Unholy Ground

by Christine Pope

  The act seemed to be effective. No one seemed to notice that Michael was doing most of the talking, and when the other couple in the breakfast room finished their meal first and got up to leave, they offered a pleasant nod at Michael and Audrey before they headed outside. However, she knew that wasn’t exactly a signal to discuss whatever they wanted, since Lou was still hovering a few yards away in the kitchen. She didn’t think he was eavesdropping on purpose, but only wanted to be available in case either one of them needed anything.

  But his presence kept them from speaking frankly, and after a few minutes, they, too, had cleaned their plates and were ready to go. They called out a thank-you and waved as they left, but Audrey knew her heart wasn’t in the gesture. While it had been awkward to avoid discussing anything truly important, she hadn’t really looked forward to the end of the meal, since that meant she and Michael didn’t have a reason to delay any longer.

  They went back to their room and brushed their teeth, and Michael got out the backpack he’d folded into this suitcase. As Audrey watched, he filled it with the vials of holy water he’d brought along, as well as his Bible and silver cross.

  “Got any room for an Uzi in there?” she remarked, and he gave her a grim smile.

  “It wouldn’t do any good even if I did. This holy water is a much more effective weapon against our enemy.”

  “He’s in a physical body, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but that body can take an enormous amount of damage and keep functioning, thanks to the demon that’s controlling it. We have to banish the demon, and the way to do that is with the only weapons that will work against him.”

  Props out of a low-budget horror movie, she thought. The only thing we’re missing is a stake for his heart, or maybe some silver bullets.

  But those were for vampires and werewolves. What they were going up against was infinitely older and more powerful, subtle and smart enough to have hidden itself in human society for decades. By contrast, a vampire seemed downright quaint.

  Noting her silence, Michael said, “It’s going to be all right. Don’t let anything he says shake your faith.”

  She frowned. “I told you, I’m not religious.”

  “You don’t have to be. But you believe in the natural order of the universe, don’t you? You believe that light should prevail?”

  She remembered how they’d cast out the demons from the basement of the Whitcomb mansion, how they’d prevailed against the imp-like creatures that had attacked them at the Thunderbird bed-and-breakfast in Tucson…how she’d driven off the Whitcomb-demon himself when he’d tried to assault her. Their only weapons then had been holy water and the prayer of protection Michael had taught her, and yet they’d somehow managed to succeed. Surely those victories seemed to indicate that the light had more power, no matter how strong the dark might otherwise seem.

  “Yes, I do,” she said, a little surprised by how steady her voice sounded.

  “Well, then.” He zipped up the backpack and then came over to her, cupped her cheeks in his hands, gave her a soft, sweet kiss. “Love is of the light. Our love can be a shield, a power we can use to protect us. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “I won’t.” Strangely, she did feel better now that he had kissed her. The touch of his lips against hers reminded her of how much they had to fight for…how much to live for. She wasn’t about to let the Whitcomb-demon take that away from them. Squaring her shoulders, she looked up into Michael’s face, saw the reassurance in his beautiful eyes and the determined set of his jaw, and hoped some of that determination showed in her own expression. “I’m ready.”

  He touched her hand, his fingers warm and strong. “Then let’s banish this monster so we can get on with our lives.”

  Chapter 16

  Michael was glad to see that Audrey didn’t have any trouble with the rough terrain, that she walked along next to him with the relaxed, easy stride of someone who’d done her fair share of hiking. The boots she’d brought with her were good quality but worn, as if they’d seen a lot of use. She hadn’t really mentioned to him that she liked hiking, but then, it wasn’t as if they’d had much opportunity to discuss the everyday, mundane sorts of things — what she enjoyed doing in her spare time, what kind of music or movies she liked.

  Hell, he didn’t even know her favorite color.

  With any luck, they’d have the rest of their lives to learn these things about one another. But he couldn’t depend on luck to get them through this day. No, strength of purpose, grit — and probably a healthy measure of righteous anger — were what would save them here.

  The weather, unfortunately, didn’t show much sign of clearing up. Although the drizzle had mercifully stopped, the clouds remained, heavy and dull, and patchy mist still lingered in low-lying spots. The ground was muddy and covered in a mat of dead leaves, corpses of the bright color these woods had flaunted in the autumn. Now that riot of warm shades was gone, and even though he’d grown up in this part of the world, Michael had a hard time remembering how beautiful it could be.

  They’d parked their rental car on the side of the road and headed across country, going toward one of the spots he’d identified as a place where it should be fairly easy to slip through the wire fence and avoid detection. The few houses within the borders of the trust’s land were more than half a mile here, and there was no road, only a few tracks that cut through the forest.

  Now he could see the fence in question, and although he wanted to pick up their pace a bit, their destination was up a slight incline and he thought it best not to push too hard. Especially not now, at nearly the beginning of their journey. As he’d pointed out to Audrey the day before, they had hundreds of acres to investigate, although Michael hoped they wouldn’t need to cover that much territory. Once they were inside the woods, he had a few places he wanted to try first, as they seemed the most likely spots. One in particular had caught his eye — of course, there was no Google street view in such a remote location, and so he could only zoom in so close, but it looked to him as though there was a largish house hidden in the forest, far from the narrow country road that serviced the other houses in the area.

  A house with no way in or out, except by foot? That sounded like something he wanted to take a closer look at. He supposed the owner could simply be an eccentric who didn’t want to be bothered and possibly used an ATV to get in and out…but he could also be a demon who didn’t have to worry about roads because he could disappear and rematerialize wherever he wanted.

  Michael had programmed the GPS coordinates into the unit he’d bought at REI a few years earlier, more because he’d thought it might come in handy than because he’d had any pressing need for such a device at the time. Now, though, he was glad of that purchase — neither his nor Audrey’s cell phones got any kind of a signal out here, and if he’d been relying on their phones’ map function to guide the two of them where he wanted to go, they could have been in a lot of trouble.

  They reached the fence, and Michael paused there for a moment, scanning the area to make sure no one was around to see them slip through. That was him being paranoid more than anything else, since they hadn’t seen a single soul since they’d parked the car in a carve-out on the road more than a half hour earlier. It wasn’t exactly the right kind of weather for a pleasant day hike, and besides, a weekday that wasn’t anywhere near a holiday weekend basically promised there wouldn’t be anyone else out exploring the area. At least there wasn’t any sign of surveillance cameras or other high-tech devices near the fence; he guessed that putting such security measures in place would have been cost-prohibitive, considering the amount of land the fence enclosed.

  Audrey glanced at the fence, her expression resigned. He could tell she wasn’t happy about trespassing, but they didn’t have much choice. Also, if the trust hadn’t taken the extreme measure of fencing in the entire parcel — thus sending a signal that they had to be hiding something in there — then no one would have had to break any laws to acc
ess Dudleytown’s ruins. While that might be considered a logical fallacy, Michael didn’t have much problem using it to justify what they were about to do now.

  “Ladies first,” he said with a smile, stepping down on the bottom two wires and lifting the top one to create an opening Audrey could easily slip through.

  She shot him a sideways glance. “Such a gentleman.” However, she didn’t protest, only bent over slightly so she’d fit in the gap in the fence without snagging her hair or clothing. And as soon as she was on the other side, she took over for him, doing her part to hold open the fence for him as well.

  Once he was standing next to her, he straightened, then took a quick survey of their surroundings. The forest proper began only a few yards away, a wood that appeared to be an impenetrable thicket of bare trees, interspersed here and there with the odd pine and fir. However, as he stared at the forest, he could see openings within it, narrow paths that would allow him and Audrey to pass, albeit in single file in some places. He consulted the GPS, and then the rough hand-drawn chart he’d made from studying Google maps of the area.

  “We need to go south and east,” he told Audrey, pointing. “That way.”

  She’d opened the bottle of water she had in her own pack and drunk some while he consulted the map. After screwing the cap back down, she said, “Lead on.”

  Her tone had been almost too neutral, but Michael thought it better not to comment. He knew she was worried and fighting her own fears, and he couldn’t blame her. Anxiety lay coiled like a serpent in his own belly, but this was a destiny neither one of them could avoid. Possibly if he’d never agreed to the Project Demon Hunters show in the first place, he would never have gone down this path, and yet he somehow knew that he couldn’t have evaded this particular fate. The only thing he could do now was face it as best he could.

  Almost as soon as they were within the trees, a strange hush fell around them. Earlier, there had been a chilly little breeze, fitful and sharp, but now Michael couldn’t feel any wind at all. The only sound was the muffled tread of their feet on the dull carpet of last autumn’s leaves.

  “It’s so quiet,” Audrey murmured. Above her dark green coat, her face looked very pale, the healthy flush that had touched her cheeks during the first part of their hike now gone. “Not even a bird.”

  Yes, that was what felt so wrong. It was too early and too cold for there to be much sound of insects, but he hadn’t heard a single chirp from a bird, not even the rough cawing of a crow or the croak of a raven. And while he expected any wild animals in the vicinity to have heard their footsteps and stayed far way, he’d hiked in enough woodland terrain in his home state of Massachusetts to know that there should have been some prints on the forest path, whether the delicate cloven hooves of deer or the bulkier imprints from badgers and skunks. Here, he couldn’t see a single sign that any living things had passed this way.

  Despite his conviction that they were here to do God’s work, Michael couldn’t quite hold back the cold sensation that worked its way down his spine. He’d been in numerous haunted houses, been in the presence of those possessed by demons, and yet something in the unearthly quiet of this forest frightened him more than anything he’d ever encountered.

  “If there’s a portal in here somewhere…if our demon has taken a section here for his own…then the animals would know to stay far away,” he said, glad that his voice sounded firm and rational and reasonable.

  “Maybe we should have taken a cue from them,” Audrey returned, gaze darting here and there, as if she expected the Whitcomb-demon to leap out from behind one of the trees that surrounded them. “This place feels way worse than that basement did.”

  She was right. The cold moving through him had very little to do with the chilly day, since he was dressed warmly and wore sturdy hiking boots and thick socks. No, his own sixth sense could detect how unnatural this place was, how something dwelled here that was malevolent and opposed to anything good or light. And if he could feel that, what must Audrey be experiencing right now, when her sensitivity to such things was so much stronger than his?

  He reached out and took her hand, felt her gloved fingers against his bare ones. As much as he would have liked to touch her skin to skin, he was glad that she’d thought ahead enough to realize if the climate here required a warm coat like the one she’d purchased, then she should probably get some gloves to go along with it. He himself had forgotten to pack any, but he could manage. Even though he’d lived in California for almost ten years now, it was as if his body remembered this kind of dank weather, the way the cold would seep into your bones. He could probably handle it better than Audrey would.

  “I know,” he said quietly, worried that if he spoke too loudly, his voice might carry to the wrong ears. “And it’s probably going to get much worse. Just know that we prevailed against him before, and we can do so again.”

  A nod, although she didn’t reply, only touched one hand to her chest, fingers pressing on the spot where he thought the cross and the black tourmaline point he’d given her lay hidden beneath her clothing. His own tourmaline talisman was warm where it pressed against his T-shirt, and he guessed it must be absorbing all sorts of negative energy. But, while it offered its own protection, the stone could only do so much. The rest was up to him…and to Audrey.

  They walked in silence for some time, their footsteps unnaturally loud in the absence of all other sounds. Every ten minutes or so, Michael would pull out the chart he’d drawn and consult the GPS, but it seemed as if they were still on track. In all, they’d only covered about a mile or so, but it felt so much farther because of all the pauses, and also because the faint path they followed sometimes would disappear altogether, and they’d have to retrace their steps until they found it again.

  And all the while the cold seemed to increase, even though now it was almost noon, and the day should have warmed at least a little despite the cloud cover. Their breath, which hadn’t been visible before, began to puff out before them as they walked, and Michael had to shove his hands in his jacket pockets to protect them from the unnatural chill.

  With the cold came the sort of pressure they’d felt in the basement of the Whitcomb mansion, as if the air itself was becoming denser and denser, making it more difficult to move. Now they both began to breathe more heavily from the increased exertion, even though the walk should have been a relatively easy one, the land here gently rolling at best, without an incline to climb like the one they’d hiked to gain entry to the fence that bounded the parcel.

  “Almost there,” he said, and Audrey nodded, looking paler than ever. Her breaths came out in little pants, a sign that the deepening pressure of the atmosphere was beginning to affect her. Unfortunately, there was nothing either of them could do about their current discomfort…except get rid of its source once and for all.

  They came to a narrow brook, little more than a trickle, and crossed it using some of the exposed stones to traverse the stream bed. Ahead of them, the trees began to thin out, and at last Michael saw the house he had spied in his Google map search — a two-story structure built of gray stone, with a sharply peaked slate roof and mullioned windows, looking like it had been scooped up from the English countryside and planted here in this forgotten hollow.

  Between them and the house was a small pond, its surface flat and gray, reflecting the somber sky overhead. A thin rime of ice covered the water closest to its banks. Maybe it had once been put there to attract ducks or other waterfowl, but now the pond looked as barren and unwelcoming as the forest that surrounded them.

  And suddenly, the forlorn body of water wasn’t the only thing between them and the tall gray house. A man stood there, thin and pale, his black coat falling straight below his knees. Dark eyes under heavy brows regarded them for a moment, and then his thin lips lifted.

  “I wondered when you would find your way here.”

  Audrey saw the way Michael’s hand went for the backpack he carried and its complement of vials o
f holy water, and immediately reached out and grabbed his wrist. He stared at her, startled, and she said, the words coming out in little gasps because of the heaviness of the air around them, “No, Michael. It’s not the demon. It’s the ghost.”

  “I can understand the confusion,” Whitcomb said, then moved toward them. He didn’t walk so much as drift across the dead grass.

  In her dreams, his long coat had flapped in the wind, but now there was no breeze to ruffle the heavy fabric. “I’ve seen both of them, remember?” Audrey murmured to Michael. “You haven’t.”

  For a long moment, he didn’t respond. Then he gave a curt nod, as if annoyed with himself for not being able to see the ghost before now. Which begged the question…why now? What was Whitcomb doing here at all?

  “Did we make a mistake?” Audrey asked. “Is this not his house after all?”

  “No, it’s his,” Whitcomb replied. “What you feel is the portal inside, larger and stronger than the one in my former home in California. It wasn’t like that until recently, until you destroyed the portal in Glendora and he had no recourse but to strengthen this one.”

  “What’s he going to do with it?” Michael looked pale, and there was a sheen of perspiration on his forehead despite the chill that surrounded them, but his voice was strong enough as he looked the ghost in the eye.

  Sounding strangely unconcerned, the ghost said, “Whatever he wants. You’ve dispelled some of his demons, so I suppose he will want to bring in more. That’s what he desires, of course…to create as much chaos as possible.”

  “That was always your problem, Whitcomb,” came a new voice. From behind the ghost, the man who’d stolen his appearance seemed to appear from nowhere, stepping out from behind his doppelgänger.

  But no, they weren’t exact twins. This new Whitcomb looked younger and stronger, and he smiled unpleasantly as he stared past the ghost to the spot where Audrey and Michael stood.