the opposite end, a padlock dangling outside the cellar door sent a chill through Rome and paralyzed him with fear. Jen was down there. He could feel it. “JEN!” he bellowed as he tried to shoulder the door open. The lock rattled against the wood but the door didn’t budge.
His gun was reloaded and tucked in his waistband. He considered blasting his way into the cellar, but he couldn’t bring himself to fire through the closed door. If Jen and the little boy were down there, it would be inexcusable and completely reckless to put their lives at risk. Yelling profanities, Rome raised his foot and tried his best to kick the door off its hinges.
Huddling in a corner, trying to leave lots of space between her and poor Carmen’s rotting corpse, Jen shook, her body still in shock from the vicious mauling Eris had inflicted. Eris was merciless. Wicked. Biting Jen over and over and in different places for no reason other than unadulterated evil. During the sadistic attack, Jen hoped to disassociate…to transcend from her body and escape the pain like she’d done before. But it didn’t happen. Jen was very much present. She was totally aware of the agonizing pain as Eris brutalized her with razor-sharp bites, pulling back flesh, and peeling off thin layers of skin.
It seemed to go on for hours…maybe days. The teeth sank in savagely, causing Jen to scream and convulse.
A banging overhead made Jen’s teeth chatter in fear. Oh, my God! It was too soon to go through the biting ordeal again. But then again, maybe it was time. Jen had lost all concept of time. She inched further into the corner of her dreary holding place.
Another loud bang and it seemed like she heard someone shout her name. She had to be hallucinating; the monster didn’t call her by any name. It just growled and bit her. Ghost lady called her “the governess” and the demon child referred to her simply as “nanny.”
Jen dropped her head in defeat. Very soon, one of those horrible creatures would lift the floorboards. The soul-shuddering fear, the useless screaming, the pleading for mercy, and the blinding pain…It would begin all over again.
There was a strange odor seeping up from under the cellar door. He’d smelled it before. A cold chill ran up his spine. Jen!
“Rome.”
With his leg raised and ready to give the door another hard kick, he was startled by the sound of Jen’s voice calling his name. The sound of bare feet smacking against the marble, hastily approaching, couldn’t be ignored. Rome dropped his foot and spun so swiftly, his black coat swirled around his legs. The spirit was persistent, rushing toward him, and the beam of light shining from her eyes was turned up so high, the brightness was blinding, forcing Rome to shield his eyes.
“There you are. I thought you’d never get here.”
Jen? It really sounded like her voice. Baffled, he pulled his arm away from his face. The high beams were turned down several notches; a soft, mesmerizing glow emanated, taking his attention away from the cellar door.
The spirit was smiling again; proud of her ability to perfectly imitate the sound of Jen’s voice, and pleased with her powers of seduction that had him baffled and spellbound.
“Let me take your coat,” she said, still mimicking Jen.
Confused, Rome removed his coat and hesitantly gave it to the apparition.
“You won’t need that,” the apparition remarked, pointing to the gun sticking out of Rome’s waistband. “Give it to me.” She stuck out her hand.
He knew he should refuse, but for some inexplicable reason, he was unable to resist the command. Rome handed over his weapon.
“You’ll be more comfortable without it. Besides,” she added with scoffing laughter, “there are no criminals in this house.” The apparition strolled off in the direction of the kitchen. She returned a few moments later, empty handed.
His gun now forgotten, Rome gazed at the spirit. She smiled at him. Something wasn’t right. Why didn’t Jen look the same? Her smile seemed so insincere—and so eerie. And what was that bad smell coming from the cellar? The stench had his heart pumping with fear. Apprehensive, he turned back to the padlocked door. There was a reason he was standing there, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember.
“I’m so happy you’re here. I’ve been so lonely.” The spirit was messing with his mind and he knew it. “Let’s sit in the living room. It’s so comfortable in there.” She took his hand. “I missed you, Rome,” she said, borrowing Jen’s tone and inflection, softening his resolve. He could hardly tell the difference between real and illusionary occurrences.
His vision blurred as he moved in slow motion, taking extreme caution with each footstep. His depth perception was off and each step he made toward the living room seemed precarious and life-threatening.
Holding hands with an apparition with a voice that sounded exactly like the tone of the woman he loved had a similar effect as the time back in school when he’d accepted a joint that was laced with PCP. Though he hadn’t smoked weed since high school, he’d heard the effects could resurface at any time for years to come.
Was he hallucinating from that bad shit he’d smoked way back then?
He looked over his shoulder at the locked cellar door, brows furrowed, trying to remember why he found that locked door so disturbing. He couldn’t recall.
Rome inhaled deeply and scowled. His sense of smell was off the charts. “What’s that smell coming from the cellar?” he asked as he was led into the stylish living room.
“Sewage backup. I’ve called the plumber. He’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
Made sense.
“I heard your message. I didn’t stand you up. The new nanny was a no-show.”
Rome frowned. “I met the new nanny.” He shook his head vigorously. “Hold up. I feel like I’m high as hell.”
She giggled. Like Jen. The musical sound relaxed him. Things started making sense. “I don’t want to freak you out, but that ghost we saw on the bridge was in this house,” he confided, his tone hushed.
“The dead can’t hurt you.”
“That’s what my grandma used to say.” Rome was definitely starting to relax. “This house is nice,” he said, looking around. “We could get one like this one day.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I have the money; just never had anyone to share it with.”
“Now you have me.” Eris turned and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her hands didn’t look like Jen’s hands, but that was okay.
The PCP was messing with his vision. He wondered if the doctor could prescribe something to keep the hallucinations from returning.
The Sorceress Page 26