My Demonic Ghost: Banished Spirits (18 page)

Gargoyle.

My world stopped. Slammed the brakes and threw me through the windshield. He was here. Here. And he saw me, saw the look of panic spiral across my face. Had I just given us away? M
aybe not, maybe he wasn’t looking at me?
Every step that I took was heavy and slow, as if my boots had been made out of lead and gravity had intensified inside them. My breath, had it always sounded so deep? So ghostly; so hollow and cold? When will he attack me? Will he follow us and corrupt our minds for his own gain? Or better yet snap the chains while we stand here completely exposed and unprotected? The front door, where’s the front door?

A five metre walk had never felt so long, so painfully tiring that I wanted to crash onto my knees and just throw my hands up; to just give up on everything.

“Please! You have to help us!” Michael’s voice sprang out like loud crashing symbols from behind me before the choking hold of Dean’s hands strangled around his collar and dragged him out. My feet fell behind theirs, Dean taking the lead as he pushed me aside with Michael struggling in his grip. The door was kicked open and swung shut quickly.  I leaned forward and squeezed myself through. The night air had never felt so good but I didn’t stop there; no, the further away I could get from that cafe, the better. So I can breath and think properly again.

Chapter Twenty:

There were loud grunts as I chased after Dean and Michael, stepping out of the streets and into an alleyway just in time to catch Dean swing his right fist into Michael’s cheek bone. The punch looked brutal as his neck cracked the other way, a small spit of red flying from his lips.

“Dean, stop it!” I jumped onto his back, pulling back on his arms but he was too strong for me. With ease, he yanked his arms free and took another swing, hitting Michael this time in the middle of his chest and drawing him to his knees. The grunts being knocked from his throat caused my skin to crawl. “Stop it Dean, please!”

“Why should I? He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anything but himself!” Dean roared and drew his fist backwards. Bam- Another hit, again into Michael’s head. Michael’s eyes rolled up to Dean’s fist, drawn back, watching the knuckles flex underneath his strength and the colour of his own blood weep between his joints. I could feel my stomach start to turn. I wanted to vomit but couldn’t, even the sight of violence was hitting a delicate nerve inside me.  I rocked forwards at the same time Dean’s arm swung downwards for another punch. His fist closed in closer. My eyes squeezed to a tight close.
Stop! Stop! Stop!

“…… Rachael, what are you doing? Move aside.” The darkness faded away with a crack of light underneath my eye lid. I dared to peek up, but only for a second; I didn’t want to watch his fist strike me down.

“Don’t hit him anymore, please…think of Rip. If you hurt Michael then you’re hurting Rip, too.”

“I think Rip is better off with a new Host anyway. I figure I’m doing him a favour.”

“Please Dean, you can’t kill him! Otherwise, you’ll become one, too!”

“What does that mean?” Dean’s voice lowered at the drop of his fist, “What are you talking about?”

“It’s the rule, that’s how you become a Banished spirit... You- you don’t know this?” His silence continued. “If any person breaks this rule they are to become Banished spirits and thrown into Hell. The rule is to never kill someone or to kill yourself…”

The pain breaking over his face made me feel like I’d just slapped him, hit him hard with my words. “Is that why my little sister is being punished like this? Because she fell into the pool and drowned it’s suddenly her fault, that she did this on purpose as a means for suicide!?”

I moved backwards, “I’m sorry-” yet his voice continued to rise with every weary step I took.

“This is so unfair! What type of ‘God’ could do this to a young girl, to an innocent?!” He took a handful of his own hair and howled, rearing onto his heels before spinning himself around and storming back into the streets. Michael was whimpering behind me. I moved, touching his shoulder to make sure that he was alright but he merely shrugged my hand away. His eyes were full of tears. It was coming to the point where he would have to make a choice, like all of us Hosts, to believe what we want to believe or to face the facts. He stood, dusted his clothes off and altered his collar, and passing my ears whispered only high enough for me to catch, he made his decision.

“You may believe them but I won’t. I will never fall for their trickery. They’re demons, never forget that Rachael, no matter how pretty they look. It’s all a trick and I feel sorry for you.”

The darkness of time trickled over us, the night overpowering the sky as it coated the streets with its shadows. We sat outside at a different café, one at the other side of the block, the orange lights from inside heating our backs. Michael and Dean sat opposite each other, Dean’s eyes glued to the Michael’s turned back, who was making sure to keep his focus out toward the empty houses. The eerie silence was suffocating any glint of happiness I had felt. As Michael stiffened his back, Dean did too; always watching him, again, like a wild animal that couldn’t be trusted with humans.

“I’m going to call the others, just to tell them that everything is alright.” I was suffocating. I just needed to get away, even for a second.

“Hmm,” Dean grunted.

I found a telephone booth just around the corner and inserted the 40 cents before waiting for the message bank to appear after 6 rings. I figured they wouldn’t pick up, but I had hoped at least one of them was near the answering machine to hear me.

At the tone record your message, to end, just hang up…BEEP.

“Hey guys, it’s me, Rachael. Just letting you know, we’re getting the blade fixed tonight but I don’t think we’ll be back till late. So, umm, yeah don’t worry or anything. Everything is fine and we’ll be home in the next hour or two. Okay, see you soon. Bye.”

Click! Beep, beep, beep!
My breath escaped me in a heavy rush, running through my lips and expelling the load of tension from my lungs with it. On my return I found the two of them talking. Not facing each other, but still, they were talking.

“She’s my little sister, you can’t do this to her,” Dean said.

“You may want to die by the hands of these ‘spirits’ or whatever, but not me. I’m a good, civilized man and I deserve to live…”

“And she didn’t? I’m not sorry for hitting you. If Rachael hadn’t been there, I would’ve killed you. Curse or no curse, I don’t care,” Dean admitted.

“I’m not sorry either.”

My shoes crumbled the gravel underneath them as I stepped forward.
Too intense, it was just too intense.
“We should get going, the others must be worried and I’m sure the blade will be fixed by now.”

Both men nodded their heads and lead the way out. Most of the stores had closed by now. I could finally see the night sky again, sitting there contently above our heads, unchanged and unfazed about everything else going on. I miss the sky most about Whitehaven, so much so that I felt a little homesick.

The old man back inside the temple shop was finishing just as we walked in, blowing his exhausted breath up the middle of the metal and dusting it off with his index finger.

“Ah, kids you’re back just in time. Here, all fixed and better than new.” He twirled the handle in his palm, admiring his own workmanship. I felt kind of sad for him that we had to take it away.

“Thank you. And here, here’s something for your hard work,” Dean dug out a handful of notes and put it on top of the table.

It was lucky that we were able to catch the last bus back into the city, it was even luckier that we only had to wait about 3 minutes at the bus stop before it turned up. I sat in the middle of them again, this time closer to Dean; he was worried. It was obvious by his hunched back, nervously fidgeting fingers, lack of concentration and his distant eyes. I touched his shoulder and was relieved when he didn’t push me off.

“It’s alright Dean, there’s no way they would know what Michael was talking about. The Hunters, they don’t know what we are. We’re safe; your sister is going to be okay.” He shivered through his clothes and I felt the tremble vibrate through him. His hand lifted and took hold of my own; unlike Lock, whose fingers fitted at an equal size to mine, Dean’s hands were larger and rough. Like a real man’s hands.

“I hope you’re right.”

I must’ve fallen asleep without realising. My head had rolled down onto Dean’s shoulder, my body slumped half off the chair. The first thing I could feel was a comfortable weight leaning on the top of my head. I didn’t move as I listened to Dean’s deep breaths blowing down on top of me, through my bangs and skimming over my nose. My heart was beating heavily. I was overfilled with excited tingles; my cheeks and neck, my knee where it had touched his, my hands and my right shoulder, especially where he draped his arm across. I shifted beneath him, Dean’s body heat radiating out so it felt as if half of me was wrapped in an electric blanket.

I nudged him awake as we neared out stop. After getting off the bus, Michael called me over to ask if I had changed my mind about helping the Banished spirits.

“No, I care for Lock a lot. He is no demon, and I feel sorry for you for not seeing that.” He looked at me with great disappointment before huddling into himself for the walk home. Dean and I reached the apartment door, night had fallen. The room was in complete darkness except for a single lamp sitting in the corner.

“Hey, we’re back,” I announced into the emptiness but got no reply. Dean was close behind me, his footsteps sluggish as he dragged them across the floor and dumped the knife onto the kitchen table. Again, I tried calling, peering around the corner as I did so, “Hello? Lock?”

Dean’s body crashed as he hit the wall, his hand shooting up to his cheek as the other was held out as a means to protect himself. I spun on my heel in surprise. All I could think of was the Hunters, that they followed us home. Instead of jumping back up to his feet; Dean hung his head to his chest, chuckling.

“Sorry mate.” That’s all he said, his free arm reaching out and patting his attacker on the shoulder. The stranger who had punched Dean turned out to be the heavily panting Lock, his face strict and rigid with anger and his fists clutched tightly at each side of his body.

“Lock? What are you doing?”

“Rachael, it’s okay, it’s fine. I really shouldn’t have kept you out this late. Again, I’m sorry, Lock. I didn’t mean to worry you,” he grinned, straightening his back and rubbing gently at his reddened cheek. Lock didn’t answer him, nor did he look at me. He seemed to be preparing his knuckles for another swing.

“Dean, are you okay-” I started but was silence by Dean’s hand again.

“It’s late, there’s really no use trying anything tonight. It’s too risky so I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

With that said, he waved his goodnights and went over to the couch. Lock turned and moved towards me. His face was stern with that accusing frown, but his eyes softened as they caught mine. I couldn’t stop myself from cooing over him.
He was worried about me?

I felt really happy.
I was… I was…
Suddenly my entire body and mind froze up. Since when had I turned shy underneath his stare, the sweat in my palms emitting heat that made them itchy and unbearably stiff? I could distinguish that familiar clamminess of nerves unbottling themselves under my skin
. I was nervous? Nervous because of Lock?
My eyes fluttered down quickly yet they bounced back up, back towards Lock, but he was gone.

“Good night Dean.” I dragged my feet back to my room; there were so many things bombarding me that I couldn’t grasp any meaning behind them. What exactly was wrong with me?

I’m always worrying about him, about what he’s thinking, or who he is with and about his safety and feelings. I want him to smile and laugh with me, to hold his hand and have him look at me with those green eyes. That doesn’t mean anything more than friendship, surely it doesn’t mean that I’m… that I’m… in love with him.

My body dropped onto my bed, exhausted, confused, beaten. I was consumed in a whirlwind of emotions; happiness, fear, anxiety and doubt. There was a storm inside my mind, raging with never ending rain and pierced with flashes of lightning. This just couldn’t be true.  These feelings were new and scary, but there was no way I could deny that they weren’t real, that they weren’t there. But for now, sleep was my best and only opinion. I was not yet ready to face this new complicated world. To accept that I may be in love with Lock, and that no other boy had made my heart pound as he does. I was brainwashed just like Michael said, and it was all Lock’s fault that I had fallen in love with him.

I’m in love with a demonic ghost.

Chapter Twenty-One:

I barely slept that night. I was awake to watch the sun rise from behind the buildings. My feelings were pushed into the back of my mind as I swung my feet over the side of the bed.

Opening the door into the hallway, I was heading towards the kitchen when I tripped over a motionless lump; nearly face planting myself on the floor. The thing groaned and pulled its legs tighter into its chest. I glanced down to notice the dusty haired Lock, who had set up camp outside my room.

“What are you doing down there?”

“Making sure that that punk Dean doesn’t try anything of course,” he said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I blushed, waving dismissively behind my shoulder and walked towards the kitchen. He got up and bounded after me, standing at my right flank like a guard dog. Dean was napping on the couch, and as I turned towards the fridge I couldn’t help but notice Lock standing deliberately between the two of us.

There wasn’t much to eat. Dean woke up as I closed the fridge. He ran his hands roughly through his rock star hair; his eyes still squinting against the light as I noticed his t-shirt hung neatly over the armrest beside him. He sat up comfortably, chest exposed and all, yet in no way self-conscious, as Lock grunted in disapproval.

“Nothing to eat?” He asked.

I shook my head, trying to avoid the obvious six-pack. Dean yawned and I could hear the blankets rustling as he slipped out of bed.

“We can go out and get something, if you don’t mind.”

“Good idea Rach, I’m starving,” Lock snarled; I could feel the burn of his frustration soak into the room. I wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but the jealously he displayed was beginning to border on childishness. What made it worse was that I was smiling as if he were complimenting me…

After getting dressed, Lock, Dean, and I all headed out to the closest open café where we nibbled on toast and sipped down hot, freshly brewed coffee. Lock didn’t touch any food, nor did he speak or look at us as we shared pleasantries and small talk. He kept his head propped in his hand and eyes looking outside, hidden underneath his hood. Dean started bringing up gossip about Nails, the Banished soul whose eyes looked far fiercer than her face.

“She doesn’t look familiar to you?” he had asked me a couple of times, shrugging when I shook my head no.

“She was in the news a few years back, something about an abusive husband and how she shoved him away from her, knocking him down a flight of stairs… after which she realized she’d killed him and threw herself down, too. There were new paper reports about it everywhere because, apparently, she was 3 months pregnant with their child. I think it was… hmm… about 4 years ago that all this happened. Every time I see her, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. I mean, that’s really tough.” I nodded silently, rubbing the tip of my thumb over the lid of my own cup.

After we had finished our meal Dean mentioned he was feeling unwell so we decided to head back. Lock was breathing down my neck the entire time, walking so closely that he trotted on my heels.

I was startled when my mobile rang. I had forgotten that I even had it, just taking it with me out of habit. It was Mum. I tensed and sped up my steps to distance myself as if her eyes could travel through the phone and see whose company I was keeping. Lock chased after me so fast that I had to knock him back just to get some space.

She asked how things were, about Jess’s broken leg and to come back in the few next days for the funeral. I reassured her that I would. 

I reached home and walked into the kitchen to dump my bag on the floor when I came to a dead stop, my foot still in mid-step, at the destruction displayed like art across my house.

Everything, absolutely everything was vandalised. The curtains were yanked down and thrown across the room, every cup and plate disfigured into tiny shards and scattered like dust. The fridge contents dumped at the foot of the dishwasher, the trash fanned out and releasing the stench of rot. The kitchen, the lounge room, the front door, the walls and floors, cupboards and carpets, even the windows had been destroyed.

Words failed me. My legs failed me. My own mind failed to comprehend the obliteration of my house. I was gone only an hour! My first thought,
Mum is going to kill me.
The second thought,
Who the hell would do such a thing?

I would’ve thought robbers had broken into the house if it hadn’t been for the message burnt into the walls reading, ‘DIRTY OLD HAG’. Sabotage sat contently on the couch, smirking with her sweetest smile and moon shaped eyes. She kept eye contact with me, almost challenging me to do something about it. Lock glanced around but had no reaction to the new decoration, barely even looking at Sabotage who was itching to catch his eyes. Dean sighed and shook his head, much like the disappointed shake of a parent who has caught their child sneaking an extra cookie before bed time.

“What the hell did you do?” Her shoulders shrugged. I bit my lip in the swoon of anger; never had I felt such white hot rage, words strangling into my throat.

“Sabotage, why did you do this?” Dean spoke calmly as he stood next to me. She shrugged again, this time puckering out her lower lip.

“I was lonely and scared.” Her eyes widened as her brows tilted downwards into the teary eyes of a puppy. Her witchery won over Dean as he stepped back satisfied with her answer.

“So you destroyed my house?”

“You shouldn’t yell at a kid like me,” she cowered away from me but kept that smug grin on her stupid little face. I could’ve sworn that I even heard her snicker.

“Let’s just clean this mess up alright?” Sabotage squirmed in her chair as Dean stepped closer to her. “Come on Sabotage, you can help to.”

“No way! I’m not cleaning her dirty house, I’m not her maid!” My fingernails cut into my palm with my tightening fists. My hands were shaking.

“You’re the one who trashed it!”

“Oh really? Prove it, grandma!” She rocked back into the cushions and vanished.

I spun towards Dean but he only gave me that,
what can you do
, shrug and continued to sweep up the trash. Lock was in no way pretending to help as he sat himself up on the kitchen bench and resumed his staring out of the window.

It took us nearly the whole day to fix the mess, my arms flexing with pain after I spent ages scrubbing at the walls but with no success. The words were scarred into the plaster, our only option was the smash it down and rebuild. I shouldn’t have been shocked to see that my room had been targeted, and was by far in the worst condition of them all. There were things in here that weren’t even meant to belong in my room; the TV for instance, was tipped upside down on the middle of my desk. My papers with all my work had been scribbled on, ripped in half, crumbled and strewn across the floorboards. My bed sheets were removed from their covers and piled on top of my cupboards, my clothes spilling out of drawers like lifeless bodies and nearly every single picture frame had a crack splintering up the middle of the glass. My skin reddened in anger, and much like any guilty culprit returning to watch the devastation of their work on their victims, Sabotage had followed me to watch the show.  She hadn’t made a noise when entering my room. I jumped when I stood up and nearly stepped through her.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I can do anything I want because I’m better than you, and you, being the old, dirty hag that you are, have to obey me. You’re just a Host, you can’t do anything. I shouldn’t even be staying in such a disgusting house. Aren’t you embarrassed at all, Miss Piggy?” Sabotage sneered. I had never wanted so badly to hit someone.
Little brat!!

“Then by all means, leave.”

“You’re not the boss of me. Oh, and you must address me as your highness from now on.” Her squeaky giggling made it that much harder to not respond by swinging my arms at her madly. I quickly leaned down; scooping up the first thing I saw, anything to keep my hands busy.

“Why are you so jealous of me? Is it because Lock doesn’t return your feelings?”

“Me? Jealous? HA! He’ll get sick of you eventually like he did the others, don’t worry about that.”

I dropped my eyes, quickly scanning over the picture I had picked up; it had been one of Dad, Mum, and I while we were all at the petting zoo. I was three and dressed in a raincoat, bright yellow with an animated picture of a duck face on the hood. We were all wrapped up in each other’s arms, smiling, laughing even against the drizzle that tried to ruin our day. I was surprised when orange flames snap to life in my hands. And just like that, the photo became engulfed in fire, turning the edges in on themselves until they melted into dark plastic. The heat surprised me as my fingers flexed and released the picture, its crippled body fluttering in the air before its weight crashed it.

My smiling family was destroyed by flame, right before my eyes. Sabotage continued to laugh.

As soon as we’d had enough of cleaning, we moved down the block to an abandoned gymnasium that had been left vacant for a number of years. Vandals had already broken into it. It was only a block away and I didn’t mind the night breeze as it helped calm my nerves. Lock hadn’t left my side once during the rest of the day, his closeness making me noticeably nervous all day, too. I felt that I couldn’t so much as scratch my nose without being watched.

But I wouldn’t have wanted him anywhere else, even with Sabotage’s eyes stabbing into my back. His arm swung out taking my hand, and like linking chains we became even more inseparable. I didn’t even mind the burning whispers that came from the startled Hosts following us.

He led the way inside into the stretch of empty hall. The Hosts shuffled in behind us, Michael’s beaten face among them. Away from the streams of street lamps and the shimmer of the moon’s grey shine, the Banished spirits materialized out of thin air to stand by their Hosts. Dean tapped my shoulder and wished me good luck. Lock snarled and snapped his teeth at him, nostrils flaring like an angered bull as Sabotage stood pouting at Dean’s side. The room buzzed with conversation, everyone talking to everyone else. Only Lock, Dean, Sabotage and I had been silenced, some by nerves, and some by anger. I was more anxious than usual because Eric and Betrayal hadn’t turned up yet. Even though I’d tried calling Eric’s mobile a few times and left a dozen of messages about the change of location, I still felt uneasy. Lock squeezed my hand reassuringly, giving me a toothy grin.

“Do you think something happened to them?” I couldn’t stop my worrying; it was like I was seeing the world as a parent now, constantly aware of the dangers lurking around every dark corner.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s just; this is Betrayal’s anniversary that’s all.”

“Anniversary?”

“Of death. She died four years ago on this day.”

Nails’ voice hovered over towards us as she gracefully floated back to the ground, caressing her stomach with careful delicate hands.

“Ah, my dear, poor Betrayal. At least she isn’t hurting from her memories anymore.” Her head turned out towards the window, a look of pain and what may be either regret or guilt shooting across her eyes. I swear, even in the weak light, I could see the small shimmer of a tear roll free.

I keep forgetting that these spirits were once people, too. The door swung open and slammed closed with the high pitched squeal of metal hitting metal. Eric jogged in, puffing and wiping sweat from his brow.

“Sorry for making you wait…” he managed to cough out between each pant. Howl and Nails quickly moved back into the crowd, disappearing without another whisper. I moved toward Eric, patting his shoulder gently.

“Is Betrayal alright?”

“She will be,” he whispered back, seeing that I couldn’t wipe the sympathy from my eyes.

“She’s stronger then she looks you know,” Lock said. I shook my head to loosen the expression on my face.

“I can’t help but feel sorry for her.”

“Don’t. We don’t need your sympathy.”

Eric and Betrayal joined Lock and I at the front of the pack, giving us reassuring nods before Eric moved to the back of the line with the others. The active room fell to a hush as we extended our open flat palms across the floor. The lights were dim and so poorly illuminated that I couldn’t pick up much, if any, details of the room in front of us. It was large, empty and old, coated in layers of dust with windows that had been barred shut. It had the dirty, neglected smell of abandonment and infestations of bugs and rats, all of the wood rotting with age. Lonely and dark and perfect, the room was a Banished soul, too.

I moistened my lower lip and let the words quivered their way out.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
Mother’s twisted body formed in the stretch of shadows, annoyed at our persistence in calling her every night. She lunged forward and spitting her oily hair across the room. The audience behind me stumbled back, the Hosts worried, their joints tightening into knots, while the spirits turned back into ashes, hiding themselves. It was Betrayal this time who chose the mask. Mother placed it into the fold of her face, her tongue clicking in snarling purrs before the shadows of the room expanded over our eyes. I closed mine as the sickness started to churn.
Steady breaths. Remember, just in and out. In… and out….in….and out.