Unquiet Souls: Project Demon Hunters: Book One

by Pope, Christine

  “That’s because you knew it was true, that it had really happened to you.” For a moment, he was quiet, hands still resting on the knees of his dark trousers. “Unfortunately, it’s a common story. Not what happened to you exactly,” he went on, as if he knew Audrey was about to protest that her experience was anything but common, “but how you felt compelled to hide it from everyone. There’s such a taboo in our society about admitting to any kind of psychic talent.”

  She knew that just as well as he did, thanks to her studies in the field. Modern American culture was almost relentlessly focused on the prosaic, on things that could be easily measured. Psychic ability didn’t fit in the box, so to speak, which was probably why it had become the subject of such ridicule. While she knew that her own strange experiences had been part of the reason for her wanting to explore the world of the psychic, she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit that she possessed any of those gifts herself.

  “It never happened again,” she said, still trying to explain her behavior. “And nothing like the incident in New Orleans, either.”

  “Because you didn’t encounter anything that might evoke that sort of response. Until today, anyway,” he added. His gaze met hers, and for some reason, she found it hard to look back at him. Was it only that she’d just given him a little piece of herself, something no one else knew?

  Or maybe it was that she still couldn’t quite erase the sensation of lying in his arms, which was ridiculous. Michael had offered her assistance, nothing more. They were colleagues, and besides….

  “Are you still angry with me?” he asked.

  The question made Audrey’s eyes widen a bit. They’d been sidestepping around the issue the whole time he’d been there at her house, but he knew just as well as she did that she’d marched away from the Whitcomb mansion while practically seething with anger.

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I don’t appreciate being used like that. But since you were willing to sit down and tell me the truth about the Whitcomb place, I’m not quite as angry as I was a few hours ago.”

  “Good,” he replied. “Because I’d like you to go back there with me.”

  Had he lost his goddamn mind? She stared at him, wondering if maybe she simply hadn’t heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

  A smile, one that seemed to acknowledge her incredulity while trying to give her a reason to ignore it. “I know it sounds crazy. But I’d really like to be with you to watch your reactions. Just the two of us. No cameras, no crew. No gimmicks.”

  “I don’t see what purpose that would serve,” she told him. “We’ve already proved that the entities in the house don’t react positively to me.”

  “True, but it’s exactly because you reacted so strongly to the negative energies in the house that I want to see how you’ll do without so many distractions.” He shifted in the chair so he was turned toward her, bent slightly forward, his expression earnest. “I promised the owners of the house that we would clear it for them, but even though I’ve walked through the place several times, I still haven’t been able to detect the source of the evil, what exactly is still drawing the demons there.”

  “Try the bathroom mirrors,” she said with a shaky laugh.

  Michael didn’t smile. “They might have been using the mirrors as gateways, but something else is bringing them to the house. It’s sort of like…like an airport.”

  “‘An airport’?” Audrey repeated, brows lifting.

  “I know it sounds strange, but bear with me.” Now he actually got up out of his chair and went to the window, pausing so he could peer outside for a few seconds. “The mirrors were functioning like runways, for lack of a better term. However, it’s the air traffic controllers in the tower who help to guide the planes in, and so there has to be something else in the house, something that’s acting basically like the tower at an airport, showing the demons where they’re supposed to go.”

  His explanation made some sense, but she didn’t bother to tell him that. “Haven’t you already been over the entire house?”

  “Yes, but clearly, I missed something. I’m hoping that your senses will detect something when mine couldn’t.”

  Audrey hesitated. After all, it was bad enough to have been in that place when accompanied by a film crew, knowing that other people associated with the production were still on the grounds somewhere, even if they weren’t in the same room that Michael and she had been in. But to go there alone with him, with no help, no backup? That sounded like a recipe for disaster.

  The coaxing voice was back. “It will be fine,” he said. “Didn’t I protect you last time?”

  Well, using the word “protect” might be stretching things a bit. Yes, he’d driven back the demons, but it wasn’t as if he’d stepped in front of them and offered to meet them in single combat to defend her honor or something. Not that she really expected anything of the sort, but….

  “Say I do go back there with you,” Audrey began, then held up a hand as an eager glow appeared in his gold-gray eyes. “I’m not saying I will, but if I do. You made it sound as though Colin wanted my reactions to be as realistic as possible, that I was supposed to be experiencing everything fresh, so to speak. If we go there together now and we do locate the source of the negativity, so to speak, then we’ll have to do it all over again for the cameras.”

  Michael appeared singularly unconcerned by that prospect. “I’m not worried about it. We’ll put on a good show. Really, there’s going to be a percentage of those watching the episode who will think everything is fake. That episode with the mirror — it was terrifying for us, but one of those skeptics seeing it six months down the line is just going to dismiss it as CGI. Pretty decent CGI, but still.”

  She couldn’t argue that point with him, mostly because she’d thought close to the same thing at the time, even as shaken as she was. Even so, was she mentally prepared to go back there?

  A horrible suspicion crossed her mind. “You’re — you’re not luring me back there to scare the shit out of me and capture it all on hidden cameras, are you?”

  “Of course not!” Michael exclaimed. He looked genuinely offended that she would even think such a thing, but really, after what had happened earlier in the day, it wasn’t outside the bounds of possibility. Voice a little calmer, he went on, “I understand why you might not want to trust me, but there are no hidden cameras. No tricks. I just want to see what you can do with your talent when you allow it to guide you.”

  Privately, she wasn’t sure her “talent” amounted to much, but….

  If it really existed, was as strong as Michael Covenant seemed to think it was, shouldn’t she do whatever she could to develop that talent? It might be something that could help protect her against the entities infesting the Whitcomb house. Ignoring such a gift now wouldn’t serve any useful purpose.

  “All right,” she said after a long pause. “Let’s go back to the mansion and see what we can find.”

  Chapter 6

  As Michael pulled his ancient Land Cruiser into the driveway of the Whitcomb house, Audrey reflected it would be hard to tell that a film crew had even been there earlier in the day. All of the cars were gone, and it looked as though both the driveway and the paths leading from it had been carefully swept. Possibly the support crew wasn’t as affected by the negative energies in the house as she had been, or maybe they’d been relatively safe because they hadn’t actually gone inside.

  Now, with the sun out, the place looked serene enough, front lawn green and smooth under the blue sky, the palm trees that edged the grass rustling faintly in the breeze. Off to one side, a fountain played quietly, the sound soothing.

  Or rather, it should have been soothing. Right then, Audrey found herself irritated by its irregular splashing noises because they could have been masking something much more frightening, more sinister.

  “Are you okay?” Michael asked as he came around the front of the SUV.

  “So far,” she replied.


  “You’re not getting anything out here?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay, we’ll go inside — through the conservatory, just like we did last time.”

  Following him as he headed down the pathway, Audrey asked, “Why don’t you ever go in through the front door?”

  “The current owners specifically asked us not to. They thought we’d attract less attention coming and going from the side entrance.”

  Well, maybe that was a valid concern, although anyone driving by on the street where the driveway was located would have known something was up as soon as they saw all the vehicles parked there. Even now, with just Michael’s Land Cruiser in the drive, they’d have to know something was going on — for no other reason than anyone who could afford to live in a place like this would probably own something a little more impressive.

  The conservatory looked the same as well, no sign at all that the crew had been in here earlier. Michael closed the door behind him and Audrey. “Anything here?”

  She held herself still, wondering if she was going to be assailed by the overwhelming odor of mildew, or whether those cacophonous shrieks were going to once again start up inside her head. Then again, she really hadn’t experienced anything out of the ordinary until they went into the dining room.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t feel anything at all.”

  Well, nothing except a creeping sense of unease at being here in the first place. She had to fight the urge to stand closer to Michael. Not that his was the most comforting of presences, but because she knew he was the only thing standing between her and an attack from those…things.

  He didn’t reply, but led her through the living room, barely pausing there before he went on to the dining room. She’d guessed he would bring her there because that was where the first assault occurred.

  “What about here?”

  Once again, Audrey made herself stand still and do her best to reach out to whatever entities or energies might be lurking here. Now she felt nothing. No mildew smell, no unearthly shrieks. For the first time, she was able to really focus on the room, on the long table with its ranks of matching chairs, the white-painted wainscoting, the truly unattractive floral wallpaper.

  “Still nothing,” she said, and shrugged, trying to seem casual although her whole body was tense, waiting for the next blow to fall. Trying to sound flip, she added, “Although that wallpaper is a crime in and of itself.”

  His lips twitched slightly. “Duly noted. However, they didn’t hire us for our interior decorating skills.”

  “Too bad. This place could use it.”

  And it could. Audrey hadn’t paid much attention to how dated the furnishings and interiors actually were, because at the time she’d been basically scared out of her wits. Now she could see that, despite its very high price tag, this place was going to need some major updating.

  Not her problem, though. The only thing she needed to worry about was the unearthly presences in the house.

  They could be tricky little bastards, though. She hadn’t done much research in demonology, but she’d hastily read through a few books over the weekend, trying to get herself mentally prepared for whatever might lie ahead. One of the demons’ favorite tactics was to fool a person into thinking they were gone, that an attack had been a one-time thing.

  Well, based on what Michael had told her about the history of this house, Audrey knew that sure as hell wasn’t true.

  Slowly, she walked out of the dining room and into the kitchen. This space looked as though it had been updated fairly recently, judging by the expensive pale, polished granite of the countertops, the enormous stainless-steel Jenn-Air appliances. She also didn’t get any kind of a feeling from the room, except possibly a small stab of envy for people who could afford a kitchen that was bigger than a postage stamp. Her parents had taken excellent care of their renovated Craftsman, but they’d never had the money to knock out walls and enlarge the hopelessly tiny kitchen there.

  “Still nothing,” Audrey said.

  Michael didn’t seem too concerned. Hands in his pockets, he looked around the kitchen, then gave a small nod. “Let’s go downstairs.”

  “‘Downstairs’?” she repeated, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “Aren’t we already on the ground floor?”

  “Yes, but the house has a basement. I think originally it was used for storage, but one of the owners in the ’60s turned it into a game room.”

  She really didn’t like the idea of going down into a basement, even one that had been renovated and used for something entirely innocuous.

  “It’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Over here — the steps downstairs are through this doorway.”

  They’d passed the door as she and Michael walked down the short hallway that separated the dining room from the kitchen, but she hadn’t paid it much attention at the time. It did look perfectly innocuous, painted white and with eight recessed panels. However, as soon as Michael opened it, a ripple of cold went through her body.

  She didn’t think she’d made any kind of a sound, but he paused by the open door and gave her a searching look. “Did you feel something, Audrey?”

  “I — I think so,” she replied. “A wave of cold.”

  “That’s promising.”

  “‘Promising’?” she repeated, not sure she’d heard him correctly.

  “Well, just in that it indicates there might be something down there.”

  As remarks went, that one wasn’t terribly reassuring. Right then, Audrey wished she had her smudge stick with her. Maybe she could have waved it in the air around her body and created some sort of a shield.

  No, on second thought, one of those toy guns that lobbed water balloons. Water balloons filled with holy water.

  Michael put his foot on the top step, then turned and looked back at her. “Come on, Audrey. I’m here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Famous last words, she thought. But she’d agreed to come here. She could have said no, told him that they needed to wait until they had the full backup of his crew. Then again, none of them were experts in the occult. It wasn’t as though they would have been able to offer any real assistance.

  And she wanted to prove to him that she was just as tough as he was, even if she was scared out of her mind.

  Putting her foot on that step was one of the hardest things Audrey had ever done. She forced herself to do it, just as she’d forced herself to get on that “gravity drop” ride at a local amusement park when she was in high school, despite the churning worry in her stomach. Michael had turned on the lights, so at least it wasn’t pitch black down in the basement, but as she followed him, step by step, she experienced a sensation of building pressure, almost as if something was pressing down on every inch of her body. Her ears began to ring, although she didn’t hear the evil laughter that had assaulted her earlier in the day. There was no smell of mildew. Just the sensation of somehow entering a heavier atmosphere than what she was used to.

  “Do you feel that?” Michael asked. His face was strained and pale; a sheen of sweat stood out on his forehead.

  “Yes,” Audrey said, fighting to inhale enough oxygen to force the words out. “It’s pretty bad.”

  “Almost there.”

  They came down from the bottom step and into the basement proper, which was a large, rectangular space that looked as though it had been decorated in 1968 and then left here to molder as a spectacular example of what not to do when updating your house. The carpet was shag in an ugly olive-green shade, and sticky-looking wood paneling covered the walls. Scandinavian-style teak furniture — probably hideously expensive back in the day — and an enormous console television up against one wall, the kind of TV she’d seen in the background of photographs of her mother and her aunt Deb when they were little girls.

  Abruptly, the pressure stopped. Michael and Audrey looked at each other.

  “Is that a good thing?” she asked.

  “I doubt it,
” he said.

  No sooner had he stopped speaking than the huge console television in its faux-wood cabinet began to rock back and forth, banging against the wall and knocking chips out of the wood paneling. She gasped, but Michael pulled a vial of holy water from his pocket and splashed some of its contents onto the television. It subsided, but Audrey got the feeling he’d only subdued it temporarily, that it was biding its time like an angry dog that knew it could break its chain any time it wanted.

  Her hands were shaking. She clenched them into fists and made herself stand in the center of the room, reaching out as best she could with a talent she really didn’t believe she possessed. The cold was back, seeping up through that ugly shag carpet, through the soles of her boots, and right up into her limbs. She ignored it, telling herself it wasn’t real, was only another weapon used by the demons to keep her off-balance.

  Well, if that was their plan, they were doing a good job of it. Her teeth began to chatter, and she found it almost impossible to focus. The TV console started to shift once more, but in a sullen way, as if it knew Michael would splash it with holy water again if it got too out of hand.

  “Audrey?”

  She shook her head, guessing that she wasn’t capable of speech right then. The only way she could stop her teeth from chattering was to clench her jaw. That helped a little, but the cold never stopped, kept flowing up into her legs until they felt the way they had that one time when she’d camped out to watch the Rose Parade and overnight temperatures had dropped into the low forties…icy, numb, as if they belonged to someone else.

  Nevertheless, she found herself stumbling on her nearly frozen limbs over to one wall, almost as if something outside her body was guiding her there. Before she truly realized what she was doing, Audrey had dropped to her knees and was scrabbling at the hideous green shag carpet, pulling it away from the baseboards.

  Beneath the carpet and its padding — which basically disintegrated beneath her fingertips — wasn’t cement, but wooden floorboards. However, the first one she touched felt loose, as if it hadn’t been firmly nailed down…or something had tried to pull it up. As she pried it loose, she finally came across the concrete substrate beneath.