by Debra Dunbar
“I’m Eric. Boomer is the dog.”
“Mmmm.” Tamika pulled a square out of the giant paisley bag by her side and unfolded it. “I’ve got a map. Probably jumping the gun, but after Marie called me about your problem, I did a bit of investigation. I drove around yesterday and color coded the graves that had been disturbed. Then I checked the obituaries for the last few months to highlight in blue all the potential spots he might go to tonight.”
Nyalla and Eric looked over her shoulder. A mosaic of colored boxes and checks covered the map.
“Here.” Tamika pointed to a small cluster of blue. “This isn’t exactly a metropolitan area, and there aren’t a lot of recent burials. If he’s expanded out a bit beyond ten miles, he’ll go here. It’s a cemetery that’s just come into his territory, and it holds the freshest corpses.”
“So if we guess wrong, where would he go next?” Eric asked.
“Ghosts. He’s already dug up the recently deceased in the other cemeteries. Ghouls gain energy from ghosts, just like they do from dead flesh. More actually. In fact, their favorite would be a recent burial where a ghost still remained — which would be less than three days.” Tamika jabbed a finger at the cemetery she’d indicated before. “There was a burial here yesterday. It’s got a high likelihood of having his favorite meal — a dead body and a ghost all in one package.”
That was a disgusting thought. Nyalla looked again at the map with its colored squares. “Aunt Marie said a ghoul would keep the little soul of the ghost inside, as a kind of back–up in case the one from the body he assumed died, or moved on or something.”
Tamika shook her head, blue and green hair flying from side to side. “Nope. They take the ghosts’ energy and kill them. Gone. Dead. There’s no back–up; that’s why they guard the little soul of their assumed corpse so carefully. You’d need an exorcist to free the little soul, and no ghoul would hold still long enough for that.”
Nyalla let out a frustrated noise. “Do you know how to kill one? Or send it back? We haven’t found the person responsible for raising it, and were just going to try and keep it from killing anyone tonight.”
“If it’s already killing the living by the sixth night, you all are neck deep in the doo–doo. Better hope that family was murdered by someone else, and that we’re dealing with a poltergeist instead of a ghoul.”
“But what can we do?” Eric asked. “Can you help us?”
“Pffft. I can help repel him, maybe keep him contained for one night. I’m not going to be able to put him back in the ground, though. Paranormal investigator here, not necromancer.”
There was that necromancer again. If only there had been a listing in the phone book. If they didn’t find some kind of concrete lead soon, they may have to begin soliciting one over the Internet. Nyalla glanced at the picture on the wall that concealed Sam’s safe full of money. Hopefully there was enough in there to cover a necromancer’s fee. Or maybe two.
“You wouldn’t happen to know any necromancers, would you?” Nyalla asked hopefully.
“No. Got a few Wiccan friends, but nobody I know does that kind of thing. Ugh.”
“Ugh?” Eric was clearly irritated with the woman. “You’re a ‘paranormal investigator’, a ghost hunter, and you’re turning your nose up at necromancers?”
Tamika’s chin rose skyward. “Dead spirits is one thing. Dead bodies is another. No stinking way I’m going to be messing around with dead, rotted stuff as a career choice. None of my friends either.”
“Okay, okay,” Nyalla waved her hands attempting to placate the two. “We don’t have much time here. Boomer says the ghoul will rise at midnight and begin feeding on dead flesh.”
“Your dog is correct. Get your gear, and let’s get our butts on the road.”
Nyalla and Eric exchanged confused looks. “Gear?”
“The usual stuff. Ambient temp sensor, hot/cold spot detector, EM field generator, shadow detector.”
Nyalla glanced at Eric, and he shook his head. What the heck was that stuff? “I have a gun,” she confessed. “It’s a nine millimeter Beretta. Eric has a gun too, but I don’t know what his is.”
“Glock.”
Tamika raised her face upward. “Oh for heaven’s sake! Don’t tell me you were trying to shoot a ghoul with plain old bullets? Where do you people get your paranormal knowledge? In the back of a comic book?”
“It did slow him down. Even knocked him out for a few moments,” Eric said defensively. Nyalla could tell he was beginning to get rather angry at this woman.
“He was bluffing! Playing dead to draw you in closer. Yeah, that first day maybe your little namby–pamby bullets would have done some good, but now? You’d have better luck throwing banana peels in his path and hoping he fell and broke his neck.”
“Should I get some bananas?” Nyalla was having a hard time following the conversation. This woman spoke so fast; it’s a wonder she’d been able to understand anything she said.
“No! Please at least tell me you have some sage sticks or a Saint Benedict medal?”
“What’s that?” Nyalla asked.
Eric looked offended. “I’m Methodist. Why would I have a Catholic necklace?”
“Because it doesn’t matter which religion you are, those things work. Seriously? You don’t believe in angels either, I bet.”
Eric glowered at the woman.
“I believe in angels,” Nyalla announced. “I’ve met one. He’s very powerful, and he’s in love with Satan.”
That gave Tamika Pickens pause. “After this is all over with, you and I need to have a talk. Nice chat, over coffee. Maybe you can introduce me to this angel. Or Satan. Either one; I’m not picky.”
“Okay.” Nyalla wasn’t sure whether she wanted to or not. It was hard to say “no” when the woman was doing so much to help them out — one–hundred–dollar fee or not.
Tamika clapped her hands together. “Then let’s get going. Time’s a–wasting. Get your flashlights, and ineffectual firearms, and let’s move.”
22
They climbed into the Suburban, stopping by Tamika’s ancient Dodge Caravan to retrieve several heavy duffle bags, and a set of tripods. She reminded them that she needed to be at work tomorrow and couldn’t stay out past three in the morning. Nyalla opened her mouth to ask what Tamika did besides paranormal investigations.
“Don’t ask. Don’t even go there.”
Nyalla shut her mouth, eyeing the woman speculatively. Tamika did not sound as though she was particularly proud of her day job.
Tamika navigated them to the cemetery on Bower Road and hopped out of the SUV before it had even rolled to a stop. Eric fumed in the driver’s seat, glaring at the woman through the rearview mirror as she set up various tripods.
“You don’t like her?” Nyalla asked. She wondered if the opposite was true. In her limited experience, men often seemed attracted to women they had a strong initial negative reaction towards.
“I think she’s a fake,” Eric said through clenched teeth. He opened the car door and stepped out, gesturing at Tamika. “I’m surprised she hasn’t quoted us her overtime rate. She’s just like all the nine–hundred–number psychics and bigfoot–hunters. The only good thing about having her along is maybe this ghoul will eat her and leave the rest of us alone.”
“Eric!” Nyalla was shocked. There was probably a good chance that this Tamika woman was a fraud, in spite of Aunt Marie’s reference, but to wish her death was a bit extreme.
“I’m kidding! I don’t really want her dead. It would raise all sorts of questions in the department that I really don’t feel like answering. But you’ve got to admit she’s annoying.”
Nyalla pursed her lips. “I don’t think so. Of course, I can’t understand most of what she’s saying. I wish she wouldn’t talk so fast. Annoying or not, she’s more knowledgeable about this kind of thing than we are. If she can buy us one more day, we might be able to find a necromancer and take care of this ghoul once and for all.”<
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Eric growled. “Still, I’m relying more on this than any of her mumbo–jumbo stuff.” He patted the gun at his hip. Nyalla eyed it skeptically.
“It didn’t do us much good last time.”
“Hollow points,” Eric looked smug. “Tiny little hole in, humungous hole on exit. I’ve got two extra clips. I’m thinking if I can blast the body into tiny, little fragments, I can actually kill the thing.”
“Umm. Okay.” Nyalla didn’t have faith it would work, but as she didn’t know all that much about human weaponry, she’d defer to his superior knowledge. The Internet did say that if they completely destroyed the body, the ghoul would go back, so maybe Eric was onto something. She slid out of the car and joined him on the other side, where they could watch the other woman work.
“There.” Tamika returned to them, huffing with exertion. She hit a switch on a thin remote in her hand, and the place lit up with intersecting green lines. “I’ve placed them around the graves I think he’ll target and put a special trap on the recent one. Between this grid and the EMF detector, we’ll know when this thing gets here and its exact location.”
It was impressive, this array of green lights — well worth one–hundred dollars. Still, Nyalla couldn’t understand why they needed all this equipment.
“We can see him. With our eyes,” she protested. “He’s walking around in a dead body, and there’s plenty of moonlight. What’s all this going to do except alert him that we’re here waiting?”
Tamika paused, her lips pursed. Doubt flashed in her eyes before it was replaced by cheery confidence. “Nonsense. He’ll not even know this stuff is here, or what it is. They never do. And with the EMF detector, we’ll be able to sense him coming before we see him.”
“But you said you’ve never encountered a ghoul before, just ghosts. How can you be sure?”
“I’m hoping it’s a poltergeist. If not, then this should work with ghouls too,” Tamika snapped. “I’m gonna go adjust some stuff. You all keep watch.”
The woman stalked off, and Nyalla felt a moment of guilt. She hadn’t meant to offend her, but all these things were strange to her, and she needed clarification. Glancing at Eric, she saw that he, too, was doubtful.
“When he shows up, you and Boomer hold back, and I’ll do my thing,” he said.
Nyalla took a few steps back and put her hand on top of Boomer’s head. Two bossy humans, fighting over who was going to take charge. What happened to her being in charge? Boomer leaned against her thigh reassuringly and nudged her hand, begging for her to pet him. She stroked him absently, the old, familiar fear replaced by new emotions — frustration and annoyance.
They waited. Tamika grew increasingly exasperated with her devices that continued to beep out alarms. The first time, Nyalla had tensed, and Eric’s hand had half pulled out his pistol, but the woman waved them off. “Just a ghost.” After the tenth time, Nyalla was ready to pitch the monitor into the bushes. Or drive over it with the Suburban. Or shoot it full of holes with her gun.
Everyone was on edge when the green grid of lights before them flickered, expanding into a solid light. Tamika’s meter went crazy, emitting a high–pitched shriek.
“That’s way out of the zone for paranormal activity,” she shouted over the din. “Must be some big electrical surge from nearby. Or a demon. It might be a demon.”
The latter prospect didn’t reassure Nyalla one bit. She might be house–sitting for Satan, but demons weren’t something to take lightly. A ghoul was bad enough.
Tamika shook the device in her hand, turning various knobs and pushing buttons, but the thing just screeched louder.
“Turn it off,” Eric shouted.
“I’m trying.” The meter suddenly exploded in Tamika’s hands, sending bits of sharp plastic flying. Nyalla barely registered the woman’s cry of pain before the green grid of lights sparked and went out, plunging them into darkness.
The silence was unnerving. Nyalla’s eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough to the change in light, and she felt both blind and deaf. Reaching out, she could feel neither Eric nor Boomer near, and fear gripped her, tying her stomach into knots. Cold rolled over her skin. In spite of the summer temperature, she shivered.
“Eric?” She hadn’t wanted to speak, to disturb the silence. There was no reply, and Nyalla wasn’t sure if her hearing was still off or if the others were too far away to hear her. Gray shapes were beginning to take form close by, and a pair of glowing eyes appeared at her knee. She started to scream, but it lodged in her throat, and all Nyalla could do was gasp, her heart thudding.
A cold nose nudged her leg and she nearly fainted in relief. “Boomer,” she scolded breathlessly, “you almost gave me a heart attack.”
Weak with the rush of adrenaline, she knelt and wrapped her arms around the hound, burying her face in the soft fur at his neck. “Where are the others? Are they okay?”
She felt his nod, but still clung to him, reluctant to let go. The gray shapes were beginning to become recognizable — gravestones, trees, what had to have been the tripods in the distance. The insect song was beginning to register, getting louder by the moment, along with a scraping noise. What was that?
A low mist rose from the ground, not high enough to obscure the shapes around her, but enough that she needed to be careful as she edged forward toward the noise.
“Tamika?” she whispered, thinking that maybe the woman was working to activate the laser grid again.
Boomer took her hand gently in his mouth, tugging her, leading her. Sounds had a strange echo, insect song broken with the occasional scrape. The mist cleared before her, and she saw a bent figure, digging at the ground.
Her heart hammering, Nyalla tried to retreat. She still couldn’t see the ground from the mist, and stumbled, going down on her rear. Boomer pressed reassuringly against her arm, and she watched the figure dig, flinging huge scoops of dirt to either side of him. He hesitated and sniffed the air before chuckling and digging again.
“I smell you, little girl.”
Nyalla’s blood ran cold, and she froze, hoping that if she held perfectly still, the ghoul wouldn’t be able to find her.
“Quite the trick you played on me last night. You’re a persistent little thing to come looking for me again. I hope you stay and watch me enjoy my meal. Afterwards, we can play.”
She inched backward, keeping the ghoul’s shadowy figure within her line of sight. He shifted, yellow eyes glowing in her direction as he flashed her a grin of tiny, razor–sharp teeth. He took another scoop of dirt, and suddenly jumped backwards, light arcing its way through his arms and down his back.
“Gotcha!” Tamika’s voice rang out.
The ghoul screamed in pain and frustration and tried another spot of the grave, once again flying backwards in a flash of blue.
“I’ve wrapped live wire around all the fresh graves. Electricity, my dear ghoul, is not your friend.”
“Bitch! Bitch!”
Nyalla expected the ghoul to take off after Tamika and was surprised when it turned and bounded toward her. Boomer moved to block its approach, but the ghoul sprang around him in an amazing feat of agility, grabbing Nyalla and wrapping long claws around her neck.
She gasped, hands going to those tightening on her windpipe. The ghoul’s flesh was cold and waxy, its skin slippery and loose on the bone. Nyalla tugged, but the fingers grew tighter, long nails digging into the sides of her neck. Yanking upward, the ghoul raised her to her feet, careful to keep Nyalla between the hellhound and himself.
“Nyalla!”
It was Eric, one of the dim shapes to the left of her. From the position of his arms, she could see he had his gun at the ready.
The ghoul shifted position, placing her at an angle between Boomer and Eric. “I had hoped to devour your friends as you watched, but it seems I must change my plan and take you first. Mmm, such tender flesh you have, little girl, but let’s taste your soul a bit first.”
Nyalla struggled as she felt cold
seep through her skin down deep into the very center of her bones. It felt like the ghoul was in every pore of her body. Her teeth chattered; her limbs became numb. She continued to try to pull from his grasp, but her struggles began to slow.
“I’ll take this nice and leisurely. That way, you’re friends will enjoy your death as much as I will,” the ghoul whispered in her ear. The smell of his rot made her gag and she tried to hold her breath.
Pain filled Nyalla from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. She felt as if she were being ripped from her body. Everything within her stretched, but just as she felt herself on the verge of losing consciousness, it all rebounded with an abrupt release. The ghoul screamed in agony, his grip loosening.
“You’re blessed! And your soul has been marked as claimed!” The ghoul flung Nyalla forward. She caught herself just in time, landing on hands and knees instead of flat on the ground.
As soon as the ghoul had released her, feeling returned to her limbs. She took a deep breath, wondering at the monster’s words. Blessed? For a second she thought he might be referring to her angel–gift, but the angel hadn’t claimed her — had he? A memory stirred in the back of her mind. Sam. The demon had bought her out of slavery from the elves, and she had a habit of marking everything as “hers”. Could the mark of Satan have just saved her from a ghoul?
An idea rose to the surface of her mind. If the ghoul couldn’t touch her because she belonged to Sam, well…. Nyalla didn’t have time to explore her idea any further, so she acted on instinct.
“Run! Get in the car and start it up!” she screamed, dropping flat to the ground and rolling as she pulled the gun out of the huge pocket in her cargo pants.
Last time she’d brought Wyatt’s Beretta and had less than stellar results. This time, she’d picked one of his more impressive pistols. It hadn’t had much effect when Wyatt had used it, but this ghoul was no angel. Raising the fifty caliber Desert Eagle, she fired.
