Demons LLC (Damned and Cursed Book 7)

by Glenn Bullion

  Jason had definitely seen better days. Huge, black circles hung under his eyes. Somewhere in his forties, he had the look of a man who worked hard for a living. Well-built, stocky. There was no smile, no joy in his face. Alex imagined some time had gone by since he last laughed.

  Jason put his hands in his pockets, looking lost.

  "So…what now? Do you want to go inside?"

  "Sure," Donovan answered. "We can introduce my team to your family, set up some equipment. They won't mind being interviewed, will they?"

  Jason huffed. "You probably won't get anything from my daughter, but my wife and son won't mind."

  "Good enough." Donovan gestured to the door. "Shall we?"

  Alex held up a finger, looking at Jason.

  "Uh, sir—"

  "Please. Call me Jason. I'm not ninety years old."

  "Okay, Jason. Before we go inside—"

  "Ah!" Jason said, remembering.

  Guilt and relief clawed at Alex as Jason fished an envelope out of his pocket, and handed it over. Alex wouldn't open it, even if Donovan wasn't watching with a look of disdain. Alex assumed it was the first half of his agreed upon fee. Five hundred dollars. Five hundred on arrival, five hundred on removal of the presence. The terms were clear and precise, and Alex thought the price was fair. Jason certainly didn't hesitate when they discussed it on the phone.

  His hand shook as he slipped the envelope in his back pocket, and not from the cold chill coursing through him. The guilt continued to attack. He tried to remember what Cindy always told him. Firemen and policemen certainly didn't feel guilty when they cashed their paychecks. He was performing a service. For that service, he should be paid.

  Could the Felder family afford a thousand dollars? Was that payment strapping them in any way? Was he taking food out of their mouths?

  Alex shook away the thoughts and took a deep breath. Donovan still watched him carefully with his hand on the door. The three men traded looks, and Jason took the lead to open the door to his home.

  The blast of air felt like it came from the arctic as Alex stepped inside. The living room was neat, tidy. Pictures of Jason and his family lined the walls. A large TV that Alex envied was mounted on the wall. There was no wall between the living room and dining room. Alex liked the look. He could see clear into the kitchen, as Jason's wife loaded a dishwasher.

  "Donna," Jason called. "Our company is here."

  Donna Felder closed the dishwasher and approached. Like Jason, she had the appearance of a woman that was living with a stress that would not go away. Her long brown hair had a streak of gray on the right side. Her cheeks were sunken, her frame frail. Alex imagined that wasn't her normal appearance.

  "Hi. Thank you for coming."

  She shook Donovan's hand, and then Alex's. As she touched Alex, her face crumpled and tears began to flow. She broke down, and reached out to him. He hugged her, and the fact that he was charging this terrorized family whispered to him once again.

  "I'm so sorry," she said. "It's just that…this whole thing has been hard on my family."

  "Don't worry," Donovan said. "We'll do all we can."

  Alex's brow furrowed. That wasn't very comforting.

  There were loud, stomping steps above them from the second floor. Everyone looked to the stairs to their right, and a teenage girl popped her head around the corner. She resembled her mother, with the exception of the tiny stud stuck on the side of her nose.

  "Hey Mom," she called. "Is dinner ready yet?"

  "I just put it in the oven," Donna said. "It'll be a while." Her eyes went big. "Where is your brother?"

  "He's in his room."

  "Kimberly! How many times have I said it now? I don't want you and Keith wandering around the house by yourselves!"

  "We're not wandering, Mom. We're in our rooms. We're fifteen feet apart."

  "Stay in his room with him."

  Kimberly rolled her eyes. "I'm a little too old to be hanging out in my brother's room."

  "Kimberly—"

  "Fine, fine. I'll babysit the little crybaby. Relax."

  She disappeared from view. Alex kept his eyes on the empty stairs leading up. Part of his procedure was to tour any house, and the upstairs was as good a start as any.

  There was a quick knock at the front door, followed by Troy slowing poking his head in. Amy's perfume drifted in behind him.

  "Hey, everybody," Troy said. "Is it okay if we come in?"

  "Of course," Donna said. Jason opened the door for them.

  Troy and Amy stepped inside, miscellaneous equipment under each arm. Everyone exchanged names, shook hands, smiled when they could. At the end of the meet and greet, Troy looked at Alex with confusion.

  "Hey," he said. "Weren't you the guy in the truck out there?"

  "That's me."

  "Okay," Donovan said, addressing everyone. "Troy, if you don't mind, would you start setting up? Amy can help, until we're ready to walk the house. Jason, Donna, I'd like to ask you both some questions."

  Donovan was obviously a take-charge kind of guy. Troy and Amy set their equipment down, with Amy giving Alex another look. Donovan led Jason and Donna to the dining room as he pulled out a notepad and pen. Alex was left alone. He wondered with Donovan's personality, and the fancy equipment around them, if anyone would even notice he was there.

  "I'll be upstairs," Alex said, suddenly feeling small. No one heard him. "Just…you know. Doing my thing."

  He shook his head as he ascended to the second floor. It was tempting to return the money in his back pocket, and head home. Doing the work he did was complicated enough without additional people watching him, and cameras recording him.

  The second floor hallway was just as cold as the first floor. The hallway was long and narrow, with a painting or two scattered about. A small table sat outside an open door, holding three decorative vases.

  Alex pulled out his phone. Sighing, he turned on the recorder. He hoped whatever was in the house would reveal itself soon. There was nothing that made him feel more foolish than talking to himself all night.

  "The house is freezing. There's something here for sure. The upstairs is cold, like the downstairs. Note to self. Bring a jacket on these little jobs."

  He poked his head into the first room he saw. A young boy, presumably Keith, sat on the edge of his bed, his back to the door. For a brief moment, Alex thought he was looking at a ghost. Then he noticed the video game playing on the TV in the corner, along with Keith casting a full shadow across the bed. Ghosts sometimes popped up at the strangest times, Nate being a good example.

  "Hey, there," Alex said. "You mind if I stop in for a second?"

  Keith shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated manner, which Alex took as an invitation. Alex studied the room, and didn't notice anything of interest. Clothes on the floor, a backpack in the corner. There were picture frames along the dresser, all of them face down.

  "Pictures of my Mom and Dad, and Kim," Keith said.

  Alex glanced at Keith. The young boy was watching him carefully.

  "You don't like them?" Alex said, trying to make a joke. "Don't want to see them?"

  He shook his head. "No. The ghost keeps knocking them over."

  Keith died in his game, as some kind of death-music played. Instead of starting over, he simply stared at the continue screen, his fingers hovering aimlessly over the buttons. It was almost as if he was looking past the TV.

  Alex sat on the bed next to him.

  "Are you going to get rid of the ghost?"

  The direct question caught him by surprise.

  "Yeah. If there's a ghost, I'll get rid of it."

  Keith didn't like being doubted. "It's a ghost."

  "Why do you say that?"

  Keith ignored the question and looked at Alex's phone, still in his hand.

  "Was that you talking out in the hall?"

  "Yeah. My wife's always telling me I need to be documenting this stuff, jotting everything down. To be honest, I feel
like a tool talking into this thing."

  Alex achieved his simple goal, which was just to coax a smile out of Keith. It didn't last long, but it was nice while it lasted. Keith pointed at the phone.

  "Can I tell you a story?"

  Alex hesitated a moment. Any quotes or testimonies from a child should probably be in the presence of a parent. But if it brought a moment of joy, even relief of some kind, Alex wouldn't say no. He could always erase it later, if the parents objected.

  He pressed record and handed the phone over. Keith gripped it with both hands.

  "Uh, I'm Keith. Keith Felder." He looked up at Alex. "Is that okay?"

  Alex laughed. "You say whatever you want."

  Keith cleared his throat.

  "We can hear the ghost at night. Sometimes it's loud footsteps, or banging on the walls. It knocks pictures over all the time and throws them around. Sometimes I can hear voices, but I can't figure out what they're saying. They're actually in my room, talking, so maybe it's more than one." Tears welled up in his eyes, and Alex questioned the decision to let him record. "Mom fell down the stairs the other day. She says the ghost pushed her. Some holy guy from our church came over last week. He tried to get rid of the ghost, but he ran out when pictures started falling off the walls." Keith's hands were shaking. "Mom doesn't want us in the house by ourselves. Umm…I think that's it."

  Alex took the phone and stopped the recording. He put a hand on Keith's shoulder.

  "That was good. Maybe when this is all over, I could use an assistant."

  Another small, quick smile.

  "You're nice. Not like the guy from church that was here. He thought we were crazy. I could tell he didn't believe Mom, but I know he did when he ran to his car."

  Alex laughed. "Yeah. I'll bet his shoes were on fire."

  "Do you believe there's a ghost here?"

  He didn't hesitate.

  "Yeah. Definitely. The fun part is finding it and making it leave."

  "How can you tell?"

  "I sense things," Alex said, deciding to keep the rest of his supernatural pedigree to himself. He rose to his feet and gave Keith a smile. "So trust me, I believe you."

  That seemed to relax the boy somewhat, as if believing was half the battle. If only that were true.

  He left Keith in his room as he started another game. Quiet music came from the bedroom next to Keith's. Alex peered in to see Kimberly lying on her stomach on her bed, her back to the door. Her bare feet flitted back and forth aimlessly as she poked at an iPhone. Alex laughed to himself at the sight. He didn't even want a phone, and it seemed the modern-day teenager couldn't live without one.

  Kimberly noticed Alex's shadow on the wall, and let out a disgusted sigh.

  "Mom, I told you. Keith is fine. He's playing his stupid game—"

  The surprise was apparent when she flipped over and sat upright.

  "Sorry," Alex said. "Didn't mean to scare you."

  She smiled and rolled her head sarcastically. He could see that patented teenage rebellion out in full force. Every statement would be combative.

  "You're hardly scary," Kimberly said. "So, you're another ghost guy? Here to save us all from the terrible horrors?"

  "Something like that. I was hoping to check out your room real quick."

  "Well, you can't. Now go away."

  Alex didn't miss a beat. "You got it."

  He didn't need her attitude. He certainly didn't need her help in any way. Supernatural work was unpleasant enough, and the last thing he needed was to deal with a bratty teenager. She had to eat sometime, and he'd walk through her room then.

  Alex was a step away from the door when he heard her voice.

  "Wait."

  Looking back inside, Kimberly's face had softened. She nervously ran her fingers through her hair and stared at the floor.

  "I'm…I'm sorry," she said. Alex wondered if she'd ever used those words before. "I swear…I'm not usually such a bitch."

  Alex took her apology as an invitation. He stepped into her room.

  "No problem. I know it's probably been a rough time…."

  His words trailed off as the wave of cold attacked him.

  "Holy Jesus," he muttered.

  Stepping from the hall into Kimberly's bedroom felt like walking into a snowstorm with no clothes. It was a deep cold. Alex wrapped his arms around himself, and looked for his own frosty breath as he exhaled. There was none, and he could only assume Kimberly's room, along with the rest of the house, was well-heated. Kimberly pushed the acceptable limit for what constituted skimpy clothing, an argument he had with Alicia many times. Kimberly wore no socks, a pair of black shorts that showed way too much leg, and a spaghetti-strap shirt. The girl definitely wasn't cold.

  "Hello, goosebumps," Alex whispered, rubbing his arms. "It looks like we meet once more."

  "Huh?" Kimberly said. "Are you okay?"

  "Oh yeah," Alex said, glancing around the room. "Just fine."

  It was obvious he'd found his first hot spot, or rather freezing cold spot, in the house. He made a mental note to revisit Kimberly's room again in private. There was nothing out of the ordinary he could see. A computer in the corner. Pictures of friends on a desk. A small TV on a table. A typical teen's room.

  Kimberly leaned forward, genuinely concerned. "You look like you're freezing."

  He laughed at the understatement. Why did his supernatural sense have to involve cold? When an otherworldly entity or spirit was nearby, why couldn't a mushroom pizza fall out of the sky? He'd get the message all the same.

  "So, is it Kim or Kimberly?"

  "Kim," she said, smiling just a little. "I'm only Kimberly when Mom's pissed."

  "Kim," he repeated, and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

  They shook hands, and the warmth of her hand felt good, even if for a moment.

  "Your brother says you've got a ghost running around."

  She rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. "Oh, please."

  "You don't think you do?"

  "Yeah, we definitely do. But it's not as bad as they're saying it is. It's not so bad that I have to watch my baby brother all the time, like they want me to. Hell, me telling my friends at school that my house is haunted is the only reason they'll come over."

  Alex was intrigued. He leaned against the wall near the door.

  "Tell me more."

  Kim rested her hands on her knees and sat up straight.

  "It makes noise. It'll knock over a picture. That's it. Voices, footsteps, whatever else, I haven't heard any of that. It's not like I take a shower and feel like someone is watching me, like a perv. The ghost here isn't going to hurt us."

  "Really? Keith just told me your mother was pushed—"

  "She fell, she wasn't pushed. Our mom falls over her own feet walking up the stairs. She's clumsy, and she knows it."

  Kim was defensive, almost angry. Alex was speechless. He didn't consider himself a grizzled, seasoned investigator, but he did have experience. He'd never been in a situation where a family agreed they had a ghost, but argued over the intentions of said ghost.

  There were voices outside the room. Alex recognized Amy as she walked up the stairs.

  "I don't always get a clear picture of what I see in my head," Amy said. "Sometimes it's not clear at all, more like an impression."

  "Amy's touring the house," Alex said. "I kind of wanted to see this."

  Kim wasn't interested in the least. She flipped back to her stomach while grabbing her iPod, a rather impressive maneuver.

  "Go ahead."

  Alex reentered the hallway, and although it was still cold, it felt like a sauna compared to Kim's room. Amy was slowly rising into view on the stairs ahead. Donna was a step behind her. Alex could tell from Amy's annoyed expression that she'd rather walk the house alone, like him. He had to admit he was irritated at being lost in the shuffle amongst Donovan's team, but there were advantages, like a bit more privacy. Besides, forgotten or not, he still had five hun
dred dollars in his back pocket.

  He just had to do his job to make the other five hundred.

  "How long have you been able to sense ghosts?" Donna asked.

  "Since I was six. I used to think I was going crazy—"

  Amy stopped suddenly when she reached the top of the stairs. She locked eyes with Alex. Donna bumped into her and grabbed her shoulder. Alex watched with confusion. He even turned to see if something was happening behind him.

  "Sorry," Donna said. "Is everything—?"

  "Shh!"

  Amy gripped the railing, as if standing were difficult. Alex rushed forward, but she stilled him by raising her palm.

  "No," Amy said. "I'm okay."

  Donna glanced back and forth between Alex and Amy. "What's going on?"

  Amy looked up. "I…." A dramatic pause. A stern, serious expression. "I sense a presence here," she said, literally echoing Nate's words from earlier.

  The chuckle escaped. Alex almost didn't believe it was coming from him. He watched in horror as the chuckle invaded both Donna and Amy's ears. They both glared at him, and he could feel the daggers from their eyeballs running along his flesh. His cheeks burned. All he could do was smile apologetically.

  "I'm sorry," Donna said. "Is something funny about all of this?"

  "No, ma'am," Alex said, lowering his eyes. "It's just that…the way Amy said it…." Alex stopped talking, deciding nothing he could say would help. "Uh, never mind. Just pretend I'm not even here."

  "We'll do just that," Donna said. She touched Amy's arm and nodded toward the opposite end of the hallway. "Let's go, Amy. Our master bedroom is down this way. Do you want to start there?"

  "Sure."

  They both made sure to give Alex one last stab with their eyes before disappearing into the bedroom. He brought a hand to his head out of frustration. A quiet, feminine laugh came out behind him. He turned to see Kim, leaning in her bedroom doorway.

  "Real smooth," she said, laughing and mock clapping.

  He smiled, just to mask his embarrassment. At least someone was enjoying his humiliation.

  "That could have went better," he admitted.

  He walked back downstairs. The front door was calling his name. He just wanted to get away, maybe walk the outside of the house. Sometimes the area around a house was just as haunted as the inside. He could gather his thoughts, let Donovan and his crew set up, and maybe talk to Jason and Donna later, after Donna had cooled down.