She looked over at Jake who stood propped against the counter, his chin lowered, gazing down. She’d said some pretty harsh things to him, but in the final analysis he’d tried to save them. She forced a smile, “I wouldn’t have taken you for a religious guy. It sounded like a prayer, when you spoke to that thing.” There was no way she’d refer to it, that thing, as a “man”; whatever it was, it wasn’t human.
Jake snorted and looked over at her, “I’m not normally religious. But after all this, I might change my mind about that. Actually, I might make a few more changes in my life. Maybe even my job.” He looked down again, “I’m sorry about all this. You guys went through enough without the shit that happened here.”
What could she say? He was absolutely right. “Will you tell them...your bosses I mean, tell them what happened here?”
He shook his head. “They’d never believe me.” Huffing a fast sigh, he continued, “I’m not sure I even care if they do or not.”
Angela spoke, “So, if they don’t believe you, and us...they’ll make us stay here?” She shook her head and ground her teeth so hard they clicked. “No freakin’ way. I’ll run away, so help me.”
Jake pushed away from the counter, and his arms folded over his chest as he gazed at them. “You don’t have to worry about that. No one will live in this house, ever again. You have my word on that.” He turned and walked over to the doorway. “I’d better check that things have settled down. I don’t know about you but I’d like to walk out of this house, not have to jump through a window to escape.”
Lydia rose to her feet and followed him as far as the line of salt. The house might seem fine now, but she wasn’t taking any chances. The kids nestled in close to her, watching Jake walk to the front door.
THIRTY FOUR
Jake
JAKE’S WORDS WERE WAY MORE CONFIDENT THAN HE ACTUALLY FELT. When he crossed the line of salt—which had unbelievably worked!—the muscles in his neck tightened. Every step, every creak in the old wood sent a shiver up his spine. Where was the thing? Where had the old monster gone?
He slowed at the spot next to the stairway and looked up. Only a slice of light from around the bathroom door peeked out from above. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. When he turned, movement in the living room shot a knife of fear through his gut. He stepped closer and froze.
The old guy was in there! He stood in front of the black hole of the fireplace, holding the ax in both hands. He stepped forward through the sofa and then stood silently challenging Jake with a sneer. The smell in the room wafting from the thing almost made Jake gag.
“Is everything okay? Lydia’s voice was high and strained.
The thing in the living room turned its attention toward the kitchen.
Jake backpedaled from the beast, yelling, “Stay in the kitchen!” He bolted for the door and tried the handle. It worked! The knob turned and he flung the door wide.
When he turned at the sound of running feet behind him, his jaw dropped. Lydia was racing up the hall, the box of salt leading the way. She emptied it in a flash across the doorway and then stepped back, her eyes wide staring at the thing.
The old man shrank and faltered before screaming “You’ll die, bitch!”
Jake held the door open wide and yelled, “C’mon! Mark! Angela! We’re outta here!” The thing in the living room glared at them, yelling obscenities, black spittle flying from its lips.
Mark was the first out the door, followed by Angela and Lydia. Jake watched them cross the veranda and then flounder in snow up to their thighs. But they were out. He peered at the horizon where a shimmer of pink tried to lighten the sky. There was still some snow coming down but it was waning.
He stepped down the hall and stared at the old man. He scooped his lighter from his back pocket and then flicked it, holding the flame close to the opening. “See this? Kind of what hell is like for your kind. Where you ought to be, you evil, despicable thing.”
His other hand rose to pick at the wallpaper until a piece lifted. He tugged until a long strip flapped and then held the flame to it.
His eyes were narrow and he spat the words, “You’re finished, old man. No one will ever live here again.”
The fire lapped at the paper and then flared higher, catching the dry wood in its jaws. Jake turned and went through the door.
The old house would go up like dry kindling. It was done.
THIRTY FIVE
Jake
A Month later
IT WAS JAKE’S FIRST DAY BACK FROM TWO WEEKS laying on a beach, baking in the sun. He walked through the door with coffee in hand and took a seat at his desk. While he waited for the computer to boot up he reached for the small stack of mail that had accumulated.
A colorful envelope, hand addressed, caught his eye. He opened it to find a greeting card. The picture showed a surfer riding a crest of a frothy wave, the sun glinting off a tanned body. He flipped it open. Inside was written a short letter.
Hey Jake,
I hope this gets to you. I didn’t know your address and had to send it to your work, if you’re still there that is. We’re kind of settled in a new house—”a modest ranch” in Mom-speak. My new school is big, kind of like the one I had before. Mark has even managed to make a couple of friends, equally nerdy I’m sure.
Mom...well, she’s not thrilled with the job at the post office, but it keeps her busy. I still say you guys should hire her for your real estate division whatever that is. She would make sure that you’d find the right house for people, if you know what I mean.
It’s still hard without Dad but we’re getting by, one day at a time.
If you’re ever out this way, stop by to say hi. (A poet, huh?)
Angela Robertson
He sat back and took a long sip of coffee. The last time he’d read a teenage girl’s scrawled notes, it had ended in tragedy for her. He took a deep breath and nodded. He could only pray this girl’s story turned out better.
He swiveled in the chair to open his email.
The END
A note from the author
One evening I was watching some crime show on TV. In it, the Witness Protection Program run by the FBI was mentioned. I turned to my dear partner Jim and said, “Wouldn’t it be wild if they placed a family in a haunted house?”
Jim stared at me.
I stared back; and this book was conceived. I truly hope you enjoyed it; it was a pleasure for me to write.
While this book does not take place in Kingston, Ontario, we live right across the St. Lawrence River from Alexandria Bay, N.Y.. I’ve visited the area many, many times. It’s a beautiful spot on the Thousand Islands, and yes, there really is a castle situated out in the middle of the river.
In the book publishing business, honest reviews are more important than ever; and that’s true for the big, famous writers as well as little ol’ me. I deeply appreciate everyone who takes the time to let others know what they think of my work.
About ‘The Haunted Ones’
Ordinary people…confronted with extraordinary evil…
Lydia and her family had been going about their lives with ordinary concerns when evil entered, changing them forever. This has happened to others…
The Haunted Ones are tales of ordinary people who encounter spirits from the beyond. Often these spirits are evil in nature, but other times they’re spirits pleading for help. When I began these books, I originally intended for them to be complete stand alone novels; a collection of independent tales.
But the best laid plans of mice, men and Michelle’s often go awry! LOL
My problem was that I just wasn’t ready to let go of some of the characters when I finished the novel. Lo and behold, as I would write the next one, the character I missed the most would pop up and fit sooo well into the current work!
Below is a listing of the other tales of ‘The Haunted Ones’. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have!
The second book is ‘A Grave Conjuring’.
Two young sisters, wracked by guilt over their parents’ sudden and tragic death try to reach out to them. But when they open the door, other, spirits come through. Spirits that are enraged.
Click here to get your copy today!
The third book is ‘Haunted By The Succubus’.
It’s Adam Rafferty’s story. He’s gifted in the paranormal, but untrained. His youth and naiveté, combined with his gifts bring his world crashing down. If you enjoyed ‘Odd Thomas’ books, you’ll find this tale worthwhile.
Click here to get your copy today!
Coming November 12, 2018: The Haunted Gathering’
Three women, friends since college gather to honor their dead friend. When they do, a powerful evil is unleashed.
Click here to get your copy!
As always, I’m deeply grateful for your readership and support.
And now, I invite you to read my newest book, Legacy: The Mystical Veil. At the age of twenty three, Keira Swanson’s about to get kicked out of school.
Again…
Legacy
The Mystical Veil
By
Michelle Dorey
About this book
Keira is flunking out of school...again. She’s flitted like a butterfly from one college program to another. The only thing she’s ever finished has been the last call at dance clubs.
Everything changes in a New York minute when her parents decide it’s time for tough love and cut her off. No more credit cards, no more cash allowance and OMG they canceled her apartment’s lease. On top of all that, she’s banished to her grandmother’s. A grandmother she never knew existed.
Her grandmother is batty as hell—Pamela York lives in an antiquated manor, dresses for dinner like she’s the Queen of England and makes crazy talk about ghosts.
Ghosts? As. If.
Keira’s about to learn a few things. Haunted houses do exist and she’s living in one. Pamela isn’t psychotic; she’s a powerful psychic whose lifework has been assisting reluctant spirits pass through The Veil to a higher plane.
When Keira discovers she has a lot more in common with the old woman than she ever imagined, her real education begins.
But it’s not just reluctant spirits Pamela has had to contend with. There also exists malevolent forces; paranormal entities which crave the chaos of a Veil torn asunder. Keira finds out not only are ghosts real— so are demons.
Uh oh.
Copyright 2017, Michelle Dorey
ISBN: 978-1-927984-97-0
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
120117 Bonus
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
ONE
DAMN! THE DOORS OF THE CAR SLID SHUT just as I reached the bottom of the stairs. If I hadn’t stopped for that latte, I could have made it and managed to get in at least half of the class. The squealing of the subway’s wheels as it left the station went through my already aching head like a cold knife. Argh! Why did I let Cerise talk me into those last two gimlets last night? The alcohol was probably still oozing out of my pores.
I probably should have flagged a cab but it was near the end of the month. If I hit Mom up for an advance again, it would be the third time this semester. Her lectures had gone from disappointment to nagging; if I ask for more money one more time she’d be well and truly pissed. Nope, taking the subway was the wiser move, in spite of the stench.
When the hand touched my arm from behind I let out a squeak and jumped away. Spinning around, I backed up three steps as I pushed my shoulder bag behind me.
A filthy panhandler, his eyes more bloodshot than mine stared at me obsequiously, his hand held out, palm up. “Spare some change?”
I sighed as I rubbed the sleeve of my jacket where he touched me. Shit, now I was going to have to Purell my hand. I shook my head in resignation as I opened the flap of my bag and dug around while keeping an eye on him. Cerise would have laughed at my bleeding heart. Just last night when a beggar on the street asked for some change, she asked if he could break a fifty.
There were precious few bills in my purse but I managed to find a few coins to drop into his gnarly hand. It was then that the stench of his B.O. hit me and my stomach convulsed; it was still pretty queasy from last night’s vodka and his smell brought me right to the edge of hurling. Ewww!
“Blessings ma’am.” He shuffled off down the platform as I dug out the Purell and spritzed my hands, watching his back.
I wish I had turned away, but I didn’t. He was wearing a jacket he probably got out of the dumpster at the Salvation Army, but that’s not what made me stare. It was his feet.
He had some kind of beat-up sneakers, but he didn’t have any socks. His pants were too short and I saw how thin his ankles were. They were beyond thin—he was so skinny. My breath caught in my chest.
“Hey!” I called out to him. “Hey, mister!” I pawed back into my purse sighing. Maybe I could put the squeeze on Dad without Mom knowing, I thought to myself as I pulled out my last five and ten.
The guy had turned around. I gulped a lungful of air and holding the two bills up in my hand stepped up to him.
“I want to give this to you, but you have to make me a promise.” I didn’t inhale yet.
“Huh?” Okay, this guy wasn’t a genius.
Haunted Hideout: Paranormal Suspense (The Haunted Ones Book 1) Page 16
