Again, Patrick squeezes my hand to calm me down.
“I do believe there’s something demonic in the house,” she tells us, her fingers knitting together in her lap
“Have you seen anything?” Celia asks, much to Christian’s chagrin. Maddie gasps that Celia’s spoken out, glaring in my friend’s direction. It’s clear from the look on Christian’s face that he would rather be the star of this investigation. Good for Celia for not being intimidated by his alleged celebrity star on the rise.
“We’ve heard pots and pans moving about in the kitchen. Just the other night, the furnace turned on and started spouting out all this thick black smoke. In the middle of the summer, can you imagine?”
Oliver tents his fingers together. “Since connecting with your deceased husband at Christian’s gallery, what have you and your daughter done differently here at the house?”
The woman’s mouth drops open. “That’s just it. I did what Mr. Campbell suggested.”
“Which was?” Oliver asks with great intent.
“Why Amberly—that’s my daughter—went and purchased a Ouija board like Mr. Campbell uses in his gallery readings, and we tried to connect with Alfred right here in the house.”
Disbelief coats me from head to toe at what I’m hearing. “You what?!” I shout out.
Oliver snaps his head. “Kendall!”
“No, Oliver. Those things are evil.” I can hear Loreen right now telling me to stay nine miles away from them. “Why would you bring something like that into your home, Mrs. Flanders? By using something it, you’re opening yourself up to possibilities that could be coming from anywhere; you don’t even know.”
Christian clicks his tongue at me. “Kendall, I really think you’re overreacting to—”
“No, I’m not.”
Mrs. Flanders acknowledges me, though. “I do agree with you a bit, love. Ever since we used that Ouija board, Amberly hasn’t been herself. She’s been quiet disruptive and talks back to me. We’ve seen items here in the house move about on their own. And then, when I threw the bloody thing into the rubbish, it reappeared in my breakfast nook. I threw it out three more times, only for it to show back up.” She turns back to Christian and Oliver. “So, I’m a bit concerned.”
“I don’t like this at all,” Jess whispers to me from my right.
“I’m not feeling well,” Maddie states. “It’s as though something’s trying to push out of my stomach. It’s the worse ache I’ve ever had.”
Taylor stops taking pictures of the room and Mrs. Flanders so he can tend to Maddie. “Are you okay? Do we need to get you to a doctor?”
Maddie shakes her head. “No. This is what usually happens to me. Only, never like this before. Not this intense.” She lifts her eyes to our leader. “Oliver?”
“Breathe through it, Maddie,” he instructs. “Get in touch with your feelings and process through them. Recognize any spirit that’s trying to get your attention and we’ll work with them.”
She nods, but I can see the fear in her eyes.
The energy in this place is dark. Damned. The walls moan out in a growl, calling to my psychic sense. Fingers of confusion curl around, trying to pit us against each other as a demonic laugh echoes throughout the house.
“Can you hear that?” I ask the group.
Jessica’s eyes fill with tears. “The aura in this whole room is black.”
Jayne is shaking over in the corner. “I don’t like the visions I’m getting in my head.”
Celia shrugs, but pulls out her KII meter to measure the electromagnet fields in the room. “This is how I investigate.” Immediately, the device in her hand lights up from green to yellow to orange, and then all the way to red. She lifts her eyes at the quick response. “Something’s definitely not right here.”
Mrs. Flanders covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh, dear.”
“We must do a cleansing,” Oliver says. “All of us are needed to pull together. We must pray hard, and use our collective energies to drive out whatever dark force has come into this house.”
Mrs. Flanders inhales deeply. “You don’t think it’s my Alfred, do you?”
“We don’t know what it is, ma’am,” Patrick says kindly.
She reaches for a nearby notepad. “This was the name that was spelled out on the Ouija board both times we used it. D-o-j-o.”
Christian’s head snaps in her direction knowingly. “Dojo.”
“Who’s that?” I ask harshly.
Very dryly, Christian states, “A demon.”
“Ohhhh-kay.” Jason, who’s been standing off in the back, sighs deeply. He levels his blue stare my way and steps forward. “This is what you dragged us over an ocean for? I see nothing’s changed with you, Kendall. You’re as senseless as ever before.”
I growl at him. “No one made you come on this trip.”
“Not now, you two,” Patrick says in a hiss. “Look.”
“I have this, Oliver, old chap. This is my specialty,” Christian says with great calm. He snaps his fingers at Jayne, who obediently rushes to his side. “I’ll take care of this.”
With that, he takes the brown bag that Jayne gives him and removes a large, polished piece of lumber. It’s smooth and thin and shaped like a section of a tree with ring of color showing its age before varnishing. It should be a beautiful item to behold.
It’s anything but.
It’s Christian’s own personal Ouija board.
I gulp hard. “I don’t like this one bit.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I never know when my visions or trances will hit me.
Sometimes it’s when I’m just hanging out with Celia or playing with my cats Eleanor, Buckley, and Natalie, at home. Most of the time it’s when I’m in deep R.E.M.
This time, it’s like everything around me freezes in a stop-motion way. If someone had just come through the room, tripped, and spilled a bag of popcorn, the kernels would be dangling in the air, frozen in time while my vision comes and goes.
Slowly, I look over to my right and see my spirit guide, Anona, materialize.
She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever seen or met in person. Of Native American decent, Anona stands before me barefoot, wearing a long, tan cloak with leather ties at the neck and waist. Her long, shiny black hair is straight and pulled to one side. Her dark brown eyes show her intense concern over what’s going on here.
“Kendall, you’re delving into an area you shouldn’t mess with,” she warns.
I shake my head, foggy almost from the daze I’m in. “I’m not doing it, Anona.”
“There are dark forces at work in this universe that we don’t understand.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Christian? Is he a dark force?”
She shakes her head. “That boy is a fool.”
“I can’t stop him,” I tell her, not even feeling my lips move.
Anona spreads her arms wide. “I can’t protect you against this, Kendall.”
“What is it, though?”
“You’ve gone too far from my reach,” Anona says. “There’s nothing I can do.”
I seriously don’t get what she’s telling me. My spirit guides constantly speak to me in riddles and puzzles. Why can’t they just say what’s on their mind? “You promised you’d take care of me.”
“There is another,” she says softly. “Another who is watching over you.”
I perk up some from my stupor. “Emily? She’s back?” I ask, almost begging. As soon as Emily, my first spirit guide, revealed herself to me as my birth mother… I lost her. She’d been with me my whole life, but as soon as I knew the truth, it allowed her to pass into the light. Great for her. Sucked for me. She’d sent Anona to be with me on the other side. But I want my mother. “Emily? Is she here again? Is she with me? Anona! Talk to me! Tell me!”
Anona brings her head down and closes her eyes, unanswering. And then she fades away.
Just like that, everything begins to move around me again, as
though nothing unusual happened to me.
I have no idea how long I was out, or if anyone even noticed my spell-like state.
Patrick is over in the corner talking to Oliver. Taylor is setting up video cameras around the room. Maddie and Jess have their digital recorders out to try and capture electronic voice phenomena (EVP), while Celia is in full tech geek mode getting base readings of Mrs. Flanders’s house with her EMF detector. Jason’s tagging along with her, taking notes. At least he’s doing something useful and helpful instead of glowering.
Christian and Jayne set up at the nearby table, with him polishing up his Ouija board as Jayne sets out the planchette—the wooden pointer used on the board.
I rub my head trying to ease the throbbing of my psychic headache that always follows one of my vision trips. Or maybe it’s in anticipation of what’s to come this evening.
The doorbell rings.
Mrs. Flanders excuses herself.
Oliver follows her.
Patrick glances over at me and smiles weakly. He knows something that I can’t sense.
But I don’t need to, because everything’s revealed when two guys bumble into the living room with a video camera and sound equipment.
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Oliver says. “We definitely want to get this on film. It’ll be great for the sizzle reel we’re going to pitch to the network.”
Taylor’s bright smile clicks into place. “We’re going to be on television?”
“No way,” Jess says.
Oliver twists his mustache. “Actually, I’ve had an idea, based on Christian’s experiences here in the UK, to feature him on a new show. It’s all in the development stage right now, but this is the ideal event to film and see how everything looks.”
My spirit sinks and I feel myself slouch into the sofa. “So, we’re just props here?”
Oliver places his hand on my shoulder. “No, no, Kendall. Do what you need to do during the investigation. I just want the camera crew to focus on Christian and what he’s seeing, feeling, and experiencing.”
Once peek over at him and I know what he’s feeling. He’s gazing into a small mirror that Jayne’s holding, checking his face and hair and dabbing a bit of pancake makeup on his cheeks.
“He’s putting on makeup?” I say incredulously.
Celia plops down on the couch next to me. “What’s going on here?”
“The Christian Campbell show, it looks like.”
“So, Mr. Bates?” Taylor asks. “What are we supposed to do?”
“Be natural, Taylor. Just do what you always do on an investigation.”
She looks over at me and shrugs. I lift my hands in defeat. It’s clear that we ghost huntresses aren’t needed here.
“Where shall I be?” Mrs. Flanders asks.
“I think it would be perfect if everyone gathers around the table,” Christian directs. “Mrs. Flanders to my right. Jayne to my left. And the rest of you…” He trails off and syncs his eyes with mine. A slight sneer lifts the corner of his mouth. “Well, the rest of you can just fill in the spaces and not fanny about.”
Celia sucks in. “Fanny about? What does that even mean?” She glares and then lowers her voice. “I don’t think I like this jerk.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say.
Patrick comes over and offers his hand to me. “Might as well join the dog and pony show,” he says with a laugh.
Everyone’s in place at the table, Taylor’s filming for our own purposes, but Niles and Jamie, the film crew, are set up and it’s literally…. “Action!”
Christian begins using the Ouija board with Mrs. Flanders and Jayne assisting in using the planchette. It begins sliding across the slick surface passing over letters and numbers, circling back, and bringing the pointer around in circles.
In the full spotlight, Christian closes his eyes and speaks out in a booming voice. “Who is here with us tonight? Show yourself to us. Use this divination tool to come forth.”
I knee Patrick under the table and he loops his fingers through mine.
This is complete crap, I say to him.
It’s all for show.
“Come forth and show yourself. Who are you? Who has been terrorizing this house, this woman, her daughter?” Christian chants in a monotone.
The camera crew moves in to show Christian’s hands on the planchette as it travels aggressively on the table.
D.
O.
J.
O.
“Dojo,” Christian repeats. “So, it is you.”
“Who is Dojo?” Jayne asks, peeping over her glasses.
Christian turns to her. “Never address a demon by name.”
She shakes her head, her blond ponytail swaying. “But you just—”
Christian tosses his head back. “I am familiar with this one. He is known to me.”
Oliver steps in near Christian. “Tell us what you’re experiencing, Christian.”
The young Scot closes his eyes again and lolls his head from left to right. Then he speaks again. “I have known you, Dojo, for years. You are the spirit that has haunted and terrorized me since I was a little boy.”
I reach out with my psychic senses to see what, if anything is present or near to us. My abilities aren’t picking up a thing. I don’t know if that’s because there’s nothing here and Christian’s just a big tool bag, or if this Dojo person is focused on his demonic task.
Christian’s eyes fly open and he screams out. He grabs the Ouija board and lifts it over his head, shaking it fiercely. Mrs. Flanders covers her head in protection and Jayne dives under the table. I watch as Christian falls back into the chair and starts flailing about.
“You can’t have me. You never have. I-I-I…” Christian slams the board to the table and then flops back into the chair, like he’s passed out.
I stifle the desire to laugh, as does Celia. Instead, we watch the floor show.
Then Christian rises, and in a voice that’s nothing like his thick Scottish brogue, he says, “I am Dojo. You have called me and I have come.”
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Flanders says on the verge of tears. “Are you the one who has been causing trouble here?”
“I am,” Christian says deeply. “I am Dojo. You summoned me. Now, what do you want?”
Oliver looks at our host. “He’s doing what we call channeling, Mrs. Flanders. He’s allowed this spirit to overtake him and speak through him so we can communicate.”
She blinks hard and looks around the table. “Oh, well, then.”
“I am Dojo. You have crossed me. You have empowered me. I shall never leave you. Just as I have ruled over this boy since his birth. His power comes from me. Dojo.”
No one in the room moves. Not even the sound guy trying to stretch the boom mike in. From what I’m picking up, my friends don’t know whether Christian is the real thing or if he’s just crazy out of his mind.
I think it may be a recipe that includes both ingredients.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Christian screams out in pure terror, a shrilling shriek that would peel paint off the wall. Mrs. Flanders staggers away, and all of us slide back from the table. The camera man is fearless, and has the lens right up in Christian’s face. Until the young psychic swipes his arm around in a kung fu chop to the left, knocking the expensive recording equipment out of Niles’s hand.
Olive moves in, placing hands on both sides of Christian’s head. He holds him tight and begins to whisper close to Christian’s ear. “Come back, Christian. Kick him out. Take back control.”
Slowly, Christian comes to and I let out the breath I’ve been holding. As does nearly everyone else in the room.
“What happened?” he asks, slightly dazed.
Jayne pops up from underneath the table. “You were channeling that guy whose name I’m not supposed to repeat.”
Celia slides her sketch pad and charcoal pencil down the table. “Can you draw this Dojo clown for us?”
Man, I love her tena
city.
“Aye, I can,” Christian says. “I’ve seen him my whole life.”
He nabs the pencil and begins to move it quickly over the paper. Stokes and circles, lines and angles. He’s obviously done this before. When he flips the book around, I yelp out. For looking back at me is a troll-like creature with a snake-ish face, eyes that hiss and stare out and a body similar to what most science fiction movies use to depict aliens.
Mrs. Flanders puts her hand to her heart and I fear for her health. “Th-th-that is in my house?”
Olive slaps the drawing down and puts a comforting hand on Mrs. Flanders’s shoulder. “I believe that’s enough for one night, my dear. We’ll take our equipment, review our evidence, and then regroup with you. How’s that?”
With a shaky hand, she reaches out to Oliver and holds on. “I suppose I’ll have Father Andrew come over and bless the house tonight before I retire.”
“Good idea,” Oliver says.
I only pray that Christian made all that stuff up and that this poor woman isn’t in any danger.
*~*~*
That night, back at the hotel, Oliver has a bounty of food sent up from room service. I barely pick at the burger and fries on my plate, still trying to grasp what happened a few hours earlier. Christian set off for the gym and has been in full work out mode since. Apparently, it’s how he “relaxes” after an intense channeling session.
Maddie disappeared to call her boyfriend back home and Jessica, Taylor, and Celia talked Aunt Andi into venturing out for a ride on The Eye.
I don’t know where Jayne disappeared to. I worry about her and her connection—her attachment—to Christian. That kid isn’t right, and I hate to see her dragged down along with him.
I push aside the half-eaten plate of food and reach for a can of soda. As I open it, I feel warm hands on my shoulder.
“Hey, babe,” Patrick says. “No appetite?”
“Not really.”
“I know what you need,” he says. “Come with me.”
A naughty part of me giggles in delight over getting to spend some alone time with my boyfriend. We take the elevator down to the second floor out to an open-air terrace that overlooks the balmy London summer night.
Ghost Huntress Book 6: The Journey Page 5
