by Sheryl Lynn
“When you say it like that…Boy, you really are mean.” Gwen grabbed Desi’s hands. “I’m kidding! You’re the best sister in the whole world. I love you so much.”
“Do you forgive me? I promise I’ll never get in your business again unless you ask.”
“Only if you forgive me for letting you get in my business so I don’t have to deal with boring stuff. I’m sorry for doing things I know drive you crazy.” Tears spilled down her cheeks and she jumped up to grab a box of tissues.
To Desi’s dismay she began to cry, too. It was as if all the tears she’d denied herself during her adult life now released. Each time she apologized to Gwen for some small sin, fresh tears fell. When Gwen apologized, she shed more tears. When Gwen said she was hungry and offered to make spinach salads with Grandma’s special vinaigrette recipe, Desi cried even harder. Upstairs in the apartment all the family photographs brought more tears. Spike squeaking at her and head-butting her shins made her wail.
How Gwen managed to maneuver in the kitchen while she blubbered and hiccupped and snuffled, Desi didn’t have a clue. All she knew was that by the time the tears finally stopped she felt so light she was amazed her that her feet remained on the floor.
Gwen set a plate of salad in front of Desi. “We’ve never done that before.”
Desi’s throat hurt so much she didn’t know if she could eat. “What?”
“Cried together. Do you realize I’ve never seen you cry?” Gwen sat down at the table. “So what are we going to do? How do we get rid of the ghost?”
Desi poked at the salad. It looked and smelled delicious, but she doubted she could swallow. “I need your help. You’ve met Alec Viho, right? He’s going to lead us through a ceremony, a summoning. We have to challenge Skillihorn and force him to go away. It takes four people to make a sacred circle. Buck thinks Grandma needs you to be the fourth person.”
“Wow,” Gwen breathed, waving a forkful of spinach. Her eyes were so bright with excitement Desi’s heart sank. Her sister had no idea how dangerous this was going to be, and Desi wished she could take the invitation back.
DESI AND GWEN entered Rampart headquarters, Desi thought it was a fitting end to the oddest day she’d ever spent. Gwen had jumped on the idea of cleansing and purifying. Gwen had closed the store, and they’d ended up at a spa. They’d had steam baths, massages, manis and pedis, facials and seaweed wraps. “We’re kicking that ghost’s ass and we’ll look great doing it,” Gwen had said.
Desi had almost spoiled it by complaining about the cost. Then it was as if Grandma whispered in her ear. “Life is for living.” Instead of complaining, she’d whipped out her credit card and paid the bill without a peep.
Whether or not they got rid of Skillihorn, Gwen was right. They looked great.
Desi touched the rhinestone butterfly pinned to her sweater. It had been one of Grandma’s favorites. It made her feel stronger.
Hearing them enter, Dallas poked his head out of the tech room and, seeing Gwen his eyes lit up. He jumped up and helped her off with her coat.
Ringo too, looked out, from the kitchen doorway. His dark eyes lit on Desi and sparkled with wicked glee. “Wait until you get a whiff of what Alec says you have to drink.”
He disappeared before Desi could give him a dirty look. “Where is everybody?” she asked Dallas.
“Pip is on the way, Alec is running a little late, and I haven’t heard from Buck. How are you, kid? This will work. Alec knows what he’s doing.” Dallas kept darting glances at Gwen.
“I’m fine. Nervous, but okay.”
The main room was ready for the ceremony. All the movie posters and macabre photos had been taken off the walls. The conference table was moved to the rear, and the chairs were piled atop it. The place was sparkling clean and smelled of lemon polish. There were cameras and audio equipment set up in every corner. Desi sniffed, aware of a sickly rotted vegetation smell. She hoped it wasn’t the brew Alec meant for her to drink.
Pippin arrived and she and Gwen had a squeal-fest reunion. After Pippin hugged Desi, Desi saw worry in Pippin’s eyes. Dallas was excited about the possibility of catching a full-body apparition on video, Ringo was delighted he was going to make Desi choke down a stinking brew and Gwen was ecstatic about being included in a paranormal ceremony. Only Pippin had the good sense to realize this could all go very wrong.
Gwen couldn’t contain her curiosity, “Desi says you have a lot of interesting EVPs in the archives, Dallas. I’ve only heard EVPs on television shows.”
Dallas looked with question at Desi. She made a “go ahead” gesture. Dallas invited Gwen into the tech room.
“I wonder why Dallas doesn’t ask her out,” Pippin said softly to Desi. “He’s so hung up on her. Does he stand a chance?”
Before yesterday, Desi would have said no. But now she knew Gwen was far deeper than Desi had ever realized. Dallas reminded her somewhat of Gwen’s late fiancé. Like Jesse he was big and blond, smart, confident, and dedicated. Anything he did, he did full out, no holding back.
“Maybe somebody should give Dallas a nudge,” Desi said.
“What would you think about it? With Rampart and everything.”
“I think Gwen has a better attitude about the paranormal than I do.” She laughed self-consciously.
A cell phone rang and Desi went on alert. Dallas answered, then yelled, “That was Buck. He’s leaving his place now. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Desi shivered in anticipation of seeing him again.
BUCK PARKED THE JEEP on the street behind a vintage Porsche 911. He saw Desi’s Subaru in the duplex driveway. Knowing she waited inside made his pulse race. The Porsche passenger door opened and the driver stepped out. Even in the poor light Buck recognized Alec by the calm, green aura.
Buck picked up a pistol from the passenger seat and exited the Jeep. It was his personal weapon, but he hadn’t fired it in years. The .38 revolver, snub-nosed and compact, had plenty of stopping power, but it was fairly useless beyond a range of ten feet or so. After that it was impossible to aim. He still hadn’t decided whom to give it to. John Ringo looked as if he might be familiar with firearms, but Dallas had the drive. Dallas, he decided, wouldn’t hesitate to do what had to be done.
Was Desi worth dying for?
Buck knew she was.
He slipped the pistol into his coat pocket and waved at Alec.
Under the streetlamps the sports car gleamed like black water. Buck couldn’t help an admiring whistle. “That’s some sweet ride, man.”
“She’s my baby,” Alec said with a grin.
Buck walked around the little car with the huge engine, taking in the sleek lines and sexy curves, and the glassy finish that looked inches deep. He bet it looked even better in daylight. “What year is it?”
“Sixty-eight. Not everything is original, but most is. Fella gave it to me about ten years ago after I helped his son. I let my boys work on it when they’re very, very good.”
Buck stepped onto the sidewalk, unable to take his eyes off the Porsche. He reached out to touch it and suddenly every hair on his body raised and prickled. The air turned thick and heavy. Traffic noise dulled. The streetlamp on the corner brightened and turned hot pink. The bulb blew with a shower of sparks.
An invisible suit of armor clamped around Buck, locking his arms in place, crushing his torso. Alec stiffened. Buck tried to shout a warning but his face was paralyzed. Alec’s aura darkened and compacted until it looked like an outline drawn around his body with charcoal. It began to draw toward Buck like mist sucked into a fan. Buck tried to move, tried to escape, but the mist touched him and the crushing weight on his body increased.
Alec collapsed.
The Dark Presence lifted Buck’s foot and planted it one step closer to the duplex.
DESI AND PIPPIN stood before the kitchen stove and peered into a pot. The dark green brew bubbled with lazy bloops and gassy sighs. Desi half expected to see frogs appear. The counter was littered with
the remains of chopped greenery, none of which looked like any herbs she’d ever seen in a grocery store.
“You have to drink that?” Pippin asked.
“Maybe puking is part of the ceremony.” Desi gave her friend a worried look. “This has to be one of Ringo’s jokes. That’s disgusting.”
From the tech room a door slammed with wall-shaking force, making both women jump.
Dallas howled, “Nooooo!”
Overhead the fluorescent bulbs brightened turning the plastic panels blinding white. Light leaked in streams, as if pulled by invisible hands. The bulbs began to sizzle and the acrid smell of burning plastic overwhelmed the swampy stench from the pot. The lights went out.
Throughout the duplex the walls shook with the force of fists pounding on the tech room door. Dallas, Ringo and Gwen yelled, demanding help in opening the tech-room door. Before Desi could move, the bulbs blew, plunging the apartment into darkness.
THE DARK PRESENCE marched Buck, now a struggling marionette, up the sidewalk and onto the porch. Both sides of the duplex went dark. With every ounce of strength he possessed, Buck pushed backward, flinging himself off the porch. It caught him in midfall and jerked him forward with teeth-cracking force. He flew into the front door, his feet actually leaving the ground. His arm struck the doorjamb and a sickening crack exploded in his ears as pain exploded from his arm. The clamping energy wavered and Buck fell sideways. It caught him before his broken arm struck the concrete and wrenched him upright. He grabbed the storm door and jerked it open.
The inside door opened at the same time.
Jealousy and pain writhed around Buck’s body like black ropy snakes. He saw two female figures in the doorway, but they were blurry, as if he were looking through blocks of frosted glass. He wanted to yell at them to close the door, to shut him out, but the Dark Presence hurled him forward.
As if knowing Buck’s pain weakened its strength, the Dark Presence dropped its hold on Buck’s broken right arm. The crushing weight increased on the rest of his body. As if through ears filled with glue he heard screams and shouts. He dragged his right hand toward his coat pocket. One leg then another stumped forward, lurching him toward Desi. His right hand fished his coat pocket, the grind of jagged bones sending a searing white-hot pain through him. The pain gave him strength against the Dark Presence. He clutched the .38 and dragged it from the pocket. His arm screamed in agony, every nerve on fire, and his fingers grew numb.
The Dark Presence pushed him toward Desi. He saw her terrified eyes reflected in the terrible glow of Skillihorn’s face. Buck saw their mistake. There was too much power here for the ghost to steal. Alec, Dallas, Ringo, Gwen, Pippin—the Dark Presence consumed them all, drawing on every trace of their anger and fear the same way it sucked power from electricity and the air.
It consumed him, drained him. He could not feel his legs or his left arm. His lungs burned for air they could not draw.
All he had left was his love for Desi. His wooden forefinger found the trigger. Through sheer force of will, through the force of his love for her, he forced his arm up and pressed the barrel against his throat.
Chapter Fifteen
Desi shoved Pippin toward the open door, then scrambled after her friend. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark apartment, but the blackness was devouring the light, turning Skillihorn impossibly black, impossibly huge. Its face, twisting and shifting like melting wax, glowed with sickly supernatural light. Buck had disappeared within it. The thing lurched and lunged at her.
“Get out!” she screamed. Desi shoved Pippin again and stumbled to her knee. Her feet tangled in the scramble and she twisted to face the black entity. She stared at Buck’s right arm, the only part of his body free of the black shroud. Uncomprehending, her shocked brain registered something in his hand drawing ever closer to the thing’s head.
A gun. The barrel disappeared into the miasma of Skillihorn’s face.
She screamed “No!” and sprang at it. She grabbed Buck’s arm with both hands. A red flash blinded her. The report deafened her.
At the errant gunshot the Dark Presence howled and snatched her throat, lifting her off the ground. She kicked and clawed at unyielding flesh and the thing shoved her against the wall. Her head hit first and she moaned as stars blinded her. Then that awful face loomed within inches of her own. She dug her nails into the fingers that once again choked her.
She cried, “Grandma! Help me, Grandma!”
A kaleidoscope of colors swirled through her head. With only one hand to hold her, the thing couldn’t get its thumb on her larynx. It pulled her up again and hanged her, clamping off both her carotid arteries with one massive hand, cutting off the blood flow to her brain.
As the curtain of unconsciousness began to drop down she heard, as clearly as a shout, “Forgive.”
“I forgive you, Charles,” she gasped. “I forgive you!”
She heard and saw it all. A scream as Veronica’s husband burst into the room, a scythe clutched in his hand, his entire body racked with pain and jealousy.
“I only loved you! Never another. Never, never,” she cried out.
The hand loosened enough for Desi to drag in air. The hovering face lost some of its form.
“You accused me falsely. You never believed I loved you. You never believed! But I forgive you.” Where the words or the feelings were coming from, Desi didn’t know. She just knew. “You know it too, Charles. You know you were wrong. It was your jealousy, your fear, your belief that I could not, would not, love you. You were wrong. You know it! You knew it then and you know it now. I did love you. You were my only love. I forgive you.”
Desi’s feet touched the floor. The hand dropped away and she slid down the wall, her gaze fixed on the fading glow. She could see Buck now, his face twisted in pain. The blackness shrank, drawing tighter.
“You don’t belong here,” Desi said. “Veronica is on the other side. She is at peace. She forgives you. She wants you to be at peace, too. You’re forgiven, Charles. Now go.”
Buck collapsed, hitting the floor with a boneless thud. He moaned then fell silent and still.
DESI CLUTCHED BUCK’S HAND as she trotted beside the gurney to which the paramedics had strapped him. Before they arrived, Alec had tended to Buck, who had kept muttering, “Thank God, the green is back, man.” With the deft sureness of a healer, Alec had splinted the arm and propped up Buck’s legs to minimize shock. Desi had seen the swelling and the unnatural angle of Buck’s forearm. It made her want to throw up. Now Buck was dazed, barely coherent and in terrible pain.
Before the street filled with emergency vehicles, either Dallas or Ringo had made the gun disappear. Pippin had spoken for the stunned group, telling first the paramedics and then the responding police officers that the circuit box had blown and in the sudden darkness Buck had tripped over a chair and broken his arm. Pippin was also the cool head who had wrapped Desi in her coat and urged her to button it all the way and turn up the collar so no one could see the bruises forming around her neck. Then, to Dallas’s dismay, Pippin dumped Ringo’s nasty brew on the living room floor. The disgusting smell covered the lingering cordite from the gunshot.
Gwen had mesmerized the police officers, apologizing prettily as she told them she was scared of the dark. So when the lights went out it was her screams the neighbors had reported. The cops swallowed her story of a panic attack as if it were honey. Both looked as if they wanted to take her home and make sure she was really all right.
Desi leaned close to Buck’s ear and whispered, “Oh you stupid, stupid man! You almost killed yourself!”
He opened his eyes. “I love you, too, honey,” he rasped. He closed his eyes. The paramedics loaded him into the ambulance.
Desi ran back inside to grab her purse and keys, long enough to hear Ringo’s lament, “Damn it. We didn’t catch even a second of that on video.”
She cocked back her arm, let loose and slugged him in the belly.
“IS IT REALLY GONE?” Desi
asked yet again, as she adjusted a pillow beneath Buck’s arm. He lay in the middle of her bed, in her house, mellow from the painkillers.
“You keep asking that,” he said, the words slightly slurred. “It’s gone.”
He’d spent the night in the hospital after the doctors set his arm, encased it in a huge cast then loaded him up with painkillers. A parade of police officers had passed through the hospital room, making jokes about Buck’s clumsiness and how some guys would do anything for a vacation. Buck introduced Desi as his girlfriend. Desi liked that.
He had to go back in a week to make sure he wouldn’t need surgery. When he’d helped Desi bring Buck to her house, Alec had assured her that Buck wouldn’t need surgery. His arm would heal fine. Now she believed the shaman. She needed to believe Buck that the Dark Presence was really and truly gone.
“It is definitely gone. You have to trust me, honey. I know.”
She sat very gently beside him. “That knowing of yours is pretty strong, isn’t it?”
His eyelids fluttered as he fought to keep his eyes open. “Yes, it is. When I know I know. I’m never wrong.”
“You were going to shoot yourself to stop it. You almost died. I don’t know if I can forgive you for that.”
“You can,” he said with a crooked smile. “You already have.” He sighed and gave up the fight, drifting away.
While he slept, she quietly unpacked her clothes and toiletries. She put her closet back in order. She showered and took her dirty clothes to the basement to start some laundry. Her house belonged to her again. It felt like home. She finally let herself believe the Dark Presence was truly and forever gone.
Worry about her grandmother lingered. She hadn’t asked Buck or Alec about Grandma. She hadn’t told them that Grandma had helped her during the ghostly attack. Grandma had given her the words of forgiveness. Desi worried, plagued with guilt, that the Dark Presence had swallowed Grandma, dragging her along into whatever hell now contained him. She still got the shakes whenever she remembered Buck nearly killing himself in order to save her. It felt just as bad to realize Grandma might have sacrificed her eternal soul.
