Dark Hollows (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 4)

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Dark Hollows (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 4) Page 7

by Scott Langrel


  “A tree?” Wolf asked.

  “Our friend was murdered!” Erica exclaimed, finally finding her voice. “Well, two have been murdered. Probably three.”

  “There’s been a murder?” Wolf asked, suddenly tense.

  “Well, yeah,” Pru said. “You see, these guys here are making a documentary about the Kentucky Goat Man. Or they were, anyways, before half of them got killed. We were just heading back to camp to call—”

  Two gunshots rang out. Pru spun around and looked back up the mountainside.

  “McCoy!” she gasped, and began to run headlong back up the slope.

  “Stay here,” Wolf said to Erica. He motioned at Caleb’s prone form. “If he wakes up, hit him again.”

  Then he followed Pru into the darkness.

  Chapter Ten

  The creature watched the scene below from its high vantage point. It snickered as the new arrival punched the other man out. Humans. They were so entertaining.

  It had been tempted to take the girl then and there, but there was something troubling about the new arrival. The creature couldn’t quite place it, but there was something different about the man. An air of familiarity, perhaps, though the creature had never seen this particular human before.

  There was no mistaking the man who had fired at it earlier, though. Finn McCoy. McCoy’s name was despised by all of the creature’s kin, and rightfully so. McCoy had been a thorn in their side for years, and he was showing no signs of going away anytime soon. A pity. Many of the creature’s kin had believed that the Fey would have put an end to McCoy by now, but the stupid fairies had entered into a truce with the handler.

  The creature’s form began to shimmer as it morphed between a half-man, half-goat and something that resembled a cross between a dog and a large wolf.

  The Fey may have failed to neutralize McCoy, but it proved a point:

  Never send a fairy to do a demon’s job.

  ***

  So intent was McCoy on finding Pru that he almost ran right over top of her. He swung around a bend in the trail only to find the girl and a stranger barreling up toward him. He swerved off the path at the last second, narrowly avoiding a collision with the equally surprised Pru.

  “McCoy! “ Pru squealed. “Thank God! We heard gunshots!” She ran over and snared McCoy in one of her patented hugs. McCoy felt his back pop as his spine was crudely adjusted.

  “Grrgh!” he groaned. “I’m fine. Or at least I was. I was just heading back to check on you.” He eyed the stranger with some suspicion. “Made a new friend, have you?”

  “This is Wolf,” Pru said as she mercifully released her grip. “Wolf Donovan, meet Finn McCoy.”

  “A pleasure,” Wolf said as he walked forward and extended his hand.

  “Likewise,” McCoy said, offering his own hand. “What brings you out here? Are you with the film crew?”

  Wolf shook his head. “Hardly. I was just out for a ride and came across the camp down there. I thought I heard someone scream so I decided to investigate. I came across the girl here having a bit of a spat with one of the crew. I’m afraid I had to intervene.”

  McCoy looked questioningly at Pru, who simply shrugged.

  “Caleb was being an ass. He planned to sneak back up and take pictures of Trevor’s body before calling the cops. I called him on it, and he threatened me. Wolf here cleaned his plow, though.”

  “Much obliged,” McCoy said to Wolf.

  “No problem. The idiot deserved it.”

  “What were you shooting at?” Pru asked. “Was it the—”

  “Bear,” McCoy interrupted. “I thought I saw a bear. I scared it off, though.” He gave Pru a pointed look. Pru, catching it, changed the subject.

  “Any sign of Mark?” she asked.

  “Afraid not. We’d better let the police handle it from here on out. Let’s get back down to the camp and give them a call.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The three began to make their way back down the trail. McCoy, realizing that he had no way of anticipating the Goat Man’s whereabouts, was on edge and jumped at every small sound. Pru noticed this, but had the good graces not to point it out. Since she felt no supernatural presence nearby, she couldn’t understand why McCoy was so rattled. But she trusted him enough to know that he must have his reasons.

  “I’m glad you happened to come along, Mr. Donovan,” McCoy said as they walked. “I didn’t realize that Caleb was such a douchebag.”

  “Please, call me Wolf.”

  “Okay, Wolf. Where did you pick that up?”

  “Been riding Harleys almost all my life. Every biker picks up a nickname at some point. Someone started calling me Wolf, and it just stuck.”

  “Harleys, huh? What kind do you ride.”

  “I’ve had a ’91 Sturgis for several years now, but I’ve owned several models. I like the Sturgis better than any so far, I guess.”

  “I had a Sportster for about three weeks,” McCoy said. “This was about twenty years ago.”

  “Why only three weeks?” Wolf asked. “Didn’t you like it?”

  “I liked it just fine until I wrapped it around a tree. Spent almost two months in the hospital. After that, I decided I liked four wheels better than two.”

  Wolf laughed. “We all have our preferences.”

  “McCoy has a truck named Boo,” Pru said. “Only now he’s retired her ‘cause he got a new Jeep.”

  “I didn’t retire Boo,” McCoy said quickly. “She’s getting old. She needed a break.”

  “I saw the Jeep when I pulled in,” Wolf said. “It’s a nice one. If I couldn’t ride, I guess a Jeep would be my next choice.”

  “I think a Harley suits you better,” Pru said.

  “Well, thank you, Prucilla. I think so, too.”

  Caleb was awake when McCoy and the others arrived. He was sitting on the ground, rubbing his jaw, but he sprang to his feet quickly at the sight of Wolf.

  “Look, mister,” he said, obviously cowed. “I don’t want any trouble, okay?”

  “Keep your hands off the girl and there won’t be any trouble,” Wolf said quietly as he passed by. He walked over to Erica and held out his hand. “Need some help?”

  Erica looked as if she might float back to camp.

  “Did you find Mark?” Claire asked, causing everyone to stop and stare at her. “What?”

  “You were a little out of it when I left,” McCoy said. “And no, I’m afraid there was no sign of him.”

  “We’re going to call the police as soon as we get back to the camp,” Pru said, making a point to stare at Caleb while she said it. “Maybe they’ll have better luck finding him.”

  “Yeah,” Claire agreed. “Let’s just get out of here. I want to go home. I never want to see the woods again.”

  “That makes two of us,” Erica said.

  “Come on, then” McCoy said. “As much as I dread it, let’s go.”

  “Why would you dread it?” Pru asked.

  “Because we’ve been gone for more than an hour,” McCoy said.

  “Oh,” Pru replied, getting a sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Pru!” Becky cried as she got out of her car. She came running across the field to where Pru, McCoy and Wolf were talking to a sheriff’s deputy.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Don’t you hey Mom me, young lady. You’ve got some explaining to do.” Becky looked at McCoy. “Finn, you know I like you, and I know Pru adores you, but I’m going to need some answers from you, as well.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” McCoy said, subdued. “As soon as we’re finished here, I’ll explain everything.”

  Pru noticed that her mother was eyeing Wolf. “Mom, this is Wolf Donovan. That creep over there was giving me a hard time, but Wolf took care of it.” She pointed to Caleb, who was having a heated conversation with the sheriff.

  “Is that so?” Becky asked.

  “I’m just glad I happened by,” Wolf sai
d. “You’ve got quite a daughter, Mrs.—”

  “Pridemore. Becky Pridemore.” The way she looked at Wolf was threatening to embarrass Pru.

  “Good to meet you, Mrs. Pridemore,” Wolf said, shaking Becky’s hand.

  “I’m thankful that you helped my Pru,” Becky said. “Would you allow me to treat you to dinner? Tomorrow evening, perhaps.”

  “I’d love that,” Wolf replied.

  “Great. I’ll give you my number and directions to my house. I’m sure Pru and Finn would enjoy the company.” The look she gave them suggested that they’d better damned well enjoy it.

  “Yeah, that’d be great,” Pru said.

  “You bet,” McCoy added.

  “Mom, can I ride back with McCoy?” Pru asked.

  “Sure. You can ride back with Finn. And I’ll be right behind the both of you, so there’d better not be any detours along the way.”

  “No detours,” McCoy agreed. He turned to the deputy. “Are you done with us?”

  “For now,” the officer replied. “Sheriff Jackson needs anything else, he’ll know where to find you.”

  McCoy looked at Pru. “You ready? I’m sure your mother would like to go home now.”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “See you tomorrow evening,” McCoy said to Wolf.

  “I’ll be there.”

  McCoy and Pru climbed into the Jeep and pulled out, with Becky right on their bumper.

  “What were you really shooting at back there?” Pru asked when they were back on the main road.

  “I don’t know,” McCoy replied truthfully.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I mean that I’m not sure what it was. Don’t laugh, but it looked just like the Goat Man.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No, I’m not. And the shots I fired didn’t faze it at all. But here’s the kicker: I never sensed anything. Nothing.”

  “Where did it go?” Pru asked, captivated.

  “Beats me. It took off after I shot at it. It just doesn’t make any sense. The only beings that I’ve ever run across who are able to mask themselves are major demons.”

  Pru was quiet as she digested McCoy’s information. “Then it must be a demon,” she said at length.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You have to use logic. Demons can change their forms into whatever they want. You said the bullets had no effect, so it has to be something supernatural. And since demons are the only ones who can hide their presence, it must be a demon.”

  “Well, when you look at it like that, you’re probably right,” McCoy conceded. “But there’s still a chance that this is something new, something I’ve never encountered before.”

  “But we know there’s a demon nearby,” Pru said. “One thing doesn’t make sense, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If the demon can mask its presence, why didn’t it do that when it was at my house?”

  McCoy thought about it. “I think I know the answer, but you’re not going to like it.”

  “Go ahead and spill it.”

  “It wanted you to know it was there because it’s marked you as its victim.”

  Pru’s eyes widened. “You mean it’s after me?”

  McCoy nodded. “There’s a good chance that all of this Goat Man hullabaloo is just a sideshow act meant to terrorize people and throw anyone like us off the trail. But why would it want you, specifically? As far as we know, a demon has never taken notice of you. Not to sound immodest, but I’d be a much bigger prize to a demon.”

  Pru shrugged. “I have no clue.”

  “We’re going to have to fill your mother in on this,” McCoy said. “She’s onto us, and we might as well come clean with everything. You okay with that?”

  “Not really, but I know you’re right. It’s just that I’m not sure how she’ll react. She’s had a pretty hard time dealing with all of this.”

  “Becky’s strong. She’ll be able to handle it.”

  “There’s another thing, too.”

  “What is it?”

  “Wolf. There’s something weird about him.”

  “You mean you’re not falling all over him like every other woman seems to be?” McCoy chuckled.

  “No. Well, I mean I was at first. Are you still friends with that police chief?”

  “Sheriff Talbot? Yeah. Why?”

  “You think you could get him to run a check on Wolf?”

  “I’m sure I could. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Back on the trail, he called me Prucilla.”

  McCoy thought back. “Yeah, I remember that. So? It’s not much of a stretch to assume Pru is short for Prucilla. Though I guess Prudence would work, too.”

  “But that’s just it. I never told him my name. Not Pru or Prucilla. None of the film crew used my name, and you didn’t call me by name when we met up with you. I’ve thought and thought about it, and I’m positive.”

  McCoy tried to remember. “I think you’re right about me. I don’t remember using your name. You’re sure about the film crew, though?”

  “I’m sure. And wasn’t it awfully convenient that he showed up when he did? I’m telling you, there’s more to him than he’s letting on.”

  “Okay, you’ve convinced me. I’ll give John Talbot a call. But Wolf might’ve given a fake name, so don’t hold your breath.”

  They pulled up in front of Pru’s house and got out of the Jeep. Becky pulled in behind them.

  “I’m warning you two,” she said as they walked to the house. “What I get from you had better be the truth and the whole truth, so help you God.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Pru and McCoy said in unison.

  “And Finn? Don’t think I won’t call Amanda on you, because I will.”

  Ah sh…crap!” McCoy said. “I was supposed to call home.” He looked at his phone. It showed two missed calls. “I’m dead. She must have tried to call when I was in the woods.”

  “Well, you’d better call now before it gets too late,” Becky said. “But I want both of you at the kitchen table in ten minutes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they said again.

  ***

  Wolf wheeled his bike into the motel parking lot. There was nothing else to do; he couldn’t very well watch the house now that they knew who he was. If McCoy hadn’t been there, he might have come clean with them. Maybe he should have, anyway. But Becky had given him the perfect out by inviting him to dinner. He could wait and tell them then.

  He’d left the air conditioner on high, so when he opened the door to his room, the cold air washed over him like a wave. The bed, though still inviting, held no interest for him just yet. He removed the .45 and plopped into one of the vinyl-covered chairs. From his pocket, he retrieved his smartphone and connected to the motel’s free Wi-Fi.

  He did a search for Finn McCoy and was surprised by the number of results it generated. Apparently, the man was somewhat of a local legend in the paranormal community. He was the subject of several threads on various message boards dealing with the supernatural and occult (some of which praised his work, with others calling him a hillbilly quack). Elsewhere, his name was mentioned in random articles as being involved in crime cases of a mysterious or questionable nature, such as a rash of murders and disappearances in the town of Shallow Springs, Virginia.

  For his own part, McCoy seemed to shun the limelight. Interviews were rare and usually quite short, with the author indicating that McCoy became irritated and left well before the interview was over. There were a few pictures, most of them taken when McCoy was unaware that he was being photographed.

  One of the stories referred to McCoy as a ‘paranormal handler’. Wolf found that interesting, because he’d heard that term before. In occult circles, a handler was a person with certain paranormal talents, such as being able to sense and see supernatural beings whose existence the general population was blissfully unaware of. Skilled in the art of dealing with su
ch entities, a handler often diffused potentially volatile situations caused when someone inexperienced or careless accidently unleashed a force which they could not control. With the popularity of ‘ghost hunting’ on the rise, there was no shortage of work for handlers.

  Wolf leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. Unless it was a colossal coincidence, then McCoy was here for the same reason as Wolf himself. If that were the case, it would make explaining his true motives to Pru and Becky much easier. It might make Wolf’s job easier as well. He’d never before had the luxury of having a handler at his disposal during a mission.

  Wolf glanced at the bed. It was calling him. He needed the sleep, but at the same time he did not look forward to slumber. For the dreams and visions were getting stronger, almost too much to bear. Sometime in the next twenty-four hours, things would come to a head.

  And, depending on the actions of Wolf and McCoy, Prucilla Pridemore would either live or die.

  Chapter Twelve

  A trial was about to begin, and both Pru and McCoy knew it. Seated across the table from Becky, they were the defendants, while she was the judge, jury, and possible executioner. Both the girl and the handler squirmed in their seats.

  “Before we start,” Becky said, “I want to remind you two that I expect the truth. Lying by omitting part of the truth is still lying. I want the whole story, and I’m not interested in lame excuses.”

  McCoy looked at Pru. “She’s just taken away my whole defense.”

  “This isn’t a joke, Finn,” Becky said.

  “Sorry.”

  “Okay. So who wants to start?”

  “I guess I will,” Pru said. “I was the one who called McCoy and drug him into this.”

  “All right. Go ahead.”

  “Well, you know how I can sense and see things, right? Last night, during the storm, I felt something. I got out of bed and looked out the window, and I saw something, too.”

  “You mean a ghost?” Becky asked, clearly unnerved. “Where did you see it? Outside?”

  “Yeah, in the back yard, over by the fence. And it wasn’t a ghost.”

 

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