Vengeful Spirits series Box Set

by Val Crowe

  The shadow of the thing feel across the threshold, but I couldn’t see it yet.

  It took a step forward. The shadow moved. The shadow was massive, huge and menacing and dark. And now I could smell this thing, and it smelled like putrid death. Rotting meat, the stench of decay and sickness.

  I whimpered.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  But, said the walls, vibrating all together, this is what you wanted. Negus.

  The thing was Negus?

  We will give him to you. We promise. But you must let us in.

  I thrust up my hands to protect myself.

  Let us in. Let us help. Say it.

  “Help,” I whispered.

  The shadow crested around the corner. But it wasn’t Negus. It was Jason Wick, grinning from ear to ear like a jack-o-lantern. He held out a hand and he came for me.

  “No,” I said, trying to back away. “No.”

  He was on me, and he smelled like rot, and his hand went right through my chest, and I was screaming like a little child and—

  * * *

  I woke up.

  It was dark where I was. I couldn’t make anything out at first. I stood up. I could still smell that awful smell, the smell of decay and rot. I was in a dark place that smelled and I was still terrified from the dream I’d had.

  Slowly, my eyes began to adjust, and I could make out my surroundings. I was in the maze.

  Like in it for real, not some dream. I wasn’t even sure how I could have gotten here. The maze wasn’t exactly close to the carousel. And where was Lily? Was she all right? And what was that smell?

  I wasn’t sure which way would get me out of this thing, since I didn’t have any clue about where I’d come in. I felt my way to the end of the corridor, and there was a distant light, which looked like daylight, so I followed that. I guessed it must be morning by now?

  But instead of coming out of the maze, I found a door, one that had been painted the same color as the wall of the maze, but now stood open, hanging off its hinges. The light was coming from inside there.

  I followed the light. That was the way out. Except… the stench was getting worse.

  I emerged into a room with several windows. There was a pegboard on the far wall with some wrenches and hammers hanging on it. A stack of buckets in the corner. But I didn’t give any of that much mind, because I saw Oscar, hanging from a rope in the middle of the room. His tongue was protruding from his mouth, swollen and blueish green. His eyes were bulging. His hands and feet were swollen too, his fingers like purple sausages. He was dead.

  I stared at him, and I couldn’t move.

  We have dispatched the one you hate.

  I shuddered.

  And then bile rose up in my throat, and I thought I would vomit. I backed up, back into the maze, running as far as I could get from the swinging body in there.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  They brought an ambulance for Oscar, even though it was obvious that he was gone, and there was no reviving him at all. I guess they do that just in case. Probably to avoid lawsuits. After all, it would be a shame if a person wasn’t saved that could have been, simply because no one bothered to send out the paramedics. The police came too. Two different squad cars and four officers. Three in uniform, one who was wearing a suit and had a big belly that hung out over his pants. He was chewing gum, and he seemed to have a nervous tick. Whenever he chewed his gum, he also raised his left eyebrow. It was a little unnerving. He was obviously the detective, though, and he was the one asking questions.

  I hadn’t called the police myself, because I hadn’t had my phone. I’d fought my way out of the maze—it actually wasn’t a very complicated maze after all, and it had only taken me a few minutes to get out of there. Then I’d somehow managed to keep myself from throwing up while I ran all the way back to the camping area and banged on the door of my mother’s motorhome.

  She’d called the police.

  Right after she did it, though, I think she regretted it, because she started fretting about whether we were going to get in trouble for trespassing. She started packing up everything she had set out in front of her motorhome—the grill, the table, the chairs. I guessed she didn’t want it to look as though we’d moved in.

  Anyway, before she could finish, the police showed up and the ambulance, and it was all flashing lights and sirens and panic.

  I showed them where they could find Oscar, and then my mother, Lily, Patrick, and I all ambled around outside the maze while they did their thing in there.

  Finally, it was time for the detective to interview me. “How did you find him?” he said.

  “I was in the maze,” I said. “I was trying to figure how to get out, and I followed the light. He was there.” I realized that I should have thought this through better, because I sounded like a crazy person.

  “Why were you in the maze?”

  I don’t know. I woke up there. I assume the ghosts dragged me there, or maybe they took control of my passed-out body and made me walk there myself. “Well, I was exploring. I mean, that’s what we’re doing here. Exploring.”

  The detective raised his eyebrow at me. It could have been the tick. It could have been that he didn’t believe me. “This Oscar Milton guy, he runs a podcast.”

  “Uh, yeah,” I said.

  “It’s about haunted houses and stuff,” he said. “But you were just here exploring?”

  “Well…” I spread my hands. “I think Oscar was trying to put together an episode of his podcast. But I was exploring.”

  “And did Oscar seem… depressed to you?”

  “I really couldn’t say. We weren’t that close.”

  “You were camping here together,” said the detective, cracking his gum.

  “Well, yeah, but I just met him,” I said.

  One of the uniforms tapped the detective on the shoulder. “Looks self-inflicted.”

  The detective shot the uniform a withering look. “Thanks for telling me that, and for telling that to this guy here.” He jammed his thumb in my direction.

  “What?” said the officer. “It’s a suicide. No reason to detain anyone.”

  “I think that’s my call to make,” said the detective. He turned back to me. “Don’t leave town. But, uh, you can’t camp here anymore.”

  “So, you want us to leave the park, but stick around in the vicinity?” I said.

  “The park is technically private property,” said the cop. “That doesn’t mean that people don’t come in here all the time. We can’t catch them all. But if you’re camping right in the parking lot there, you’re a bit conspicuous. I could arrest you for trespassing if I wanted.”

  * * *

  No one wanted to stay, anyway. The death of Oscar had cast a pall over everything we were trying to accomplish there. Lily and Patrick were too upset about it to be worried about finding Molly or their mother’s jewelry. My mother had already started packing up.

  We all followed suit and began to pack as well.

  The police came back through on their way out, and they got cell phone numbers for all of us. The detective told us again that we needed to pack up and leave, but that he would like it if we stayed close. He said there was a campground with RV hookups a few miles out of town, and he hinted that we could come back to explore the park during the daylight hours if we were discreet about it, although no one was much in the mood to be in the park anymore.

  I didn’t have a lot of packing to do, because I hadn’t unpacked much of anything. One of my chairs had been in front of my mother’s motorhome. I had to go over to her place to get it. While I was there, I asked her what we should do about the food. She said she wasn’t sure, and that all the packing up was becoming more stressful than she knew to deal with.

  The police had left us to our business. If they wanted to be sure we weren’t camping there, they could have waited and watched to make sure that we left. But they didn’t do that. They told us to leave and then took off.

 
Now that they were gone, my mother didn’t seem in a big rush. She was inside her motorhome, sipping some hot tea when I went to get the chair.

  And that reminded me.

  Lily.

  She had been possessed the night before. When I’d seen her earlier, she’d seemed okay, but I couldn’t be sure that she was. I needed to go and talk to her and Patrick about that.

  So, I headed over to their RV and knocked on the door.

  Patrick let me in.

  Inside, their TV was paused. Lily was sprawled out on the couch, remote control in hand.

  “You guys are watching TV?” I said.

  “Well, we’re taking a break in between packing,” said Patrick. “I think we’re both overwhelmed. Oscar is dead.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets, nodding. “Right. Oscar got you guys on this path in the first place.”

  “Well, we went to him about Molly,” said Patrick.

  “I was a fan of his podcast,” said Lily.

  “But, um, he did suggest we come here,” said Patrick. “And now, I don’t know, I wonder if he planned all of this so that he could kill himself.”

  “I don’t think he killed himself,” I said.

  “What?” Lily sat up straight. “So one of us did it?”

  “The ghosts did it,” I said. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

  “Me? Remember what?” said Lily. “We had the seance. I went after Molly. What else is there to remember?”

  “You came to my trailer in the middle of the night,” I said. “But it wasn’t you. They were inside you, controlling you.”

  “Wait, what?” said Patrick. He took me by the shoulder and turned me to face him. “What are you saying?”

  “I think we need to make sure your sister is okay,” I said. “That’s all.”

  Lily shook her head at me. “I’m fine.” She got to her feet and came over to me. “I think you were dreaming. Maybe you dreamed the whole thing.”

  “No, look,” I said. “Lily took me out into the park, and then she… she knocked me out.” That was the easiest way to explain it. “When I woke up, I was in that maze, and Oscar was there too.”

  “Sounds like sleepwalking,” said Lily.

  I licked my lips. “We need to be sure that the spirits have left you. Because if they’re still inside you—”

  Lily put her hand on my arm.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t remember what I had been about to say. I floundered, confused.

  “Lily, seriously?” said Patrick. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She laughed brightly. “I’m great. I really think it was all a dream for Deacon. Don’t you, Deacon?”

  I bobbed my head. “Yeah, must have been a dream,” I said faintly. I turned to Patrick. “Sorry for worrying you. This is the last thing you need on top of the death of Oscar. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks,” said Patrick. “It’s not an easy thing to face.”

  “No,” said Lily. “It’s not.”

  Patrick put his arm around his sister.

  “Well,” I said, “I’m going to get going. I need to pack too.”

  “Sure thing,” said Lily, smiling at me.

  I left their RV. I still felt a little confused. I tried to remember why it was I’d gone in there at all, and I couldn’t. Everything seemed a little bit fuzzy and strange. I stopped in front of the Airstream. I had been planning to go inside.

  But instead, I turned on my heel and walked into the park.

  I wasn’t sure that I wanted to leave.

  See, I’d come here because I needed to find information about Negus. I had been promised answers by the spirits in this place. And the spirits were screwing with me. They needed to tell me what I needed to know. In fact, I didn’t think I was going anywhere until they did. If I had to hide the Airstream somewhere where the police couldn’t find it, so be it.

  I would stay until I knew everything.

  Negus.

  He was what was important. The only thing that was important.

  And yeah, okay, it was awful that Oscar was dead. I was upset about it, especially because I was pretty sure it was my fault. The spirits had hinted they did it for me.

  But they should have known better. I didn’t want Oscar dead. I wanted to know about Negus. So, once I got them to understand what they needed to do for me, then things should go more smoothly.

  It did seem as if they wanted to appease me, after all. They knew that I had power. They liked me. They wanted to make me happy. They were just going about it in the most stupid of ways. I would make sure to communicate to them their error, and then I would get what I needed from them.

  I stopped walking when I got back to the maze. I looked at it, and it didn’t seem creepy or disturbing anymore. It only seemed small and tired. I walked past it and kept going until I got a sudden urge to turn left.

  The lane I was turning onto wasn’t one of the main thoroughfares for people to walk on. It was narrow, threading behind The Octopus. It dead-ended at a small structure, like a shed, but half of the size. On the front of it, there was a heavy chain and a lock. It was undone.

  I reached out and took the chain and lock. This was lucky.

  Yeah, this was incredibly lucky. What were the odds that I would have found this? And not just found it, but seemed to walk right over to it, as if I had known it would be here? Well, whatever, it was a break.

  Whistling, I took the chain and lock with me and walked as briskly as I could out of the park. I couldn’t go as quick as I liked. The lock was pretty heavy. And I had a ways to walk to get back out to the parking lot. By the time I got there, I had shifted the chain, so that it was hanging over my shoulder. I was carrying the lock.

  No one was outside.

  That was lucky too.

  Still whistling, but quieter now, since I didn’t want to disturb anyone, I headed up to the top of the parking lot, where the gate was. The police had left the gate open, probably to make it easier for us to leave when we were ready.

  I closed the gate.

  Then I wound the chain around and around the gate, securing it against the fence. When I was happy with that, I threaded the lock through two pieces of the chain and I snapped the lock shut.

  There.

  No one was leaving now.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “What the hell?” The angry voice was faint, as if far away. I heard it from inside the Airstream. I’d been lying on my bed, resting. I felt as though I needed to make up my sleep after last night. I hadn’t gotten a lot of rest. But I must have slept a long time. Now, the light coming through the windows of the Airstream was faint and growing dark. It was dusk.

  I sat up on my bed and stretched and yawned.

  I felt my chin. Probably would need to shave later. I could do it now, but it would look weird if I didn’t respond to the person who was yelling.

  I was pretty sure I knew why the yelling was happening. I took a deep breath, summoning my most indignant expression. I ducked into the bathroom to check it out.

  Yeah, that looked pretty convincing. No one should suspect me.

  By the time I made it up to the gate, my mother had already gotten there. Patrick’s and Lily’s RV was idling in front of the gate. I guessed they’d been in the process of taking off.

  Patrick was standing in front of the gate, shaking the lock as if he was going to be able to yank it open or something.

  Yeah, let him try. That thing was sturdy. It wasn’t going to open any time soon. He’d better make his peace with that.

  Inwardly, I smirked.

  But outwardly, I put on a concerned face. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  Patrick turned to me. “The gate’s locked, that’s what’s going on. You know anything about this?”

  “Locked?” I said.

  He yanked the lock up, rattling it against the chains. “You see?”

  “Oh, whoa.” I pushed Patrick out of the way to pick up the
lock myself and shake it just as he had done.

  “You think I haven’t tried that?” he said to me, annoyed.

  “How did this happen?” said my mother. “I don’t even remember there being a lock here when we came in.”

  “There wasn’t,” said Patrick.

  “Are you sure?” I said. “I don’t remember paying much attention myself.”

  “Even if there was a lock here, the gate was open,” said Patrick.

  Lily hung back, surveying everyone. She turned to me and gave me a knowing smile.

  I smiled back.

  But then Patrick was looking at me, and I wiped the smile away. Instead, I called forth the indignant expression I’d been practicing. “How could this happen?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” said Patrick.

  My mother spread her hands. “Well, don’t look at me. I don’t know.”

  “Did the ghosts do it?” said Patrick to me. “You said that the ghosts killed Oscar.”

  “What?” said my mother. “When did you say that, Deacon? Why do you think so?”

  “I was dreaming,” I said. “I guess I got confused. Oscar must have been really depressed.”

  “He didn’t really seem depressed,” said Patrick. “He was really eager to come here. But maybe that was his plan, I don’t know. I don’t like to think about killer ghosts, but we don’t know what happened to my sister. And now, we’re locked in here—”

  “Let’s not panic,” said my mother. “Maybe the police did it on accident, when they left.”

  “No,” said Patrick. “I remember. They left the gate open.”

  “You sure?” I furrowed my brow. “Why would they do that? That would be an open invitation for people to come inside.”

  “They wouldn’t have locked us in,” said Patrick. “They wanted to us leave.”

  “They wouldn’t have locked us in on purpose,” said my mother. “But maybe they did it out of habit or something.”

  “There was no lock here!” Patrick said. “I’m telling you.”

  “Okay, okay,” said my mother. “Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? The fact of the matter is, all we have to do is call the police, and they’ll let us out. I’m sure they can get that lock open. Maybe they even have a key.”