Unquiet Souls: Project Demon Hunters: Book One

by Pope, Christine

  “Take your time,” Michael replied, then took the manila envelope he’d been holding and set it down on her desk. “Just don’t take too much time. Colin wants to start taping the show next week.”

  Next week? While it would have sounded good to say that she needed much more time than that, had to rearrange her clients’ appointments to accommodate the production schedule, that would have been a complete lie. At the moment, Audrey had a grand total of ten patients, none of whose issues were anything remotely paranormal. Thank God her master’s degree and the certification she’d received from the state of California allowed her to practice psychology, which might have paid the bills well enough if she’d had any skills at marketing herself, or the necessary dedication to make counseling her one true calling.

  As it was….

  “I think I can manage that,” she said calmly. “I just want to have my lawyer look over the contract before I sign anything.”

  “Of course.” A certain glint in his eyes seemed to indicate he knew she was bluffing about the lawyer. She certainly didn’t have an attorney on retainer, especially one who specialized in entertainment law.

  However, Audrey’s best friend Bettina was a paralegal at a local law firm, and she knew she’d give her a hand by looking over the contract. Maybe it wasn’t the same as hiring some pricey Hollywood lawyer, but better than her trying to puzzle the thing out on her own.

  “End of day tomorrow?” he went on, and that was when Audrey knew she’d really committed to this thing, despite her reservations. Being free of her ever-nagging concerns about her finances was just too alluring. “You can scan the signed contract and email it to Colin. His email address is on the letterhead. Unless you want to bring it to his office in Hollywood, that is.”

  The off-hand way Michael had made the suggestion seemed to indicate he knew she wouldn’t take him up on that particular offer. Maybe driving into Hollywood would have proven her dedication to the project, but she knew she wasn’t that dedicated. She just wanted the relief — and breathing space — that kind of money would provide for her.

  “I’ll scan it,” Audrey said. “I have clients tomorrow.”

  His expression was so bland that she could tell he’d seen through the lie. However, to her relief, he didn’t call her on it, only said, “I’ll let Colin know to keep an eye out for your email.” A very brief hesitation, and he went on, “I’m looking forward to working with you, Audrey. Once we have the signed contract, then you can meet with me and Colin, and we’ll go over some details with you.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she responded, although inwardly she could feel herself wince. It sounded as though she’d be heading into Hollywood in the near future despite her best efforts to stay safely here in the San Gabriel Valley.

  Michael got up from the chair then, hand extended. She took it, was a little reassured by his firm grip. At least it felt straightforward and confident. “Until then,” he said.

  After that, he let himself out of her office, quietly closing the door behind him. Audrey stared at it for a long moment, at last experiencing some very nervous butterflies in her stomach.

  Just what in the world had she gotten herself into?

  * * *

  “An additional forty hours of promotion, including but not limited to, participation in local radio programs, interviews on podcasts, and in-person appearances,” Audrey’s friend Bettina intoned, reading aloud from the contract she’d given her to inspect. One French-manicured finger was twirling an expertly highlighted strand of hair as she spoke; she’d come over to Audrey’s house as soon as she got off work, and so she still wore her silk blouse and pencil skirt, although she’d kicked off her sling-backed high heels.

  “No extra pay for that?” Audrey inquired.

  A brief glance over the contract’s contents, and Bettina shook her head. “Nope. Although really, you’re getting a hundred grand for about six weeks’ worth of work, so I’d say it’s still pretty fair, all things considered.”

  Well, that was true. Audrey picked up her glass of pinot noir and took a sip, using her free hand to knead away at the knot of tension at the back of her neck. It didn’t seem to help much.

  Bettina also drank some wine before returning her attention to the contract. Audrey had bribed her with pinot noir and takeout lasagna from Spaghetti Eddie’s, since she didn’t have anything monetary to offer. Usually, the sight of the soothing blue-gray of her living room walls and the comfortable, well-worn furniture only helped her to relax. Now, though, all she could do was look at those walls and remember how that tax bill of $10,427 was due in six weeks…and how she had less than half that amount in her savings account, with nowhere near enough coming in to make up the difference.

  Except for the pay outlined in the contract, of course. One third as an advance, one third paid at the midway point of the shooting schedule, and the final third due when filming was complete. It would definitely be enough to keep her going, since her parents’ life insurance policy had paid off the mortgage and the tax bill was now her biggest operating cost besides her ever-present student loan payments. Yes, there was the rent on her office, but that was only five hundred a month, and her therapy clients’ fees covered that and her utilities and food…barely.

  “A lot of this is boilerplate,” Bettina went on, putting down her wine glass. “Residuals, that kind of stuff.”

  “Do cable networks even have to pay residuals?” Audrey asked. Her grasp of entertainment industry pay standards was admittedly shaky.

  “Yep. And a lot more than you might think, because the rates were renegotiated a few years back. If the show’s popular, you might get a nice passive income for a while.”

  It was nice to think that she would still be making money from the show in the future, even if all they ever did was shoot those first six episodes. Of course, she still had to find a way to survive that process, something she really wasn’t looking forward to.

  Bettina must have picked up on some of her misgivings, because she said, “Are you really sure you can do this, Audrey? You’re not exactly what I would call the TV-show type.”

  No, she wasn’t. She hated public speaking, even while she understood all too well the psychology which lay behind that particular phobia. However, this wasn’t quite the same thing. It wasn’t as though she’d be on stage speaking her piece in front of hundreds of people, but in a closed environment with a small crew, filming on location in haunted houses. Or possessed houses, she supposed, although technically the correct term when you were dealing with demons wasn’t possessed, but infested.

  “I think Michael Covenant will carry most of it,” Audrey replied. “I’m sure they just want me there to be his sidekick.”

  “I suppose so.” Bettina didn’t say anything else; she really didn’t need to. Although Audrey knew her friend wasn’t what you could call a believer in the paranormal, she at least respected Audrey’s evidence-based approach to the subject. Bettina knew she wasn’t the sort to chase after every woo-woo theory that crossed her path, but rather believed there could be physiological and psychological rationales behind a lot of those phenomena.

  Unfortunately, Bettina also knew Audrey wasn’t a fan of Michael Covenant’s, probably because of a rant she’d gone on about the way he blithely attributed clairvoyant talents to intervention by extra-dimensional entities. As if the human mind, in all its intricacy and power, wasn’t capable of manifesting abilities that went far beyond what most people would consider “normal.”

  Audrey sipped her wine as Bettina read through the contract again. At last she straightened, then got up out of her chair, took her own glass of wine, and came over to where Audrey sat on the couch. She gave Bettina an inquiring look, and she said, “I don’t see any red flags. The part about the show providing medical/liability insurance is a little out of the ordinary, but I suppose if you’re going to go tromping around in haunted houses, the production company wants to make sure they have people ready in case you fall dow
n a flight of stairs, or whatever. They do require mediation in case of a workplace injury, but again, that’s the sort of clause most companies ask for these days.”

  “Good,” Audrey replied, hoping she sounded cool, although those damn butterflies were fluttering around in her stomach again. She hadn’t even thought about the possibility of being injured somehow during filming — after all, this wasn’t an outdoor adventure show or a Survivor type of scenario — but she supposed it would have been strange if the producers hadn’t done whatever they could to plug those sorts of loopholes.

  “Demons.” Bettina shook her head, peach-glossed lips pursing slightly. “I thought you didn’t believe in that kind of thing.”

  “I don’t,” Audrey said at once. “All of the reported cases I’ve studied have shown that the behaviors which manifest themselves in supposed cases of demon possession or oppression can be attributed to a variety of physiological and psychological issues. Anyway, it’s TV. They’re just going to be filming jump scares for the benefit of the audience at home, while Michael Covenant and I bicker about the real reasons behind what everyone is seeing.”

  That all sounded very calm and matter-of-fact. And it was nothing more than the truth. All the same, the nervous sensation in her stomach translated itself into a creepy-crawly sensation along her spine, as if her body knew more about the subject than her conscious mind wanted to admit.

  “And you’re really okay with working with him?” Bettina drank some of her pinot noir and then lowered her wine glass, although she didn’t set it down on the coffee table. Blue eyes speculative, she watched Audrey for a few seconds before adding, “I mean, it just seems that what he does is pretty much the antithesis of all that post-grad work you did.”

  She was right, of course. Audrey had spent a frustrating six months working at the Rhine Institute, which had carried on the research first begun at Duke University, exploring the extrasensory powers of the human mind. She’d interviewed and tested those with clairvoyant abilities, and had done her damnedest to get the grants which would allow her to continue that line of research. Unfortunately, her efforts had come to naught, which was why she was doubly glad she’d put in the required three thousand hours of supervised counseling after she got her master’s, just in case she had to go into regular counseling rather than pursue her dream of adding to the field of the paranormal. The work gave her something of an income stream, although Audrey knew she should have been working harder to build her client list. The most she’d done was jump through the requisite hoops to get her name added to the list of approved providers for several insurance companies. Unfortunately, her heart just wasn’t in it.

  Maybe if she’d been more dedicated, the job offer from Michael Covenant wouldn’t have seemed so appealing. However, she knew she couldn’t blame her current situation on anyone other than herself. Once her work at the Rhine Institute had ended, she’d found herself adrift, not really sure what she wanted from herself or her life. It had been easy to come back to Glendora because she had a home and something of a life here…or at least people who recognized her in the checkout line at the supermarket. Where else, really, could she have gone?

  “I know Michael’s theories and mine don’t jibe,” Audrey told Bettina, then drank the last swallow of wine in her glass. “Which is why I’m really looking forward to proving him wrong.”

  Chapter 2

  The meeting with Michael Covenant and Colin Turner, his producer, was surprisingly anticlimactic. The three of them assembled in Colin’s office in a high-rise on Sunset Boulevard, where both Michael and Colin stated they were glad to have Audrey on board, and Colin informed her that she’d need to meet with their hair and makeup people, and the woman in charge of wardrobe.

  “I can’t wear my own clothes?” Audrey asked, a little surprised. After all, this was supposed to be a reality show, wasn’t it?

  Colin gave her an indulgent smile. When she’d first met him, she hadn’t liked the way his gaze raked her up and down, apparently cataloguing her various assets and flaws, but then Audrey realized that was all part of his producer schtick and did her best to ignore it. Possibly he’d seen her stiffen in indignation, because after that he’d poured on the charm, his north-of-England accent becoming even more pronounced as he said she had perfect bone structure for the camera — whatever that was supposed to mean — and that he knew she would do fine.

  Audrey almost inquired acidly as to whether his certainty was based on his appraisal of her bone structure, but she decided to let it go. There was no point in trying to fool herself; she knew that a large part of the reason why Colin had selected her was because he thought she would look good on camera. Deep down, she had to admit that her dark hair and eyes would provide a good contrast to Michael’s sandy-blond hair and oddly hued hazel eyes, providing some additional visual interest.

  “No,” Colin said, still smiling. “That’s just our policy. Don’t want to be responsible for some sentimental favorite of yours getting ruined or anything.”

  “That’s a possibility?” Again, Audrey didn’t quite see how standing in a haunted house and riffing on the nature of the strange noises emanating from the attic would pose much of a risk to her wardrobe.

  “You’d be surprised,” Michael put in. Unlike Colin, he wasn’t smiling, instead looked deadly serious. “I’ve been vomited on, covered in mud, splashed with blood — ”

  “That’s quite enough,” Colin said hastily, probably because he must have seen the way her eyes widened at those revelations. “Not that we think anything like that is going to happen during filming, but better safe than sorry, isn’t that right?”

  Audrey glanced from him to Michael, who’d settled back into his chair but was giving her another of those speculative glances, as if still trying to determine whether she’d really be able to handle what this show might throw at her. Once again, she looked forward to the chance to prove him wrong.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” she said. “But I want practical clothes. No skirts or heels.”

  “No, nothing like that,” Colin responded, looking relieved that she hadn’t commented on Michael’s remark about blood and vomit. “Jeans and boots, that sort of thing. We’ll need your sizes.”

  About the last thing Audrey wanted was to blurt out her pants size in front of Michael Covenant, of all people, but she knew she didn’t have much choice. “I’m a size six in most things,” she said, “but of course clothes vary from brand to brand. And a size seven for shoes, mostly, unless they run small.”

  “I’ll let Kathleen know,” Colin said, adding by way of explanation, “the wardrobe gal. She’ll put some things together for you.”

  In a way, it was sort of fun to contemplate the notion of getting new clothes to wear, even if they were borrowed and not really hers. And who knew — maybe they would let her keep some of the wardrobe if they didn’t have another use for it.

  “When?” Audrey asked.

  “Friday morning,” Colin replied. “The production offices, which are actually in Universal City. I’ll email you all the particulars.”

  She nodded, although inwardly she could feel herself groan. Yet more time spent in traffic, going to and from Glendora. She wasn’t naïve enough to think she wouldn’t waste several hours of her life sitting on the 210 Freeway going back and forth to the company’s production offices, no matter what time of day it might be.

  But, as Bettina had pointed out, Audrey was getting paid a lot of money for what would be a relatively short period in her life. At least she didn’t have any counseling sessions scheduled for Friday morning, just one at three o’clock that afternoon. She’d have to make sure she was back in Glendora by then.

  “All right,” she said, then glanced over at Michael. “Since you have my signed contract and NDA, can you let me know where we’ll be filming on Monday?”

  “No,” he replied flatly, and Audrey stared at him, wondering if he’d misunderstood her question.

  Colin, as seemed to be
his pattern, rushed in to smooth things over. “What he means is, it’s better if you go in fresh, so to speak. Don’t want you coming at the problem with any preconceived ideas.”

  Annoyed, she thought if that was really their goal, then they should have hired someone else. Audrey already had plenty of ideas about demon hunting, none of which were what one might call favorable. But if Michael was really worried that she’d spend the days between now and Monday sneaking around the property, trying to get a read on the place in order to have an advantage when they started shooting, so be it. She wasn’t going to argue, or try to convince him that she had much better things to do with her time.

  “Sure,” Audrey said. “I can understand that. Then I guess I’ll be in Universal City on Friday and on Monday — ”

  “On Monday, I’ll come pick you up,” Michael cut in.

  That prospect didn’t appeal very much — at least if she had her own car at the shoot, she’d feel somewhat more in control of the situation — but she’d signed the contract. She was committed to this thing now, and if Michael Covenant wanted to throw in odd stipulations and demands, so be it.

  Committed is right, she thought. You probably should be committed for agreeing to this…or at the very least be subjected to a seventy-two-hour psychiatric hold.

  However, Audrey was determined not to allow him to see that she harbored any misgivings about the project, mostly because she feared he would see her unease as a sign of weakness. She smiled and said that sounded great, and soon afterward she made her escape to get her car out of hock from the parking garage under the building where Colin’s office was located. As she’d feared, she had to sit in traffic all the way back to Glendora, but what difference did it really make? It wasn’t as though she had anyone waiting for her.

  And whose fault is that?

  Hers, mostly. It was easier to live a hermit-like existence than get far enough along in a relationship where she had to explain what had happened to her parents. The few times Audrey had made herself tell the truth, the men she’d been seeing had quickly found a reason to break off the relationship. These days, no one wanted to deal with baggage.