The Misplaced: An Angel Falls Novella - book #3.5 - Ghost Hunting with Chris Abeyta

by Jody A. Kessler

  “Looks like someone hit a branch of the geothermal hot springs.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Chris made a non-specific sound rather than answering.

  The area in Southwest Colorado where he lived was well known for its natural hot springs and geothermal activity. Most of the town’s businesses used this resource as a natural way to heat the buildings in winter. Swimming and soaking in the local pools were favorite pastimes for the residents of the mountain community, and for thousands of visitors each year. People traveled to his town from all over the world to experience the mineral-rich healing waters.

  For Chris, the mineral springs were sacred. Their therapeutic and medicinal benefits could not be compared to any other healing method. When he used the spring water in a healing ceremony, he chose with immense care the source of the spring water. The underground network of rivers and streams was complex, and he had meditated on it many times. Each source where the hot watered surfaced yielded different qualities in the water. The medicine man inside him understood the individual springs had a specific purpose and use. Chris respected the healing water and the unique geothermal activity in the area, and he also understood how much things could change with the development of the town. He glared at the new leak as the sacred water cut a path through the freshly excavated dirt to join the tributary stream a few meters away. Brooding over this find was inevitable, but Chris could not tamp down the thrill of discovery.

  “This is why I’m here!” Naomi gushed. She twirled in the mist like a child playing in a sprinkler.

  “Here specifically in this town, or more of an existential ‘here’?” Chris asked.

  She laughed. The sound of it danced through the morning air like small birds singing to the rising sun. “This town! I traveled across the country looking for vortices, and this is the mother vortex! Do you feel it? The surge of energy is incredible. The Earth is alive and amazing!”

  Chris definitely felt the vortex, but he wasn’t as thrilled with the place of power as she was. Yes, it surged through him and around him. The vibrations in his body rose exponentially from standing so close to it.

  “You should dance with me. Dancing brings up your energy level. I think I’ll be flying in another few seconds. I can’t believe I finally found a natural point of power — like really found it. Not above, or near it, but right freaking here! The water magnifies the energy, doesn’t it?”

  Chris continued to inspect the ground and the broken pipe. The sky began to lighten in the east, but where they stood remained dark beneath the shadow of the building next door, and the cottonwood trees lining the narrow creek. He held up an LED flashlight on his keychain and shined it into the trench. Whoever dug the ditch had no clue as to what lay beneath. From the sloppy quick-crete surrounding the pipe with a leaking cap, he thought it a botched job all around. Chris pulled his phone out of his vest pocket and took some pictures. The hair rose on his forearms, and he pocketed the phone.

  “Someone is coming,” he said.

  Naomi looked over her shoulder at the street. They saw no approaching vehicles, but Chris heard it or more like felt the vibration through the soles of his boots. A truck, he intuitively knew. Instinct kicked in, and he took a step toward the gate.

  “Lay low for a minute,” Naomi said. “No one’s going to see us way over here.”

  “I disagree,” Chris said. “Let’s go now. I’ve seen enough.”

  “I’m not done.” Instead of following Chris, she edged closer to the trench and tiptoed along the side until she reached the end. Naomi scrambled over a mound of dirt and disappeared.

  “Naomi, I am ready to go,” Chris tried again.

  “I want to see something,” she said in the dark.

  The fluff of her curls bobbed away as she moved closer to the stream flowing behind the property. If something visceral weren't urging him to get out of sight, he would have followed her. The leaking hot spring ran toward the creek. He wanted to check on the damage from the other side of the ditch and embankment, but not now. Chris assumed Naomi wanted to see the same thing, but he didn’t know her and didn’t have time to ask. His sixth sense told him the approaching truck was almost there. He skirted across the construction site and ducked behind the excavator just in time to avoid headlights flashing across the lot. Torn between following Naomi and slipping back through the gap in the fence, his hesitation allowed him to watch the work truck pull in front of the gate and stop.

  Chris looked back for Naomi but found no sign of her. Just as she said, it was impossible to see where they had been standing. He wished Naomi were next to him so they could go to Jack’s Corner Pocket, the location they had originally been headed. Darn woman. What did she think she was doing? She insisted on returning to the pool hall at this absurdly early hour and then disappeared.

  The door on the pickup truck opened, and a man stepped out. Chris watched from behind the excavator as he unlocked the chain and swung the gate open. The headlights shone his way, and he ducked as the truck drove onto the dirt lot. Listening to the diesel engine rumble while keeping low to the ground, he crept behind the skid steer, prepared to stay in the shadows and slip away unseen. Since foxes are the masters of camouflage, he called the fox’s spirit medicine to conceal him from the men in the truck.

  The engine quieted, and the doors opened and closed. Two men exited, a driver and one other. Chris paused as a flashlight beam briefly lit the vortex and the ditch. The style of the truck made Chris think they came to repair the broken pipe. Multiple concerns ran through his head. The situation didn’t add up. Why work before sunrise? Why did the construction site have an aura about it that figuratively stunk? What part did Naomi play in this? Most importantly, why was Chris guided here to repair what they opened?

  Of course, he knew the answer. The energy vortex was too powerful. As soon as he stepped foot on the ground outside his pickup, he felt the overwhelming rush of Earth energy. Vortices were a natural phenomenon that occurred around the globe. The land around Sedona, Arizona being one of the most well-known locations. These natural places of energetic power were also in balance with the Earth. Remaining in harmony with the planet is a key element to survival, at least survival in a healthy manner. The destruction of this lot and rerouting the mineral spring had obvious consequences in Chris’s eyes. Although the energy had a positive effect as it erupted from the ground, somewhere else was a polar opposite effect happening to balance this sudden shift.

  “She’s a traveler. It comes from her father’s blood.”

  Chris slanted his gaze toward Talks to the Wind, his irregular spirit guide. Talks to the Wind came and went on his own schedule. He wasn’t overly helpful as spirit guides go. Chris never turned down guidance from his ancestors, but Talks to the Wind’s advice rarely pertained to the situation at hand.

  “Are you speaking about Naomi?” he whispered.

  Talks to the Wind grinned and waggled thin brows. “She is an interesting blend of red, yellow, and dark skinned peoples. It makes for one nice-looking woman. A little narrow in the hips, but she’s young. Her hips will widen with age. Then you will have a woman every warrior will want for himself. This is a good, and a bad thing. Maybe you should find an ugly woman that matches your homely face. Then you won’t have to worry about losing her to someone better looking than you.”

  Talks to the Wind needed to stop speaking. This conversation served absolutely no purpose. Not only did Chris have other things on his mind, but discussing Naomi’s looks and availability was irrelevant and inappropriate.

  Chris narrowed his gaze and wished he’d stop running his mouth or leave. Either option would let Chris concentrate on getting out of there. Now wasn’t a good time to catch up with Talks to the Wind or discuss the physical attributes of his… client?

  Was Naomi a client? He supposed so. They hadn’t officially discussed hiring Chris, but in his line of work, every case was unique. The business end of things was often the last priority. Unsurprisingly, evicting ghosts, calm
ing down poltergeists and assisting lost souls were the main concern. Chris would be paid for his time and expenses in some form or fashion after he took care of the ghost or other disturbance. Enough money found its way into his bank account to keep his bills paid. When a special circumstance called for it, he traded or bartered for services and goods. The cycle of life kept him going, as it had for his father and his father’s father.

  With hair braided and wearing his buckskins, Talks to the Wind looked like he walked right out of the past. Chris gathered from previous conversations that his guide lived with the Utes long before the European settlers came to this part of America. However, Talks to the Wind had traveled between the spirit world and the physical world for many generations. The Ute brave knew modern customs, spoke English and had an eye for beautiful women — particularly those with dark hair and voluptuous figures.

  Since the man would continue to expound on the subject of women if Chris didn’t steer the conversation in the direction he wanted, he asked, “What are these men doing here?”

  Occasionally, Talks to the Wind would supply something useful to Chris. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, Chris would remember why he liked his guide. Since Chris was born, too many spirits to count had assisted him in one way or another. Why or when wasn’t always obvious. Four ancient medicine men had been with him since birth and Talks to the Wind started showing up around the age of fifteen. Chris accepted this part of his life as normal just as he accepted his height or hair color.

  “How am I supposed to know who they are? I show up and see a beautiful lady by the creek in the first light of day. Then you are taking a leak by this tractor, and I think, hey, this must be Chris’s new mate. And I don’t understand how but you scored a good woman.”

  “Excuse me. I was not urinating when you arrived.”

  “I know my own eyes. It is no matter. You waited until she was away down the bank. I don’t know all your ways of this day and age, but I understand men and women take care of the personal stuff in private.”

  “Can we discuss modern customs another time?” Chris’s patience was evaporating rapidly. He stared hard at the fence and spotted a different gap between a section of chain link and the brick building next door. The space appeared wide enough to squeeze through.

  “What?” Talks to the Wind asked innocently, yet a hint of accusation was obvious. “You don’t think I have anywhere else to be? I have stuff, you know. I stay by your side because you need me. Why else would I be here?”

  Chris changed tactics on a whim. Not that anything really happened spontaneously with Chris. He always made decisions from careful thought, even if those thoughts raced at lightning speed. “Can you watch those men for me and tell me what they’re doing?”

  “Whoa there, brother. I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “Don’t you feel the power rising from our Earth Mother? I won’t step my moccasins any closer than where we stand. It’s not in my good health. I can’t believe my spirit doctor would ask such a thing.”

  That’s it. Chris’s patience ran out. Keeping his face neutral as to not let his spirit guide see his lack of staying power, he stared past Talks to the Wind at the men unloading tools and supplies from the back of their truck. Chris thought now was as good a time as any to leave unobserved.

  The time he wasted with Talks to the Wind allowed the sun to rise a few degrees. The sky was closer to gray than black, and Chris could see all the way across the lot now. He continued to utilize the fox medicine and visualized himself blending in with the ground and the brick building next door.

  To his dismay, Talks to the Wind stayed on Chris’s heels. “What are you doing out here? Why aren’t you home sleeping by the fire?”

  Chris focused on the fence ahead and ignored his tail. The gap was narrower than he first thought. He shot a glance down the fence line at the open gate, but that would be too obvious. Even using the fox medicine, he thought he pushed the limit by walking in plain sight. Daylight had not quite arrived, but the ash gray light brightened by the minute. He shoved the fencepost aside giving him an extra inch, flinched at the clink of the chain links, and slipped through the gap. Sly as a fox sneaking out of the hen house, he vanished into the deeper shadow of a doorway in the condemned building. Chris stilled his breath and listened. Talks to the Wind stopped the chitchat and appeared to be on the lookout, watching around the corner. Perhaps his guide had arrived for a reason after all.

  The spirit guide shook his head in a dismissive way. “Didn’t hear a thing. They’re shoveling dirt. That is going to get them nowhere fast. Too much water is flowing out of there. They need to fire up that machinery. Wait.” Talks to the Wind leaned forward, squinting into the gloom. “One of them is headed over to where we were just standing. He’s climbing inside the big machine. The other one jumped down into the ditch.”

  Chris heard enough. His truck was parked one door down, and he was doubly glad it was not directly in front of the lot. Naomi still didn't reappear. He refused to worry about her. She found him with no forewarning. She wouldn’t listen when he told her to leave. If she followed the creek downstream, maybe she would meet him on the street. Who knew? That was what he would have done in her shoes. Staying close to the building, he hurried down the sidewalk and jumped inside his pickup, careful not to slam the door. Talks to the Wind sat beside him in the cab.

  “Will you find Naomi? Then come back and tell me where she is.”

  “I told you I cannot get any closer to the vortex. It is like the negative pole of a magnet pushing me away.”

  Chris sighed and stuck his key in the ignition. Arguing with a spirit, especially this spirit, was an exercise in futility.

  “I saw the look you gave me,” he said. “You don’t understand my predicament. It’s dangerous out there. I am an enlightened being.” Talks to the Wind stared out the windshield toward the construction site and sighed. “For you, my brother, I’ll go and take a look. But I may tell her to find a man who doesn’t let his woman wander off alone.”

  Chris’s jaw tightened as he strained not to succumb to the goading. Talks to the Wind had to be his least favorite guide, and he didn’t fully comprehend why Great Spirit continued to push this relationship on him.

  Talks to the Wind grinned wide enough to split his round face. “You never laugh at my jokes. It makes me want to stop trying so hard.”

  “Your efforts are wasted on me,” Chris said truthfully. He also noted that Talks to the Wind continued to sit in the truck rather than do what Chris asked.

  “Your lack of humor is funny for one of us. You should see your face right now. I think you would crack like a stone if you ever tried to smile.”

  “Can you find Naomi now?”

  “One smile first. Come on. I'm sure you can do it.”

  Chris was starting to hate this guy. It took a lot to move Chris to such an extreme emotion. Talks to the Wind was reaching a level of annoyance Chris hadn’t experienced in a long time. Why didn’t Naomi just show herself, or come out from wherever she was?

  “You laughed one time. You were seventeen years old. I bet Great Spirit marked the event on his moon calendar.”

  “Get out,” Chris said dryly.

  “I’ll go, but only because I need to get away from the power surge. It’s stronger now.”

  Talks to the Wind disappeared from the passenger seat. Chris leaned back and hoped the tinted windows and the last of the morning dimness kept him hidden. He pulled out his cell phone and considered reporting his suspicions to his friend at the police department, Officer Howe. Errol Howe trusted and respected Chris’s opinion, but not everyone at the sheriff’s department did. Unless there was an obvious crime being committed, Chris generally only spoke to Errol. He slid the phone into his vest pocket and waited one last minute for Naomi.

  Chris’s intuition never failed him. If he actually bothered to listen rather than silently curse Talks to the Wind’s existence, he would have heard his gut telling him to start the
engine and get out of there ten minutes earlier. Instead, he startled as someone tapped on his window. Before he had a chance to respond, the door yanked open, and Chris’s world went black.

  Chapter Three

  GHOST HUNTER? What had she been thinking? Naomi was experiencing serious regrets about her decision to seek out this guy’s help. If there was one thing in the world she couldn’t handle, it was the undead. And there Chris stood, last night at the billiard hall. A man who specialized in the field of ghosts, spirits, and the unexplainable. Chris Abeyta arrived late last night at the request of her manager. He and his assistant were supposed to rid the place of rather a mischievous and crafty ghost.

  Uh-uh. No way. No how. If she knew Jack’s was haunted, she never would have applied for a job. Naomi’s travel expenses had been higher than she anticipated and she needed quick cash. Cocktail waitressing at a pool hall fit the bill. Plus, Jack and his manager, Lou — short for Louise — paid under the table. Naomi appreciated the cash without having to fuss over paperwork. She didn’t intend to stay in town long, so what was the point in making her employment official.

  There had been no problems regarding the supernatural during her first week. She served drinks and delivered bottles of beer and baskets of fries to the pool players. During her fifth night on the job, she decided that spending a month or two in the mountain town would be a great experience. She could save up a few bucks, repair her car, and head to the desert in search of the next energy vortex when the snow started piling up. She was content with her decision and feeling comfortable at her new job. The last thing Naomi ever expected was to be smack-dab in the middle of an episode of Paranormal Adventures, or whatever the popular ghost hunting television shows were called. She wouldn’t know. Naomi refused to watch anything that freaked her out. It was all too real for her and would cause months of nightmares. No, thank you.

  A couple of hours after she clocked in for the night, the cook began accusing the bartender and waitresses of stealing food and rearranging the prep table. No one knew a thing about it. Soon after, the cook entered the walk-in cooler, and the shelves emptied themselves onto the floor. He exited the cooler and found every kitchen knife in the room standing on end above the counter as if gravity no longer existed. Carlos shared a few choice words and decided he no longer needed the job. Lou called the owner, Jack. Then her manager dialed some “ghost hunter” who lived in town, and Chris Abeyta arrived shortly after that.