Ghost Walk (17 page)

His cell phone rang, but Ken ignored it.

“A few thoughts on scaring people. Obviously, people who attend a haunted attraction like this enjoy being scared. But we want it to be fun for them, and we want to keep safety in mind. So absolutely under no circumstances should you touch an attendee. Scaring them is fine. Physical contact is not. And be mindful of who you’re scaring. If it’s a little kid, and they are obviously terrified—not in a good way, you know what I mean—then consider making them feel better. Maybe be funny instead, or act like you’re scared of them. Where’s Christopher Jones at?”

“Here!”

“Chris, you’re playing Leatherface, right?”

“Hell, yeah!”

“Make sure you take the chain off of your chainsaw. The last thing we need is you cutting somebody or tripping over a tree root and hurting yourself. Some of us here remember how you almost cut your finger off field-dressing that spike buck two years ago.”

“You just
had
to bring that up, didn’t you, Ken?”

“Well, we made fun of Tom earlier. Gotta spread the love, brother.”

The throng laughed again, but Ken could tell by watching the first few rows that they were getting restless. He decided to wrap things up and get on with the walk-through, before he lost them.

“Okay!” He raised his voice a little, commanding their attention once more. “That’s about all I have. Any questions before we begin the walk?”

A dozen hands shot up.

Ken sighed. It was going to be a long night.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Maria parked at a twenty-four-hour convenience store about a block and a half away from the White Rose Mental Health Facility. This section of town was still relatively unscathed by crime and drugs, so she felt safe walking the distance. The sidewalks were clean and in good shape, free of cracks or holes. The streets were lined with sprawling elm trees and bright streetlights, and the old houses were neat and tidy, populated mostly by retirees or converted into professional offices for doctors and lawyers. Many of them were decorated for Halloween. Paper cutouts of witches and ghosts hung in the windows. Pumpkins sat on porches and stoops, carved in a wide array of designs—everything from smiley faces to demons to something that resembled Pac-Man. Some of the homes had dried cornstalks or varieties of squash and melons arranged in tasteful displays. One home even had strings of orange Christmas lights strung all over the exterior.

She looked for Levi’s buggy as she stepped onto the sidewalk, but didn’t see it. Was he here yet? Although she didn’t know much about his personal life, he struck her as the type of person who’d be punctual. Still, there was no sign of the buggy—or of Dee. Levi couldn’t have been stupid enough to park it at the psychiatric hospital, could he? That would surely attract unwelcome attention.

She still had no idea what he intended to do. “Open the door”? Did that mean they were breaking in? Did he know a back entrance, perhaps unguarded and unlocked? No, that was impossible. She was sure that whatever Levi’s plan was, it involved some form of magic. That’s why he’d been so secretive and vague. He was probably worried it would sound far-fetched to her, despite everything else that had happened today.

Maria shook her head in disbelief. What a day it had been. This morning, the world had looked very much the same as it always had; now, things were different. She still didn’t totally believe in powwow or magic or sorcery or whatever Levi wanted to call it, but neither could she remain skeptical any longer.

She yawned, wishing she’d brought along another cup of coffee. The earlier rejuvenating effects of the hot shower and caffeine were starting to wear off. Worse, she doubted there would be time for sleep anytime soon. If Levi actually got them a sit-down with Senft, she’d have to transcribe her rough notes while they were still fresh in her head. It would probably be another long night.

Maria approached the hospital from the rear, cutting behind a dentist’s office and then across a vacant field. She moved safely under the cover of darkness. There was a thick cloud cover sliding over the moon, and although the psychiatric hospital’s parking lot had sodium lights, their radiance didn’t reach beyond the lot itself. She crept through the underbrush, alert, pulse throbbing in her throat.

It was so murky that she didn’t even see Levi until he spoke.

“You made it.”

Maria yelped, barely biting back a scream.

Levi shushed her. He was hiding in a thicket of vines and small trees, concealed in shadow. The only thing she could see clearly was his hat, silhouetted against a brief ray of moonlight.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Maria gasped, crouching down beside him and trying to catch her breath. “You scared the hell out of me, Levi.”

“Language. I may not be Amish anymore, but that doesn’t mean I approve of or enjoy hearing you take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t have surprised me like that.”

“I apologize. But if I, as you said, scared the Hell out of you, then that’s a good thing. The purer we are, the better our chances of defeating this.”

Maria bristled. “Are you saying I’m not pure?”

He didn’t respond. Maria peered closer and realized that he was grinning.

“You’re just messing with me again, aren’t you, Levi?”

“Yes. Just playing off your words. Sorry about that. But in truth, purity does add strength to our fight. And by purity, I don’t mean being a goody two-shoes. I’m just talking about a healthy body, mind, and spirit. Righ teousness. A sense of self-assuredness and confidence. Making the universe revolve around you—understanding that you are the focal point of all that occurs.”

“That doesn’t sound like purity.”

“But it is, in a sense. Being pure in thoughts and deeds means never second-guessing or doubting them. Knowing that what you’re doing is right and having the determination to see it through. That’s the kind of purity I’m talking about.”

Maria nodded in fake understanding and decided to change the subject. “So where’s Dee?”

“I left her stabled at home. I thought the buggy might attract too much attention at this time of night.”

The clouds parted again, revealing the moon. Light spilled into the thicket. In front of the building, out on the street, a car drove by, bass-heavy music reverberating from the speakers.

“So how did you get here, then?” Maria asked.

Levi smiled. “By other means. Did you get any sleep?”

“No. How about you?”

“I meditated for a bit, but you can’t really call that sleep. Mostly, I just read. Studied. Prepared.”

“Like cramming for an exam?”

Levi shrugged. “I guess. I don’t know for sure. I never had to do that.”

“Amish have schools, too. You never had to stay up late studying for tests?”

“There was no time. We had chores to do. If we got a chance to sleep, then we took it.”

They fell silent for a moment, watching the building. Although a few lights burned, most of the windows were dark. There was no signs of activity or movement.

“Seriously,” Maria whispered. “How did you get here?”

“I told you—by other means of transportation.”

“Magic?”

“No. A taxi cab. I had the driver drop me off several blocks from here and then I walked. I forgot my deodorant, so you might not want to get too close. How about you?”

“I parked a few blocks away, too. But I remembered to put on my deodorant.”

“Now
you’re
messing with
me
.”

“Hey, turnabout is fair play. And besides, we’re a team. Remember?”

“That we are. Are you ready?”

Maria shrugged. “I guess.”

Levi took a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled.

“Before we go any farther,” he said, “I have to say something. Regardless of whether you believe or not, you must do as I say from this point on. If you question or falter, it could be very dangerous for us both. Okay?”

“We’re not going to kill a chicken or anything like that, are we?”

“Not for this ritual, no.”

“Okay, then we’re agreed.”

“Good. That’s a relief. We’re going to open a doorway tonight. Remember when I told you that there were ways to enter the Labyrinth and cross space and time, like Nelson LeHorn did?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, this is something different. We don’t want to travel to another world or dimension. We want to transport someone from one point to another right here. On our Earth. To do that, we’re going to create a shortcut—a temporary hole in the Labyrinth’s fabric. That’s not really what it is, but it’s the easiest way to explain it. In any case, we must be quick and sure and cautious. And very,
very
careful.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t want anything else using the doorway. And because we don’t want it getting wider or becoming permanent. That would be very bad.”

Levi’s demeanor had changed. He seemed more solemn. Finished speaking, he reached behind a thorny bush and pulled out a wicker basket.

“Are we having a picnic?” Maria whispered.

Levi lifted a finger to his lips, silencing her. His eyes conveyed seriousness. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a compass. After consulting it, he nodded. Then he glanced upward.

“Good,” he said. “We’re facing north and there are no tree limbs hanging directly over our heads. We can begin.”

Maria watched as Levi opened the wicker basket and pulled out a container of salt. She recognized the brand; the same kind was in her kitchen cupboard. Levi poured the salt all around them in a circle, emptying the container. Then he sat down cross-legged in the center of the circle and indicated that she should do the same. Her joints popped as she followed.

“Whatever happens,” he told her, “do not go beyond this circle. This is important. Don’t reach beyond it. Don’t stretch beyond it, not even the tip of your toe. Don’t even spit beyond it. Nothing must break the circle. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Nodding, he reached into the wicker basket again and pulled out a red cloth. He spread the fabric out on the ground in front of them, smoothing the wrinkles with his palms. Then he pulled more items out of the basket: a small copper bowl, four red candles, a chrome cigarette lighter, a broken, collectible silver spoon with a sharp, jagged edge, and a small bottle of shampoo—the kind usually offered as an amenity at hotels. Maria started to make a joke, but then thought better of it. Levi lined up each of the items on the cloth, placing the candles at four different positions—north, south, east and west. He sat the copper bowl directly in front of him and then picked up the tiny shampoo bottle. When he unscrewed the lid, Maria smelled a pleasant, aromatic scent—some type of oil, rather than shampoo. She tried to place it, but couldn’t. It smelled a bit like sandalwood, but heavier, more musty. Levi poured the oil into the bowl, careful not to spill any. The bouquet grew stronger, filling the air around them. He screwed the cap back on the bottle and placed it inside the basket. He retrieved one final item from the basket: a piece of white paper with strange symbols and a series of letters drawn on it. Maria tried to read the words, but they were nonsensical—strings of vowels with no consonants, and vice versa. He laid the paper directly above the bowl of oil. Then he lit each candle and bowed his head. Maria did the same. When he spoke again, in a strong, authoritative tone, she wasn’t sure he was talking to her.

“I have fasted according to the Nomos, which is the Law, and have eaten none which is unclean and have drank only water. I have avoided spilling my seed and have abstained from worshipping at the temples of Ishtar or Lilith. Thus, I have kept my essence and remained pure for thee.”

Maria almost giggled when Levi mentioned spilling his seed, but managed to remain quiet.

“My lanterns are of the appropriate and required color. With them I have cast light upon the four Gates of the Earth, and have done so with only the guidance of the moon. I face the Northern Gate. There is no roof or lamp above my head, save for the sky. I have done these things in accordance with the Nomos, which is the Law. And thus, I command thy attention.”

Pausing, Levi picked up the broken silver spoon and placed the sharp edge against the ball of his thumb. Maria shuddered, biting her lip to keep from crying out as he pressed the silver into his flesh, slicing his thumb. He didn’t flinch or moan, gave no indication that he’d felt it. He held the wound over the copper bowl and squeezed three drops of his blood into the oil. As each drop fell, he repeated the same phrase:

“
Ia unay vobism Huitzilopochtli. Ia dom tergo Hathor
.”

Maria tried to decipher the words. Some of them sounded Aztec or Mayan in origin. Others sounded Egyptian. And the rest seemed like total gibberish. She remembered what Levi had told her about the
Daemonolateria
. She’d commented that it sounded like Latin, and he’d corrected her, saying it was from a language that didn’t exist on Earth.

Humming, Levi held his thumb against his pants leg until the bleeding had stopped, and then he continued.

“I sit in the appropriate and required manner, safe inside a circle of protection. You may not molest me. I come here to open a gate. I come with awe and respect. I come seeking passage. I call upon the Gatekeeper, who gave to us the Nomos, which is the Law. I call upon the Doorman, who is the Burning Bush and the Hand That Writes and the Watchman and the Sleepwalker. I call upon he who is called Huitzilopochtli and Ahtu. He who is called Nephrit-ansa and Sopdu. He who is called Hathor and Nyarlathotep. I call upon he who’s real name is Amun. And thus, by naming thee and offering my blood thrice, I command an opening.”

Levi reached into the basket again and pulled out a worn paperback. The spine was cracked and a sales sticker from the used paperback store was affixed to the creased corner. The book was
When the Rain Comes
by Adam Senft. He held the book over the north-facing candle. It smoldered, then caught fire. He then placed the flaming paperback on top of the copper bowl. Smoke curled out from around its edges. The bowl’s contents must have been flammable because the fire quickly flared. The scent of burning oil became almost overpowering. Levi’s voice grew louder.

“This is the avatar of the one I seek. By following the Law and naming thee, I command you grant him safe passage to this place. He may not be harmed or molested by those who dwell between the walls or within the halls, or the denizens of Heaven nor Hell, or the realms between them, or the Thirteen, or the things that live in the wastes beyond the levels. Nor may he end up wandering and lost in that realm beyond the Labyrinth, in which there are no exits save death. I command thee, and so shall it be.”

Levi breathed a heavy sigh and then sat up straight. His body stiffened, his shoulders tense and rigid. His eyes remained fixed on the burning book. Maria’s legs were beginning to cramp. She started to stir, but Levi held up his hand, silencing her. Keeping still, she watched the flickering fire expand as it consumed paper and oil and blood. A plume of smoke curled lazily from the ashes. At its base, the fire remained only as wide as the mouth of the bowl, but the flames reaching into the air grew taller and wider. First a foot, then two. Maria shrank away from it. She felt the heat, smelled the singed hair on her arms. It didn’t seem to affect Levi. Beads of sweat ran out from under the brim of his hat and into his eyes, yet he remained motionless, unblinking.

His attention was focused on the fire.

It blazed higher. Impossibly so. Despite the diminutive bowl and the spare amount of fuel therein, the fire towered far over their heads. The flames changed color—first yellow, then orange, then a deep red. The smoke dissipated, leaving only fire. Maria leaned forward slightly and peered into the bowl. The oil and paper were gone, yet still the fire burned, even without any combustible fuel. The flames turned green. Instead of crackling, the fire hissed. Still, Levi did not move. Maria reached out and grabbed his arm, but he brushed her away. Reluctantly, she turned back to the blaze.