I walked out of my room and started for the hallway. I intended to plug in all the overhead shop lights and brighten the place up. After completing that task, I kept busy by inspecting each of the downstairs rooms to see how much progress Ryan’s men had made. That took all of ten minutes and I was left twiddling my thumbs again. But I was spared from inventing another mindless task to keep my thoughts off the slow, molasses dripping of time when I heard a steady stream of water coming from the guest bathroom.
Narrowing my eyes, I tried to remember if I’d turned off the faucet, and eerily recalled that I’d never even turned it on. Gulping down my surging fear, I prodded myself forward to investigate. I didn’t racing to do it, by any stretch of the imagination, but tiptoed toward the bedroom, where the sound of water became more audible. Now closer, it didn’t sound as though it was coming from the sink faucet, but more like someone had turned the bath on.
Reaching my bedroom, the bathroom door was shut and I definitely remembered leaving it open. A steady flow of steam emerged from beneath the door, illuminated by the bathroom light.
My heart climbed into my throat as I approached the door. When I reached for the doorknob, I feared I might just seize up and suffer a stroke right there. But I didn’t. Grasping the knob in my palm, I turned it and felt like I was in slow motion. I pulled the door toward me and became momentarily blinded by the overhead light, which seemed much brighter when combined with the enormous amount of condensation in the room. The steam hit me full force in the face like a slap and I blinked against it. It was just like walking into a sauna.
Incredibly, the air was so thick, I couldn’t even see through it. Taking a few small steps forward, I shielded my face with my arm so the scalding mist wouldn’t scorch my eyes. They were already tearing up and I had difficulty breathing the inexplicably searing air. I tried to fan the steam, but it was like dense, white smoke, and so cloudy and heavy, it was opaque.
Following the sound of rushing water, I stumbled through the haze until I inadvertently kicked the bathtub with my toes. I slid the glass door to one side and reached into the bathtub, gripping the hot water knob and turning it off. Standing up again, I turned back around and noticed the steam was dissipating so quickly, it was almost as if an invisible vacuum were sucking it up from the middle of the room.
When I looked up, I was standing in front of the mirror above the sink. The steam seemed to cling to the mirror, keeping the whole thing cloudy. As I watched the vapor slowly dissipate, I could see it was leaving something behind on the mirror—words.
Taking a few steps closer, my eyes went wide and my fight or flight reflex was on high alert. Somehow, I couldn’t retreat, not until I read what the mirror said. The steam continued to dissipate, revealing paragraphs of text. The font was so small, I had to take a few steps closer in order to read it.
Hell, April 15, 2014
Esteemed Mortal:
They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a fell demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman.
When I see fit, I shall come again and claim other victims. I alone know who they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody axe, besmeared with the blood and brains of him whom I have sent below to keep me company.
If you wish you may tell the police not to rile me. Of course I am a reasonable spirit. I take no offense at the way they have conducted their investigation in the past. But tell them to beware. Let them not try to discover what I am, for it were better that they were never born than to incur the wrath of the Axeman.
Now, to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to visit again.
The Axeman
It was the Axeman’s famous letter that first appeared in the New Orleans Times-Picayune newspaper in 1919. Only now it was on my bathroom mirror and it had today’s date. I heard myself screaming at the exact time that I twirled around on my toes, before running headlong into Christopher’s black cape.
“Yow!” he yelled. Spinning around to face me, his cape caught air, billowing over my head. I screamed again, thinking the Axeman was enveloping me in his darkness. Then I felt cold hands on my upper arms as the cape fell away and I looked up at an enraged Christopher.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he screamed at me, his eyes popping out of his head.
But I was too breathless to think, and much too overwhelmed and terrified to make a sound. Instead, I shook my head as I turned around, pointing to the mirror. Christopher gave me a bizarre expression, which I didn’t understand, before entering the bathroom and approaching the mirror. He stood there for a few seconds while he read the Axeman’s message.
That was when I noticed his companion—a slightly overweight African American woman with a beautiful face, full lips, and wide brown eyes. She was maybe in her late forties or early fifties. She wore a red and purple head scarf thing that looked like a turban, based on the way she’d wrapped it on her head. Her blouse was red and white and matched the floor-length skirt that billowed out from her waist.
Her eyes were closed as she hummed something to herself. Then, she turned around and held her arms out before her as if she were blindly groping toward the door. Moments later, she opened her eyes and looked at me as she shook her head.
“This is not good, Christopher,” she said in a Southern accent. That really threw me because judging by her appearance, I figured she was Jamaican or Haitian.
Even though she spoke to Christopher, her eyes remained on me. I heard the sound of Christopher’s footsteps as he walked back into the bedroom.
“It’s far worse than not good, Lovie,” he answered with a deeply heartfelt sigh. He spun on his toes and stared at me. “It’s a demon,” he announced, as if I hadn’t already read the letter and figured that much out for myself.
“Did you notice the date?” I inquired, wondering if my heartbeat would regulate anytime soon.
“Today’s date,” he answered. Lovie started for the bathroom, her curiosity no doubt piqued by what we’d said about the letter.
I nodded. “It says he’s going to visit again next Tuesday night . . .” I started. Taking another deep breath, I began to feel dizzy. “Based on the fact that it’s dated with today’s date, do you think it’s safe to assume he means this coming Tuesday? April 22?”
“I believe in instances such as this one, it is always better to assume the worst and plan accordingly,” Christopher answered. I figured that was a yes. Christopher chewed his lip. “We must act quickly, then,” he concluded.
At that moment, Lovie returned from the bathroom and faced us both with a worried expression. “This demon is growin’ stronger,” she announced. “I can feel its energy pulsin’ throughout this house. I’m havin’ a difficult time keepin’ my psychic walls up.”
“If you need to take a break, Lovie, go outside,” Christopher answered in a matter-of-fact sort of way.
I faced him and from the corner of my eye, caught Lovie shaking her head. My heartbeat started to pound again. “Can you tell if Drake is still here?” I demanded. “Is he still with us?”
Christopher closed his eyes, and moments later they started to twitch like he was in REM sleep. When he reopened them, he eyed me and simply nodded. But his expression didn’t bring me any sort of comfort. “He is waning rapidly.”
“Then we have to get on with it!” I announced, throwing my hands in the air like we’d spent too much time gabbing when we should have been focusing on Drake. “Whatever we have to do to keep him safe, we need to do it now!”
Lovie glanced at Christopher with a dubious look on her face. “Have you explained to her,” she started, but Christopher’s crisp shake of his head interrupted her.
“I have not,” he answered as they both turned their eyes from each other to me.
“Explained what to me?” I demanded.
Christopher arched one eyebrow, which lent him a serious expression. “Explained what is involved to save your friend from this entity.”
“I don’t care!” I rebutted. “Whatever it’s going to take, we need to do it and we need to start now!”
Christopher cleared his throat as Lovie frowned. “In order to save him, you must make a very personal sacrifice,” he said.
I shook my head in wonder, because I had no clue what he was talking about. “A personal sacrifice? What does that mean? Like donate some blood?” For some reason, the image of a ritual involving a few drops of my blood was playing through my mind.
“Blood is not enough,” Christopher said between tight lips. “You must share your body with him.”
“Huh?” I managed, thinking this was sounding like we were delving into some weird ghost-sex area that I found not only uncomfortable, but also unfeasible, at least, as far as I knew.
“You must allow his spirit to possess you!” Lovie exclaimed impatiently. She sounded both frustrated and amused as she shook her head at Christopher.
“Possess me?” I repeated, thinking maybe I should have read the fine print before I signed myself up for saving Drake’s soul.
“It wouldn’t be like The Exorcist,” Christopher said. Waving a hand at me, he implied that I was overreacting. “You both would simply share the same body.”
“Share my body?” I repeated again, thinking the idea sounded completely unattractive.
“It’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Christopher continued. “My domicile has been shared with many spirits over the years.”
I supposed “sharing a domicile” was the euphemism for demonic possession. Although it didn’t exactly surprise me to learn Christopher had been possessed; based on his career as a warlock, it sort of seemed par for the course. I also had to wonder if he was possessed now, because the way he dressed and spoke seemed anachronistic, to say the least. As far as my willingness to allow myself to be possessed, now that was an altogether different subject.
“Your soul would have priority over your body,” Lovie interjected. “It wouldn’t be as though the foreign spirit could control you.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Christopher agreed. “All it really means for you is having an extra voice in your head.” I wasn’t exactly happy with the current voices I heard in my head.
“And you would also share his power,” Lovie added. “That could be of huge benefit when dealing with the spiritual world.” She started to nod as if she were in the midst of convincing herself. “The other thing to consider is that this spirit, Drake, has been protecting you from the malevolence of this house all along.”
Christopher nodded. “True, Lovie, true.”
“What’s the importance of that?” I asked, shrugging.
“His power must be strong, considering how long he fended off the entity’s advances. If you allow him to join you, he can continue protecting you, only now he’ll pull more strength from your life energy, which will make his own power that much stronger,” Lovie answered.
Hmm, I couldn’t say it sounded too bad especially when I remembered when the entity had attacked me. If not for Drake, I probably would have become a member of the spirit world myself. So there were some pros to this possession thing buried in the cons. “The entity already attacked me but Drake was able to fend it off,” I said before taking a deep breath.
“It has already gone after you?” Lovie repeated, eyeing me spearingly.
I simply nodded as she turned her attention to Christopher and both her eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. Christopher returned her knowing expression before resting his eyes on mine. He then closed his eyes and reached out to me, touching my arm. He was quiet for about seven seconds as he nodded and his eyelids started twitching in that way that reminded me of REM sleep. When he opened his eyes, his mouth was caught in a straight, white line. “Were it not for Drake, you would not be standing here now,” he said with absolution in his tone. Then he turned toward Lovie. “This possession needs to take place for her own protection. The entity is increasingly gaining strength and dominion over her and this house. If we do not buttress her defensive aura with Drake’s strength, this malevolence will most definitely be able to claim her.”
Lovie just nodded before they both faced me. “Is possession the only way to ensure that Drake doesn’t get killed, for lack of a better word, by this demon?” I asked, setting my own needs aside for the moment.
Both of them nodded. I felt a little sick as I quickly weighed my options. Drake was losing his battle with the demon. Even worse, if it did eliminate him, it would come after me. And apparently according to Christopher, the only thing standing between this demon and me at the moment was Drake. If his power could be enhanced by my life energy and he could better protect me, then why wouldn’t I agree to it? And, really, how bad could possession be?
Famous last words.
I took a deep breath and then exhaled it. “Okay, what do we need to do?”
Chapter Six
Christopher inhaled deeply and then exhaled before he faced Lovie, his expression hard. “Are you prepared for this, Lovie? I, for one, certainly did not prepare myself for a possession when I received her phone call.” He glanced back at me with a raised brow like it was my fault I hadn’t warned him that he should prepare for possessing me with Drake’s soul. Then he returned his attention to Lovie.
She quietly nodded. “I attempt to prepare myself for all varieties of unexpected situations.”
“Do we have everything we require?” Christopher continued as he tapped his fingers against his other arm and glanced around himself as if expecting to find a list of useful items for possession on the walls of the guest bedroom.
Lovie nodded again. “I believe so.”
Christopher chewed his lower lip. “Did you bring Raven or Claude?” he asked, before cracking his knuckles. “I really hope you brought Raven.”
Lovie beamed up at him, apparently pleased that he would be pleased by her information, and nodded. “I got this feeling before we left that Raven would be our better choice.”
“Very good, Lovie, very good,” Christopher responded with a genuine smile.
“Raven?” I asked, glancing between the two of them. “Who is Raven?” I couldn’t say I was exactly thrilled by the idea that there might be one other witch, warlock, fairy, vampire, or werewolf to witness this possession.
Christopher faced me with the expression of someone who’d just remembered I was still in the room. “Raven is a human skull,” he answered matter-of-factly as my mouth dropped open in accordance. “Raven is the better skull to have brought with us for the purposes of your situation because her lower jaw is still intact as well as all her teeth which means she is truly a necromantic skull and will be able to converse with us and your spirit far better than Claude could, owing to the fact that he’s missing his jaw.”
I reminded myself not to ask any more questions because I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be prepared for Christopher’s responses. I was spared the need to say much more as Christopher immediately started for the hallway. Lovie was right behind him. He glanced back at me and called out over his shoulder, “We shall return momentarily after we retrieve our things.”
“Okay,” I responded as I wondered if I’d just gotten myself in over my head. Human skulls? Was it even legal to own a human skull and, furthermore, how in the hell had Christopher and Lovie procured one? I suddenly had an image of the two of them digging up graves and hoped that scenario was as far from the truth as possible. And, really, there was no way I was going to broach the topic with the reluctant warlock so I figured I’d never know.
Christopher and Lovie were gone for maybe ten minutes before I heard the sounds of their footsteps on the pathway up to the front door, which Christopher had left open. I met them in the foyer. “Do you need help carrying anything?” I offered.
Christopher immediately turned his nose up at me. “We can ma
nage,” he answered succinctly before glancing around himself. “You must direct us to the space where you believe Drake’s energy is at its strongest.”
“The master bedroom,” I answered without pause. Then I led them both upstairs and pushed open the double doors, watching them place their numerous boxes and bags in the corner of the room. Christopher rummaged through one of them and produced an oatmeal-colored, waxy, oblong piece of something that resembled soap. He handed it to me.
“While we are setting up, you need to wash yourself with this. Wash every inch of your body as well as your hair. Allow yourself to air dry.” He bent down again and thrust his hand into what looked like a black velvet satchel, producing a white garment of some sort, which he then thrust in my direction. “When you have air-dried, put this on.”
I accepted the garment and nodded. “Why do I have to shower?”
“To ensure your body is clean before Drake takes possession of it. The soap is made with purifying and cleansing oils and the gown is made of pure cotton,” Christopher answered before turning his back on me, which I imagined signified that our conversation was over and I needed to go “purify” myself in the shower. I didn’t say anything more but started for the double doors and headed down the staircase, feeling only slightly nervous about showering in the guest bathroom where only moments earlier, I’d witnessed the Axeman’s message displayed across the mirror.
Hoping I was safer now that two witches were in my house, I decided to leave the bathroom door open as I turned the water on in my shower. Once it was warm, I hopped inside and was careful to lather myself with the cleansing soap from head to toe. Fortunately the soap had a nice scent to it—of rosemary or something similar. Wanting to be as clean as possible, I even repeated my ministrations a second time just to make sure I hadn’t missed any part of me that might taint Christopher’s ritual. Yep, Drake was going to have one hell of a clean host.
I turned the water off once I was happy with my cleanliness and then stepped onto the bath rug, remembering Christopher’s instructions to allow myself to air dry. I tried to ring the water out of my hair to aid in the drying process and then shook myself off like I was a wet dog. Even though I tried to keep myself from doing it, I glanced across at the mirror only to find it completely clean. There were no ghostly words formed from the steam of the room and the only thing reflected back at me was my dripping self.
Afraid of the Dark: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Midlife Spirits Series Book 1) Page 8
