Deadly Spirits

by Michelle Scott

  He took a quick inventory of his condition. Other than a slight pain in his side where he’d been tazed, he was uninjured. But there was no telling where he was or how long he’d been out. Someone had laid out a water bottle and Cliff bar next to him. Realizing that his throat was parched, he grabbed the water and chugged, praying that it wasn’t tainted.

  Thirst slaked, he got to his feet and carefully made his way down the hall. When he reached an open door, he peered inside the room. A scarred chalkboard covered one wall, and a few broken desks were scattered throughout. So he was in an old school. Now, all he needed to do was find his way out and run like hell.

  He ventured down the hall, keeping a weather eye on the open doorways. That man from the parking lot had dragged him all the way here, but why? Ethan’s wallet was still in his pocket, so he hadn’t been robbed. Other than the ache in his head, he hadn’t been injured, either. Was this some kind of sick game?

  As if some inner alarm had been tripped, Ethan’s senses came to attention. Every hair seemed to stand on end, and his spine tingled. He held his breath, listening for footsteps. Anyone could be hiding among these empty rooms. He could be in the middle of a gang’s hideout for all he knew.

  He automatically reached for his phone, then silently cursed when he remembered that he’d lost it earlier. David must be worried sick. Either that, or very pissed off. When he went looking for Ethan, he’d have no idea where to find him.

  The only thing for sure what that Ethan needed to find way out. Standing and cringing wouldn’t get the job done. Summoning more courage than he thought he had, Ethan continued down the hall. There had to be an exit around here somewhere. Or maybe he could break a window and climb out.

  The moment he stepped into a classroom, ghostly vapor rose in a column before him, sending a chill like a dagger of ice into his spine. His stomach clenched. This wasn’t just any old school; it was haunted.

  “Who are you?” Ethan addressed the spirit. “Where am I?”

  For a moment, the vapor twisted and turned like a fairy sprite made of smoke. Then it blew straight at Ethan, catching him squarely in the chest.

  Ethan gasped in horror. His heart stopped with a painful jolt before kick-starting again. He clutched his chest and dropped to his knees. When the vapor made another dive at him, Ethan twisted to the side, barely avoiding being the target again.

  He got to his feet and dashed out of the classroom. The vapor suddenly appeared in front of him, and he skidded to a halt to avoid running into it. “I don’t have a fight with you,” he said, praying he could reason with it.

  The vapor melted away. In its place was a ghoulish young woman dressed in army fatigues. Her eyes were empty sockets; her mouth a ragged grin. She made a grab for Ethan, catching him around the throat. Although she’d been only smoke moments before, her grip was strong. Ethan’s windpipe closed as bones creaked. If he didn’t fight his way free, she’d crush him.

  Instinctively, he grabbed her arm and sharply twisted. Something snapped, and he found himself holding her severed hand. With a cry of disgust, he dropped it and turned and ran.

  He fled down several hallways and a flight of stairs. Hearing a wail behind him, he ducked into a large room of old easels. Darting to the window, he saw that he was on the ground floor. He grabbed and easel and swung it at the window, breaking the glass.

  Something grabbed him from behind. The woman in fatigues had returned, her severed arm reattached. Ethan wrestled her away. His mind skated toward panic. He flung another easel at her, but instead of stopping her, it bounced off of her body. An ungodly wail of laughter came from the jagged hole of her mouth. She was toying with him now, herding him into a corner of the room so that she could attack.

  When Ethan had been a teenager, he’d researched his ability to see ghosts. At the time, he’d been hoping for a way to rid himself of the curse. Instead, all he’d found were posts by people who wanted to see spirits, something that made no sense to him. He had, however, found a few ways to exorcise unwanted visitors from the other side. If only he could remember them now!

  The woman continued to feint, driving him further and further across the room. Ethan spotted an old Exacto knife on one of the easels. He snatched it up and slashed at her. “Go back to where you came from,” he demanded. “Leave the land of the living! This is no place for you.”

  For a moment, the ghost stopped walking, as if considering the idea. Ethan held his breath, not daring to hope. Then she advanced again.

  Ethan had almost reached the back corner of the room. Once she had him trapped, he’d be dead. He knew this as certainly as he knew his own name. She shambled forward, her empty mouth gaping at him. There had to be a way out of this, but terror made coherent thought impossible. Think, he ordered himself. THINK!

  Backpedaling, Ethan knocked against another easel, scattering a few pastels that had been resting in its tray. The sight of them triggered an idea.

  He made a grab for a first crayon, missing by inches. However, the pastel bounced off of the floor and flew three feet into his hand. Too afraid to be surprised, he drew a circle around himself. “This is my circle of protection!” he shouted. “You cannot enter!”

  He knew he’d hit the mark when the ghost wailed in frustration. He nearly collapsed with relief. Then reality caught up. He was safe, but he was also trapped. If he ever wanted to leave this building, he had to exorcise the ghost. And for that, he needed a religious symbol.

  Despite his ability to see the dead, Ethan was not a religious person. He didn’t wear crosses or carry any religious baubles. So for a moment, he was at a loss. Then he spied something that made him smile. In the opposite corner of the room were a few desks, and on one of them was an unfinished art project: a dream catcher.

  The ghost still hovered in front of him, uncertain. “It’s your time to cross over,” Ethan softly told it. “You have no business here. You belong with your loved ones on the other side.”

  The ghost woman uttered a shriek of unbridled hopelessness. For a moment, Ethan pitied her. Whatever her past, it was tormenting her now. Despite being in fear for his own life, he wanted to rescue her as well.

  He dashed from his circle, dodging desks and easels as he crossed the room. Before he could grab the dream catcher however, the ghost grabbed him by the back of his shirt.

  Ethan wrestled away, his shirt popping buttons, and launched himself at the desk. He swiped at the dream catcher and missed. With a cry, he climbed over the top of the desk, but the ghost grabbed him again, holding him in place. The dream catcher was inches away. If he could only reach it…

  As the ghost yanked him backwards, the dream catcher shivered then, as if caught by a wind, skittered towards him. Ethan’s eyes popped wide at the sight, but now was not the time for questions. He grabbed the dream catcher and rolled off of the desk and onto the floor. “I banish you,” he cried to the ghost as he held the dream catcher aloft. “Go back to where you belong.”

  For a moment, he feared it wouldn’t work. The dream catcher was only partially finished, and his own faith was weak. The ghost had the upper hand in every way. “They want you to cross over,” he pleaded. Then, in a flash of desperation, he added, “You’re forgiven!”

  The ghost’s hands were inches from his throat. He could feel the scrabble of its nails against his skin. “They forgive you,” he said again.

  The ghost stepped away from him. In an instant, the hideous figure of the woman shifted, becoming that of a beautiful, young woman in an Army dress uniform. On her face was a look of genuine surprise which rapidly became relief. The ghost saluted him and then faded away.

  Ethan laid his head back on the floor and gasped in relief. He’d done it. He was safe.

  Applause came from the doorway. “Nicely done, Ethan. You have a real gift.”

  Chapter Three

  The Nordic god stood in the doorway. Genuine delight filled his eyes. He shoved his phone into the pocket of his jacket and crossed the art room
in five, easy strides. “I didn’t expect such a show.”

  At another time, Ethan would have been furious. Now, he was simply relieved. Somehow, he’d made it out alive. When his shaky legs threatened to give out, he took a seat on the desk. “What was that?”

  “Sophie used to call that ghost ROTC.” The big man picked up the dream catcher and reverently hung it in the window. “She said the ghost was a student here until she died.”

  Slowly, Ethan’s strength was coming back. Brushing up against the un-dead always zapped his energy. He eyed the Nordic god nervously, wondering what else the man had in store.

  “You’re the real deal, aren’t you?” the man said, settling on the desk across from Ethan’s. “I wasn’t sure at first. I thought maybe all the hype surrounding Kennedy Ladd’s death was bullshit.”

  Of course that’s where this man had found out about him. Ethan always knew that incident would blow back on him. He never should have tried to help that little girl’s family. It had become a public spectacle and drawn out the crazies.

  Strangely, though, the man before him didn’t look like a typical crazy. His gaze was level. Calm even. He wasn’t raving about devils or the end of the world. He had even wanted to talk rationally to Ethan before forcing him down here.

  Then Ethan gave himself a rough mental shake. Who was he kidding? This man had tazed and kidnapped him! If that didn’t make for crazy, then what did?

  “So you brought me down here to fight that ghost. Why? To entertain you?”

  The big man smiled. “We’re getting off on the wrong foot. Let me introduce myself. I’m Christian Humboldt, PI.” He held out his hand which Ethan ignored. Christian shrugged it off. “I need help. Desperately. But there are precious few people with your abilities. My cousin Sophie was one. You are another.”

  Ethan clenched his jaws. “If you think I’m going to help you after what you did, forget it. I could have died!”

  “I wouldn’t have let that happen,” Christian said.

  “I didn’t see you helping out!” Ethan shot back.

  “Where do you think that chalk came from?” Christian asked, amused. “Or that dream catcher?”

  Ethan’s eyes widened. The chalk had just flew into his hand when he’d knocked into the easel, hadn’t it? And the dream catcher? He’d snagged that on his own. Hadn’t he?

  Several clay wind chimes hanging in the window began to clatter. Alarmed that the ghost had returned, Ethan jumped off the desk, ready to fight back. Then he noticed that Christian was grinning. “I’m not all that powerful,” Christian admitted, “but I am good for some things.”

  “You can move objects with your mind?” Ethan asked, amazed. It was the first time he’d ever run across someone with a psychic power. Until then, he’d figured that he was the only freak in the world. The realization that he wasn’t alone was sharp and sweet.

  “Sophie was a lot more adept than I was,” Christian said. He pulled his phone from his pocket and brought up a picture of a thin, young woman with a pixie haircut and a nose ring. “She used to talk to the dead. Like you.”

  Ethan studied the picture, taking in the fierce determination in the young woman’s eyes. He had always wanted to meet someone like him. Someone to really talk to about what it was like to see ghosts. “Used to? What happened to her?”

  Christian took his phone back, offered Sophie a sad smile, and tucked the cell back into his pocket. “She was struck down by an amusement park ride.”

  Ethan frowned, unclear. “Struck down?”

  Christian pointed to his head. “The Scrambler came apart and clocked her one. But-”

  “But you don’t believe that she’s dead,” Ethan finished.

  “Oh, I believe it. I was there when it happened.”

  “So you want me to channel her spirit?”

  “No, I want you to help finish the job she started.”

  “What job?” Ethan asked, frowning. Maybe Christian was crazy after all.

  Christian stood. “Let’s not discuss this here. ROTC may or may not be the only ghost haunting this school, and I’d rather not be around when some of the others show up. Besides, I could use a drink.”

  “Forget it,” Ethan said flatly. Christian had the looks and the charm, and he even had an interesting talent. But he’d also tazed and kidnapped Ethan, nearly getting him killed. Whatever crazy was going on in Christian’s life, Ethan wanted nothing to do with it.

  “If it was up to me, I’d drive you home and let you go,” Christian said. “Hell, I never would have bothered you in the first place. But this is important. Like life and death important. Not just for me, but for a dozen others.”

  So here came the conspiracy theory. Keeping a nervous eye on Christian, Ethan edged his way towards the door. He couldn’t outfight the Nordic god, but he figured he could outrun him. Christian’s size would certainly put him at a disadvantage. If Ethan could make it to the hallway, he should be able to escape. “Did Sophie tell you that?”

  “She did. She had a premonition,” Christian said.

  Ethan tensed. Another two steps and he’d be close enough to make a break for it. Christian, lost in his reverie, didn’t seem to notice.

  “She was haunted by this vision of death,” Christian continued. “But something went very wrong…”

  Ethan bolted. He was out of the door in record time, sprinting down the hallway towards what he hoped was the door. Christian’s heavy footfalls were behind him, coming closer. When Ethan spotted a double doorway, he flew towards it. He nearly tripped, but regained his balance almost immediately and crossed what had once been the lobby. Reaching the front doors, he skidded to a stop. They were all chained shut. He’d never get through.

  “Ethan!” Christian called behind him. He sauntered down the hall like he had all the time in the world. “Don’t waste your breath. There’s only one way out of the building, and you’ll never find it.”

  Ethan wasn’t about to give up. He darted down another hallway, racing past what looked to have been the cafeteria. Beyond that was the gym. Christian called his name again, but Ethan raced on, passing dented lockers and smashed trophy cases. He pushed aside the thought that other spirits might be haunting the school. He didn’t need the distraction.

  He reached the end of another hallway, found the doors locked once again, and made a quick retreat. Where the hell was that unlocked door? Maybe Christian had a key to the place. The thought nearly brought Ethan skidding to a halt. But hearing footsteps behind him, he continued on. Past a sign reading library, past several empty classrooms, past a janitor’s closet whose door hung awry on its hinges like a gaping mouth.

  When a cold breeze caressed his cheek, he realized he was close to his goal. Sure enough, when he dashed down another, much shorter, hallway, he saw that one of the heavy, steel doors had been propped open with a cinder block. He shouldered his way through the door, and found himself outside. He was free!

  However, the relief melted into disappointment the moment he realized where he was. The old school sat smack in the middle of an abandoned area of town. Most of the surrounding lots held the charred remains of houses that had been burned to the ground long before. The street was empty. The few houses that had withstood years of fires were all vacant. There were no street lights, no traffic lights, nothing. He might as well have been on the face of the moon. If he was going to make it back, he’d have to walk God knew how many miles to civilization.

  “I told you it wouldn’t be easy,” Christian said. He calmly crossed the ravaged parking lot to stand next to Ethan. “This place is a long ways from anywhere.”

  “Take me back,” Ethan demanded.

  “Not until you agree to help me.” Christian’s expression was grave.

  “Forget it.”

  “You don’t understand how important this is. Don’t you want to save lives?”

  “Find someone else.” Ethan started walking in what he hoped was the right direction. All he needed was a phone. One call,
and David would drive anywhere in the city to pick him up.

  Christian kept pace. “Don’t make me use the nuclear option,” he said.

  “What’s that? A gun? You’re going to shoot me if I refused to help you?” Mocking a lunatic was dangerous, but Ethan was too pissed off to care.

  “No. I’m going to expose you.”

  Ethan stopped walking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Christian pulled his phone from his pocket. After a few swipes with his finger, he showed the screen to Ethan. Ethan’s jaw dropped when he saw a video of himself fighting the ROTC ghost. At first, it looked as if he wasn’t doing anything but cowering behind an artist’s easel. However, when the ghost touched him, it lit up like a holiday display, and every detail was visible. Christian had filmed it all.

  “If you don’t help me, I’ll upload this for everyone to see.” Christian inclined his head to whisper directly into Ethan’s ear. “You think your life was miserable after Kennedy Ladd’s family went after you? That’s nothing compared to what will happen when the world sees this. You won’t be able to show your face anywhere without someone knowing that you see ghosts. Your world will be destroyed.”

  Ethan stared at the video in horror, knowing that what Christian said was true. When the Ladds had made his curse known, Ethan had been hounded night and day by people wanting him to channel their dead parents and children and pets. If Christian released this video, Ethan’s dreams of finishing school and becoming a therapist would end. He’d have no privacy. No peace.

  Ethan made a swipe for the phone, but Christian snatched it away. “Easy there. This is a new phone. Besides, if you destroy this one, it won’t make a difference. I’ve already backed the video up to the cloud.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Ethan demanded.

  “I don’t want to,” Christian told him, “but this is really important.”