southern ghost hunters 01 - southern spirits (14 page)

He shivered, despite himself. "Might as well be. I wouldn't want to touch the field he put around that thing. It's going to give you that hair-standing-up-on-the-back-of-your-neck feeling if and when you try to go down. You're going to swear someone is behind you, ready to pounce." 

Shadows flickered over the ominous looking trap door. "Will it be true?" 

Frankie clenched his jaw. "It just might be." 

Chapter Eleven

The real courage would be telling Ellis I'd failed to protect his kitchen. I pulled the flashlight out of my back pocket as we made our way back to the scene of the crime. Hopefully, the beam would help me illuminate what truly existed in the kitchen versus the illusion. I hadn't even checked the damage before. Perhaps I didn't want to know.

I paused beneath the bug-eyed security cameras Ellis had set up in the rafters. At least he'd know I did my best. The service station was well and truly ruined. It lay on its side, even more beat up. Still, it had already been ready for the scrap heap when we started the night. Maybe Ellis wouldn't count that. 

I made my way around the scattered of an overturned trash can while Frankie retreated to a small space behind the overturned serving station. I sincerely hoped more parts of him weren't about to go missing.

Slowly, I made my way back to the stove where I'd taken refuge. It was intact. Hallelujah. 

Except for a large, fist-sized dent between the burners. 

"That's not pretty."

"Smashed?" Frankie asked, still holed up.

"Only the top." If you wanted to look at the bright side. I'd done my job. It wasn't in pieces on the floor. 

Who was I kidding? Ellis would still be ticked. 

I inspected the rest of the remaining kitchen appliances and breathed a somewhat agitated sigh of relief. Everything else remained unscathed. For the most part. I'd have to use this encounter, this failure, to learn more about what was going on. I righted the overturned trashcan and began reloading it with scattered construction scraps, amused that for once I wasn't annoyed at the man in my life for not helping during cleanup.

Frankie had the best excuse ever.

Glass snapped under my feet. I didn't see a broom.

An hour into our first night protecting Ellis's investment and we already had a dented stove, crushed lighting, and smashed-up cookware. I couldn't afford to be fired from this job. 

There are more dangers in here than you can possibly imagine
, the ghost had warned.

I didn't doubt it for a second. 

I moved toward the candle I'd left on the serving station. Deep shadows lingered beyond the dancing light. I screwed up my courage and doused the fire hazard. It would be okay. 

Maybe.

I pulled up Ellis's number on my phone and hit
connect.

The phone didn't even ring and I realized I couldn't catch a signal. Hopefully, it was the lay of the land outside or the thick walls of the carriage house and not something else utterly and frighteningly paranormal.

"I'm heading outside," I told Frankie. "That won't disconnect me from you, will it?" 

"Don't leave the property," he warned.

"Of course not." I wouldn't go far. "If the poltergeist comes back, you holler and I'm right back here with you."

He gave me a dry look. "I'm sure I'll feel much safer because you did such a bang up job earlier."

"Can it," I said, grabbing my flashlight and moving past him. I'd done the best I could. We all had.

"No, really," Frankie called after me. "The screaming did help."

A long sigh escaped me. I wasn't crazy proud of how I'd handled myself with the poltergeist, but I certainly wasn't ashamed. Two nights ago, if you had asked me to tell a ghost story, I'd have spun a tale about the faceless guy in the woods with the hook-hand who liked to run it along the sides of cars and scare teenagers.

That was spooky. This was real.

I kept an eye out for the colonel as I made my way past the main part of the carriage house and into the stables. The shadows seemed thicker here, more ominous. I tried to shake off the feeling.

Up ahead, I spotted the trapdoor in the floor. I could walk straight over it if I wanted. Instead, I detoured around. No sense tempting fate.

Maybe Ellis had already explored the cellar. Maybe we had nothing to worry about down there.

And maybe the colonel had filled it with stuffed puppy dogs and candy.

My body felt heavy. The skin on the back of my legs pricked as a chill wound up my spine and settled on the back of my neck. I could almost feel someone behind me, ready to touch me.

"Probably just Frankie," I whispered to myself.

"What?" He called from the kitchen.

Dammit.

I turned to look behind me, hoping to see the colonel. 

But I saw nothing. Only the ghostly ruins of the old building, glowing in an ethereal gray light.

I let out a shuddering breath. Walking quickly, I headed straight for the heavy wood carriage house doors. I yanked the right one open with both hands and slipped outside, into the night. It closed behind me with a deafening boom. I don't think I'd ever felt so isolated, alone in this place save for an annoying "friendly" ghost and a host of other spirits who may or may not want me hurt…or worse.

At least the air felt warmer outside. Lighter. There were no glowing whiskey barrels, no rusted iron trusses, no broken crates. I walked to the right, holding my phone out in front of me until it caught a signal. I dialed up Ellis and he answered on the second ring. 

"Verity," he said, as if he wasn't quite sure what to expect from me.

He'd have to put his doubts to rest real quickly. "I met your ghost."

I stared out at the pitch black night and could feel him stiffen on the line. "What happened?" he demanded, the phone gathering static as he moved. A police radio droned in the background. "Are you okay?" 

That depended on his definition of okay. "A poltergeist attacked me. It dented up your stove, delivered the final death blow to your serving station." I stepped up onto a small stack of patio bricks, the weight of my discovery spilling out into nervous energy. "I'm sorry. It also got the construction lights." I tried not to picture what would have happened if they'd come crashing down on me. 

He cursed under his breath. "But you, you're all right?"

"Yes." His concern was a surprise. I'd expected him to be mad at me over his stuff. His brother Beau sure would have been.

I heard movement over the line. "I'm coming right now. I'm not that far."

"I'm glad for that." Now for the even harder part. "Ellis?" I asked, moving to another stack, my jittery legs getting the best of me. "They don't like us here."

"Tough shit."

I let out a small cry as I slipped, the patio bricks clattering out from under my feet. I leapt sideways and jogged a few feet to regain my balance.

"What's happening?" Ellis asked, as if he were ready to leap through the phone. "Where are you?"

"Outside. I'm fine." I shook out my legs, glad I didn't turn an ankle. "I'm not ordinarily this clumsy." A chill pricked the small of my back. 

In all fairness, it had been an unusual night. 

He let out a breath. "I know you can handle it," he said. "I just wish I hadn't had to leave you tonight."

"You and me both," I said, staring out into the darkness, the sheer isolation of the place starting to get to me.

This was the longest night of my life and it was barely past ten o'clock.

Headlights turned onto the property and my heart lifted a little. "Is that you coming down the drive?" He'd said he was close, but this was great.

"No. It's not me," he said, his voice like ice. "What do you see?"

"Lights. A car. Maybe Harry the handyman?" I hoped, fear skittering up my spine.

"I'm not expecting anyone," Ellis said, his tone clipped. "Go inside. Lock the door. I'm coming for you right now." 

Oh God. I hurried for the stables, the rock-strewn ground slowing me down. Gravel crunched as the car continued down the drive, right for me. I shoved my phone in my bag and held it tight as I took the crumbling steps two at a time and opened the oversized carriage house door. 

Headlights swept my face, blinding me for a moment. I ducked inside, slamming the door closed with a boom that echoed throughout the stables. 

I shoved the bolt closed and leaned my forehead against the aged wood, the hard panting of my breath sounding loud in my ears. Hot orange circles of light danced in front of my eyes as my pupils adjusted to the darkness once more.

No telling who could be outside. 

He said it couldn't be Harry, and with a sinking feeling, I realized he was right. Harry wouldn't come back this late. The shelter had a curfew. He wouldn't risk his bed to drop by unannounced.

I moved silently to the narrow window on my right. Construction dust and age clouded the glass. I rubbed it with my hand, trying to see if the intruder had come any closer. I felt like a sitting duck here all alone.

There could be entrances to this place I didn't even know about. I hoped they were locked. 

The car idled about twenty feet from the door. From the height of the headlights, it had to be some type of a sedan. I couldn't see the plates, the color, the make, or even how many people were inside. Two headlights, reaching for me as if to say,
I know you're in there.

"Frankie, I need you," I hissed.

"We got trouble?" the gangster asked, appearing with his back to the wall on the other side of the window. He peered out, reaching under his suit coat and drawing a revolver from a side holster. He made a quick check of the chamber and I could see it was fully loaded. "Stay low."

"You think a shootout is the answer?" I asked, realizing I was well and truly alone in this. Frankie could fire all the ghost bullets he wanted. I didn't believe for a second it would stop the living.

My lack of faith must have been apparent. Frankie glared daggers at me. "Excuse me. I was under the impression you called for help."

 The gangster pointed his gun through the window, which was a pretty neat trick all things considered. "They're driving around the side."

There was a narrow wooden door to our right. I tested it. Locked. I hoped they didn't have the key. "What should I do?" I whispered.

"You hide. I'll torpedo these mugs," he said.

I stumbled back into the darkness. First the poltergeist, now this. There was no way I was heading back to that haunted kitchen. That left me with precious few places to go. I didn't know this space or where I could go that they wouldn't follow.

Unless…

I spotted the cellar straight ahead. No one in his or her right mind would go down there. The colonel had seen to that.

"Colonel," I whispered, my voice wavering. "I need some protecting. Please?" He seemed to be the strongest ghost here, except for the poltergeist.

He didn't respond, but at least he'd left me with an option, a terrible, horrible option.

I rushed for the trapdoor. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Terror pounded through me. I grabbed the handle, yanking hard. The door felt heavy, sealed tight. 

"The driver's side door just opened," Frankie said, watching out the window.

Ohmygosh. I battled the instinct to run as I gripped the ring harder. I pulled with all my strength and felt the door give an inch. Cold air rushed from the hole, seeping over my ankles and filling me with an inescapable dread.

Ignore it.

It had to be better than what was behind me.

"Just one fella. A mean looking sucker, head down, making tracks for the side door," Frankie called.

I crouched above the horror seeping from the hole and redoubled my efforts. My abs twinged and my arm muscles stretched as I forced the creaking door open. It fell back onto the floor with a crash loud enough to wake the dead.

Okay, that was a bad choice of words.

Keep it together.
I shook out my arms and tried to ignore the pure malice leaching out of the hole. 

"The colonel made it feel nasty," I reminded myself. He'd laced the door with fear and dread. "That doesn't mean it's real." 

Only that it
could
be real.

A rough, homemade ladder descended into the abyss. With my satchel over my shoulder and the mini-flashlight bouncing in my dress pocket, I said a quick prayer and began my descent.

It was awkward, climbing backwards, but I kept at it, moving as quickly as I could. Barely a few rungs down, my legs chilled. It made me go faster. Lord in heaven. I half-expected something or someone to grab one of them. But I was more afraid of what awaited me if I didn't move than if I did.

I reached for the trapdoor and closed it behind me.

The tang of rust and mildew assaulted my senses.
Keep going.

Something slithery wrapped around my ankle.

I gasped, jumped the last four feet, and spun to face my attacker. 

A dull light penetrated the room, bathing it in an eerie silver glow. Stacks of horse feed piled up against the walls on either side of me. An unearthly gossamer cobweb wrapped around my ankle. 

"Ick, ick, ick!" I shook it off and it disappeared. 

More of them floated in the air, as if suspended on an invisible breeze. I drew my arms close to my body as another silky web threatened to wind itself along my forearm. 

My flashlight lay on the floor at my feet but I didn't need it. The silver light down here was weaker, like looking through smoke, but I could still see.

I shoved the flashlight back into my pocket.
Get a grip
. I'd done this before.

I heard a scrabbling behind me and gasped as I saw a wiry shadow clamber toward the open trap door. I forgot to breathe as I watched it scurry out like a trapped spider. 

Holy Moses. Had I broken some kind of seal? 

Yes.