Hannah had retrieved the K2 EMF meter from her bag and turned it on. The first three lights—green, light green, and yellow—were flashing.
“Keep talking,” she said. “Ask what her name is.”
“Who are you?” Kayla said. “Why are you here? Are you trapped in this house? Please, let us help you.”
“Are you Judith?” Hannah asked. “People called you Judy?”
All five lights on Hannah’s meter flared, including dark red, which indicated the highest concentration of electromagnetic radiation.
And then they went out.
Hannah actually shook the meter, but the lights would not go back on.
“Who’s Judith?” Kayla asked.
“Leland’s wife. She died of cancer years before Leland was killed.”
“Then why is she here?”
One of the cameramen said, “Look at this.”
We turned toward his voice. On the floor in the center of the bedroom across the hall was a light; we could see it flashing through the doorway.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s an infrared motion detector,” Hannah said. “Did anyone go into the bedroom? Anyone?”
There was no answer.
“C’mon,” she said.
We piled into the empty room—the master bedroom, I decided—and circled the motion detector. It was encased in an off-white plastic container that was designed to hang on a wall, but it had been set on its back on the floor by a member of the production company’s crew. Instead of a white light, it flashed bright orange-yellow, and I wondered if the color had been chosen by the special effects guy. No one attempted to turn it off.
“Oh my God.” Kayla was clutching her temples with both hands. “Immediate headache in here. Horrible headache.”
Hannah clutched her stomach and sank to her knees.
“Bad nausea,” she said. “I feel vertigo. I feel dizzy. There’s too much negative energy in here.”
“The older man … Ohhh, this person is not stable.”
“It’s a trap,” Hannah said. “He wanted us to come into this room. This is where he’s strongest.”
I felt none of the things that Hannah and Kayla were feeling, and hadn’t since we entered the house, yet watching the young women being assaulted by a ghost …
Are you listening to yourself?
I was compelled to act.
“Hey, Leland, you gutless chickenshit,” I said. “Is this all you’ve got? You’re too cowardly to take on a man, so you attack a couple of girls? That’s about your speed, isn’t it? You’re nothing but a coward. Even now that you’re dead, you’re too much of a pussy to take responsibility for your actions. You ruined your life and your ruined your son’s life and now you’re hiding in the dark—”
Kayla was on her knees and doubled over. I could see the anguish on her face in the flashing light.
“We need to get out of here,” she said.
“No,” Hannah said. “Not yet.”
“Tell you what I’m going to do,” I said. “I’m going to buy this worthless pile of crap you call a house, and after I search every square inch of it for the money you stole, I’m going to burn it to the fucking ground and then me and your kid are going to piss on the ashes. You can be the dumb ghost haunting an empty lot where the meth-heads go to shoot up.”
The motion detector flew off the floor and hit me square in the chest.
It was like being hit with a slap shot except I wasn’t wearing a chest protector.
The force of the blow pushed me backward against the wall; the motion detector clattered across the floor.
I clutched my chest because of the pain.
My first thought: Who did that? Was it a cameraman?
Then I felt it in my gut; it was like feeling the effects of being punched hard without actually feeling the blow itself.
I felt it again.
And again.
How is this possible?
I became nauseous; I began hacking as if I were about to vomit.
That felt a lot less agonizing than the searing pain vibrating in my head.
I fell to my knees.
“Stop it,” Kayla screamed. “Stop it.”
She moved to my side and cradled my shoulders in her arms, trying to protect me the way a mother might. She really was that caring. I immediately felt the pain and nausea leaving me—and entering Kayla.
This is crazy!
Kayla began hacking the way I had.
“What kind of man are you?” she shouted.
Leland answered by shoving her away. Kayla fell backward at least a half-dozen feet.
She landed on the floor.
I could hear her head bounce against the bare wood.
I could hear her gasping as if she suddenly couldn’t breathe.
I knelt next to her. She was writhing in pain. I attempted to cradle her the same way she had embraced me.
“Stop it,” I yelled. My head twisted back and forth as I searched for an adversary, someone I could hit. All I found was cameramen pointing their cameras at us, as impassive as furniture. “Leave her alone.”
Hannah crossed the room and eased me out of the way like an EMT who was taking charge. She reached into her bag and pulled out what looked to me in the flashing orange-yellow light like a bundle of tobacco leaves held together with blue yarn. There was a cheap lighter in her hand, the kind you find on display at the checkout lines of gas stations. She set fire to the leaves, waited a moment, and then blew out the flame.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Sage.”
The leaves began to glow like tobacco at the end of a lit cigar, the smoke creating a cloud above us. It had a kind of fragrant, woodsy scent like cedar.
Hannah slowly waved the smoldering sage above Kayla’s writhing body.
“St. Michael,” she said, “archangel, invincible in battle, be our guardian against the wickedness and the snares of the devil. Oh glorious prince of the heavenly armies, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits that wander the world.”
Kayla’s body slowly calmed. She rolled on her side. Her breathing became less erratic and raspy.
“Come to the assistance of those whom God has created in His likeness and whom He has redeemed at great price from the tyranny of the devil. Our protector, to you the Lord has entrusted the souls of the redeemed to be led into heaven. Crush Satan beneath our feet. Bind him and cast him into the bottomless pit that he may no longer seduce the nations.”
Kayla rolled onto her back. She became still; her breathing was under control. She closed her eyes, opened them, took a deep breath, and spoke with the exhale.
“Smudge stick?” she asked.
“White sage. From my own garden.”
With Hannah’s help, Kayla sat up and massaged the back of her head.
“That hurt,” she said.
“I can imagine.”
Kayla gestured at the smoking bundle of sage in Hannah’s hand.
“Do you have one for me?” she asked.
Hannah handed the smoldering stick to Kayla, reached back into her bag, and produced a second stick. She set it afire with the same cheap lighter, blew out the flame, and watched it smoke.
Hannah smiled at Kayla, Kayla smiled back, and I thought, They’re sisters in battle.
“Let’s go get him,” Hannah said.
Hannah helped Kayla to her feet and began chanting.
“In the Name of Jesus Christ, our God and Lord, of blessed Michael the Archangel, God arises; Satan and his cohorts are scattered. As smoke is driven away…”
“As smoke is driven away…” Kayla repeated.
“So are they driven…”
“So are they driven…”
It reminded me of the call and response of the old blues songs that came out of the bayous of Louisiana.
“As wax melts before the fire…”
“As wax melts before the fire…”
“So th
e wicked perish at the presence of God.”
“So the wicked perish at the presence of God.”
Hannah and Kayla circled the room before moving into the hallway, their smudge sticks leading the way, and I realized, They’re chasing the sonuvabitch.
“We drive you from us…” Hannah chanted.
“We drive you from us…” Kayla repeated.
“Unclean spirits, all satanic powers, all infernal invaders, all wicked legions…”
They went into the smaller bedroom, waved their smudge sticks some more, then headed down the staircase. Cameras A, B, and C did their best to keep up while trying to stay out of the way.
“Most cunning serpent, you shall no longer deceive the human race…”
Once downstairs, they circled first the living room, then the kitchen, then the living room again, Hannah leading the way, Kayla following behind while repeating every word that her mentor uttered.
“Be gone, Satan, inventor and master of all deceit, enemy of man’s salvation…”
Together, the two women slowly pushed toward the front door.
“Tremble and flee when we invoke the holy and terrible name of Jesus…”
They stopped at the door.
“Lord, grant us Thy powerful protection and keep us safe and sound.”
They stood looking at each other for a few beats.
“He’s gone,” Kayla said.
“I should hope so.”
“I don’t feel anything. The house is clear.”
Hannah actually laughed a joyous, gleeful laugh like I’ve heard from athletes after they’ve won a close championship game.
“You have to admit, that was fun,” she said.
“Are you crazy?” Kayla asked.
But I noticed that she was laughing, too.
“Will Leland return?” Kayla asked.
“He might. We’d have to do a full-blown cleansing, possibly even an exorcism, to finally send him to the other side. Or he may realize that there’s nothing to gain by staying here and go to the other side on his own, finally taking responsibility for his actions.”
“Wait. The woman. She’s still here.”
“Negative spirits will not stay when you stand up to them like we did,” Hannah said. “It’s like what they say about bullies—stand up to them and they’ll back down; they lose their power if you don’t cower before them, if you stay confident and strong. Good spirits, though, they’re not threatened by us. They won’t leave unless they want to.”
“I can see her.”
“Where?”
Kayla gestured toward the center of the living room.
“What do you see?” Hannah asked.
“She’s very beautiful. And young. And … I can hear her. Her name is Judith. Judy. Yes, yes we will—she wants us to follow her. McKenzie, she wants you to follow her.”
She does?
Kayla led us across the living room and into the kitchen. We went straight to the back door and opened it. Camera A tried to get in front of her, but Kayla was having none of it, so he had to film her from behind.
She paused outside the door and waited for Hannah and me and the camera guys to catch up. It was darker in the backyard than the front, yet there was still enough light to make out the spotty lawn, the cyclone fence, the garage, and the small, worn wooden shed that was leaning heavily against it.
“Oh,” Hannah said. “It’s very peaceful out here. Not like inside the house at all.”
“Follow us,” Kayla said.
Us?
She led us across the lawn, halting in front of the shed. She pointed at the door.
“In there, McKenzie,” Kayla said.
I stared at her for a few beats. It was like my brain had turned off; I didn’t understand what she wanted me to do.
“Judy wants you to open the door,” Kayla said.
“McKenzie,” Hannah said, “it’s all right. I feel only lightness and warmth.”
Cameras A and B positioned themselves so they could see me grab the latch and yank the door open. I looked inside the shed. It was empty. There weren’t even any tools on the floor or hanging from the walls.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Judy says you’ve been kind to her son.”
To Ryan?
“She says you deserve to know what happened. She wants you to know what happened.”
“About the money?” I asked.
“Judy wants you to look beneath the floorboards.”
For a moment, excitement thrilled through my body. I stared at the shed, then practically leapt toward it. I fell to my knees and began pulling at the boards even as my inner voice chanted, The money, the money …
The boards didn’t budge, though. I felt along the edge of the floor and discovered that they had been nailed to a two-by-four. I was able to work my fingers underneath the two-by-four and lift. The entire floor came up like a trapdoor, and I rested it against the back of the shed. All I saw beneath the boards, though, was a black hole. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, turned on the flashlight, and looked again. There was plenty of dirt. And nothing else.
“It’s empty,” I said.
Kayla started laughing. I glared up at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s Judy.”
“Tell her the money isn’t here,” I said.
“She knows. But she says it was there. She said this is where Leland hid it before he was killed. It’s gone now.”
“I can see that.”
“Leland didn’t know the money was gone, though. That’s why he stayed in the house. He thought he was hoarding the money for himself.”
“Ask Judy why she stayed,” Hannah said.
“She didn’t. Judy says she came from the other side when we—meaning you and me—connected Leland with her son. She wanted to help protect her son from Leland.”
Kayla laughed some more.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll tell him.”
“Tell me what?” I asked.
“Judy says she knows you’re upset about not finding the money. She says you want to know what happened to it.”
“I really, really do.”
“She says you’re a smart fellow. She says to think about it; you’ll figure it out.”
* * *
Jodi, the director, the crew, both Hannah and Kayla, and even Esti were positively delighted by how everything had turned out. They were all convinced that they had just filmed the greatest paranormal TV show of all time. I personally didn’t have much to compare it to, but what the hell. Maybe they were right.
They all wanted to retire somewhere, anywhere, and bask in the glory of it. I understood. Nearly every hockey game I ever played ended with me and the guys heading to a neighborhood pub to talk it over. Esti invited the production crew to her house. She didn’t have much to drink, she said, only wine and hard ciders. A member of the crew said he’d stop to get some beer on the way over there. I thought Esti and Hannah would probably have a guaranteed thirteen-episode contract before the evening was concluded.
The company seemed genuinely disappointed when I begged off; they figured that I was in a mood about not finding the money. The director shook my hand and said I was a helluva performer. Hannah, Kayla, and Jodi Steffen each hugged me in turn. Esti did, too, but I don’t think her heart was in it.
I gave them all a wave, headed for my Mustang, and fired it up. I drove off. After a few turns, making sure that I was well out of the sight of Leland’s house and the crew, which was now busy packing up its gear, I pulled over and parked.
I slipped the EVP recorder out of my pocket. I would have returned it to the production crew if someone had asked me to, but no one had.
It took a few moments before I was able to figure out the controls. Finally I rewound the recording until it was at the beginning of the ghost hunt and hit PLAY. And listened hard. Especially when the recording reached the part where Judy was supposed to be speaking to Kayla.
I d
idn’t hear a damn thing except for—what did Jodi call it? Mushy static.
TWENTY-EIGHT
It was midmorning when I stepped inside Good Spirits. The store had just opened, and there were no customers. In fact, I couldn’t detect any movement in the Witch District at all. If I had learned anything from my haunted house adventure, though, it was that witchcraft and ghost hunting are more or less nighttime pursuits.
I stood just inside the entrance and glanced around. A voice called to me.
“I’m back here, McKenzie,” it said.
I moved toward the rear of the store. LaToya Cane was sitting at her desk and working with her laptop.
I wondered how she knew I was there.
Then I noticed all the small CCTV monitors stacked in front of her.
Well, duh.
“I don’t know what to say to you,” she told me.
“I’m not sure what to say to you either. Have you spoken with your son recently?”
“Yes.”
I pulled his Smith and Wesson out of my pocket, along with a clear plastic sandwich bag filled with his bullets. I offered them to Toy.
“I don’t want these,” she said.
“Then toss them in the trash.”
“McKenzie…”
“I promised Jackson that I would give his gun to you.”
“He told me.”
I waited for a few beats. Finally Toy took the gun and the bag from me and dropped them into the bottom drawer of her desk. She closed the drawer with a bang.
“What else did he tell you?” I asked.
“He said you were going to accuse him of all kinds of terrible things.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh?”
“Toy, I think the kid’s a little messed up, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed by a long conversation with his mother.”
“What would we talk about?”
“That’s none of my business.”
“Then why are you here?”
“The money,” I said. “The $654,321 that Leland Hayes stole from the armored truck. And hid. The money he said he would pay to have me killed. It was all bullshit.”
“I thought it might be.”
“For one thing, he didn’t have the money.”
“No?”
“Someone else found it, God, twenty-some years ago. ’Course, Leland didn’t know that. At least we don’t think he knew that. That’s why he was haunting the house where he lived all this time. Was haunting—past tense. Hannah Braaten and her associates went over there the other day and cleared the house, sent him on his way.”
From the Grave--A McKenzie Novel Page 25
