The Whitney Powers Paranormal Adventure 3 Book Bundle

by Jason Paul Rice

  One of the skeletons appeared to move and Whitney took a step back.

  A wild howl in the distance broke the eerie silence of the woods.

  Whitney kicked around the crusty leaves, exposing the black soil, as she spun in circles trying to find the perpetrator. She couldn’t spot anything in the dull forest through the deepening dusk and focused back on the enormous pile of witches’ bones.

  “I don’t want to freak you out, but are invisible hands grabbing you too?” Darominius asked.

  “Me too? I’m well beyond freaked out at this point, but that hasn’t happened yet.”

  Due to the hysteria, Whitney had forgotten about the hand on her shoulder earlier.

  “If you are already freaked out, then this won’t matter. The amount of dark energy in this area is amazing. A level I’ve never felt before and I’ve seen a few of these cases,” Darominius revealed.

  “How do you know that? Just by your senses?”

  “Just by my dragon senses,” he joked.

  Darominius tried to force a smile as he moved up to the gate and unlatched the lock. He nodded to Whitney and started to push up. The creaking lock sounded like a person wailing in pain as chunks of rust that had sat undisturbed for decades fell to the ground in an ominous pitter-patter.

  These witches’ spirts can’t be angry with me. I have a thing with ghosts and I’ve looked up to these witches, especially Ellen McCarron. But why does this feel so much different? So much darker? I wish Richard and the family would show up to help me get through this.

  The gate screeched like the devil’s nails on a chalkboard as Darominius slowly pulled it open and the sun disappeared for another day.

  4

  Darominius reached through the bars and re-locked the main gate to the Cemetery. Whitney’s chest tightened even more as she felt trapped next to a pile of bones and skulls. The skeletons only left a narrow walkway around the entire perimeter of the Cemetery. She had read many stories and seen many pictures of Dankstone, but nothing compared to seeing this mass carnage in person.

  To say she wanted to throw up would underestimate the intense terror twisting around in her empty stomach. This place made all the scare houses she had been to over the years seem like clown shows.

  “So, how are you doing?”

  Darominius jerked his head to the left and looked back over his left shoulder. “I’d say this place is a little bit creepy. Hopefully the sun rises earlier tomorrow is all I really have to say.”

  “Why won’t the good ghosts show up to help us?” She kicked a pile of leaves aside.

  Darominius leaned back against the rusted bars. “They are limited in what they can do. Unfortunately, it seems like there are no limits for some spirits concerning humans. They are doing what they can to figure out what is going on and how we can help you more.”

  A snaky sibilance started on the other side of the Cemetery, raising Whitney’s eyebrows and her heartbeat. She inched closer to Darominius as the hissing intensified. A swarm of snakes came around the corner of the pile of bones and slithered toward them.

  Whitney hated snakes. Her two biggest fears were snakes and spiders. She jumped up into the dragon shifter’s arms. The snakes of different colors were frighteningly visible as the moon acted like a spotlight for Dankstone Cemetery.

  The wave of twisted snakes came up to Darominius’ knee and some snapped at him. Whitney hoped her friend’s thick camouflage pants would protect him. The powerful mass of reptilian force tried to wrap around Darominius’ legs but he just kept thrashing around, kicking the snakes away as best he could.

  Whitney kept thinking he was going to drop her as he fought away the horde. A coldness ran though her midsection. She shivered and wondered where the sudden chill was coming from. The snakes disappeared back into the darkness with a few brave stragglers snapping at Darominius before retreating.

  He let Whitney down as the temperature rose again. She started to overheat and kept stretching her neck to see if the snakes were coming back.

  Whitney was in the middle of taking a deep breath when Darominius was suddenly blown back by an unknown force. He crashed into the fence and tried to hold on as his body slipped between the bars. The tall dragon shifter was forced perpendicular to the bars as the heavy wind that only affected him whipped in the quiet forest.

  A lightning strike fired down from the sky and hit the rusty fence, causing Darominius to let go and subsequently crash into the huge trunk of an old oak tree. The shifter mumbled and cursed under his breath.

  “Are you alright?”

  The dragon shifter struggled to get to his feet. “I’ll be right over.” He tried to walk back toward the Cemetery and the wind violently blew his silver beard and sideburns back, rippling the golden reptilian skin on his face and forcing him to close his eyes. A sudden gust picked him up off his feet and threw him back against the tree trunk with a painful thump.

  Whitney sympathetically felt the thud deep in her own bones.

  This is some Exorcist type shit. Why won’t my ghost friends come help me? Richard? Roland? Ruth-Ann? Raquel? Maybe this is a burden I need to bear alone. I don’t want to get him hurt. It’s me that this sicko wants but I really don’t want to be out here alone.

  “Forget it. Just go back to the motel. I’ll be fine here by myself.” She hoped he wouldn’t take her up on the offer.

  “I would try again, but I don’t want to break my back. Are you sure?” he asked and tried to straighten out his battered body.

  “I can’t have you dying out here. The deal was that I had to stay in this place all night, not you. You do what you have to do.” She still hoped he wouldn’t leave.

  “I hate to do it to you but it appears these forces don’t take too kindly to me. Force yourself to sleep and morning will be right along.” Darominius limped away mumbling in pain and then his voice and the sound of crackling leaves were silenced.

  Whitney was all alone with the ghosts. The staccato melodies of her chattering teeth quickly filled the void.

  A strange, buzzing sound started to build from the pile of bones until the ground shook and a skull rolled down in front of Whitney. Two big, red spiders emerged from the eyes of the skull and Whitney jumped away.

  The buzzing continued driving her crazy and she wanted to rip off her ears to make it stop. The intense pearly moonlight reflected off the skeletons and made them look like they were in motion. Whitney started coughing and dry heaved.

  An army of spiders had been hiding inside the bones and they all rushed out to play with Whitney.

  The temperature dropped precipitously and Whitney hoped it would chase the spiders away as she backed into the fence bars.

  The brown, white, gray and black spiders kept coming toward her like a moving collage. She almost ran out of the Cemetery and back to the motel but she took a deep breath and regained some courage. Trent would die if she left.

  Whitney got up on her toes to avoid the oncoming arachnids of every shape and size. She could feel them on the outside of her leather shoes and climbing up her gray pants. The wind became much more intense and Whitney could see her breath in front of her face.

  The intense force caused Whitney to hook her elbow around a rusty upright bar. The wind picked up even more and pushed her back so that most of her body was outside the perimeter. Only her elbow and part of her forearm remained inside. She grabbed another post with her other hand.

  Up the rusty pole came a parade of spiders, heading right for her arm.

  She could still feel the spiders over her long, heavy pants and she dry heaved again. A fuzzy, brown spider with red spots climbed onto her elbow and moved up toward her shoulder.

  She became short of breath and wanted to pass out. A shield of cold sweat built up on her forehead and the wicked breeze pushed it into her eyes. Whitney opened her eyes to a stinging salty sensation.

  The rusty bar Whitney was clinging to was starting to bend, threatening to snap apart and send her flying out of th
e Cemetery, subsequently killing her husband. The horrible creaking sound finally ceased, although Whitney had no time to breathe a sigh of relief.

  The chilly weather couldn’t stop her from overheating and the spider with a body bigger than a silver dollar disappeared from her peripheral vision. The wind beat against her face and she couldn’t turn to see where the hairy creature was headed.

  She wanted to throw up again as eight legs tramped up her neck, causing a sensation of tiny needles wrapped in fuzz like some sick sort of acupuncture.

  Whitney bawled as the spider approached her ear.

  She blew a snot bubble out of her nose, and her nasal passages became clogged. She had no choice but to open her mouth to breathe. She prayed that the spider wouldn’t crawl in her mouth as she shook in trepidation.

  The wind continued pushing her from the Cemetery, but despite every urge telling her to let go and knock all the spiders off her body and run home, she held on.

  She held on despite her writhing stomach and tear-drenched face. She didn’t know how much longer she could last as the spider stopped on her temple.

  The eight poking legs began moving again and Whitney shut her eyes as the arachnid ran across her forehead, down the bridge of her nose and then must have slipped off because of the tears. She sucked in a breath of relief and tried to blow her nose to clear it out.

  The brown spider fluttered toward the ground before suddenly stopping about a foot from the ground. The giant spider started rising back up from the web it had attached to some hair near her ear.

  Come on. You can’t be serious.

  Whitney could only focus on this nightmarish spider and didn’t feel the ones slipping inside the sleeve of her hoodie. The breeze continued and Whitney had trouble swallowing due to the dry mouth.

  Her furry friend kept rising toward her head until a crack of thunder sounded from above.

  The bright moon retreated behind a dark cloud and the heavy winds stopped. She carefully flicked away the huge brown spider, making sure to stay inside the bars. Whitney jumped backed inside the gates to the Cemetery and started brushing all the spiders off her.

  The whipping wind went away with the spiders and Whitney was alone again in haunting silence. She took off her hoodie and turned it inside out to get rid of all the spiders. She ripped off her pants and tiptoed back and forth in the cemetery as she brushed away all the arachnids.

  Her breathing finally started to slow down.

  The phone rang and she jumped when the silence broke.

  She pulled it out of her pocket.

  “Hello.”

  She heard laughter and then the person hung up the phone.

  An extended bark made Whitney jump again. She was certain it had to be a pack of wolves howling at the moon by the echoing sound. Her teeth started to chatter again despite the temperature shifting back to warm.

  An hour of silence went by and Whitney checked the phone. 2:48 a.m.

  Just a few more hours now. Let’s hope they’ve thrown everything at me. This wasn’t too bad. Little bit scary I guess.

  Her tensed body and bones would disagree with those thoughts. Whitney tried to lie to herself to get through the night. This had already been the most terrifying experience of her life. She longed for Trent again and wished he were there with her, even in a situation like this.

  She went to slide the phone back into her pocket and it rang again.

  “Hello.”

  Hysterical laughter was followed by the person hanging up the phone.

  “What a weirdo.”

  Whitney pushed the phone back into her pants pocket and paced near the front gate. She tried to inspect whether the bars were wide enough to get through once the sun finally showed its face.

  For some reason, the lively green ivy gave a feeling of reassurance to Whitney. It looked like the only living thing around except for the snakes and spiders. A light breeze kicked up, causing dancing shadows of the tree branches on the cobbled outer walkway.

  As Whitney went to check her phone again, a white flash went off in the distance.

  “Stay off our land or you will suffer like the rest,” a guttural female voice called out. The statement echoed as Whitney spun around several times trying to locate the person.

  A streak of red flames flew by Whitney’s face. Images flashed within the flames. Faces of women. A line of women being led to an apple tree. A woman’s head was being stuffed into a noose. Another ivory flash erupted to her right and she instinctually turned toward it. The red flames spiraled up into the sky and disappeared.

  The same terrifying voice came from behind her. “We don’t want anyone on our land. Get out.”

  Whitney yelled into the unknown, “Why are you doing this to me? I’m just like you. I’m a woman who’s been oppressed most of my life. I’ve been called a witch probably more times than you. Why are you doing this to me?”

  The voice sounded angrier. “Everyone thinks they identify with the Coven or with Ellen McCarron because someone made fun of them once. We died when we were called witches. Died. We made a vow to each other that we would never rest until the land could also rest. Anyone that invaded our land would be punished. You are anyone.”

  Whitney still couldn’t find anyone but the voice seemed to come from the top of the hill to the east. She didn’t feel like arguing with the invisible ghost. Her body and emotions had been fully drained over this experience as she looked out the front gates into the dark forest.

  “Don’t ignore me,” the voice cried.

  The ivy around the orange bars unraveled suddenly and sprang at Whitney, grabbing and pulling her tight to the metal bars. The mighty arms of ivy constricted like a boa and started to squeeze the life out of Whitney.

  The voice bellowed, “You pushed us to see our power. We don’t even need to be present to protect our land.”

  Breath became more and more elusive and sudden exhaling bursts became the norm. Too much air going out and not enough coming back in caused her face to turn deep red as the angry arms of ivy tightened around her.

  “You think you have a connection to the truly persecuted, but you do not. Leave now and your soul shall be saved.”

  Whitney accepted death until the ivy suddenly loosened and she collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Her face ran the spectrum from black raspberry to purple before almost returning to normal. She curled up in a ball and started crying.

  Two weeks ago, I had it all. A great husband, family and friends and now I’m all alone in a Cemetery in Dankstone, scared out of my mind and none of those people are here with me. How did it all change?

  A quick reminder came as the phone in her pocket rang.

  “Hello.”

  The giggling kidnapper just hung up again. Whitney shook her head and put the phone in her hoodie pocket. She curled up on the uneven cobblestones, but didn’t close her eyes.

  The phone rang again and Whitney woke up and answered it.

  “Hello.”

  The kidnapper said, “I hope you had fun last night. I think it’s time to give you back what you want. Why don’t you run back to your car and see your reward? He will be sitting in the passenger seat.”

  The man hung up and Whitney jumped up and pushed herself through the bars, knocking off some rust and collecting some on her hoodie. She started jogging up the hill and suddenly realized she didn’t really know the way back to the car.

  She wandered around for about an hour before finally recognizing an area near the car. She ran through a small field and through another patch of woods and the car sat about one hundred yards away. Whitney ran up to the car and stopped. Her heart sank six feet underground. A thick smear of red liquid covered almost the entire driver’s side window.

  5

  “He can’t be dead. He can’t be dead.”

  Whitney hesitantly walked toward the driver’s door. She coughed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat, but it didn’t work. The moment became surreal as she neared the v
ehicle. A close-up inspection revealed that the liquid wasn’t blood and looked more like ketchup.

  Whitney fumbled with the keys and finally opened the door.

  Nobody was in the car.

  The phone rang.

  Whitney ripped the phone from her pocket and answered angrily.

  “Let me guess, you’re going to laugh?”

  The kidnapper said, “This one wasn’t as fun considering it only lasted a few moments.”

  Whitney turned around several times trying to find whoever was watching her.

  The man continued. “You can go back to your friends now and you can all crowd around a campfire while you tell them the ghost stories from last night.”

  The man hung up without laughing and Whitney threw the phone down. She instantly regretted that hasty decision as she dug through the brittle leaves and dead pine needles to get the black phone back. Whitney jumped in the car and drove back to the motel.

  She pulled up and parked the car. Bo was sitting against the door of another room.

  She got out and said, “Hey yo.”

  Bo looked up from his phone and got up. As he walked over, he asked, “Are they still at it?”

  “At what?” Whitney didn’t know what he was talking about.

  Bo nodded. “Yep, they’re still at it.”

  Whitney walked up to the door and could hear the pounding sounds coming from the room.

  “Are they banging?” Whitney became jealous.

  Bo nodded again. “Like wild horses.”

  “So what, they just kicked you out of the room?” Whitney knocked heavily on the door. “Open up, rabbits.”

  The thumping stopped and whispers followed.

  Bo said, “They just started going at it pretty much, so I left.”

  Tara opened the door with a devilish smile on her face. “You rang.”

  Whitney pushed her way in, through the smell of sex hanging heavily in the room. She opened a couple of windows as she talked. “Don’t try to be cute. And for you. You leave me in the woods to come home to bang my friend. I’m out there fighting away angry witch ghosts singlehandedly while you guys are back here having the time of your life.”