Blood Ghost (The Hunting Tree Book 2)

by Ike Hamill

  Chelsea screamed.

  Something awful was hanging from Don’s exposed neck. His head flopped back. The thing had a long, frog-like limbs covered with nearly translucent skin. Its round head pulsed slowly, like it was filled with fluid instead of a hard skull. It’s mouth was attached to her brother’s neck.

  Chelsea’s memory flew back to first grade, when she’d found something in her hair and she’d scratched and pulled until it fell on the desk. It had been a bloated tick, full with her blood. Her revulsion had made her swoon, and she felt the same revulsion now as she watched Don’s life pulse into this leech.

  Chelsea gagged and swayed on her feet. Barney barked.

  With a trembling hand, Chelsea found one of the packets of salt. She spilled most of it as she tore it open. With her hand outstretched and tears streaming down her face, she tried to shake some of it in the direction of the terrible thing clamped to her brother. She missed entirely. The salt fell on the leaves. Chelsea grabbed for another packet.

  She opened this package more carefully, briefly taking her eyes off the thing to do the job.

  “Shut up, Barney,” she whispered at the dog. His barking subsided to whines and he backed away.

  She forced herself to move forward and shook the salt onto the thing’s back. A ripple might have gone through its skin, but Chelsea saw no real effect.

  “Get off my brother!” she shouted.

  Sticking out of his pocket, she saw the corner of one of the sandwich bags. Chelsea darted forward and pulled the bag. When she tugged, the thing’s limp leg brushed against her hand and she cried out. She clamped the flashlight between her teeth. From the plastic bag, Chelsea took a handful of salt. It felt cool and clean.

  Chelsea flung the salt at the thing’s head and it hit like the salt possessed enormous mass. The reptile thing slumped under the weight and Don moaned as it pulled him downwards. Chelsea threw even more salt and the thing sagged more. Don was now doubled over with the thing’s mouth clamped to his neck, pulling him down.

  Chelsea leaned forward and poured the rest of the salt directly on the thing’s head. It popped from Don’s neck and crumpled to the ground. Don fell backwards into the leaves. When Don fell, Barney finally stopped whining and ran to Don.

  Giving the thing a wide circle, Chelsea found the other bag of salt in Don’s other pocket. She added this salt to the thing, which had collapsed in a heap of long limbs and translucent skin.

  “Don?” Chelsea asked. She backed away and knelt next to her brother. Chelsea never took her eyes or flashlight off the disgusting leech. She reached down and felt for Don’s pulse. After a couple seconds, she felt a weak beat in his wrist. “Don, wake up,” she said. Tears flowed freely down her face. Barney was licking at Don’s face and neck.

  “Get away, Barney. You’re not helping,” she said. She was amazed that Barney obeyed. “Donny, get up. You have to get up.”

  Chelsea left her brother’s side and put the flashlight between her teeth. The keys bounced off her cheek as she knelt and grabbed the small duffel bag. She opened the bag and turned it partway inside out. The box of rock salt fell out. She draped the bag on top of the pile of disgusting flesh.

  Don moaned.

  “Don?”

  “What?”

  “Oh thank god, Don, are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.” Don rose to a seated position with one hand pressing against his forehead. “Barney? Where did you come from.”

  “Don, the witch is under this bag,” Chelsea said.

  With that information, Don’s energy seemed to return quickly. He thrust his legs and scrambled backwards through the leaves. “You’re kidding me.”

  “No,” she said. “Help me zip it up.”

  “Christ, why?” Don asked. “Let’s just take Barney and get out of here.”

  “This could all happen again,” Chelsea said. “We’ll take her back to those guys—they’ll know what to do. The salt seems to weigh her down.”

  Don couldn’t yet stand up, but he made it to his knees. He slid forward and helped his sister. Between the two of them, they managed to get the bag under the witch and scraped her up, along with a bunch of leaves and some dirt. Chelsea dumped the box of rock salt into the bag before they zipped it up.

  “Is it safe?” Don asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  # # # #

  They stumbled around the dark woods for the better part of an hour. Chelsea carried the duffel with one hand and supported her brother with the other. When they finally decided to follow Barney, he led them to the road. Chelsea’s heart dropped when she patted her pockets for the keys and came up empty.

  “I lost the keys,” she said. Fresh tears welled in her eyes.

  Don held out the flashlight keychain that was attached to the keys.

  She put the duffel in the cargo area where she’d hidden earlier that night. Barney sat in the back seat and Don slumped in the passenger’s seat as Chelsea turned the SUV around. The sun was just starting to light up the back of the hills to the east of Ferbes as they drove through town.

  “Are you okay to drive?” Don asked.

  “Yeah, as long as we can get some caffeine.”

  “Good. I’m wrecked.”

  “You stay awake. Don’t you dare fall asleep and then drop into a coma or something,” Chelsea said.

  “How are you doing, Barney?” Don asked. The dog raised an ear, but didn’t lift his head. He was stretched out across the back seat of the SUV. “He looks thin.”

  Don’s phone started ringing.

  “Hello?” he said.

  “Where the hell are you? Is your sister there?” Wes asked.

  “Dad, we found Barney,” Don said.

  “You think it’s acceptable to run off in the middle of the night with my car? I got up to pee and I found your sister’s note. This is not the way we do things around here,” Wes said.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. We didn’t want to wake you and Mom up. I got an email about Barney and I decided to go check up on it. Chelsea was up and she wanted to come too.”

  He heard his father expel a frustrated breath into the phone.

  “Listen,” Wes said, “I’m glad you found your dog, but this is not the way to go about it. Where are you?”

  “Vermont.”

  “Vermont!”

  Chelsea heard her father yell over the phone. She winced and then smiled at Don.

  “We’re coming right home, Dad. We have Barney and we’re headed back.”

  “Damn it, Donny, we’re going to have a little chat when you get back, all four of us,” Wes said.

  Don looked at the phone and saw that his father had disconnected.

  “Wow,” Chelsea said. “What did he say? All four of us? Who’s the fourth?”

  “Mom?”

  “Oh, right. That makes sense,” Chelsea said.

  “Jesus, Chelse,” Don said. He was about to say something else, but his phone rang again. “Must be Dad… No, it’s that other number. Hello?”

  “You still alive?” Morris asked.

  “Yes, we all made it. And we’ve got that thing in a bag in back,” Don said.

  “No shit. Well, job well done then. You find your dog?”

  “Yes, he’s here, too,” Don said.

  “You best keep an eye on him,” Morris said. “Something made him want to run away, and it wasn’t likely good will.”

  “Oh?”

  “Oh is right. What are you going to do with the witch?” Morris asked.

  “I guess we’re bringing her to you, right? You said you’d take care of her, right?”

  “Yup, that I will. You bring her over to Roland’s trailer. You know, on the Cottle Hill Road. How long will you be?”

  “We’re just driving back from Vermont now,” Don said.

  “Good, that will give us time to get ready. Give me a call back if you run into any problems, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Bye, then.”

&nb
sp; “Bye,” Don said. He disconnected.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Final Dream

  DAVID WOKE UP WITH his head under the covers—the air was hot from his respiration. He didn’t like being under the covers. His sister once told him that if you slept under the covers you would “suffocate to death.” But he didn’t want to come out and face the light yet, either. He wanted to remember his dream. It had ended well…

  …Mare was clamped to the young man—her abandoned boyfriend—and was enjoying every ounce of his stolen blood. This was her new favorite thing, she decided. Taking the blood of the other boy until he succumbed to a weary death had been good, but leaving this one to recover and have his blood replaced was even better. He was sweet and thoughtful to come all this way for her. She felt special.

  In his dream, David watched her slowly draining the young man. He had just met Don the previous day, but this version seemed much older, and much more weary. David wondered how much longer he would last before he would just turn to dust, dehydrated by the witch.

  The dog growled, and David’s perspective pulled back. He saw the girl, Don’s sister, approaching. The dog was inhabited by the Master—David felt the Master’s presence, making the dog growl and bark at the girl. The dog wouldn’t attack. The Master couldn’t make the dog do something so contrary to its nature. David hoped that the girl could sense this, or that she would be brave enough to help her brother anyway. The dog put on a good show, growling and snarling. David was afraid of its sharp, glistening teeth, even though he knew it was just a dream.

  David silently cheered as the girl moved forward and came to the aid of her brother. David watched her weigh Mare down with salt and rejoiced at the victory. As Mare was defeated, David sensed a change in the dog. The Master vacated the dog’s body. The Master had moved on while David wasn’t paying attention. David pulled back farther from the scene in the woods, trying to sense the Master. As he pulled back more, the girl and her brother were scooping up Mare into their sack and then dragging her out of the woods.

  David tried to move in closer so he could watch a little longer, but in his dream he saw the sun rising over the hills and he was helpless to stay asleep…

  David threw back his covers and breathed in fresh summer air. The morning light filled his room. He stretched and sprang from bed. His heart felt hopeful and light. He felt better than he had in weeks.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Ceremony

  CHELSEA TURNED DOWN THE long dirt drive. Barney sat up in the back seat and all three looked at the glint of sunlight off the cars parked around the trailer. Several people were raising the center pole of a tent and a few more were tossing big logs onto a pile.

  “Looks like a party,” Don said.

  Chelsea pulled to a stop behind the last car in line and shut off the SUV.

  Morris limped up to the driver’s window. Chelsea lowered the glass as Don opened his door.

  “Where is she?” Morris asked.

  “In back,” Chelsea said.

  As Morris went around back, Don circled the vehicle and met him at the hatch. Don opened the big door and released the screen over the cargo area. They looked at the blue duffel bag. It was covered in dirt. A leaf was zipped in the zipper. Barney put his head over the back of the seat and looked at the men. Morris reached in for the handles.

  “Wait,” Don said, putting his hand on top of Morris’s. “What are you going to do with her?”

  “We’re going to commit her skin back to the earth and free her spirit to return to the sun.”

  “You mean, kill her?” Don asked.

  Roland walked up while the question still hung in the air. He joined them, looking at the bag.

  “We mean to release her. That’s the way to think of it. A thing like her is trapped. She’s trapped here doing the bidding of her Master, and the Master is trapped to receive her payments. She can’t break that arrangement, so we have to help. That we do.”

  “I’m not sure it’s right,” Don said. “Isn’t she a person?”

  The SUV chimed as Chelsea opened her door and got out to come around back.

  “Chelse, please get back in the car,” Don said.

  “Don, let them take her,” Chelsea said. “She killed Kyle. These guys can make sure she doesn’t kill ever again.”

  Don covered his eyes with his hand. “She is Kyle,” he said. “When I went out into the woods… It’s hard to remember, but when I went to meet her, she always looked like Kyle.”

  “She just borrows people’s skin, that’s all,” Roland said. “Merritt said she could appear to be our uncle if she wanted, or anyone else she has been in contact with. She borrows their skin.”

  “Is that really what it was?” Don asked. “It wasn’t some part of Kyle still alive in her.”

  “No,” Roland said, “just the skin. She was tricking you.”

  “Okay,” Don said. “Take her.”

  Don took a step back and Chelsea put her arm around him. Barney watched closely as Morris lifted the bag from the back of the SUV. Morris limped along with it for a couple of paces before Roland came over to help him carry. The two men held the bag between them with outstretched arms, like the bag might be contagious. As he watched them take the bag, Don thought he saw something inside it move.

  “Do you want to stay and watch them do it?” Chelsea asked.

  “No, we better get back so Dad can start yelling,” Don said. “Are you clear on the story?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry about me—I’m pretty good at deception,” Chelsea said. “We’ll be fine as long as we keep it simple. You got an email about Barney. I was up anyway. We both went to check it out. We got Barney back.”

  “Perfect,” Don said. “Let’s go.”

  “You drive,” Chelsea said.

  # # # #

  Roland and Morris carried the bag to the center of the tent as their cousins were stringing up the side walls. By the time they were done, the interior of the tent would be dark. Morris sat down on a folding chair and Roland looked towards the trailer.

  “Is he coming out?” Morris asked.

  “I hope so,” Roland said. “He needs to see this done so he can finally be finished with it.”

  “It was hard for him to quit her, wasn’t it?”

  “Harder than he likes to admit,” Roland said. “I’ll go talk to him. If nothing else, he’s too curious to stay away. At one point he thought he wanted to be like Gus. I think his doings with the witch is what finally convinced him he didn’t have the stomach for it.”

  “I thought it was seeing my foot get eaten off by a monster,” Morris said.

  “One of the two, I guess,” Roland said. He walked off towards the trailer.

  As Morris sat, five of his cousins finished putting up the outer walls of the tent and moved on to the inner walls. At night, they wouldn’t have use for the dark canvas lining. In the day, the double-layer of dark fabric would block out all the light, leaving the interior as dark as midnight. Only the tiniest glow would seep in from the ceiling, where a series of interlocked folds would let out some of the heat and smoke from the small fire. Morris watched the morning light fade away as his cousins blocked it with the cloth.

  The last corner was being pulled into place as Morris pushed aside his chair and lowered himself to the ground. As the darkness deepened around him, Morris watched the movement of the bag grow livelier. The thing inside the bag was itching to get out. Cousins joined Morris on either side, and soon they sat in a dark circle around the bag. Each person brought stones. As they sat down, the man or woman would add a stone until they formed a tight ring around the bag. From his pocket, Morris pulled a bag of herbs. He crushed the leaves between his fingers and tossed them in the direction of the duffel. The bag seemed to calm down as the herbs settled on it.

  Light spilled in from under the wall and two men crawled in—Roland and Merritt. They added stones to the circle and took spots amongst their cousins. Morris looked around. H
e counted thirteen cousins sitting in the group. They ranged in age from about thirty to sixty, but all counted themselves in the same generation. Somewhere along the line they had become the adults of the group. They weren’t the elders—whom you would consult, but wouldn’t expect to participate—but the adults. They were the doers. All eyes eventually turned to Merritt. This was his ceremony if it was anyone’s.

  Merritt looked up and found himself the center of attention. He cleared his throat and stood up.

  “Thank you cousins for coming. I feel like a fraud here. This was Gus’s familiar—I’m just a stand-in for the old wizard,” Merritt said.

  “Nonsense,” Morris said. His sentiment was echoed in mumbles from the cousins.

  “Well, as strange as it may seem, I might know the most about this little imbroglio, so to speak,” Merritt said. “We need to cleanse with smoke and fire. I know some of you are familiar with this ceremony, so be sure to let me know if I’m forgetting anything. We’re going to hang that bag up over the circle of stones, surround everything with salt and herbs and then open the bag. She can’t leave this tent while the sun is out. Then we’ll start a fire with green sticks and the smoke will hold her while we do the rest. I’m not supposed to talk about that part because she’s surely listening.”

  Several people nodded and their busy hands made quick work of the preparations. Merritt was the one to hang the bag. He alone seemed to feel no revulsion at being close to the wiggling duffel bag as he suspended it from the center tent pole. Morris just sat, feeling the slightly cooler morning air filter through the grass as the fire was lit. The tent filled with smoke and a thick orange glow from the burning green limbs.

  A large container of salt was passed around the circle. Each person took a handful and tossed it towards the ring of rocks. Roland followed behind, making a line of salt in the grass.

  Morris took a deep breath of sweet smoke and looked around at the faces of his cousins. They didn’t look like his contemporaries anymore. He felt like he was looking into the faces of his grandparents and their siblings. In the smoky glow of the fire, everyone looked at least a hundred years old.