Spirelli Paranormal Investigations Box Set

by Kate Baray

  “I think our ghost can only manipulate one object at a time.” As Jack spoke the words, he searched the surrounding area for incoming missiles, but couldn’t spot the next attack.

  She’s gone. For now. Dragon Marin blinked out of existence, replaced by her human self. “Mind-speaking with you both is exhausting. Easier this way.” She gave Jack a peeved look. “You have some water in your pack?”

  Jack pulled out a bottle and handed it to her. “I lost contact and I needed to pass along important information. And I’m not a complete idiot. We have backup coming if we’re not out of here by the morning.”

  “The morning?” Charlotte’s eyes got wide. “Seriously? And my husband must be losing his mind with worry. Please tell me you at least told him where I am.”

  “Just that we’d found you and were extracting you.” Jack handed Charlotte a bottle of water. “Do you want him trying to get you out? Getting stuck in here?”

  “Of course not.” Charlotte’s shoulders slumped. “I’m just so tired. And I want to go home, see my family.” She groaned. “Sleep in my own bed.”

  “We’re almost there.” Marin wrapped a comforting arm around Charlotte. Turning to Jack, she narrowed her eyes and said, “Right?”

  Jack sidestepped the question for now. “How much time do we have? Before the psycho ghost comes back?”

  “With our luck, she can hear you, Jack.” Marin let go of Charlotte and started toward the cabin.

  Charlotte followed right behind her. “I’m not sure, but several minutes. Manipulating objects, interacting in any way with the physical world—I know that takes effort, and there’s a limit to how much a ghost can do in a short period of time.”

  Jack hustled to catch up, since it looked like Marin was about to walk through the doorless entry to the small cabin. “Okay. First things first: the ward surrounding us is powered by death magic.”

  “We know. We told you that in the text—remember?” Marin answered just a hair before she ducked into the doorway. A few seconds later, she said, “Whoa. And I might have found the sacrifice. Or maybe a victim of the trap? Used the cabin for shelter and didn’t ever leave . . . ” She popped back out. “Don’t suppose you saw bones when you checked out the cabin yesterday?”

  Charlotte shook her head frantically. “Truly. I’d have said. I wouldn’t forget to tell you guys something like that. I mean . . . ” Her lips twisted. “I didn’t actually go in. It’s creepy, you know? And there’s a nasty vibe. I just ducked my head through the door to make sure no one was in there.”

  “So, how do you feel about skeletal remains?”

  Charlotte sighed. “At least I’m not going in alone.” She was about to walk through the door, but she paused to ask, “Uh, just bones, right? No squishy parts?”

  Jack bit his lip. It was just too bizarre not to be comical, but he was damn sure Charlotte wouldn’t appreciate him laughing.

  “Bones, clothing scraps. That’s all,” Marin replied, disappearing back into the cabin.

  Jack stopped Charlotte with a hand on her shoulder and walked in before her. “Any chance either of you noticed that the ward is shrinking?”

  The smell of must and decay filled Jack’s nose. No door, and whatever had originally covered the windows was long gone, but much of the roof remained intact. Damp had gotten in, but no direct sunlight meant the interior had moldered.

  A gentle push on his back reminded him Charlotte was directly behind him. He took several steps into the room then approached Marin and crouched down next to her as she examined the pile of bones. “The ghost is definitely female, and the remains are female—but I have no idea if these are the ghost’s bones.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “You can ID sex from bones?”

  “I’m assuming she’s female because of her size, the shoes—” Marin pointed to a sturdy pair of women’s boots that had outlived much of the wearer’s clothing. “And see the small buttons scattered on the ground? Women’s clothing. And from the quality and number of buttons, the style of the shoes, I’m guessing early nineteen hundreds. Not a poor woman.”

  Charlotte joined them, but remained standing. “If the ward is collapsing, that may be why our ghost wanted us away from the perimeter.” She shrugged. “Maybe? Because she wasn’t bothering me until Marin arrived and we both started tracking your progress around the perimeter of the ward.”

  “I don’t suppose either one of you know what would happen if the ward passed us by, rather than us trying to walk through the ward?” Marin looked at Jack and Charlotte hopefully. “And Jack, before you ask, when you approach the ward, it’s like a strong shove. The closer you get, the more it pushes back. And the more force you use, the greater the rebound. I tried a running start with less than stellar results.”

  “No clue. But if it would just shove us away—basically if it still works—why was the ghost so pissy about us lingering near the perimeter?” Charlotte looked thoughtful. “Why does the ghost even care about the ward?”

  “I’ve got some local history for you that might help with that.” Jack repeated what Chris had told him: local affluent woman, abandoned by her scumbag husband, isolating herself after her parents passed, labeled a witch by the locals.

  “We do have local lore about a witch in the area. But I can tell you with complete certainty, there are no local witches in this area, and haven’t been for a very long time.” Charlotte smiled. “I checked before we moved here. But—you’re thinking the story is about a spell caster?”

  “If it is, I’m betting this is her.” Jack motioned to the small pile of bones and shoes on the ground.

  Marin shook her head. “But being labeled a witch has nothing to do with magic. She acted oddly, was a woman, and lived alone. That could easily equal witch in nineteen hundreds rural Louisiana.”

  “Okay, the fact that they call her a witch is a coincidence,” Jack said. “Crazy woman in the woods, left by her husband. If she’s a spell caster, she kills herself, and as her last dying act sets this ward. Crazier things have happened.”

  Marin shook her head. “We’re making a lot of assumptions, the greatest being that the bones belong to the ghost, and the ghost is our spell caster. We have no real proof of that. And if we did? What good does that do us?”

  Jack smiled. “I do know that the place of death or the physical remains tie a ghost to a location. That means that our ghost is tied to this place because she died here or because her bones are here, regardless of who she actually is. We want to get rid of the ghost. I say we get rid of—”

  A thundering crack sounded and debris dropped on Jack’s head.

  ~*~

  “Jack. Come on. Wake up, Jack.”

  A sharp pain pulsed behind his right ear. He tried to speak, but his mouth was full of dirt. The realization of which immediately resulted in a fit of coughing. Searing pain flashed in his eye, his head. Coughing turned to retching.

  “Don’t move.” A woman’s voice. Charlotte.

  He tried to speak and finally managed a croak on the third try. “Marin?”

  “Over here,” Marin replied.

  Jack cracked an eye open, and blinding, gut-wrenching pain forced his lid closed. But he didn’t puke. A cold sweat covered him, probably from all the churning his stomach had been doing. Oh, yeah, maybe from the pain. “What happened?” His voice was steadier now, his thoughts less jumbled.

  “That bitch cracked the roof’s supporting beams and dumped a bunch of roof on top of us.” That acerbic comment originated, surprisingly, from Charlotte.

  “That bitch is gone for now, by the way,” Marin added in a milder tone. “It must have taken a good bit of juice to break the beams. They’re pretty stout.” She cleared her throat. “About that . . . any chance you might be able to move anytime soon?”

  “Head injury. Give me a break,” Jack grumbled with his eyes still closed.

  “It’s just that Charlotte is pretty sure you’re not about to croak. And I can’t move until you clear out
of the cabin.” Marin’s voice was matter of fact, but there was a tenseness underlying it that was curious.

  Jack steeled himself and opened his eyes. The light was getting dimmer as the sun set, which might have helped with the pain. He could see about half of the cabin from where he’d been knocked out. And there was Marin, near the corner, trapped under one of the split beams. “Shit. Sorry.”

  “It’s all good. I can get out. But when I shift the beam, the rest of the rubble will move. Not particularly safe for you and Charlotte. So, uh, you got a time frame on getting up?”

  “The wound is already starting to clot, but there’s a good chance you’ll vomit when we move you. And maybe pass out again.” Charlotte sounded apologetic.

  “It’s fine. Do you think a strengthening potion might help?” Jack asked Charlotte as she started moving some small pieces of wood and plant matter off him. “I got it from an earth witch. Something to do with increasing endurance and strength.”

  “It won’t fix your head, but it’ll make you feel better.” Charlotte pursed her lips. “A lot better if it’s a good recipe and the witch had any skill.” She muttered something about potions under her breath, and then asked Jack, “In your backpack?”

  “Yeah. It’s in the blue Platypus—the reusable plastic water bottle thing. I only brought a liter—is that enough?” Jack asked quietly. He’d closed his eyes again. It was just easier. And puking sucked.

  “More than enough if it’s done right.” Charlotte dug through his pack and then crowed with delight. “Oh, yes! This is Marceline’s work. You couldn’t ask for better quality.”

  Jack managed to prop himself up on an elbow without ralphing.

  Charlotte handed him the potion and told him to drink about a third of it. “No need to waste it, and more won’t make a difference for at least a day.”

  “Got it.” The first sip made Jack’s stomach turn, but the second settled it. By the time he finished a third of the bladder, standing up seemed like a reasonable option. “Any chance this works on dragons? Maybe you guys can split the rest?”

  Charlotte removed the cap and downed her portion. Once she was done, she handed it off to the still prone Marin. “I think it’s worth a try, unless you think it might be harmful.”

  Marin took the container, gave it a sniff, then said, “Bottoms up,” before finishing the potion. “Now get your ass out of here before our friendly neighborhood ghost returns and decides to do something worse.”

  Jack was already struggling to his feet. “If there’s any chance, can you try to grab—”

  “Yeah. But the walls have ears, and all that.”

  With a little support from Charlotte, Jack made it out of the cabin in good time. By the time they’d exited, his headache had dulled to a tolerable throb. The sun had fallen below the treetops, making it less startlingly bright, which also helped. He and Charlotte shared a look then turned to stand back to back, on the lookout for the return of the angry spirit.

  A loud crash made both of them jump, but Charlotte stopped Jack when he would have returned to the cabin. “Her dragon could shift the debris more easily, so she was going to push her way out in dragon form.”

  “Ah. That conversation happened when I was passed out, I’m guessing.”

  Marin emerged through the doorway just as human as they’d left her, and in her hand she clutched a pelvic girdle, two long bones, and a skull.

  “I’ll scout for the edge of the ward.” Jack took off at a jog in the opposite direction of the cars.

  The last thing they needed was that crazy thing blocking their escape route. When he reached the area he estimated to be near the ward’s edge, he pulled out his glasses, surprisingly only slightly bent but otherwise intact. He searched for the edge and found nothing. Maybe the darkening sky made the edge more difficult to see? He thought about using his special flashlight, but opted against it, since both it and the ward were magic and he had no clue how they’d both appear together through his warded specs.

  He lifted his gaze and looked further into the distance. And he saw it: a retreating shadow. It was moving at a good clip. He turned back to Marin and Charlotte, who’d been following behind him. He raised his hand, hoping they’d get the idea. Marin stopped, shooting him an odd look. He turned back, and this time he found the ward’s perimeter more quickly. The now stationary ward. When they’d stopped moving, the ward had also stopped.

  He sprinted back to Marin and Charlotte and relayed his conclusion as fast as he could get the words out: “The ward’s not tied to a physical perimeter. It’s the bones. It’s tied to the bones. That’s why the ward was shrinking as its magic drained, as we threw objects through it and pushed against the edge of it. If it was tied to a boundary, it would have just faded away in place. But since it radiates outward from the bones—”

  Jack stopped and caught his breath. His sprint through the woods had aggravated his head injury, even with his super potion, and he was close to puking. “Throw the fucking bones. As far as you can. All of them at once.” He yanked his pack off and dumped the contents.

  “Shit. The ghost is coming. I can feel her,” Marin said. But she hesitated. “When the ward passes by us?”

  “No idea. Do it.” Jack didn’t want to spend the next twelve hours beating back a psycho ghost with an irrational grudge. He handed her the pack. “Do it.”

  Charlotte swallowed. “Do it.”

  Marin stuffed the bones in the pack. And the wind began to gust madly. She hefted the pack and threw it like her life depended on it.

  A horrible rush of energy gathered. Loomed.

  Jack yelled, “Ward hop!”

  In an instant, Marin was a dragon and had wrapped her wings around Charlotte and Jack.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jack felt cold. No—nothing. A cold nothingness. His limbs were gone; only his core existed, and only in a floating space, as if gravity had faded slowly away. Then his body collapsed in on itself and every particle of his being screamed. He screamed. But there was no sound. There was silence. And again there was a nothingness, a weightlessness to his body. For seconds, minutes. Forever.

  “Wake up, Jack.” Marin’s voice, thin and reedy, reached his ears.

  “Holy fuck.” For the second time in one day, he was laid out flat with his face in the dirt. “What the holy mother of hell was that?”

  Charlotte said, “A dimensional shift.” Her teeth chattered. “I think I might be in shock.”

  Marin caught her and lowered her gently to the ground.

  “Brilliant idea. Let’s take the humans through a dimensional portal.” Marin fell to the ground next to Charlotte. “I might complain about being called young, but you know—I actually am kinda young. I’m not supposed to do that kinda shit.” She sounded more confused than angry. Tired, certainly. “Didn’t really know I could.”

  Jack pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around. “Oh, shit.”

  Marin closed her eyes. “What now?”

  “Thank you,” Jack said with feeling. He really liked living. He was sometimes reckless and took risks he shouldn’t—but that didn’t mean he had a death wish. And one look at the ground around them told him that nothing—except maybe the plants—had survived that massive magical energy rush. The bodies of insects, birds, a squirrel, were scattered around them. He said it again. “Thank you.”

  Marin had wrapped her arm around Charlotte, and the two of them were sitting quietly. She opened her eyes, and Jack tipped his head toward the carcass of a small bird a few feet away.

  Marin closed her eyes again. “Oh.”

  Jack hated to ask—but if they weren’t out of trouble, they needed to get moving. “Do you feel the ghost? Is she still here?”

  The color had returned to Charlotte’s face, and Marin looked more herself. Marin replied, “I don’t know if she’s gone—but she’s not here now.”

  Jack checked his face, and amazingly found his specs still propped up on his nose. He stood up,
ready to scout for the new location of the ward—so they could avoid it. Before he’d scanned further than the immediate area, his phone rang.

  “That’s a good sign,” Charlotte murmured.

  Jack checked the number, then quickly answered. “Harrington. You got my email.”

  “I’m calling about the massive magical explosion that just reverberated through a tiny little town called Miersburg.” Harrington’s voice was ice cold. “Don’t suppose you can tell me anything about that?”

  “Any damage done?” Jack asked.

  “Yet to be determined.”

  Jack knew that meant no. At least for now. Time to fess up. “There was damage to the local wildlife near the coordinates I gave you. I’m not sure how extensive. I haven’t verified if the ward is still standing, and, if so, the current location of the ward. Also, I’m not sure where the ghost has planted itself.”

  “You relocated a ward powered by death magic.” It wasn’t a question. And Harrington spoke so quietly, Jack wasn’t sure if the man was in shock or about to completely lose his shit because he was so mad.

  “I’ve got to get everyone home as soon as possible, so . . . ” Jack hoped he could at least get off the phone and do some assessment before the shit completely hit the fan.

  “There’s an IPPC subcontractor on the way from New Orleans, estimated arrival in an hour. Get your client home and my guy will call if he has any questions.” Harrington paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was frigid. “You will answer your phone.”

  “Will do.” Jack ended the call before any talk of payment, favors, or other unpleasant consequences were mentioned. Once he hung up, he did the math. “That bastard. He called his guy as soon he got off the phone with me earlier today.”