Dark Hollows (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 4)

by Scott Langrel

  But she was also better equipped to protect herself and her loved ones. From McCoy and the Internet, Pru had learned a great deal about the practice of Hoodoo, the folk magic which had been practiced for centuries among the inhabitants of the Appalachians. She knew that red brick dust, spread along the threshold of a doorway, prohibited any evil entity from gaining entry into a house. She also knew that powdered lavender offered protection from demonic beings.

  Yet there was still so much that she didn’t know, and Pru was wise enough to realize that fact. In the time since White Pine Island, she had become more careful, recognizing that it was folly to emulate the so-called “ghost hunters” from popular reality shows. Pru reasoned that the only reason most of those guys were still alive was that the demons had taken pity on them due to their ignorance.

  Lightning flashed again, and this time something more than brilliant light entered the room: the scent of something bad. Pru bolted upright in her bed and scanned the bedroom. In the shadows, nothing moved. Slowly, Pru crawled from beneath her covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Whatever it was, it wasn’t inside the house—yet. She crossed the floor to the window and peered out into the storm.

  Her bedroom window overlooked the back yard, which was small but neat and surrounded by a chain link fence. There was no lighting at the rear of the house, so at first Pru could see nothing. Droplets of rain hammered against the glass creating a staccato which echoed softly throughout the room.

  As she gazed through the window, a distant streak of lightning cast the yard in a pale glow of light. As the light faded, Pru gasped and quickly withdrew from the rain-streaked glass. Someone was standing in her back yard, back near the metal fence. Except that wasn’t quite right. It hadn’t been a someone she’d seen. It had been a something. Something tall with the misshapen head of a dog or some other animal.

  As quickly as it had appeared, the bad feeling dissipated. Pru didn’t need to return to the window to know that whatever had been watching the house from the back yard was now gone. But the fact that the presence was no longer there held little comfort for her. From the brief glimpse she’d gotten of the thing, she’d sensed that it had been watching her window, as if it were specifically looking for her. Pru couldn’t suppress a slight shiver.

  The vibes she’d gotten from the unknown creature, as disgusting as they’d been, were not totally unfamiliar to her. She’d sensed the same rotten stench before, on several occasions.

  A demon.

  But never before had a demon shown more than a passing interest in Pru. She’d always been careful to conceal the fact that she could see them, and they usually went on with their nefarious business without giving her a second glance. She was only a kid, after all, and a girl at that. They didn’t see her as a threat, and as long as that remained to be the case, Pru had little to fear from the evil entities.

  Something must have changed, though Pru had no idea what it might have been. She thought back across the past several weeks, but nothing stood out. It had, in fact, been a rather uneventful summer in Patton’s Point. Not that she was complaining or anything, but she hadn’t encountered much more than Mr. Devin, a cantankerous man who had died five years ago but stubbornly refused to believe it and still spent his days chasing kids out of his yard. At least he tried to, but no one besides Pru could actually see him. This caused Mr. Devin no end of grief, and Pru could often hear his sorrowful spirit wailing into the wee hours of the morning.

  The only thing vaguely exciting that had happened in the past week was the arrival of that film crew which was supposed to be shooting a documentary on the Kentucky Goat Man. Pru had actually laughed out loud when she’d first heard about it. A few years ago, when the first paranormal “hunter” shows had begun appearing on the television, she had been enthralled by them. Now, however, she saw them for what they truly were—gimmicky reality shows in which people ran around in the dark yelling a lot when nothing was actually happening. The shows’ fabricated antics paled considerably to her own experiences, and she quickly became bored with them.

  And now, it seemed, they were scraping the bottom of the barrel when it came to subject matter. No one really believed in the Goat Man, least of all the people who actually resided in the area. But Pru was wise enough to realize that the networks only cared about ratings, and the more fantastic the monster, the more viewers they would lure. The fact that the creature didn’t actually exist mattered little to the men in suits.

  Pru thought that the film crew would be very surprised if they knew what was really lurking about. They’d probably crap their pants and head willy-nilly back to the city. That mental image made Pru giggle, but it was a nervous laugh and she didn’t like the sound of it.

  What was a demon doing in Patton’s Point? While not unheard of, it was rare for Pru to sense one of the evil entities in her hometown. And she had never seen one so close to her house before. She wasn’t really concerned about her safety while inside the house; McCoy had taught her how to protect her home from unwanted entry. But she had to go out sooner or later. Thankfully, school was on summer break, so she didn’t have to worry about that. But it would get awfully boring staying inside all summer, and her mother would become suspicious before long.

  Pru glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Eleven-thirty. It was too late to make a phone call tonight; it would have to wait until morning. She felt that a call was definitely in order, though. Maybe it was a premonition, or maybe just intuition. Either way, Pru felt pretty sure that she needed to talk to Finn McCoy.

  Chapter Two

  McCoy kicked at the tire for probably the third or fourth time and frowned. It was just as firm as it had been the first time he’d kicked it. If he’d been expecting it to rupture and send stale, compressed air spewing out of its ruined wall, he would have to settle for bitter disappointment.

  He sighed. He was running out of arguments, and he knew it.

  “You’re not going to find a better vehicle for the price,” Lester Anderson said.

  McCoy glanced at Lester, annoyed. The big man hadn’t stopped smiling since McCoy had pulled on to the lot thirty minutes earlier. Only two types of people smiled that much: the bat-shit insane and used car salesmen. McCoy had little use for either, but the company of a raving lunatic was beginning to seem rather appealing.

  “Oh come on, Finn,” Amanda Porter said as she dabbed beads of sweat from her brow. “You act as if you’re betraying your best friend. It’s just a truck.”

  “Boo is not just a truck,” McCoy said gruffly. “And I simply don’t see the use in buying another vehicle. Boo still runs fine, and we have your car for longer trips.”

  Amanda crossed her arms over her chest and glared at McCoy. “Nope. You’re not getting out of this. I told you last month, when you took my car to Knoxville and left me to drive that—hunk of junk—that it was time for a new vehicle. Besides, you said you always wanted a Jeep. And it’s not like you’re getting rid of Boo. You can keep it to haul trash in, or whatever.”

  McCoy’s look of reprehension could have melted solid steel, but Amanda stood firm. Having been left stranded on the side of the road during one of Boo’s temperamental flare-ups, she was in no mood for compromise. She’d given McCoy the ultimatum when he’d returned from his trip, and he had relented. She wasn’t about to let him back out now.

  Defeated, McCoy turned to regard the Jeep. It was true that he’d always wanted to own one, and this one was a beauty with low miles. As nice as it was, though, it lacked personality. Boo, on the other hand, practically oozed personality. Along with, he grudgingly admitted, copious amounts of oil and transmission fluid.

  “There’s still a year left on the factory warranty,” Lester said through his omnipresent smile. “We can offer you an extended warranty as well, if you want to pay for it.”

  “You’re pushing it, Lester.” McCoy sighed again, heavily. “Go get the papers ready. I’ll be paying cash.”

  Lester’s smile thr
eatened to split his face as he turned and hurried toward the office trailer at the back of the lot.

  “I’m sure it will grow on you,” Amanda said. “It’s not like you’re retiring Boo. You’re giving it a breather.”

  “Yeah, I guess she deserves it.” He gave Amanda a stern look. “But I’m not turning her into a garbage scow.”

  “Relax. We have trash pick-up, remember?”

  McCoy turned back and looked at the Jeep. He had to admit he was excited about finally owning one, but he also couldn’t deny that it still felt vaguely like a betrayal. It was silly, he knew. But he’d owned Boo for so long that he really couldn’t remember having another vehicle.

  “Let’s walk to the office,” Amanda said. “No use melting out here in the sun.”

  As McCoy turned to follow Amanda, his shirt pocket began to chirp. He dug his phone out and flipped it open.

  “McCoy.”

  “Hey there, old man.” The chipper young voice coming from the phone’s speaker could belong to only one person.

  “Well, hey, pipsqueak. How are things in Kentucky?”

  “Oh, you know. The usual. Fighting bears and mountain lions. Stuff like that.”

  “Well, it’s still better than sea demons, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know about that. You ever run into a pissed-off grizzly?”

  “Grizzlies don’t live in Kentucky, squirt. And I thought we’d agreed you’d watch that mouth around your mother.”

  “Well, she’s not here. And you’re not her. Whatcha doing, McCoy?”

  “Right now, I’m buying a Jeep. Under duress.”

  Pru gave an audible gasp. “You’re ditching Boo?”

  “I’m doing nothing of the kind. Boo isn’t going anywhere. But she left Amanda on the side of the road a little while back, so we decided I need a more dependable ride. For longer trips and such.”

  “You mean Amanda decided,” Pru giggled. “You’re a whipped pup if ever I’ve seen one, McCoy.”

  “I am not whipped,” McCoy retorted. “And even if I were, I wouldn’t need a twelve year-old kid pointing it out.”

  “Thirteen,” Pru corrected.

  “If you want to live to see fourteen, you’ll keep your nose in your own sandbox.”

  “My, my. All big and bad on the phone, aren’t we? I don’t seem to recall having much trouble taking you out in Nan’s house that night.”

  “I was injured,” McCoy said without much conviction. “And besides, you bushwhacked me.”

  “Whatever. Hey, I was thinking…”

  “First time for everything.”

  “Interrupt me again and I’ll take out the other leg. Since you’re getting a new vehicle and all, how about you and Amanda come up for a visit. You know, try it out. See if it runs good.”

  “We’d love to, pumpkin, but there’s no way Amanda can break away from work right now. She’s been busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. We might be able to work something out next month…”

  There was a long pause before a clearly disappointed Pru said, “Oh, okay. I guess that’ll be fine.”

  McCoy stopped, causing Amanda to take notice and pause as well. She looked at McCoy questioningly, eyebrows arched. McCoy held up a finger.

  “Okay, Pru. Spill it. What’s wrong?”

  “You suddenly develop ESP?”

  “No. But I know you, and something’s up. You might as well come clean with it.”

  “It’s probably nothing,” Pru said, obviously stalling.

  “Then it’s maybe something. Spit it out. I have to go give a lot of money to the nice man with the big smile.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Just tell me.”

  “I think I saw a demon last night.”

  Something in McCoy’s expression alarmed Amanda. She moved close and silently mouthed the word what? McCoy held his finger up again, this time somewhat impatiently.

  “Where? At your house?”

  “It was standing in the back yard, and I swear it was looking up at my bedroom window. I couldn’t see it clearly, but I got a good whiff of it.”

  “And you’re sure it was a demon?” McCoy asked.

  “Almost positive. It kind of has me freaked out. I’ve never had one notice me before. Well, besides the Nixes.”

  “Do you have all of your protection in place?”

  “Yes, Daddy. I checked the red brick dust this morning. It hasn’t been disturbed.”

  “Good. What have you told your mother?”

  “Nothing yet,” Pru said. “I don’t want to get her all worked up. She’s just now coming to terms with everything.”

  McCoy thought about it. “That’s probably the best move, for now. There’s no reason to think you’re being specifically targeted at this point. Most likely, it was just a random sighting.”

  “That’s what I told myself last night,” Pru said. “When I got up this morning, I’d pretty much convinced myself of it. I’d even decided not to call you, in fact.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “I turned on the television. There’s a film crew up here filming a documentary about the Goat Man.”

  “The Goat Man?” McCoy chuckled. “That old myth? It’s nothing but an urban legend. Or a rural one, in this case.”

  “I know, right? I was laughing about it too, until this morning. One of the crew was killed last night, up near the old trestle. They’re saying it wasn’t an accident.”

  McCoy experienced a familiar sinking feeling. It was the kind he usually felt just before discovering that something he’d thought was nothing was actually something, after all. Those feelings were a pain in the ass, but they were usually right on the money.

  “Did the news report give any details?” he asked.

  “No. Just that the death had been labeled a homicide. Maybe it’s not even connected to what I saw last night.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it. Listen, I have to finish up this business. I’ll get back to you in an hour or so. Stay inside and wait for my call, okay? No heroics.”

  “Who, me?” Pru asked innocently.

  “Yes, you. I know how you think. You’re not ready to go up against something like that. Not yet.”

  “Okay, I’ll stay in. And be bored. Out of my mind.”

  “Good girl. I’ll call as soon as I can.” McCoy pressed the END button on the phone and flipped it shut.

  “What was that about?” Amanda asked, a shadow of concern crossing her face. “Was that Pru? Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine,” McCoy said as he resumed walking toward the office. “She’s just a little spooked. It’s probably nothing.”

  “Great. Every time you say it’s probably nothing, someone ends up dying.”

  “Yeah,” McCoy conceded. As he reached the office door, he turned to Amanda. “I’ll probably be making a trip to Kentucky.”

  “I thought you might say that,” Amanda said, and followed McCoy into the air-conditioned trailer.

  Chapter Three

  “You don’t sound sick,” Rena Ford said.

  “Well, I am,” Pru replied, and coughed into the phone for good measure. “I woke up with a fever. Probably just a bug that’s going around. I’m sure I’ll be over it by tomorrow.”

  “You’d better be,” Rena pouted. “There’s less than a month of summer break left, and you know I hate going to the pool alone.”

  “Why do you even want to go to the pool, anyway? You can’t swim, and you barely get your feet wet.”

  “Because that’s where the boys are. I swear, Pru. Sometimes you are so totally clueless.”

  Pru sighed. Rena was her best friend, but at some point during the past year she had morphed into a boy-crazy fiend. And while Pru had to admit that she found herself taking notice of the cute ones, she did not share Rena’s borderline obsession. Most of the guys she knew were about as mature as a bunch of green bananas.

  “Oh! Did you hear about that actor guy that got killed las
t night?” Rena asked, having obviously just remembered the news.

  “It wasn’t an actor, Rena. It was some guy who worked on the film crew.”

  “Whatever,” Rena replied, sounding disappointed and annoyed. “My cousin Greg—he’s on the Rescue Squad, you know—said somebody hacked that dude to pieces.”

  Pru scrunched her nose. “They didn’t say anything about that on the news.”

  “Well, duh. You actually think they’d say that on T.V.? I heard Greg telling Mom and Dad about it this morning. They thought I was still asleep, and they shut up pretty fast when I walked into the kitchen. It must’ve been pretty bad, though. Greg was still as white as a sheet, and he’s a manly man.”

  “Calm down, girl. He’s your cousin. And twice your age.”

  “He’s still hot, cousin or not.”

  Pru shook her head. “Did you hear them say anything else?”

  “No. Mom gave Greg and Dad the evil eye and they started talking about baseball or something just as lame. Hey, you know what would be cool?”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “We should sneak out one night and go up there. To the trestle, I mean. It’d be just like one of those ghost hunter shows you’re always watching.”

  “Number one, I don’t watch those any more. And number two, you’re an idiot. Why would you want to sneak out at night with a murderer running around?”

  “To see what we could see,” Rena answered as if it should have been perfectly obvious. “Don’t tell me Pru Pridemore has turned chicken. I thought you were into all that supernatural bullshit.”