by Rose Pressey
Before I reached the door, something smashed into me. It felt as if I was in a scrimmage and had just been tackled. I tumbled to the ground like a broken wall. Something heavy was on top of me like a ton of bricks. I assumed it was the ghost. Since my face was smashed into the floor I couldn’t see what was sitting on my back. Someone or something grabbed my arm and yanked. It felt as if my arm would be snapped off like a tree branch at any moment. Somehow I was pulled to my feet.
When I spun around, Brannon had me in his arms. “Rip, are you okay?”
“I’m all right,” I answered breathlessly. “Where is she?”
“She disappeared right after attacking you.”
“We have to get out of here,” I said.
Brannon and I went back to the door to try one more time. This time by some miracle it opened. We spilled out onto the main lobby floor.
“I have to get the box,” Brannon said as he ran over to the spot where he’d left it.
Brannon clutched the homemade device in his hands. When he switched it on a low hum emitted from the box.
“I hope this works,” I said.
Brannon placed it on the floor and we stared at it, as if that would make it work any faster. A couple minutes passed with no activity. There was no heavy feeling in the air like there had been before, and no sign of the ghost. For a moment I wondered if she had left. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when the thickness returned to the air.
“Something’s here.” Brannon’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if talking loud would scare the ghost away from the box.
I hoped the ghost was now attracted to the box. Once again she swirled in the air like a small tornado until taking the form of the woman. Her eyes glowed red still as she stared at the box. At least she wasn’t watching us this time. Anxiety still pulsed through my body. She moved closer to the box, inch by inch. A loud moan reverberated from her mouth. She leaned her head back and opened her mouth. A black cloud of dust came storming from her mouth and upward toward the ceiling.
Brannon and I stared in disbelief as another image formed. This one looked nothing like the ghost of the woman. The hideous creature had dark scaly skin and horns on top of its head. Horror oozed from its glowing red eyes. Thank goodness the beast didn’t look at us. The thing was too preoccupied by Brannon’s device on the floor.
“It’s working,” I whispered.
“I hope the thing goes inside the box,” Brannon said.
My heart thumped loudly in my ear as we watched and waited. The woman ghost’s eyes no longer glowed red. She no longer watched the box. We made eye contact. Her big brown eyes pleaded with me for help. The ghost and the demon had separated. The evil had possessed the ghost. Would she now be able to move on from the theater? All this time she just wanted help.
The demon moved forward with his red eyes fixed on the box. He stood next to it, staring down.
“We have to get the box and get it outside,” Brannon said. “I’m going over there to get the box.”
“What about the demonologist?” I asked.
“We’ll just have to keep the demon focused on the box until he arrives.” Brannon inched forward. I hope the batteries don’t die.”
“You mean there’s a chance it could stop working?” My fear spiked again.
“There’s always a chance,” Brannon said.
He’d just finished the sentence when a knock sounded on the glass door next to us. I jumped and clutched my chest. The demonologist was staring in the window at us. He waved me over to open the door. Fortunately, the demon didn’t seem to notice anything else going on around it. The ghost was still watching us. I moved over to the door and opened it. Davis walked in. As soon as he made a couple steps forward he stopped in his tracks. His blue eyes grew wider behind his wire rimmed eyeglasses when he spotted the demon.
He instinctively moved back a couple steps. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Well, only in pictures.”
“Well, you’re getting the live version today,” I said.
I hoped he could help us get rid of this thing. His slim frame seemed to shake in his brown leather loafers the longer he watched the beast.
“We have to take the box outside. That’s where we think the portal is,” Brannon said.
“Lead the way,” Davis said.
At least he hadn’t questioned our reasoning or doubted us. There was no time for that. As we headed for the door that leads to the back of the theater, a bright white light appeared from the ceiling. When I glanced over I spotted the beam of light shining down on the woman ghost. She smiled and waved. Then she turned and disappeared into the light. I stared for a moment. Thank goodness she had been able to break free from the evil. Thanks to Brannon and his device.
We burst outside into the chilly night air. The black canopy of night dazzled with a million sparkling stars.
“Where do we take it?” Davis asked.
The beast was still following along beside the box as Brannon and the demonologist carried it. Brannon looked to me for advice. My insides shook as I pointed out a spot. What if I was wrong? After all this hard work the demon could be set free again. Even worse, what if it attached to someone else? That was likely to happen, and probably to someone nearby. Namely, Brannon, me, or the demonologist.
Davis pulled out his equipment and started saying a prayer. Thick gray clouds rolled in and thundered rumbled. A storm had suddenly formed. The demon was powerless to do anything against the demonologist’s prayers. He couldn’t stop staring at the box. After a few minutes, the demon dissipated into thin air, as if he’d never even existed. The heaviness disappeared from the air. The clouds drifted away and the beautiful expanse of stars returned.
“We did it.” I rushed over and grabbed Brannon in a big hug.
He laughed and embraced me back.
Davis blew out a deep breath. “We did it … I can’t believe we did it.”
The evil had been banished from this earth. I hoped it was gone for good.
***
Brannon and I arrived for the opening of the theater. For Devil’s Moon this was a big event. The owner had even stretched out a red carpet for people to walk on their way inside. All that was missing were the celebrities, although the owner was giving Brannon and me celebrity treatment after we’d gotten rid of the evil in the theater. The old man had been wrong. People were coming to the theater tonight since word had gotten out that we rid the theater of the haunting.
“There they are …” He reached out and hugged us. “My heroes. They saved the business.”
He announced this to the group. Of course I blushed. During the day I was a librarian … at night a haunted tour guide. Nothing more. Certainly not a hero.
“We do make a good team,” Brannon said with a broad smile.
The End
About the Author
Rose Pressey is a USA Today bestselling author. She enjoys writing quirky and fun novels with a paranormal twist. The paranormal has always captured her interest. The thought of finding answers to the unexplained fascinates her.
When she’s not writing about werewolves, vampires and every other supernatural creature, she loves eating cupcakes with sprinkles, reading, spending time with family, and listening to oldies from the fifties.
Rose suffers from Psoriatic Arthritis and has knee replacements. She might just set the world record for joint replacements. She’s soon having her hips replaced, elbows, and at least one shoulder.
Rose lives in the beautiful commonwealth of Kentucky with her husband, son, and two sassy Chihuahuas.
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