Dead Pool (Exorcist Files Book 1)

by Marty Shaw

  The spirit howled its rage and pain out into the night as the door to the motel room was blasted off its hinges, landing several yards away in the parking lot. It glared at Lochlan with glowing eyes, bathing him in its yellow light, before diving at him. He closed his eyes and sucked in a sharp breath as the angry spirit enveloped him within its essence.

  TEN

  Lochlan inhaled deeply, smiling at the smell of spring in the air as a warm breeze ruffled his hair, the gentle rocking motion beneath his feet inviting him to nap.

  “Best job in the world if you want to see the countryside.”

  Lochlan opened his eyes. An older man—no younger than fifty-five—smiled at him, his right arm propped casually on the window of the train engine they were riding in, his left hand resting on his leg as he relaxed in the tiny engineer’s seat, the scenic countryside passing by as the train sailed smoothly along its tracks.

  “How are you doing, Clarence?” Lochlan asked.

  The engineer shrugged. “Can’t complain. Been a nice, smooth ride so far.”

  Lochlan looked at all the pipes and gauges in front of him. He nodded towards them, glancing at Clarence. “Looks complicated. I couldn’t even guess as to what any of it means.”

  The engineer chuckled. “It’s not as hard as it looks. . . and all the gauges say everything is as sweet as could be.” The smile abruptly fell from his face. “But the gauges lie.” He stood up, leaning his head out the tiny window. When he looked back at Lochlan, the flesh on the right side of his face had been peeled away, his right eye dangling on what was left of his cheek. “The gauges lie. We’re already picking up speed.” He moved past Lochlan to the other side of the engine, placing his left hand on the vacuum brake. The skin blackened and blistered right before Lochlan’s eyes.

  “I knew the gauges were wrong,” Clarence said, looking back at Lochlan with half a face as his clothes began to smoke. “When you’ve been doing this for as long as I have, you get a feel for the train. You know when things are right. . . and when things are wrong. I tried to use the brake.” He patted the copper lever with his blackened hand, flesh sticking to the metal as it began to smoke. “But it didn’t work.” He peeled his hand off the lever a final time and sounded the train whistle. “This is all I can do. . . but it’s not enough.” He glanced at Lochlan. “There’s a sharp turn up ahead. We’re going to hit it at forty-five miles an hour and jump the tracks. The boiler is under too much pressure. It’s going to explode. Thirty-five of my fifty-two passengers are going to die.” His eyes began to glow. “And it’s all my fault.”

  Lochlan held up the papers in his hand. “No, Clarence. That’s why I’m here. You’re free; you just don’t know it.”

  Clarence shook his head as his clothes began to catch fire. “I’ll never be free.”

  Lochlan flipped through the papers, shoving one of them at Clarence’s face. “Look at this. Eight years after the accident, some lawyers and investigators hired by the survivors started looking into the company. They discovered the company’s habit of cutting corners by using inferior materials for parts; inferior materials that caused unnecessary accidents.” He hurriedly thumbed through the articles until he found another one, showing it to Clarence as the skin began to melt off the left side of his face. “Right here, Clarence. You were found innocent of any wrongdoing, with the previous charges of reckless endangerment overturned. Everyone knows you were just as much a victim as everyone else on this train.”

  The engineer snatched the paper from Lochlan’s hand. He scanned it with his one good eye and then looked at Lochlan. “They. . . they know I didn’t kill anybody.”

  “Yes,” Lochlan said, smiling at Clarence. “They know. Everybody knows. You’re innocent.” He waited to see what would happen, praying it would be enough.

  The engineer—the friendly older man he had first seen when he opened his eyes—smiled at Lochlan. “Thank you.”

  Lochlan exhaled and opened his eyes, looking around the motel room. Plaster dust settled on the floor and furniture, the lights flickered once, twice, and then stayed on. Traffic on the street out front was the only sound that could be heard. The redhead—Ashley—slowly climbed to her feet. She surveyed the damage and then looked at him.

  “What was that?” Her voice didn’t shake. He couldn’t help but admire that. He smiled.

  “That was someone finding peace after having none for far too long.”

  ELEVEN

  Thirty minutes later, Lochlan was sitting at the little writing table in another room, a check from the owner for services rendered in his pocket. Lochlan had assured the owner that the room would be okay to rent to guests once it was cleaned up and the damage repaired. He stared at the desktop on the laptop’s screen—a logo for Ashley’s YouTube show, Haunted Ashley. He had just finished watching the video while she showered, not happy with plaster dust flying every time she ran her fingers through her hair.

  He had been prepared to laugh at her when she stepped out of the restroom, saying she had gotten scared of a few shadows twisting in the light. . . but that was no trick of light that had chased her from the swimming pool. She was lucky to be alive. Or maybe something more than luck was involved. The thing from the pool had gotten close enough to grab her, but it didn’t, reaching out several times for her, only to pull its hand back at the last second. He had a theory about that, but it was something that could wait until later. The thing in the pool couldn’t wait. It had already killed at least two people. There was no doubt that more would follow. He tilted his head, turning to look at the bathroom door. He had heard something over the running water; something—possibly a shampoo bottle—falling in the bathtub. It had sounded odd, though. Another bottle fell. Again, it sounded not quite right. It’s not just one sound, he realized. It’s hitting something before falling to the bottom of the tub.

  Walking quickly to the door, Lochlan knocked. “Ashley?” No answer. He moved quickly to his duffel bag to grab what he might need, frowning. He was going to have to give back some of the money to pay for the door he was about to break down.

  TWELVE

  Something normal. After being chased by a killer ghost from a swimming pool and witnessing. . . whatever had happened in that other motel room, Ashley just craved something normal. A nice hot shower fit the bill perfectly. Never mind the fact that she was showering in a man’s motel room, and not just any man, either. The man. Lochlan O’Connor, the former exorcist who had been stripped of his collar for using methods referred to by news outlets as ‘not approved by church authorities.’ Everyone involved with the supernatural communities knew what that meant—magic.

  She smiled as she scrubbed the shampoo into her scalp. She had been following Lochlan’s exploits for years, wondering what it would be like to work on cases like the ones he got involved with. And now here she was, showering in his bathroom after watching him do battle with a supernatural entity. . . although doing battle didn’t exactly fit what happened. It had still been exciting.

  A chill swept across Ashley’s skin, making her gasp. She opened her eyes and took an involuntary step back, away from the spray of hot water. The chill immediately intensified. The thing from the pool was right there, standing in the water shooting from the showerhead. Her pale skin appeared swollen, water leaking from her pores. Scraggly blonde hair fell across her shoulders and down her back, limp and lifeless. Water dribbled from between blue-tinged lips.

  Slowly, Ashley moved her hand to her pentagram necklace, gripping it firmly. She didn’t really know why; it just seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe she could make the thing go away like she made the chill go away at the swimming pool. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and concentrated. Almost immediately, she felt the air warm up around her.

  A growl rumbled through the bathroom and the cold once again penetrated her skin, making goosebumps pop up all over her flesh. She coughed, her lungs suddenly feeling scratchy.

  I’m safe, Ashley thought to herself. She�
�s not really here. She gripped her necklace so tightly that she could feel the thin metal dig into her palm. Slowly, the chill receded again. The heaviness left her lungs and she could breathe easier.

  And then two ice-cold hands grabbed her throat and squeezed. “Witch,” a waterlogged voice snarled.

  Without thinking, Ashley released the necklace and grabbed the girl’s arms, her stomach twisting at the spongy feeling of the flesh beneath her fingers. She squeezed and felt water pour over her fingers, but the girl’s grip never loosened.

  She stared into the thing’s milky blue eyes and tried to pull away. The girl’s grip was unbreakable. Spots of darkness began to swim around the edges of Ashley’s vision, her lungs burning for oxygen. She released the girl’s arm and fumbled around for the little shelf built into the shower stall. Her fingers closed around a bottle. She flung it at the wall behind the girl. It hit with a dull thud before falling to the bottom of the tub. She found another bottle and threw it against the wall, using the last of her fading strength to throw it harder, to make more noise. She couldn’t break free. Making noise was her only hope.

  Ashley’s vision dimmed and blurred, her legs no longer able to support her weight. Her body was starved for oxygen but the vise-like grip around her throat insured that breathing would remain off-limits to her.

  She closed her eyes, realizing she was dying, wishing she had brought Derek’s camera to record it. Something crashed outside the tub and then she heard the shower curtain being forcefully snatched open. She tried to open her eyes but couldn’t find the strength. It was easier to just relax and let the darkness claim her.

  THIRTEEN

  Lochlan yanked the shower curtain to the side, ripping it free from some of the hooks that held it up. He stared at the creature strangling Ashley, its cold eyes fixated on its victim, ignoring Lochlan’s presence. That was about to change. He thrust a wooden crucifix at the creature’s face. Its head snapped to him, pinning him with dead eyes filled with an inhuman rage. “Be gone from this place, demon,” he shouted. “This child of God is under His protection and you shall commit no evil here under His watchful eye.” He pressed the cross against the demon’s forehead. “Be gone!”

  The creature cried out, dark, putrid-smelling water spewing from its mouth, covering Lochlan with its foulness, and then it vanished, collapsing into a shower of water that fell to the bottom of the tub and disappeared down the drain. He caught Ashley as she fell, lifting her from the tub and carrying her quickly to the bed. He felt for a pulse, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when he found it. Weak but steady.

  She snapped awake instantly, breathing in sharply, reaching out to push him away. He stepped back, hands up, palms out. “It’s okay. You’re okay. That thing is gone.”

  Ashley looked around, struggling to get her bearings, mentally catching up with what she missed. Her breathing slowed as she realized she wasn’t in the shower anymore, that the thing she had seen was no longer trying to kill her.

  And then she realized she was naked. “Holy hell,” she cried, twisting and lifting and fumbling around until she managed to get under the covers.

  Lochlan laughed, taking a seat at the small table that still held the open laptop. It was hard to believe that only a few minutes had passed since watching that video. He reached down, pulled a leather-encased flask from his duffel bag, unscrewed the top, and took a healthy sip of Red Bush. And now I know the carpet does indeed match the drapes. He slammed the door on that thought, keeping it buried in the shadows. He was at least ten years older than her so there was no need to even imagine anything happening with her.

  Ashley stared at him, the sheet and blanket pulled up over her shoulders. Her cheeks were almost as red as her hair. “Ummm ... thanks for saving me... again.”

  Lochlan grinned and took another sip from his flask. “You do seem to have a habit of keeping a guy busy.”

  “It was her, wasn’t it?” She nodded towards the laptop.

  Lochlan nodded.

  “How? We’re not anywhere near that pool.”

  Lochlan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs. “Most ghosts are tied to one particular place or object, but they can break free—temporarily—if they have the strength, the drive, to do so.” He nodded towards the laptop. “You saw her. And lived. She sees you as a threat. That can be strong motivation to fight against the boundaries that confine her.”

  Ashley leaned back against the headboard and sighed heavily. “Great. So she’ll probably try again.”

  Lochlan nodded. “She will... if she’s given the chance.”

  She looked at him. “If she’s given the chance? What’s that mean?”

  “Motivated or not, moving that far away from her source of power uses up a lot of energy. She’ll be weak and need to rest.” He looked at her, wondering if she was strong enough for what waited for her. Only one way to tell. “Attacking her before she regains her strength would be to our advantage so getting there as soon as possible would be a good thing... but if you need to rest—”

  Ashley rose from the bed, wrapping the blanket and sheet around herself. “I’m fine. If we leave now, we can be there by noon.” She glanced around the room. “Where are my clothes?”

  Lochlan watched her closely. “Bathroom.”

  Without hesitation, Ashley headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind her, completely unaffected by the fact that she had almost been killed in there just moments earlier. Lochlan smiled. The girl was fearless. That was good. She was going to have to be.

  FOURTEEN

  Derek walked aimlessly around the school grounds, filming a variety of exterior shots of the school to round out what they already had. The stuff would be lame compared to the footage they already had but both Derek and Ashley liked setting the scene by including little extras like this, and the school did actually look a little creepy by moonlight. Or maybe the creepiness came from knowing what was inside.

  He shook his as he knelt down, a slow grin spreading across his face as he framed a shot of the moon rising behind the school. He still couldn’t believe it. They had seen an actual ghost. Sure, it had almost killed Ashley, and there had been a few minutes there where he was fairly certain he was going to piss himself, but this was what he’d had in mind when the sexy redhead came to him with a crazy idea about filming a ghost hunting show.

  Movement in the shadows near the parking lot caught his eye. He pressed a button and a motor silently whirred, zooming the lens in on a shadowy figure moving slowly around to the side of the building.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Derek muttered softly to himself as the figure opened a door and disappeared inside the school. If he had known a door was unlocked, he would have grabbed some shots of lockers and long hallways cloaked in darkness. Looking around to make sure nobody else was hiding in the shadows, Derek ran to the door, wrapped his hand around the handle, and pulled it open slowly. The door—an emergency fire escape with an apparently broken alarm—opened into a dimly lit hallway that led to a T-intersection just a few yards away. There was no way to tell which way the shadowy figure went, but Derek had a pretty good idea about where they were going.

  Listening for any strange sounds, peeking around corners before going around them, Derek made his way to the swim gym. He looked through the narrow window in the door and saw a woman with curly brown hair standing at the edge of the swimming pool, her face bathed in its cool blue light, tears running down her cheeks.

  Derek pulled the door open slowly, just a couple of inches. He could hear the woman talking softly.

  “... sorry it’s been so long,” she said, sadness filling her voice. “I know I should have come sooner. I just... I just didn’t know what to say.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks and chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. “I still don’t, but at least I’m here.” She knelt down by the pool. “I wish that night had gone differently,” she said softly. “Everything just happened so fast; got out of control
so fast. I should’ve tried to do something, but... I was scared.” She stood up, glancing toward the door. Derek pulled away from the window, hoping she didn’t notice it was open a couple of inches.

  “Anyway,” the woman said, “I hadn’t planned on ever coming back here, but here I am.” She shrugged. “I just wanted to say sorry.” She turned towards the door. Derek let it slowly shut as she headed towards it.

  “Susan.”

  It was like a whisper carried on the wind. Soft. Barely there. But Derek still heard it through the door. Something about it set his nerves on edge like nails on a chalkboard. He peeked back through the window. The woman had turned and was looking around, no doubt wondering who had called her. She took a step towards the pool. “Hello?” she called out. Another step. “Is anybody out there?”

  Derek noticed the water at the center of the swimming pool beginning to bubble. The woman took another step closer to the pool. The water began bubbling faster. Something was rising from the roiling liquid; something with long blonde hair hanging down pale shoulders.

  Derek pulled the door open. The woman whirled around, staring at him wide-eyed. “Run,” he shouted, feeling a sense of déjà vu wash over him. “Don’t look back. Just run.”

  Unlike Ashley, the woman did look back, glancing over her shoulder. She screamed when she saw what was coming out of the water.

  “Run!” Derek yelled again.

  This time, she listened, rushing towards him, the thing from the pool swimming through the air in its eerie fashion, reaching for her.

  The woman reached for Derek. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the gym, slamming the door behind her and pressing his shoulder to the door. The thing on the other side rammed into it with the force of a jackhammer, making Derek grit his teeth with the effort of holding the door shut. It glared at him through the window with milky eyes surrounded by pale, sagging skin. “Kill you,” it said in a raspy gurgly voice. It looked over Derek’s shoulder at the woman. “Kill you both.”