Mackenzie is looking around, tapping her foot.
“Calm yourself so he will join us.”
She takes a deep breath and sits up straighter. Her aura betrays no sense of guilt.
“Blake Pratt, your presence in this house is known by all. Your message is welcome here. Please come forward and speak your truth.”
The planchette moves gently under our fingers. L I D E R C G Y E R M E K.
“Is this a hoax you’re attempting? I won’t have you playing Mrs. Jankovic’s games here.”
“No. It’s not a hoax,” I say, remembering the last word Jankovic ever spoke to me, the one I had to know.
“It’s Hungarian,” I say as the lights go out. “It means demon child.”
Chapter Thirty Five
§
“Fascinating,” Mackenzie whispers. Her eyes sparkle in the candle’s light.
“Mrs. Jankovic,” I say. My voice sounds like I’m speaking through a megaphone. “Your presence is acknowledged, and… and we welcome you. Please speak what truth you left unsaid.” I cringe at my own words.
“I don’t feel anything,” Mackenzie shouts.
“Shhh. Concentrate on your breathing.”
I ask for protection and feel myself floating. My foot is numb, my throat raw and swollen, my head is pounding with occasional stabbing spikes. I can hear voices in my head. “This is dangerous. It’s not a good idea to proceed. We need to stop before it’s too late.”
“Absolutely not,” Mackenzie says. She picks up the gun and shakes it at me. “I said we are doing this and we are. Now continue.”
“This isn’t a game or a simulation. The spirit world is real. If we continue, be prepared to suffer the consequences of your actions.”
“You’re naïve and foolish. Rely on your intelligence not your superstitions. It’s simply transformed energy. I’m here to observe and learn. I’m also in charge of this experiment so continue or I’ll shoot you.”
I feel dizzy and take hold of the edge of the table. “Mrs. Jankovic, we acknowledge your presence. Speak the truth you left unsaid in— speak your truth to Mackenzie.”
The planchette flies off the table and my chair is pushed back. Mackenzie’s hair is filled with static electricity. She looks like she’s being electrocuted.
“Why did you do that?” she screams. She stands to retrieve the planchette and is shoved to the floor.
“Stop. She’s a child. Don’t harm her. Speak your truth to the girl then release her. You are no longer of this world. Tell her so you can be free of her and she of you.”
Mackenzie is up and pointing the gun at me. “You pushed me. I thought you were able to talk to the dead. You’re just a fake. I hate you for tricking me.”
I’m looking in the corner of the room, ignoring the little finger on the trigger of the gun. “She’s just a child. She doesn’t understand. She never had any power over you. It was always yours, and now it’s time to release her. Speak your truth and go.”
The smell of rotten eggs fills the room. I cover my nose, but I’m still gagging. Mackenzie is looking at me and coughing. Then she turns around to see what I’m looking at.
Jankovic’s head is at the ceiling, detached from her neck. Her transparent body is cloudy white, gray smoke encircles it. Her once short gray hair is charcoal black and spills from the detached head from the ceiling to the floor. She’s ten times the demon that she was in real life.
Mackenzie’s scream is so loud I lean back and stumble out of my chair just as she fires the gun. I’m on all fours, crouching by the side of the bed and counting the shots– five. She screams again, and I get up to see her tangled in layers of black and gray fog that smell like eggs and gasoline. The girl is fighting, now without a single audible sound.
I grab her leg and arm and pull her to me. We’re both coughing and gagging; my lungs are burning. Mackenzie’s eyes have rolled back in her head.
“Stay away. You have no right to her. The only demon is you, Jankovic. Lidérc lives in you and always has. You brought this evil into this family. Your fate was sealed long ago.”
Jankovic’s long, forked serpent tongue crawls out of her mouth. I scoot back on the floor and pull the child with me. The girl’s lost consciousness. The tongue curls around my swollen ankle and tightens. I stomp it with my other foot and reach for the potion jar on the table. Then I open the jar and throw it at Jankovic.
The cloudy form sparks when the liquid hits it. She hisses and growls and coats me with thick slime.
“You are no longer of this world. The living are forever free of your evil deeds. I call upon the spirits of Blake Pratt and Jean Landy—
Jankovic hisses and shakes her disembodied head at me. The tongue snaps to strike.
“I call upon the spirits of Blake Pratt and Jean Landy to banish this spirit who in life sold her soul to the demon Lucifer. By the power of good over evil, come forward.”
Jankovic’s moan is so loud I have to cover my ears. Mackenzie is conscious again and is clinging to me, crying hysterically. The smell of gasoline is so strong I think the room will explode. Just as I’m picking up Mackenzie to escape, a mirror shatters and the shards pierce the form that is melting into the floor.
The smell fades as does Jankovic, but we’re not alone. A shadow child stands at the foot of the bed. A woman with soft blonde curls and a transparent form stands with her hand resting on the boy.
Mackenzie is clinging to me with her face buried in my side. She turns to look at the apparitions of her brother and mother. She’s whimpering as she lets go of my jacket.
“Blake. Is it really you?”
“Catch me if you can, squirt,” he says, with a smile, and Mackenzie bursts out crying and laughing.
“And you’re my mother.”
The spirit offers her lucent hand. Mackenzie hesitates then goes to her.
“Why did you leave me?”
“My darling daughter. I have been with you always. Watching and waiting.” Landy’s words sparkle like a thousand tiny bubbles.
“I want to go with you. I’ve done really bad things.”
“No, it was not by your own will. You must fulfill your destiny. Know that we are with you with every breath you take. When your time comes, we will bring you home.”
Mackenzie’s standing staring, into the empty space. The storm is over, the lights are back on, and the house smells like artificial lemons. Still, Jankovic’s thick, black slime coats the walls and carpet and me.
“They were really here. My mother was really here.”
“She was, and she and Blake will always be with you. Mackenzie, what happened to your father?”
She whips around and her mouth is wide open. “Oh, no. I shot my father.”
She bolts out of the room and I can hear her running down the stairs and out the door before I can limp to the hallway. She’s back before I make it to the bottom stair.
“He got to his car before passing out. He’s still breathing.” She’s on the phone with 911 sounding very grown up and assertive. Then she’s up and down the stairs and out the door with a blanket. When I step onto the porch, I see her inside the car with her arms wrapped around her father.
I hobble to the jeep and open the door for Mojo who I figure is in a panicked frenzy. He stands and stretches then jumps out and runs past me to pee on a few trees. When he comes back, he sniffs me and takes a few steps back.
“You missed the most exciting séance I’ve ever done. Complete with slime, a disembodied head, a forked tongue, and a couple of real spirit realm angels. You would have loved it.”
He cocks his head at me and glares with those amber eyes.
“Best of all, I got to show a nonbeliever what the spirit world is really all about. It might take her years of therapy to come to terms with what she saw, but she’s never going to be confused about simulations and reality again. Pretty amazing if I do say so.”
The wolfdog goes to the guest house door and looks back at me obviously
unimpressed. He waits to go inside. I hold up my key ring and tell him I think the lidérc took my key, and I can’t open the door. As the ring jingles in front of me, I see the key to the door firmly attached.
“Must be the angels,” I say, going to the door. I let him in and he heads for the bedroom. The electricity is back on and the rooms are warm. My phone is in plain sight on the table where I’m certain I didn’t leave it.
When the ambulance arrives, I step outside to watch the crew help Pratt and Mackenzie inside before racing away.
I’m tempted to go soak in the tub and sleep the day away, but I go back to the house. I gather my things and close Pratt’s bedroom door. Then I hobble to Jankovic’s room; the door is open, the gold bottle is on the nightstand. Lidérc létezik -ben önt. I don’t need to google the words to know what they mean.
I go to the edge of the cliff and throw the gun and the bottle into the crashing waves. “I pray to all the gods in the universe, Mrs. Jankovic, that lidérc doesn’t live in you anymore.”
A wave catches the bottle and sends it into the wild, raging sea.
Chapter Thirty Six
§
Pratt’s call wakes me the next morning. He’s thanking me for whatever I did for Mackenzie, though he says he’s not exactly sure what happened. He says she isn’t talking other than to say I got rid of all the bad stuff.
I start to tell him he’ll get an idea of what went on when he walks into his bedroom, but don’t. This is between the man and his daughter. I’ll let Mackenzie explain what she wants. I do tell him that the house is going to need cleaning, and warn him that the psych ward isn’t a place for his daughter.
The hospital is releasing him tomorrow. He told the police, who were called by hospital staff, that the gunshot wound was an accident. When he was shot, he fell onto a rock and has some minor brain swelling. He tells me this as if he’s talking to a patient: downplaying the severity while comforting my fears, which I don’t particularly have for the man.
Corum was allowed to take custody of Mackenzie, who the police never questioned about the shooting. Pratt said that due to concerns about the press invading his privacy, his attorney recommended that Mackenzie stay elsewhere until he returns home.
I confirm that the house is spirit-free, though I still need to take some time to be sure the energy has totally dissipated. Plus, I tell him my ankle is the size of a grapefruit so driving isn’t an option.
He apologizes for being so difficult these last few days and for frightening me last night. He’s glad to hear that my exit out the terrace door didn’t cause me worse injuries. He says I can stay as long as I want in the guest house. If that was the case, I would already be gone. I know the man is still keeping secrets and at this point, I don’t want to hear them.
I fall back asleep the second I disconnect the call, and don’t wake up until Mojo is poking me, wanting to go out. It’s time to get to work anyway.
The storm seems to have washed away all the dark and gloom that’s hung over this place. Looking at the house, I don’t feel any reluctance to go inside but before I do, I drive to the beach.
When I return to the main house, a box is at the door. There’s a note to me from Pratt thanking me again. Inside is a walking boot with instructions on how to care for a sprained ankle. Maybe the good doctor isn’t such a jerk after all– maybe.
The house is bright and warm and smells like artificial lemons again. I light my smudge stick and go to Jankovic’s room. Mojo gets on her bed, snorts, and lies down. A good sign that the woman is gone for good, though I didn’t doubt that true. Still, I need to clear whatever energy remains and bless the space. I light Agustina’s black copal resin and place it in a bowl of sand that I collected from the beach. The smoke fills the room with a cool pine scent that I brush to the corners with a feather fan.
Then I sit on the floor and say a prayer for Jankovic. I ask her if she has anything she left unsaid and hear nothing in return. “You are forgiven for all mistakes made, for all harmful words spoken, for all unkind thoughts, for the earthly desires you let steal your soul’s true fate. Forgive others and continue your journey in peace.” Provided you’re not burning in Hades.
When the wolfdog walks out the door, I gather my things and go to Mackenzie’s room. I let the pine scent fill the air and say a serious prayer that she is both forgiven and forever released from the lidérc’s grip. Then I ask Jean and Blake to watch over her, and at times, restrain her.
Next I go to Pratt’s room. Mojo takes one look at the place and goes back into the hallway. The room is going to need more than a cleaning. I write the doctor a note to remove and destroy everything in it. I brush the copal’s sweet pine through the air then run my fingers through the sand in the bowl.
In my mind’s eye, I can see Pratt’s angry face; the one where he is in a heated argument. I pray to the Great Spirit to release him as the copal’s smoke fills the room. “What are you holding on to?” I ask. My fingers are still in the sand, trailing around the burning resin.
“Tell me your secrets,” I say, waiting and not wanting to hear them. I hear nothing so I gather my things and go to the fourth floor.
As soon as I enter the room, I sense a heavy and dark presence. Mojo is reluctant to enter. This is the last thing I expected up here.
I’ll need to deal with the energy, but first I need to find the clever footage that Mackenzie created of her father killing what looked like her mother. I don’t know how she made that video, and I hope I never will.
It takes some time to go through the CDs that I scattered across the floor last night before I find the right one. I feel something lingering over my shoulder as I slip each one in the player. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” I say.
Now that I study the footage, I see the flaws created by images that were pieced together. The woman in the bed looks nothing like Jean Landy’s apparition except for the blonde hair. Pratt’s face isn’t quite centered on the head Mackenzie used. I put the CD in my bag to destroy later. It’s not just the false evidence I need to get rid of, but the negative vibration the video created.
Just when I’m ready to deal with whatever is in the room, one of the CDs on the shelf flies out and falls on the floor at my feet. “A message?” I ask Mojo, as I slip it into the player.
It’s Pratt sitting in his study, looking passed out with an empty glass in front of him. The light shifts and Mackenzie comes into view. She’s got her hands behind her back. As she approaches Pratt, I see she has a doll in her hand, one with a knife stuck in its chest. She gently places it in Pratt’s lap and disappears from view.
The next thing the camera catches is the girl at her computer. She does something and appears smugly satisfied with whatever it was. Then she turns out her light. She really was a demon child.
I slip the CD in my bag and think about looking at others. Pratt lied to me about the footage being overwritten, but I don’t doubt he too saw and was fooled by Mackenzie’s creative filmmaking.
With my eyes closed, I hold the cabinet door open and ask, “Any others that need to be destroyed?” After a minute or two, I close the doors, sit on the floor, and re-light the copal.
“Your presence is acknowledged, please come forward and make yourself known. Speak your truth then leave this house forever.”
I see Pratt’s angry face again, determined not to be ignored. Then I see him on the beach with Jean Landy who’s staggering one way and the other. Pratt’s yelling at her and she is laughing and crying, clearly high on something. He stops and she keeps going then he turns and walks in the opposite direction.
Wait, my mind screams to him, but he doesn’t stop. Landy is walking closer to the water. She stands and watches the waves. When one rolls over her feet, she follows it back into the ocean and disappears.
I feel something touch me and I jump. Mojo is doing his ghost pose. He left her there. She didn’t leave him, he left her to drown in the icy waters. Then he moved to Shem Bay where he lef
t her, and that’s just plain creepy.
“Forgive him,” I whisper. “Release him to raise your daughter. Remove the darkness you’ve placed in his heart. He is far from perfect, just as were you.”
I brush the copal until the air is thick with smoke. Mojo leaves the room, returns for me, and I follow. He leads me to the study, and I fill the room with pine smoke as I put all the bottles of alcohol in the waste basket and carry it outside to toss in the dumpster.
We walk back to the guest house and Mojo keeps going into the woods. He stops to look back at me. “You really want me to walk all the way in this ankle boot? I’m injured, remember?”
He turns and continues and I follow. Martin Beck is standing in his yard, watching us approach. He’s giving both of us a dirty look.
“We’re leaving tomorrow and I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Oh you do, do you? Your leaving sounds like a good idea to me. I know something’s been going on over there, but—
“You don’t need to know anything about anyone other than yourself. But I’m going to tell you something about women today that might surprise you. We’re strong and confident and tired of dirty old men who think they can get away with behaving badly. You see, Martin, I’m psychic and I know what your future holds if you keep walking down the path you’re on.”
“Oh, yeah,” he says, crossing his arms. “Where’s it go, little Miss Psychic?”
I point to the cliff and smile. “It leads straight to the edge of those rocks and to the bottom of the Shem Bay ocean. If you don’t change directions soon, well then, all I can say is, shame on you.”
Chapter Thirty Seven
§
Just after sunrise the next morning, I load the jeep and lock the guest house door. We go to the cliff and watch the waves crash over the jagged rocks below. When it starts to rain, Mojo pokes me and runs to the jeep.
After I gave Martin my psychic vision of his watery future, I’d watched Mojo lift his head and do his werewolf howl for a stellar finale. When I’d turned back to Martin, he was running to his house.
The Shem Bay Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 3) Page 17
