The Ghost Files 4: Part 1

by Apryl Baker

  “Little boy?” I stand, ready for a fight.

  “Plaaay?”

  The word jackknifes through my head, sending waves of blinding pain through it.

  “You want to play?” I ask, my voice hoarse. What is this thing?

  “Play with us.”

  Us? I take another look around the room. More laughter joins in. Footsteps move all through the room, some coming close to me before retreating. How many are there?

  “I can’t play with you if I can’t see you.”

  Hands reach for me, tugging at my clothes, and sharp fingernails dig into my skin. I snarl at the unexpected pain. I try to run again, toward the door, but small hands grab my feet and yank, causing me to tumble forward. I land face first this time, my head bouncing off the floor.

  Before I can react, they are on me, their little hands everywhere, holding me down. As hard as I struggle, I can’t shake them.

  “Plaaay.”

  I look up when I hear him right in front of me. My mind stumbles, refusing to believe what it’s seeing. I blink several times, but he’s still there, still smiling down at me. Even in the dark, I can see him when I can’t see any of the others. That alone ratchets up my fear a notch or two. Creepy little kids are the worst.

  He’s maybe six or seven. Dark blond hair, whole patches of it missing from his head, hangs in a stringy mess down his face. He’s not pale. No, there’s color to his cheeks, but it’s his eyes I can’t look away from. There’s no pupil, no iris, just a yellow orb flashing hatred where his eyes should be.

  The odor hits me a second later. Rotten eggs…sulphur. He smells like sulphur. Only demons smell like sulphur.

  He squats down in front of my face, his little hand pressing against my cheek. “Plaay?”

  A full body shudder overwhelms me when he touches me. His touch is full of the dark, of pain, and rage. This child is nothing but a hollow shell that holds the promise of dark things, of horror.

  “You…you want to play?” I whisper, trying to sound braver than I am. I’m terrified.

  He smiles again, his teeth black and sharpened. His thumb sweeps back and forth over my cheek and then digs into the soft flesh. I hiss at the unexpected pain.

  “Pretty.” He leans down, and something wet and sticky plops on my cheek. It smells worse than he does. He puts his nose in my hair and sniffs. All the while, his little friends hold me down, their whispers faint and all the more terrifying because of it.

  The door opens, flooding the room for a moment with bright light. It blinds me, but I can hear the gentle sobs of a child. When the door closes, the hands on me still. The entire place is as silent as a tomb.

  Except for the kid who’s crying.

  The mood in the room shifts. I can almost taste it. They go from curious to feral in a heartbeat. I twist, trying to get loose, sensing what’s coming. The fingers dig deeper into my skin, holding me tighter. I open my mouth to warn the kid, but nothing comes out. Maybe it’s shock, or maybe the childlike creatures holding me did something, I don’t know.

  Whispers come from all corners of the room, and the little demonic child whose hand is still on my face turns toward the sound of the child sobbing. His head cocks and he listens intently. The whispers increase, and the kid crying becomes aware of it. He hiccups, and I hear him shuffle like he’s sitting up or something.

  “Hello?” It is a little boy. He sounds older than I’d thought. Maybe eight or nine, but I can’t see him. It’s too dark. Which only makes the fact I can see the creature still holding onto me much, much worse. Its face turns predatory; the yellow eyes pulse with glee. I keep struggling even if it’s useless. I have to try to help the kid.

  Footsteps, so many footsteps creeping closer, whispers and laughs mingling. The little boy cries out in pain. I can’t see what’s going on, but I do smell the tinny, coppery scent of blood. They must have cut him deep enough to bleed. A lot, if I can smell it.

  “Yummmm.” My eyes swivel up to the creature. Yum? What does that mean? Are they going to…

  No! I close my eyes as they run toward the little boy, and his screams rise, blotting out every other sound. Horrible, agonizing sounds. The sounds of flesh being ripped, of bones breaking reach me and I gag, struggling to get free.

  The little beast leans down and whispers in my ear, “Ready to play?”

  Chapter Five

  I’m assaulted by the bright rays of the sun when I shoot up, my fist connecting with something solid. I draw back again, ready to defend myself against those creepy little demonic children.

  “Hey!” Dan ducks when I can’t stop my fist. “What gives?”

  A dream…a freaking dream. A low, nervous laugh escapes me. It was only a dream. “Sorry, bad dream.”

  “You came awake swinging, Squirt. Had to be more than a bad dream.” He rubbed his jaw. I must have hit him before he could duck the first time.

  “It was weird and freaky, and just…I don’t want to talk about it.” I stand and stretch. We are in my dad’s office. Dan yawns and stands up himself. Did we both sleep on the floor all night? Why were we on the floor, anyway?

  Before I can ask, he holds up a hand. “After your ghost visitor last night, you went into shock. Mr. Crane thought it best if you and I were both warm, so we slept down here in front of the fire, with your dad as watchdog.”

  Ghost visitor? I don’t remember any ghost visitor. “What are you talking about?”

  “The ghost…the one that attacked you in the hallway upstairs?” He runs a hand through his mussed hair, clearly confused by my lack of memory. “I saw it, Mattie. Scariest kid I’ve ever seen.”

  A kid? Maybe the same one I’d dreamed about? “What did it look like?”

  “A little girl. At least I think it was a girl. She was battered and bruised, her eyes almost black with rage. Someone did a number on that kid.”

  So not the same one I’d dreamed about. Maybe they were connected? Doc would know…I shake my head. Nope, not talking to the liar about anything ever again.

  “Nope, Officer Dan, I got nothing.” I shrug.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “Walking back upstairs to check on you. Then…” I frown, concentrating. It’s like a big empty hole is sitting there. “Then nothing.”

  “I guess it might be the shock…” He stops mid-sentence and steps closer to me. His finger reaches toward my cheek, and I pull away, startled.

  “Do I have dirt or something on me?”

  “Or something.” His thumb brushes my cheek and his nose wrinkles when he pulls it away.

  Black goo. He’d wiped black goo off my face. Something had fallen off the kid onto my cheek in my dream.

  “Maybe it wasn’t a dream.”

  “What?” His brown eyes are intense. He remembers the black goo the same as I do. We’d seen it before when that demon kept attacking me in New Orleans.

  “The dream I had.” I rub at my face and tell him about the dream.

  “We should call Dr. Olivet. The only other time this happened was when you met Silas and he cut your wrist in a dream. We’re out of our depth here.”

  “No!” I grab his arm to stop him when he reaches in his back pocket to fish out his phone. He gives me the same look he gives his dad’s dog when the Yorkshire terrier tries to bully the German shepherd next door. The “why am I acting crazy” look.

  “We need to talk about Doc, but not right now, okay?” I don’t want to get into this with him before I get food in my belly. I’m crabbier when I’m hungry. My belly growls in agreement.

  Dan rolls his eyes. “I swear you have a bottomless pit for a stomach.”

  “As do all the Cranes.”

  We both look toward the door where Zeke stands, looking tired and worn out. Had he slept at all last night?

  “Mrs. Banks has prepared breakfast. She wasn’t sure what you two liked, so she made a little of everything. I think we’ll all need our stamina for when your grandparents arrive.”

&
nbsp; Grandparents…oh crap! I’d forgotten about that. Panic curls low in my stomach. Dan steps up behind me, wrapping an arm around me. “Breathe, Mattie.” A deep calm settles over me, a calm that only Dan can inspire. He’s the only person who can talk me down from a ledge.

  “Food.” Yep, that’s what I need.

  Dan snorts when my stomach lets out a growl and lets me go. We follow Zeke through the apartment into the kitchen where a breakfast nook is set up. Three places are set, a very proper placemat setting. I usually just grab a plate and sit wherever, but I don’t think that’s the acceptable thing to do in the Crane household. Yet another difference between us. I’m still terrified I’ll embarrass Zeke because I grew up poor and he comes from old money, even though he assures me that will never happen. Even Dan looks uncomfortable at the fancy setting.

  “You must be Mattie.”

  The loud voice comes from the woman dishing eggs out into a serving dish. She’s in her late forties, and her creamy skin sets off her dark brown eyes. Picking up the bowl, she sets it on the counter where a small mountain of food waits.

  “Mattie, this is Mrs. Banks.” Zeke picks up his plate and heads to the counter and starts to load it up with a variety of food. Maybe he’d seen how uncomfortable Dan and I were with the table? I’m guessing Mrs. Banks usually serves him what he wants.

  “Hi.” I wave a hand awkwardly in her direction. “Thanks for going out and finding us toothbrushes and clean clothes last night.”

  “You’re welcome, honey bunny.” Her smile is as bright as the warmth oozing out of her voice. Though I’m not sure about the honey bunny remark. She’s not dressed like a housekeeper either. She has on jeans and a Walking Dead t-shirt. Not what I was expecting at all.

  “Who’s your favorite character?” Dan nods toward her shirt and starts to fill his own plate. He’s a big fan of the show, but I’ve never much gotten into it. Doesn’t mean he hasn’t filled endless hours of my time agonizing over who he thinks may die this season.

  “Lord a mercy, I just don’t know.” Mrs. Banks groans with real frustration. “I love them all, but I guess if you made me choose, it would be Rick, especially when he gets that crazy in his eyes.”

  “I’m a Daryl man, and I’m not ashamed to say it.” Dan spears three pancakes. “I mean, for a guy who wasn’t even in the original comics, he’s morphed into a diehard fan favorite.”

  Zeke rolls his eyes much like I do when I’ve heard something a billion times and am sick to death of it. Perhaps my dad and I have more in common than I thought. Dinner table manners aside, we both are tired of hearing about this subject.

  I grab my own plate and load it down with pancakes. I’m all for eggs and bacon, but you give me a choice between that and pancakes, pancakes will win every time. I snag the orange juice pitcher and bring it to the table as well. Zeke’s plate is stuffed with eggs, bacon, sausage, and pancakes.

  “Good morning!” Montgomery beams at us when he rolls in, newspaper in hand, which he hands over to Zeke. “It smells delicious, Mrs. Banks.”

  She flushes a bit, and Dan I exchange knowing glances. Someone either has a crush or is trying to hide a blooming romance. When she and Montgomery fill up their own plates and proceed to take a seat at the island, my eyebrows make a race for my hairline.

  Zeke laughs. “I’m not as formal as you think, Mattie. Montgomery and Mrs. Banks usually eat breakfast in here with me every morning. Only don’t tell my mother.” He grimaces, a strained expression replacing his smile. “She’d have a fit.”

  “So she’s all proper, then?” I take a bite of the homemade pancake and nearly die of food lust. I’ve never tasted anything so delicious in my life. She has IHOP beat, and that’s my favorite place to gorge on the yumminess that is pancakes.

  “Well, she was raised in a different era.” Mrs. Banks comes over and refills Zeke’s coffee before sitting down. “You have to remember that. I don’t fault her for it. Now, if this one here tried that nonsense, he’d end up with burned meals and no clean underwear for a month.”

  “Don’t even threaten that!” Zeke looks horrified. It’s not the kind of fake horror people use when joking. I’m betting she’s made good on that in the past.

  Dan isn’t paying attention to either of them. He’s staring at the front page of The Charlotte Observer. Meg’s and Jake’s pictures are front and center. My smile slides away, replaced by grief and a rage that spirals up from seemingly nowhere. It burns away every emotion except fury.

  “Mattie?”

  Zeke’s voice sounds far away as I stare at the newspaper. Both dead. Because of me.

  “When did her eyes start to do this?”

  “It’s new.” Dan’s voice is muffled when I flick my gaze to Mason’s picture. If I could get my hands on him right now, I’d make him eat his innards as I flayed every inch of skin from his bones…

  Dan’s fingers snap in front of my face, and I blink. What the heck? What am I thinking? Why would I even think…it sounds more like something Silas would say. What is wrong with me?

  “Hey, you okay?” Concern fills his puppy dog brown eyes.

  “Yeah…yeah.” I take a shaky breath. “I just wasn’t expecting to see that.”

  Zeke’s eyes flicker down to the paper. He shakes his head and flips it over. “I’m so sorry, ma petite. I didn’t even look at it.”

  “It’s fine.” I wave his apology off before turning my attention to Dan. “Never mind me. How are you?”

  I can see the grief on his face, but he’s pushing it aside to focus on me. Not a good thing. Holding stuff inside is never good. A lesson I learned the hard way.

  “I wasn’t expecting it either.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I should probably go over and see her parents.”

  Zeke clears his throat. “It might be a good idea to give them a few days, Daniel. They need time to grieve before the outside world invades.”

  I narrow my eyes. Zeke isn’t telling us everything, but I’m not about to grill him in front of Dan. I have a sinking suspicion they blame both of us for their daughter’s death, and in truth, they’d be right. We’d both had a hand in it, unwitting or not.

  “I heard we had a visitor last night.” Montgomery switches the subject. “How are you feeling this morning, Miss Mattie?”

  Zeke chuckles at my expression. Lord only knows what it must look like if it’s expressing any of the surprise jolting through me. “Montgomery and Mrs. Banks know all about our family. Everything.”

  The emphasis on the word everything makes Dan press his lips together. It’s the cop in him. He can’t help it. I’m fairly certain my father is a criminal. He’s just good at not getting caught. Something I’m choosing to ignore for the minute.

  Dan apparently decides to do the same thing, at least for now. I suspect it’ll come up sooner rather than later. “She doesn’t remember any of it.”

  “No?” Zeke sets his coffee down, startled. “Nothing?”

  I shake my head. “Nada.”

  “That is unusual.” He rubs a hand over his jawline. “Perhaps it was the shock?”

  Shrugging, I guzzle down half a glass of orange juice.

  “Well, perhaps it’s best if you both go back to the E.R. to get checked out.”

  No, no, no…no more hospitals for me. Not for a very long time. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m fine, really.”

  Before Zeke can argue, Dan’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket. “Sorry. I have to take this. It’s my dad. I’ll be right back.” He gets up and goes into the other room.

  “Mattie.” The hesitancy in Zeke’s voice raises my hackles. I am so not going to lose this fight over the hospital. Nope, not going back there. “When did your eyes start going black?”

  My breath whooshes out. Is that what happened to me earlier? When the rage took over?

  “I…”

  “I just want to help, Mattie, but I have to understand what’s going on.”

  Usually, I’d talk to D
oc about this, but that’s no longer an option. Maybe trusting Zeke isn’t a bad idea. “When we found Dan at his apartment, almost dead, something broke inside me. I went cold. The world turned dark, and everything got stripped away. There was nothing left but fear and anger. The thought of losing him was too much, and this door opened in my mind. Whatever was behind it burned away everything but the anger. It gave me the strength I needed to hold onto Dan and make Silas save him.”

  “You made Silas save him?” Zeke’s consternation was plain in his voce. “Mattie, you can’t make a demon do anything. You barter with them.”

  “Silas said he owed me a freebie, and I used it on Dan. I also told him if he let Dan die, I would see him dead.”

  Zeke let out a slow breath. “Mattie…they don’t do freebies either.”

  I held up my hands. “He healed my hands too.”

  “At what price?”

  “None. He didn’t ask for anything.”

  “I don’t understand.” Zeke sweeps his eyes over me. “He asked for nothing?”

  “Not a thing.” I shrug, as confused about it as Zeke. Eli had told me the same thing. Demons don’t do anything for free, but he’d asked nothing of me.

  “Silas has taken a very unusual interest in you.” Zeke swallows the last of his coffee. “It’s disturbing, especially given the way your eyes just changed.”

  “Why?”

  His lips thin. “Only a demon’s eyes go black, Emma Rose.”

  Fudgepops. And he’d used my real name. “Are you saying I’m a demon?”

  “No.” His words are firm. “If you were a demon, you couldn’t set foot in this house. It’s warded against demons and angels. Neither of those beings can enter.”

  He had his home warded against angels? “Angels?”

  He sighed. “Angels are not the beings you think they are, ma petite. Some are, but most are not. They are just as devious as demons in some ways.”

  “But…angels are supposed to be good.”

  “Angels are complicated.” He stands and picks up his plate, walking over to the sink. “There is a lot you must learn, ma petite, and now is not the time to get into that discussion. Let’s concentrate on your eyes, oui?”