by Amy Boyles
“Um, Blissful, is it normal for my hair to stand up like this?”
The ends of Alice’s hair were, in fact, poking out as if she had hairsprayed them stiff.
I sneered. “No, this isn’t normal.”
“Whatever’s inside knows we’re out here,” Roan murmured.
His dark eyes narrowed and his jaw flexed like it did whenever he was determined to do something.
I patted down Alice’s hair the best I could, which meant instead of spikes pointed up and outward, she ended up with daggers that sort of hung limply toward her shoulders.
It was definitely an improvement.
“I don’t like the smell of things,” Ruth said.
“And I don’t like the way the air tastes,” Alice seconded. “Has an irony wang to it.” She smacked her lips. “Definitely iron. I prefer my air to taste more on the grassy or even oniony side.”
I rubbed my lips together as I considered how to respond. Luckily Roan saved me.
He patted Alice’s shoulders. “Then let’s get inside. Maybe it tastes more like gingerbread in the house.”
Alice’s eyes widened with excitement. “Do you think so? That would be an improvement.”
Roan winked at me as he led the way up the sidewalk. When we were on the porch, he shot me an encouraging smile and pushed the bell button.
A woman’s weary face peeked out from a window. Roan smiled and waved.
She dropped the curtains, and the sounds of locks snapping and chains sliding came from the other side of the door.
The door swung open, and there she stood. To say the woman looked worn out was an understatement. Her brown hair had been parted in the middle and hung limply to her shoulders, the ends of it greasy and lifeless. Her skin was sallow and the pits of her cheeks hollow as if the life had been sucked right out of her.
My heart immediately constricted. I felt awful, horrible and wished we’d arrived sooner to help, because it was obvious that this woman needed help—as much of it as she could get.
She eyed us, not with relief but with skepticism. “You’re…the ghost hunters?”
Roan extended his hand. “Roan Storm and this is Blissful Breneaux.”
“How do you do?” I said.
She nodded slightly but didn’t answer.
Roan continued with the introductions. “And this is Ruth Biggs and Alice Cassidy.”
“I’m the one you spoke to on the phone,” Ruth said.
The woman exhaled a breath and closed her eyes. She swayed and I was ready to throw out my arms to catch her if she fell, but she didn’t.
Her eyes popped wide and bright. “I’m Moira Bow. Come in.”
Moira opened the door just wide enough so we could shuffle inside. At first I wondered why, but once inside I had my answer.
Couch cushions lay scattered across the floor. Lamps lay broken on the glossy wooden floorboards next to books that lay open, their bindings broken. The books were stacked like hills across the room, as if we’d stepped into a valley with several different peaks to visit. It was like looking at a mountain range on a small scale.
Moira picked her way over the mess. “I’ve given up cleaning,” she explained. She waved a frail arm toward the bounty of rubbish. “It never helped. Every time I cleaned up, within minutes the house looked like this again.”
She shrugged and grabbed a seat cushion, dropping it onto a chair. Moira lowered herself, keeping her back straight. Her eyes shone bright with anxiety. She watched us and the room carefully. Moira reminded me of a cat ready to pounce.
I hoped that I wasn’t the one she pounced on.
I followed Moira’s lead and grabbed a cushion and tucked it into the couch. Ruth and Alice did the same. Roan sat on the couch’s arm.
Ruth spoked first. “Moira, would you like to tell Roan and Blissful what you explained to me?”
Moira exhaled. Her chest bowed and she looked so frail, as if the woman was one breath away from disappearing. She nodded slowly and licked her chafed lips.
“I’m a single mother—a widow. My husband died years ago, and I’ve been raising Cecil on my own. We moved to Haunted Hollow a few years ago. I thought it was a good place to bring up a child. Yes”—she exhaled heavily—“it has the whole ghost-town thing, but that’s fun. That’s all I thought it was, just a fun tourist invention to bring folks in.”
Uh-oh. Boy, was Moira wrong. There was no joke about the spirits that lived in Haunted Hollow. The town was full of them.
Moira rubbed her eyes and tucked a stringy strand of hair behind one ear. “I never thought Cecil would think too much about this place, about the ghosts—but I was wrong.”
I knew where this was going, but I said nothing.
“He started dabbling in the occult.” Her gaze cut to Roan. “I found that out later, after the priest had been here. My son would light candles and call on spirits or some such nonsense.”
Little did she know, it wasn’t nonsense; none of it was. But I held my tongue and listened, even though it irked the heck out of me when kids or adults played around with forces they didn’t know anything about.
Movies and entertainment made spirits out to be something that could be easily controlled and dealt with. They taught the masses that if you toyed with the dark side, everything would be okay because all would turn out right in the end. But that wasn’t the way things commonly worked.
From what I’d already heard, Cecil was case in point.
Moira continued. “I don’t know what my son did exactly, but he tampered with forces he couldn’t control. I didn’t know about it at first. I simply thought strange things were happening.”
Roan dragged his thumb across his lip. “What sort of strange things?”
Moira shivered. “Things would be out of place. I’d ask Cecil if he moved my keys, for instance, and he’d deny it. Small things like that.”
She sighed. “Then larger objects started to take focus. Plates would fall from the ceiling. That’s when I knew something was terribly wrong. Small fires would start in the kitchen trash can. At that point I was terrified.”
Moira rubbed her forehead. Tears welled in her eyes. I reached out and squeezed her knee. “I’m so sorry.”
She plucked a tissue from a box and blotted her nose. “I called my priest, then. He came and witnessed the house being torn apart. That’s when it happened.” Moira hiccuped. She buried her face in the tissue and smothered a sob.
“What was that, dear?” Ruth said in her soothing grandmotherly voice. “What happened?”
“That’s when Cecil ran up the wall.” She pinched her eyes shut as if to block out the memory.
I shuddered. I’d been in the business a long time, and I could only imagine witnessing something so horrific. For his mother to watch in horror as Cecil skirted up the wall must have been such a shock. If I had been the child’s mother, I would have suffered a heart attack, I’m sure.
“How’s he been since then?” I asked.
“It’s off and on. Sometimes Cecil seems to be himself, and other times he’s not. He’s…there’s something inside him. The priest wasn’t able to get the church to sanction the exorcism.” Moira reached for me, her thin fingers almost clawlike. “Without y’all’s help, I don’t know what I’d do. I’m afraid for him. Afraid for my son.”
Roan rose and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’ll help however we can. We each have different talents and will hopefully get to the bottom of this and help Cecil.”
Moira looked up at Roan, a world of hope shining on her face. “I pray that you can help, that you’ll be able to save my boy.”
“We’ll do everything in our power,” I added. My stomach twisted at the promise. A little voice in the back of my head whispered, This will go wrong.
But I ignored it. Then I inwardly cringed. I hated ignoring my inner voice. Nothing good ever came from doing such a thing, but I wasn’t going to let Roan face off against this demon by himself.
Yes, at
this point I was convinced it was a demon we were dealing with.
Not only was the house a wreck, but the very air felt oppressive, as if something was squeezing the goodness and light from the atmosphere, leaving nothing but sadness and hopelessness in its wake.
I rose and brushed my thighs. “I’d like to meet Cecil. May we?”
A male voice croaked from the hallway. “You may.”
My head whipped in the direction of the voice. A young teenager, maybe fifteen, on the small side with shaggy dark hair and piercing pale eyes, glared at us.
Hate filled his face. His mouth twisted in disgust as he opened his arms. “Come and meet me.”
I cringed. “Uh, Roan, I think we should have brought the holy water.”
BLISSFUL
“Roan,” I said cautiously.
He nodded, never letting his gaze drift from Cecil. “Who are you?”
Cecil splayed his fingers across his chest and in a feminine voice said, “I’m Cecil. Don’t you know? I’m Moira’s son.”
“You don’t sound like Cecil,” Moira said.
Cecil laughed, throwing back his head. The sound curdled my blood. I shivered, Alice’s eyes widened and Ruth’s mouth clammed shut.
When the laughter ended, Cecil’s head snapped down. With his glittering eyes fixed on me, he brought his hands to his mouth and in mock fear said, “You’re Blissful and you’re afraid of little old me, afraid that I’ll jump into your body.”
Panic fluttered down my spine in the form of a tingle that spread to the ends of my fingers. I’d barely been introduced to whatever inhabited Cecil, and it already knew everything about me.
I hated this job sometimes.
“You’re afraid,” he teased.
Then Cecil literally did a jig into the center of the room. His feet never touched the floor as he glided over the cushions and books.
He cackled. “You’re scared of me, afraid that I’ll jump into you! You’re a scaredy cat, Blissful!”
“So are you,” I taunted back. “You’ve taken over the body of a boy, a young man. Why can’t you pick on someone older? Go ahead,” I threw out, “jump into me. Take control of this body.”
What was I doing? This was exactly what I didn’t want. I didn’t want to become possessed by this demon. But here was the thing—I had a plan. I’d constructed it on the way over and hadn’t told anyone else.
“Blissful,” Roan warned.
My gaze cut to him. “You can get the demon when he’s outside the body and throw him back to hades or wherever he came from. He’ll be vulnerable.”
Roan’s jaw clenched. “Don’t make yourself a target.”
“I have no choice.”
He growled, which I took to mean he didn’t approve of my choice. But that’s just the way things went sometimes. Sometimes I made choices that Roan didn’t like—such was life.
I’d been so busy arguing with Roan that I wasn’t paying attention to Cecil.
“Um, Blissful,” Alice said, her voice quaking, “I think we have a problem.”
“What sort of problem?”
She nodded in Cecil’s direction. “That sort of problem.”
My gaze cut to see Cecil doing backflips. His feet floated over the floor as his body spun around like Ferris wheel.
“Oh my word,” Ruth mumbled.
The demon had complete control of the boy. This was a dangerous situation. Cecil could wind up hurt if the demon continued to manipulate him. We needed to help this boy and help him now.
To heck with my own fears about possession. It was time to look past myself and help this family.
“Roan,” I said, trying to keep the hysteria out of my voice, “can you do something?”
“Demon,” Roan commanded. “Be gone. Leave this boy!”
Cecil stopped spinning. He righted himself and stared at Roan, his dark eyes shining with malice. “And who’s going to stop me?”
“I will,” Roan said.
He threw out his hand. Cecil’s face twisted in agony, and the boy screamed.
“You’re hurting him,” Moira shouted.
Roan’s face contorted as he concentrated. My stomach twisted. Ruth steepled her fingers to her mouth and prayed quietly while Alice worried her bottom lip.
Cecil screamed.
Moira ran up to Roan. “Don’t harm him! Please!”
“It’s almost out,” Roan grunted.
As Cecil’s face squished in pain and my stomach knotted more and more, I watched as the most amazing thing happened. Cecil bowed back. His arms flew out, his fingers flailing.
The boy groaned loudly. It was guttural, like it came from a well deep inside him. Then suddenly his body lurched forward, his spine snapping. Vertebrae popped as his body bowed in the opposite direction.
“Leave him,” Roan shouted.
The oppressive weight in the air amplified. It literally felt as if we were being pushed down, as if the demon itself sat on my shoulders, forcing me down, down, pressing on my chest.
I shoved the feeling aside. I would not let the oppression get the best of me.
Just as I thought that, Cecil’s body righted itself. His spine slung back, his shoulders slumped and his knees buckled. The boy fainted to the floor.
Moira and Roan rushed over to him, grabbing Cecil before his head hit the floorboards.
Objects in the room fell over. A lamp toppled as if something had collided with it. The chandelier swung, and the drapes billowed up.
“It’s still here,” I whispered. “The demon.”
I twisted my head to Roan. “Roan! It’s still here. Banish it!”
Roan threw out his hand. At that exact moment a force like a brick collided with my chest. I was knocked off my feet and slid across the floor.
I reached my hands back to stop me and heard a voice inside my head.
Not alone anymore, are you, Blissful?
Panic clutched my heart. My absolute worst fear had come to life. All I could think of was that I would lose myself, I would be taken over. I would be lost forever.
Then I realized who I was.
I was Blissful Breneaux, and the last thing I was, was afraid. I didn’t live my life in fear, and I wasn’t about to start doing so now.
I gritted my teeth. “Get out of my head.”
But it’s such a pretty head that I think I’ll stay for a while and set up house, maybe vomit on people. Maybe I’ll make your head spin around. What do you think about that? And when that’s all over, I’ll steal your soul. I’d rather have yours than the boy’s anyway. A grown person like yourself would do much better than a young boy. You’re a better trophy to take to the underworld, if you will. If you think of fighting, I will crush you until you submit, until there is nothing left of your will. You will crumble.
I fisted my hands. “You will never have me!”
But as I fought, I started to feel myself slip away, felt my consciousness float on a great riverbed away from me. No! I couldn’t lose me now!
I shut my eyes tight and prepared to fight when a hand pressed to my head. “Get out of her!”
I was sucked into a wind tunnel. My body thrashed and convulsed. My arms and legs moved of their own volition. I felt the demon clench tightly to me, trying to stay, wanting to remain in my body.
But I wanted it gone. I wanted it out of me faster than fast. “Get out,” I screamed.
In a rush of energy I felt the demon flee. It ricocheted out of my body, zooming across the room. I collapsed backward, my spine cracking against the floor.
Roan’s face swam in front of me. His dark eyes held an ocean of love as he gazed down. “Are you okay?”
I sucked in a mouthful of air. My lungs burned as if I’d been starved of the stuff. His hand cupped mine, and warmth from his skin spread over me.
I slowly nodded. “I’m okay. I think.”
“Stay here. Don’t move,” he commanded. Roan rose and turned to face the demon. His hands were out, and Roan shut his eyes. “Yo
u will leave,” he said.
One of the mountains of books fluttered up, their pages spreading like wings. They flapped, a great many of them, rising into the air, their puppeteer invisible.
“Oh my word,” Alice said. “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, get thee gone!”
It was the wrong thing for her to do but not because she called on God. That was the right move. The part that had been wrong was that Alice had drawn attention to herself.
The demon had noticed her.
The flapping books stopped, and they collapsed onto the floor.
“Leave,” Roan shouted.
The curtains billowed in a path that led straight to Alice.
Her arms flung out, and her breath left her in a great exhale. Everything stopped. The wind died. The oppressive feeling vanished. The air became much, much too still.
Roan, Ruth and I exchanged glances.
“Is she okay?” Ruth whispered.
Roan’s fingers twitched as if they were ready to pull an invisible trigger. He took a step toward Alice.
The sound was so loud compared to the silence it was like listening to a shotgun firing.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Alice?”
Her eyes opened. Alice’s eyes did not stare back. They were inky black from right to left and top to bottom, like a deer’s.
Her lips pulled into a sneer. “I’m not Alice anymore.”
She yanked away from Roan, scrunched up her face and…farted.
A toxic smell filled the house.
“Oh, goodness,” Ruth said, pinching her nose.
Alice laughed. “That’s what you get! All of you! You must suffer my flatulence.”
Then she released another sulfuric wave of gas that nearly made me choke.
Alice (not Alice) released a hideous giggle that sent a shiver straight down my spine.
Roan’s face turned crimson. His eyes narrowed. “You will get out of her!”
Alice threw back her head and laughed. Then she cartwheeled. Yes, cartwheeled. The sixty-year-old lady cartwheeled to the front door. On the way, she managed to miss hitting stacks of books and broken pottery.
