Satan's Mirror (7 page)

“Haven’t you got anything better to do?” Emily muttered as she unlocked the van.

“This yours? There’s no parking along this stretch.”

“No parking?” she wailed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Do you see anyone else parked on the street?”

She glanced up and down. “No.”

“But you’re special.”

“I was in a hurry. To get coffee.”

He pulled out his book of citations. “I’m afraid I’ll have to write you up.”

She opened the door, and then closed it again. “You know, you’d do better to knock off harassing me and do some real investigating.”

Beside her, Dan winced.

The officer continued writing the ticket. “For instance?”

“There is a woman named Vanessa who knows more than she’s saying about the Mickey Raynes disappearance. She all but confessed that she lured him and his girlfriend to an abandoned house because she thought the girl was a slut.”

“Is that right?” He tore off the paper and handed it to her. “I suggest you leave investigating to professionals, Ms. Goodman. You don’t want to get yourself into trouble.”

“I
am
a professional,” she said, her voice rising.

“Vanessa has been a part of this community for as long as I have. She has never been accused of a crime.”

“Yet you’ve had unsolved disappearances for the past six years. I’ll bet all of those people were looking for a psychic.”

He blinked in obvious surprise, and then said in dismissal, “Have a nice day.”

She got into the van and slammed the door. “Parking,” she growled, tossing the ticket on the dashboard.

“Six years,” Dan said as he sat beside her. “That’s what those college students said. The disappearances have been going on for six years. Vanessa said Joey returned to her about six years ago.”

“To hell and back,” Emily muttered as she pulled into traffic.

Behind her, the policeman stood framed in her mirror, looking at her.

“So, what’s the plan?” Dan asked.

“We’ll wait for dark. Then we’ll take our own private tour of the house on Weeden Street.”

EIGHT

Dusk shrouded Weeden Street as Emily pulled to the side and parked. Three houses away, she eyed the property Vanessa owned.

“You’re right about these places being old,” she said to Dan. “I feel like we’re doing a spot on the History Channel.”

“You can tell which homes are occupied and which are vacant,” he said. “Look at the yards.”

Emily nodded. The grounds were spacious, some well tended, others not so much. Vanessa’s house, although obviously empty, did not stand out as a derelict building. Perhaps she had a lawn service come in once or twice a month.

The property next to hers, however, looked overgrown and forgotten. An old-fashioned wrought iron streetlamp lit the yard with yellow light, showing scraggly bushes and tufts of unkempt grass. If this was the place owned by the Preservation Society, it was past time for them to start preserving.

“Well, well,” Dan said. “Isn’t that Joey the friendly ghost?”

Emily sat forward. A dark figure left the sidewalk and skulked along an iron fence separating the two properties. She couldn’t see his face, but she would bet it was Vanessa’s
dead
boyfriend.

“Bring your stuff.” She grabbed her pack from beneath the seat.

Emily got out of the van and quietly closed the door. The night was warm and filled with the sounds of chirruping insects. She waited for Dan to circle around to her. He rattled a bit as he walked, overloaded with camera equipment.

“Can you hold these for me?” Dan handed her several microdrives for his Olympus Evolt camera.

Emily placed them in her backpack. She felt in high spirits, excited to get in the house, certain this was the break they needed to expose the Mirror myth. “I hope you brought your secret agent night vision camera.”

He patted the camcorder hanging from his neck. “Me and old faithful will do the best we can.”

“You can start by shooting the neighborhood and the walkway to our haunted mansion. Make sure I’m in the frame as much as possible.”

“Better fix your hair then.”

Emily grinned. Slipping the pack onto her back, she crossed the uneven brick street. The long grass was trampled along the fence as if this were a traveled route. The breeze gusted. A door slammed. She saw no sign of Joey and was glad for that. He frightened her, and she didn’t know how he would react to her following him again. Best keep a discreet distance.

The three-storied, gabled houses loomed above, blocking the light from the street. The decorative iron made way for a chain-link fence that alternately leaned into and away from a line of foliage. Bushes and low-hanging tree branches brushed her shoulders and head.

She stopped, suddenly wary.

“I can’t shoot anything in this jungle,” Dan whispered. “I have to use the flood.”

“Don’t. I think he’s watching.”

“If he knows we’re here, it doesn’t matter what we do.”

A trickle of foreboding crawled over her flesh. “Don’t turn on the light. Follow me.”

“Hold on. You’re going in the wrong direction. Vanessa’s place is that-a-way.”

“But the path leads there.” She motioned to a hole in the fence.

He looked perplexed. “This is crazy.”

“No, it makes perfect sense. Vanessa said she bought the house to keep away prying eyes, remember? She is protecting whatever is going on over there.”

“I see. She probably would have bought both properties if the other one was for sale.”

“I imagine so.”

“Unfortunately, most of my pictures are of the front of Vanessa’s house.”

“That’s okay,” Emily told him. “We’ll come back in the morning and take some filler shots.”

She ducked into the hole. The curled fence snagged her clothing. Again she had the sensation that she was being watched. She straightened slowly and moved out of the way to let Dan enter.

They stood in a yard filled with tangled twigs, leaves, and assorted litter. Vines draped the shaggy bushes, strangling them.

Another gust of wind brought another slam. She turned toward the sound and realized it was not a door but a broken casement window. It banged in the breeze as if in invitation.

Emily hesitated. She remembered thinking that Joey had lured Raynes and Lambert into the house to kill them. Was he luring her and Dan in there now?

Dan opened the window and peered inside. “Want me to go first?”

“No,” she said, breathing deep to steady her nerve. “Let’s get that story.”

She shimmied over the sill into a large, dark room. There was a strong scent of mold and rot. Wooden floorboards creaked beneath her—she could almost hear termites gnawing away. She scanned for movement, but if Joey was there, he was in another room.

Arms out, she helped Dan through the window. The casement banged behind him despite her efforts. She winced at the sound.

“Are we alone?” Dan whispered.

“It appears so.” She glanced about. “Guess I was wrong. Joey must’ve gone to Vanessa’s house after all.”

“It’s not too late to leave.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still squeamish about trespassing.”

“It’s not that. I just feel—”

Above, the floorboards creaked. They looked at each other in the dimness. Eyes wide, Emily crossed the room. She peeked around the corner.

The next room faced the street, and light spilled through the windows. A staircase stood in the shadows. Emily crept toward it. She reached the bottom stair and gazed upward. There was a faint flicker at the top, much like that from a candle.

Joey must be there. What was he doing? An unbidden vision came of him stacking bodies in a closet. Did she dare go up?

“I hope you brought your mace,” Dan whispered.

She grimaced with chagrin. She hadn’t thought to bring it, although she brought everything else. “Turn on your light. I want this recorded.”

The camcorder light clicked on, throwing stark shadows over the staircase. Eyes glowed from the landing. She jumped. Just a rat, she told herself, but wasn’t entirely convinced.

She climbed the stairs, her gaze never leaving the landing. Something moved in the darkness, making soft thumps.

They reached the top. Light flooded the hall.

“What is that?” Emily gasped, pointing at a small animal scurrying away.

He pointed the video camera, and light caught the creature. “It’s a rabbit.”

“A what?” She glanced at him in disbelief—but he was right. A small, brown, lop-eared rabbit hopped along the baseboard. She motioned again. “There’s another.”

“What are rabbits doing on the second floor of an abandoned house?”

Emily couldn’t imagine an answer. She looked toward a candlelit doorway. With halting steps, she moved toward the room and looked inside.

A pentagram covered the floor. Stubby candles marked each point. Joey was not around. Where had he gone?

Careful not to scatter the pentagram, Emily walked across the room. She was aware of Dan’s camera upon her. On hands and knees, she touched one of the lines drawn on the floor. The powder was dense and gritty. The center of the drawing held a mutilated rabbit.

On the wall across from her, she saw a shimmering patch. It reminded her of the play of light upon water.

She stood, mesmerized. “Are you getting this?”

“Whatever
this
is.” He stepped behind her.

“Is it the Mirror?” She moved closer to the wall. “I don’t see Satan.”

As if on cue, the patch of light wavered, and an image coalesced. It was like a caricature of a devil—triangular face, red skin, two little horns atop its bald head.

Emily laughed. She glanced about the ceiling, looking for a projector or, more likely, a team of projectors.

“Hologram?” Dan asked.

“Looks like it.” Emily waved her hand over the wall, hoping to disrupt the light.

“You are fragile,” the image said, “yet you come to me willingly.” Its lips didn’t match the words.

“Not a very professional job,” she said.

From her pack, she pulled out her ELF meter, a palm-sized instrument that detected and measured electromagnetic fields. It was part of what she referred to as her ghost-busting equipment, which she utilized to keep her detractors from claiming she wasn’t thorough.

She tapped the meter face. “Is this thing broken? The readings keep fluctuating.”

“That explains the interference I’m getting.” He set the camcorder in the corner of the room, propping it with his backpack so it wouldn’t record only their feet, and took out his Olympus digital. “Pose for me.”

With a solemn expression, Emily stood to the side and held her meter toward the shimmering image.

“Do you fear me?” asked the devil.

“We need to find the projector,” she said.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Dan said, frowning. “If these electrical spikes are affecting my equipment, they must be affecting theirs, too.”

“Could their stuff be shielded somehow?”

“Maybe. I think we should find out what’s causing the field.”

Louder, the devil said, “Do you fear me?”

“No!” Emily snapped, surprising herself by answering a projection on the wall. “I’ve seen better hoaxes than this, and I will expose you and the man responsible for this fraud.”

The devil smiled, showing pointed teeth.

Emily turned her back. “Perhaps if we knock down a few walls—”

“This house is protected,” Dan said. “The Preservation Society would never allow it.”

Emily snapped her fingers. She rushed to the door and gazed into the hallway. “What if the equipment is out here? No, stay with me for a moment. They project the hologram through a fake wall—”

Dan yelped.

She looked around and gasped.

A second Mirror had formed. It hung in mid-air, shimmering like a vertical pool of water directly behind Dan. A creature, a red, horned demon thing leaned out of the Mirror as easily as from an open window. Its oversized claws wrapped about Dan’s chest. His feet left the ground.

It was pulling him into the Mirror.

“Help me!” he cried. His eyes bulged. “Oh God. Oh God.”

Emily grabbed his flailing arm, leaning backward, pulling with all her might. His hand slipped from her grasp, and she snagged his camera strap.

Behind her, the other devil boomed, “Do you fear me now?”

“Dan!” she cried. “Dear God!”

“Don’t let go,” he wailed.

Emily doubled her grip on the strap. She felt heat on her face, smelled a foul, sulfuric odor. The demon was so close she saw creases in its leathery skin. It had yellowish, cat-like eyes.

“No!” Dan screamed, nearly folded in half. “Emily!”

The strap snapped. She fell into the pentagram with only the camera in her hand. For an instant, all she saw was Dan’s horrified expression.

With a faint pop, both Dan and the mirror disappeared.

NINE

Emily gaped at the place where Dan had been. A scream edged up her throat. She bolted out the door and down the stairs. The streetlamp shone through the front window like a beacon.

Still running, she slammed into the front door, pounding with her fists before realizing an old-fashioned key was in the lock. She opened the door and burst outside into the damp night air.

Utter panic shortened her breath. She wheezed between her teeth. Once down the porch steps, she cut across the tangled lawn toward the wrought iron fence.

The impact of what she’d seen struck like a physical blow. She doubled over, grasping the fence for support, not sure if she would retch or explode with fright. Dan was gone. How could it be?

The Mirror was real.

Padlocks and chains covered the gate. She shook them noisily. “Help!” she screamed. “Help me!”

Sobs stole her voice. She slid to her knees, her face pressed against the metal bars. Unable to stop herself, she looked back at the house. She’d left the door open. Dear God! Anything could come out. She was trapped in the yard.

Eyes trained upon the black maw of the unlocked door, she dialed her cell phone. “Pick up,” she pleaded.