by Natasha Deen
Bruce took off his outer gear and shook the snow from his hair with his fingers. He gave me a hug, then sped up the stairs after Tammy.
I closed the front door, gave myself a quick shake to ward off the cold from the outside and followed them to where they stood by Nell and Craig.
“Like really shake and rattle,” said Tammy. “I thought he was trying to come out from the board.”
Serge looked at me and lifted his hands in surrender. “I swear to God that wasn’t me.”
“You should have been there,” Bruce said to me. “You’re such a death magnet—ow!” He rubbed the back of his head and gave Nell a one-eyed glare.
“Manners.”
“I just meant she found Serge dead and now she found Kent dead—” He pedalled backward as she came at him, hand raised. “I’ll shut up, now.”
Tammy gave me another hug. “Are you sure you’re okay? That must have been totally horrible. Landing on a decomposing body—”
“I’m not averse to hitting a girl, either,” said Nell. “Leave Kent out of this and get back to Serge. What happened?”
Excitement lit Tammy’s eyes. “It was crazy. Like being in an earthquake.”
“Wow,” I murmured. “Sorry I missed it.”
“Don’t be sorry.” She dropped her bag at her feet and knelt down. “Look what I brought.” Tammy brought out the Ouija box with the flourish of a magician performing a trick. “We’re going to try again.”
Oh, boy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I thought I told you not to bring that,” said Nell.
Bruce waved her down. “Face your fear. A guy’s life—afterlife is on the line. Two of their lives. The more help they have, the better.”
“I’m not comfortable with this,” I said, backing as far away as I could.
“Me either,” added Craig as he joined me.
Serge stumbled back to where we stood.
Nell wiggled her fingers. “I think my Ouija hand has got some kind of repetitive stress injury.”
“Fine. If you guys are scared, just say so and we won’t do anything,” said Tammy.
“I’m scared,” I said.
“Terrified.”
“Consider me petrified.”
“Cowards,” scoffed Bruce. “It’s not that bad.”
Oh, yeah. A ferrier, a ghost, and a transitioner of the dead, all hovering around a board that called the dead. What could possibly go wrong?
In the background, the radio clicked on.
Serge went still.
Craig’s gaze slid to where the radio sat on the counter.
They both looked at me as the static crackled to life.
“Maggie…oh Maggie…”
“You’ll see, it’ll be so cool.” Tammy moved to the wood coffee table. She looked over her shoulder. “I think your radio’s broken. Can’t you hear the hiss?”
No, I was too busying hearing the boom of Dead Falls exploding from all hell breaking loose.
“Mags, I don’t feel good,” said Serge. His eyes squeezed shut and he shook his head like a dog. “There’s a buzzing inside me.”
Me too, Boo-Boo.
“I thought this Ouija stuff was just hocus-pocus.”
To regular people, maybe. But you and me are as irregular as they get. I wasn’t sure if this was us. None of us was playing with the Ouija, but maybe The Voice’s presence was activating it.
“How bad can this get?”
Bad. I glanced over at the radio. If The Voice doesn’t shut up, we’ll be drowning in souls.
Or other things.
Craig’s voice sounded in my head.
Serge’s face went white. “What kind of things?”
Huh. So I hadn’t been the only supernatural in the room to hear Craig’s voice.
“Things like that ancient evil thing that attacked us last month?” Serge asked. “Or things like the opening of a portal to hell like last time?”
Maybe. Or there might be other stuff. Craig tossed us a calm smile. It’ll be a good time. Not sure if your house will survive, but we’ll have fun.
No, you’ll have fun, I corrected him.
At least one of us will have fun. He grinned.
I hope if anything super bad comes through it ends me, ‘cause if I put a dent in the walls, Dad’ll kill me.
“Maggie, oh Maggie,” The Voice wept. “He’s coming for you.”
Tammy came toward us, box in hand.
We have to be careful. Craig’s ferrier form overlaid his human body. There’s no predicting what’s going to come through.
We backed up as Tammy closed the distance.
“Don’t be a wuss—” Bruce cut short his words as the box began to shake.
“Wow, it’s happening way faster than last time,” said Tammy. “This is so cool!”
Said the girl who was about to start a demon apocalypse.
The lid flew off, hit the armrest and bounced to the ground. Tammy held to the box as tightly as she could, but the Ouija board was shaking hard enough to dislocate her shoulder.
“Hey guys, I’ve been knocking, didn’t anyone hear? I’m sorry I’ve been so AWOL—whoa!” Kent hit the tops of the stairs, took in the scene. He ducked for cover as whatever controlled the box wrenched itself from Tammy’s grip and hurled itself toward him. Kent rolled out of the way as the box slammed to a stop a few inches from his skull.
Everyone stared at the box as it rattled into stillness.
“What did I walk into?” asked Kent.
“A séance,” said Serge.
“Something tells me this is the last place I should be.” Kent stood, swayed. “Anybody else feeling a weird buzz in their body? My stomach feels like someone put a hot water bottle on it.”
“You should leave now,” I said.
“No, it wasn’t so bad—” Tammy screamed as the pointer rocketed from the ground and clipped her as it sped toward the ceiling. The board shot up, opened itself and began to spin.
Nell launched herself toward the board, but it was as if it had sight, and it dodged out of her way. Spinning ever faster and with the help of its psychic controller it created a wind tunnel in the house. Cold as ice, it froze my throat with every breath I took.
My hair pulled free of its braid, lashed my face like a whip.
In the background, The Voice began to weep. Papers, dirt from plants whipped themselves into a funnel that began to pull us ever closer to the tunnel. The board glowed red and the hellish light shot to the ceiling, changed to a thick fog and poured down. The board flipped so we could see its printed side.
Letters shimmied, rearranged themselves into what looked like words but was of no language I knew. The surface of the board softened into something gel-like as the letters melted into a black goo and dripped to the floor. From underneath the surface of the board, a hand began to push through.
“Serge is trying to talk to us!” Bruce yelled to be heard above the wind. “Look at how fast the board’s spinning.”
“No, he’s not,” said Serge. “Because he’s too busy trying not to throw up.”
“I feel weird, too.” Kent was on all fours. “We have to get rid of this thing!”
Craig crouched beside me. “First things. Get rid of Bruce and Tammy. They can’t see what we’re seeing, but that doesn’t mean it can’t hurt them.”
“Tammy! Bruce!” I yelled. “Get out! Now!”
“No way!” Bruce crawled my way. “We’re not going to leave you alone to deal with this!”
Oh, for crying out loud. Why do guys always pick the stupidest times to be heroic?
“I’m staying, too.”
I could barely hear Tammy over The Voice crying my name.
She and Bruce crept toward me as my brain spun to think of a way to get rid of
them, save the ghosts, and not destroy Dad’s house. But the psychic energy from the Ouija board wasn’t just affecting Serge and Kent. It was doing funky stuff to me, too. It felt like someone was stuffing my ears with wet cotton balls, shoving them into my brain. My tongue felt thick, my limbs heavy.
“Please,” I begged Tammy and Bruce. “Get out!”
“We’re in this together!”
A figure loomed behind Tammy and Bruce. It bent close, hit them each at the back of their heads. They went down.
“Learned that in self-defense class,” I heard Nell say. “I’ll drag them somewhere safe. You guys take care of this.”
I turned to the Ouija board. The hand was now a hand, wrist, forearm, and elbow, and more of it was coming through. But embedded in the palm of the hand were smaller hands, grasping, their movement and shape made them seem more like tiny mouths searching for something to tear into.
The fog, too, had taken shape. It had segmented itself into the body and legs of a centipede, the tail of a scorpion, and used the Ouija board as its head.
I didn’t know where its sight came from, but it seemed focused on Kent and Serge. “Run for the back door!”
They ran for the door as the creature chased after them.
Craig shook his body like a dog shaking water from its fur. His skin fell off him like droplets as his ferrier form took over. Scales, glittering and dark, covered muscle and sinew. Horns grew from his forehead and his serpentine tail slithered to the ground. His eyes a glowing red, he gave me a sharp-toothed grin. “My turn to play,” he rumbled and took off after the group.
I let the guys handle the thing from the other side and helped Nell carry Bruce. We tucked him under the kitchen table, then dragged Tammy to join him. As a parting effort to the cause, I pulled off my sweater—Dad’s hoodie—and covered their faces.
“I’ll stay here.” Nell pulled the chairs around them like a fortress. “I’ll knock them out again if they start coming to.”
I rushed to the battleground. Snow and wind swirled, blinding me at the same time it froze the air in my chest.
Craig and the thing were locked in battle. He stood ten feet tall and almost as wide and had the centipede in hand-to-hand combat. The creature made a sound, like metal scraping against metal and shoved Craig backwards. Its scorpion tail reared back then honed in on Craig’s chest.
He grabbed the trunk of the tail, twisted and rolled, and flipped the creature on its back.
It screamed and my ears pricked at what sounded like human speech. It screamed again and I heard...mine, belong. When it rounded on Serge and Kent, crawled towards them, I understood.
It was claiming the ghosts.
Serge jerked back, pushed Kent behind him.
The centipede scuttled to them.
I ran into the fray, the blood pounding in my ears, inoculating me against the ice cold and the fear.
“Maggie, no!” Serge raised his hand to me, in a stop motion.
A wall of air came at me, pushed me back and rolled me to the ground. “Serge!” I rocked to my feet, shaking my head against the sting of snow and wind, and focused on my soul brother.
He stood in between Kent and the creature.
Craig and I raced to them.
The centipede used its tongue like a lasso, whipped it out and lashed it around Serge’s body.
His eyes rolled back, and froth poured from his mouth.
Maggie—
I tuned into Craig’s voice.
Get ready.
I was close enough to see the whites of Serge’s eyes. I grabbed for the creature, retched as I realized its consistency wasn’t cloud or fog, but mucus. Its flesh was like quicksand, latched itself to my flesh and began to suck me in. The burning of my skin at contact was nothing compared to what it was.
“Maggie!” yelled Craig. “On the count of three, grab Serge and shove him back as hard as you can!”
I nodded, the nausea and the visions too overwhelming for me to do anything else. Bracing my feet and weight on the ground, I tried to pull my hands free of the slime, but it held fast.
Kent ran forward, slipped on the snow as he reached out to grab me.
“No!” I dodged out of his way. “You can’t touch me!”
“One!” Craig yelled.
“I have to do something!” Kent looked around. Grabbed a stick from the ground and tried to crowbar it in between me and the creature. He jerked back as the thing sucked the wood into itself.
Serge convulsed.
I pulled harder but it only held tighter.
“Maybe that’s why I’m here,” screamed Kent. “To save you!”
“No!” There was no time to explain to him why he couldn’t get near it. “Stay away!”
“Two!” Craig put his hands—claws—together. As he pulled them apart, a ball of yellow-orange light emanated from his palms.
Screaming in frustration and fear, I yanked and tugged.
The thing only sucked harder.
“Three!”
My hands held immobile, I did the only thing I could. I jerked to my feet and used my shoulder like a battering ram to shove Serge back.
Kent grabbed me around the waist, tackled me into Serge.
There was disgusting sucking noise as Serge twisted free of the thing.
The light from Craig’s hands slammed into the creature.
At the edge of my consciousness
—a blinding flash of light
—Serge screaming
—Kent howling
—my skin burning
—sudden silence
—unending black
Chapter Twenty-Five
It hurt to blink. It hurt more to breath.
“Maggie, take it easy.”
Dad, his tone overly calm.
I tried to talk. And instantly regretted that move.
“No, stay still until Craig’s done.”
Heat, the kind I imagined on tropical islands—warm, moist, and soothing—travelled from my toes to my head and enveloped me in the scent of jasmine and coconuts. It seeped into my body, quieted the searing hurt in my lungs and throat. When the heat evaporated, I opened my eyes and smiled at Craig. “Thanks, Doc.”
Dad helped me to sit up.
Kent leaned against the doorjamb.
“Nancy’s cleaning up downstairs,” said Dad. His tone remained calm, which meant he was super pissed. “And now that I know you’ll live, I’m going to go and help her.”
“Was it really bad?” I asked.
“We no longer have windows in the living room. Which is great, considering how cold and snowy it is outside. If you can find a way to predict lottery numbers that would go a long way to helping with the heating bill and repair costs.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“In the meantime, I’m telling the neighbours you had a party that got out of hand.” Dad gave me a small smile. “You’ve been such a good kid, anyway, about time we started giving you a bad girl rep.”
“A party in the middle of the day. That is pretty bad girl.”
“When I’m done helping Nancy, I’m coming back and we’re going to have a nice, long, talk. By which I mean I’ll talk and you’ll listen.” He cupped my chin. “Good?”
“Good.”
He gave my forehead a kiss. “Nancy talked Nell’s dad into giving us some samples of Tylenol Three for your pain.” He pointed at the small packet on my table. “Take as directed. I’m sure Craig fixed everything, but it won’t hurt to be extra sure.” He left the room.
“He was calm,” said Craig. “You’re in so much trouble, aren’t you?”
“The worst. I’m going to be grounded for life.” But I’d worry about that later. “Where’s Serge and Ne—?”
Kent pointed behind me.
&n
bsp; Serge lay in the bed, his complexion sallow, and a thin sheen of sweat on his skin.
Nell sat beside him, holding his hand.
I blinked.
“Craig turned him solid so I could see him,” said Nell. “I had to make sure he was okay.”
“You look like death warmed over,” I told Serge.
He gave me a weak laugh. “The thing, it liked me because of my past life. Craig fixed me. I just feel shaky and weak.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “The visions I got from the—” I looked over at Craig. “What do we call it?”
He frowned. “Like ‘George’ or ‘Lester?’”
“Are you purposely being a smartass?”
He grinned. “I do what I can to lighten the mood. It’s known by many names. Legion, for one, but that describes any band of souls that group together. We call them The Family.”
“The Family?” Nell repeated.
“They’re souls that were separated from their bodies violently. In some cases, their bodies have never been found. The Family are the souls that haven’t been able to move on or find peace. They’re the forever missing. No burials. No solutions to who killed them. In their individual forms, they can become poltergeists. But when they group together,” said Craig, “they form a legion we call The Family.”
“Shouldn’t it be trapped in hell?” asked Nell.
“They’ve never crossed over, they’ve never been claimed.” I thought back about what it was like to touch and connect with their energy. “They’re like a wind, blowing in the limbo between this world and the next—” I caught myself and stopped talking.
“—blowing and looking for other people who have died they way they did. But we know who killed Serge and why. And we found Kent’s body, so he’s not a forever missing.” Nell’s grip on Serge’s hand tightened. “So why did it try to claim both of you?”
“It wasn’t trying for Serge, it was trying for me,” said Kent, “but Serge saved me. If he hadn’t pushed me out of the way…I would’ve been lost, too.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I think I called it to your house, Maggie. I’ve been so screwed up over my death and my mom on those stupid pills—”
“You can take one of those off your list,” said Nell. “My dad talked to her and they decided to take her off them. So no accidental overdose. No hospitalizations to fear for your mom.”
