The Ghost Hunter (17 page)

“
Death to all,”
a voice growled.

 
“Well, that’s just rude,” she muttered, searching for the beast responsible, or at least some sort of weapon.

When had the paranormal became so…
normal
, that her life was like a T.V. sitcom?

“Get down!” Maggie cried out, still cowering in the corner. The paperback book on Ashley’s bedside was hovering in the air. Then the shovel next to the fireplace rattled. If that wasn’t enough, the high heels she’d recently purchased shot toward the ceiling. Camile stumbled back.

Devon raced toward the fireplace like some damn superhero. “Go on, I’ll hold him off.”

Ashley released a manic laugh. “Hold him off? There is no
him
to hold off!”

The book blasted toward Devon. He dove to the throw carpet and the book slammed against the wall, then slid to the floor with a thud. Apparently the ghost didn’t like cozy mysteries.

“Shoes!” Camile cried out.

Ashley’s stilettos were coming straight toward them, the heels like sharp daggers.

“Die!”
the voice rumbled.

The three of them fell to the floor and the shoes slammed against the wall. Death by high heels, how embarrassing would that have been?

“Damn it,” Ashley snapped. “Those shoes were new!”

Devon jumped to his feet. “This is getting rather out of hand.”

“To say the least,” Ashley muttered, tucking her feet under her body and preparing to stand. There was a sharp rattle of metal against metal. Ashley froze, her heart plummeting. “The shovel!”

Devon jumped back, sidestepping the object as it slammed against the wall, denting the plaster. Ashley’s anger grew. Whatever
it
was, would destroy her home.
 

“We’ve got to leave now!” Camile demanded, her voice quivering. She was ready to bolt, but Ashley wasn’t so sure they should. She was damn tired of running.
 

The air suddenly shimmered with a bitter blast of cold that sent Ashley’s hair whipping around her face. Chills raised goose bumps on her body. The rogue spirit appeared near the fireplace, looking just as frightening and just as ugly as before.

“He’s there!” she cried out, pointing and jumping up and down like a child who’d just seen Santa Claus….an evil Santa Claus.

“Where?” Devon demanded.

The ghost’s thin, grey lips lifted into a creepy grin while his gaze slid to Devon. The silver sword rose from the bed and she knew, dear God, she knew what he was going to do.

“Devon! Down!” she screamed.

Devon ducked and the sword whizzed past his head, the point embedding into the wall.

Frozen in shock and horror, they stood there, their mouth’s hanging open as the sword wavered back and forth from the impact. Things had suddenly gotten serious; life and death serious.
 

“Shite,” Devon whispered. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the blade. “This is ending now.” With a growl, he jerked the weapon from the wall, plaster crumbling into a pile of white powder on the floor.

Devon’s breathing was harsh, his eyes fierce as he turned. Ashley barely recognized the man. Where had the meek and weak human gone? “Where is it? Where’s the spirit?”

“The fireplace, right there.” Ashley pointed.

Devon leapt over the bed with a war cry. In that moment she could believe that Devon and Cristian were related. With the sword high, he swiped the blade through the spirit and landed elegantly on his feet near the fireplace. There was no unease on his face; it was as if killing spirits was completely natural.

The rogue spirit cried out, his body jerking and convulsing with the impact.

“I see it,” Camile whispered, latching onto Ashley’s arm. “I see him.”

Sure enough, the spirit became solid. Too stunned to move, they stood there, watching the thing jerk and waver in and out of focus. Then finally, with a puff of air, he exploded into a million gray particles. A wretched burst of wind threw them backward and Ashley and Camile fell to the floor, a mass of tangled arms and legs. Around them lingered the scent of a decaying body.

“Ugh, what’s that smell?” Camile asked, untangling herself and sitting upright.

With a groan, Ashley pushed herself up onto her elbows. Devon was kneeling on the floor, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. How the hell had he known what to do? She shook off her surprise, pulling her attention from him to survey the destruction.

“Everyone all right?” She stood on trembling legs, locking her knees for fear her body wouldn’t hold her.

Camile nodded, her eyes wide, her face pale. Maggie still cowered in the corner, but managed a small nod as well. Truth was Ashley wasn’t sure if
she
was okay. She couldn’t seem to wrap her brain around what had just happened. Impossible, insane, ridiculous, were just a few words that came to mind. Pressing her fingertips to her throbbing temples, Ashley took in a deep breath. The horrifying scent entered her nostrils and she gagged on the smell. It was like someone had died and been rotting in her bedroom for a month. She forced her dinner to remain firmly in her stomach and focused on Devon.

“Devon, how’d you—”

He shook his head, still staring at the floor where the evil spirit had only seconds ago been standing. “I don’t know.”

Maggie whimpered, drawing Ashley’s attention to the little ghost. Seeing the child’s panicked face, stirred Ashley’s memory. She knew how
Devon
had gotten rid of the spirit. His actions resembled Maggie’s description of what Cristian had done. Fear and shock mingled together, leaving a bitter taste on her tongue. Ashley swallowed hard, staring at
Devon
, attempting to find some clue as to his identity. Everything the child ghost had said, was true. The proof was in
Devon
’s actions. Cristian was killing her ghosts.

“What was that thing?” Camile asked.

Devon
’s face was grim as he dropped the sword to the bed. “Evil voice, wretched scent, flying objects. I think it’s obvious what it was.”

“Right, obvious. Mind giving us a little hint?” Ashley asked, annoyed.

Devon
sighed and looked her directly in the eyes. “That, my dear, was a poltergeist.”

Ghosts, witches and poltergeists? Oh my.

Ashley’s life had become a paranormal joke. What had she done to deserve this? She’d brushed her teeth and flossed nightly. She said her prayers…well…about once a year, but still. She’d never harmed anyone. Actually, there was that one doctor she’d punched at the psych unit but she’d only been fourteen and the doctor had sworn Ashley was claiming to see ghosts because she wanted attention. The bitch had the entire hospital ignore her for a week. And there had been that one time she’d stolen lipstick from the drug store, but she’d been only thirteen and she really didn’t think it was fair to be punished for something you did as a teen. After all…

“I’ll just need…” Camile’s voice trailed off and she shook her head, the frustration apparent in the tight lines of her lips.

“You don’t know,” Ashley finished for her.

Camile nodded. They ducked under the branch of a Maple and followed the dirt path to Mad Rose’s cottage.

“I’m sorry,” Camile whispered, “but I think I’ve gotten in a little over my head.”

Ashley stumbled, her heart dropping. “What do you mean?”

Camile didn’t respond, merely sighed. Was she going to abandon her? Ashley swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. She couldn’t expect Camile to stay. It was selfish. She sure as hell didn’t blame her for wanting to leave, so why did she feel so hurt? “I…I understand. When are you leaving?”

Camile frowned, playing with the blue bracelet on her wrist. “I’m not leaving. We’re in this together, right?”

Tears stung Ashley’s eyes and she had to bite her lip to keep from throwing her arms around Camile’s neck. She wasn’t leaving her. She wasn’t alone anymore. Apparently noticing Ashley’s reaction, Camile’s face softened.

“You silly goose.” Camile slipped her arm around Ashley’s shoulders leading her toward the cottage.

Ashley felt like an idiot. She wasn’t used to showing her emotions. “I’m sorry, I just…I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know anything.”

Camile gave Ashley’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “We’ll figure it all out. Obviously neither of us has much experience with the paranormal, but we’re powerful, Ash. We’ll just think of this as…our coming out party.”

Ashley laughed. “Yeah, I sort of wish I hadn’t been invited.”

Camile gave her a wavering smile as she pushed open the gate to Rose’s home. “I know what you mean. But don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere and neither is Devon.”

Just the mention of Devon brought up an odd mixture of feelings she’d rather ignore. She was attracted to him, but he was a former ghost, for God’s sake. Who knew if Camile’s spell would even last. And then there was Cristian. Cristian, with his mysterious ways, his bold arrogance and dark looks stirred a warmth inside her she’d never felt before.
 

As she waited for Camile to unlock the front door, Ashley looked to the skies as if the answers to all of her problems would be waiting there, drawn out in the large fluffy clouds that were currently drifting across a brilliant blue backdrop. A year ago, her biggest problem was the type of wedding dress she’d wear. She’d wanted something simple, summery and at the beach. He’d wanted something extravagant, at The Hilton.

She laughed, the kind of laugh an insane person produces; half hysteria, half amusement. “How the hell did I get here?”

Camile pulled open the cottage door. “Fate? Destiny?”

“God, I hope not,” Ashley muttered, feeling suddenly sick to her stomach.
 

Destiny. Fate. That would mean she had no control over the situation. The thought of having no control sent bile to her throat.

Camile dropped her keys to the kitchen counter. “I can’t believe I didn’t know that was a poltergeist, I should have known.”

The bigger question was, how had Devon known? “What’s the difference,” Ashley asked, wanting to think about anything other than fate and destiny. “Between a poltergeist and ghost?”

Camile leaned against the countertop. “A poltergeist isn’t the remnants of a dead person. They’re just…spirits that somehow form, and they’re always mischievous.”

Wonderful. Like she needed more mischief in her house. A dull ache throbbed at the base of her head, threatening to erupt into a migraine. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

“This shouldn’t take long. I’ll just…” Camile looked around the cottage, the frustration apparent on her face. “Take a little of everything.” She started shuffling through the cupboards, grabbing bottles by the handful. “Aunt’s books are stacked by the wall if you wouldn’t mind grabbing the ones on spells.”

Ashley nodded and weaved her way around Camile’s piles of clothing to the small stack of books.
Dictionary of Spells
stood out like a beacon of knowledge and she grabbed the book.
How To Do Spells
was next, followed by
How to Reverse Spells
. She grappled with the manuals and stood. As she turned, her left leg brushed against the pile, sending novels to the floor with a thud, thud, thud.

“Crap.” It was all too much, damn it. She placed the books she held on the kitchen table and started to pick up her mess. Rose didn’t need more to clean when she returned, Camile had done enough damage.

“What’d you find?” Camile asked, still searching the kitchen.

“Spell books, and…” She spotted a book lying open on the floor. “And this.” She held it up, figuring the more books they had, the better.

Camile glanced back. “Ah, yeah, a book on mythological beings. It’s good. Might be something in there about poltergeist.”

Eagerly, Ashley flipped through the novel. There was more than one powerful being she was interested in knowing about. A drawing of a man flashed across a page. Something in that picture gave her pause. She stopped and flipped back until she found the drawing.

It was a simple sketch. A knight in armor holding a sword. Even though the print might have been basic, with little artistic endeavor, there was something about the man that called to her. His dark eyes were fierce and his demeanor powerful, a silly picture that made her heart slap wildly against her ribcage.

Her gaze slipped down to the lettering underneath. It was in Latin, or something similar and equally confusing to read. With a frown, she studied the drawing once more. What was it about the man that felt vaguely familiar? Then she noticed the emblem on his shield just barely visible from the angle he stood.

Realization struck cold.

Ashley sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh my God.”

Cross with sword.

She knew the symbol well. That same symbol was on the damn door in her basement. The same symbol that had thrown her on her ass.

“What does it mean?” she whispered to no one in particular.

“What’s wrong?” Camile asked, starting toward her.

How the hell did she explain without sounding like a crazy person? Then again this was Camile, a woman who had brought a man back from the dead. “This book…this…this picture.” Ashley was so shocked, she could barely speak. Frantic, she scanned the page, trying to find any detail, any information that would explain away the similarity. The words in Latin popped out at her, there in the middle of a paragraph.

“
All hope abandon ye who enter here,” she whispered.

“What?” Camile demanded.
 

The door flew open before she could explain. Ashley jumped to her feet and stumbled back against Camile. The door bagged loudly against the wall with a thud that shook the small house and made them gasp. Mad Rose stood on the threshold wearing a green housecoat and a scowl.

Her beady eyes fell on them and narrowed. “Whoot the bloody hell have ye two doone?”

Camile’s face paled, but she offered no response.

“I’m sorry, what’s wrong?” Ashley asked, feeling she should say
something
.

Rose’s eyes flashed to her and Ashley wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “Whoot’s wrong? Ah’ll tell ye whoot’s wrong.” She shuffled into the house and slammed the door shut. “Ye two meddling fools is whoot’s wrong.”

She dropped her suitcase with a thud then shrugged off her black shawl.

“Balls. How’d you know?” Camile asked, playing with that blue bracelet as her gaze flickered nervously from Ashley to her aunt.

Rose threw her arms wide, the fat underneath jiggling with anger. “Bloody hell, ah could feel the rift all the way in Edinburgh!”

“What’s she talking about?” Ashley whispered, clutching the book to her chest.

Camile’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “She knows, about the magic I’ve performed.”

“Oh.” Ashley stiffened, surprised but not shocked. But then, she doubted anything would shock her anymore. “Well, yeah, but no worries. I mean, she was trying to help me and it’s actually good that she brought Devon back to life.”

“Back tae life?” Rose’s face grew red. “Ye never bring anyone back!”

Camile flinched. Ashley cringed.

“An’ now ye’ve opened a whole can o’ worms.” She shuffled into the kitchen area and started flinging open cupboard doors.

“What worms?” Ashley dared to ask.

The old woman spun around to face her, her hands fisted on her wide hips. “Ye never git anything fer free. Ye brought him back an’ with it, ye opened a bloody portal.”

“A…a portal?” That didn’t sound good.

“Aye,” she snapped, shuffling through the bottles in the cupboard.

“Like a science fiction portal?” Ashley dared to ask.

“Nay, ye bloody moron. A spiritual portal where any demoon can coome through and now we’ve got tae close it before something does.”

“Umm, Aunt Rose,” Camile finally stepped forward, her face flushed with guilt. “You see, there’s a slight problem.”

Rose spun around and narrowed her beady eyes. “Whoot?”

Ashley had to resist the urge to slap her hand over Camile’s mouth. After all, did Rose really need to know all the details?

“Well, you see,” Camile started, nervously twisting that blue beaded bracelet around her narrow wrist, “something already got through. A poltergeist.”

Rose sighed and covered her face with her gnarled hands.

“But we took care of it,” Ashley rushed out.

The old woman peeked between her knobby fingers. “Ye did?”

Ashley nodded, surprised Rose wasn’t knocking their heads together.

She dropped her hands to her sides, a determined glint in her eyes. “Well then, let’s git that portal closed before soomething else coomes through. Camile, git yer arse over har and find ma herbs.”

Camile rushed to the cupboards, which left Ashley to stand alone in the middle of the living room with nothing to do but worry. When Rose started toward her, Ashley scurried aside. Ghosts she could handle, but not this witch. The old woman collapsed into a chair near the table, not bothering to glance Ashley’s way.

“Bloody morons.” Rose flipped through the spell books.

Even though Ashley could feel her anger like a tidal wave, she knew it was a prime opportunity to get information. Time to be bold and incur the wrath of Mad Rose.
 

“Rose.” She stepped hesitantly toward her. The old woman raised a gray brow. Ashley flushed under her scrutiny, but forced herself to continue. “I…noticed a picture in this book.”

Rose continued flipping through the pages of a spell guide. “Go on.”

Relieved, Ashley set the book beside hers. “The warrior…the knight.”

Rose stilled, her hand hovering over the book. Ashley wasn’t sure if the woman was confused, or waiting to hear more, so she pointed to the picture. “At least, he looks like a knight, with a sword and shield. It’s just that…on his shield he has an emblem, a cross with a sword behind it.”

She was silent for one long moment. “Aye. Rafael’s Warriors.” She said the words as if Ashley should know who the Warriors were. And was it her imagination or had Rose’s voice come out gruff and shaky?

But Ashley’s leeriness quickly gave way to excitement. Finally, she was getting somewhere. She leaned forward, her hands flat on the kitchen table and her heart racing in her chest. “Who are they?”

The old woman’s jaw clenched. She turned her attention back to her spell book, seemingly completely unconcerned. Why did Ashley have a feeling the woman was trying to avoid eye contact? “Knights, at one time. They fought fer the Lord against evil. But legend has it that one of their kind turned bad. For atonement, they were forced intae menial servitude on earth until God deems otherwise.”

Ashley sank into the chair next to Rose, partly because she wanted to hear more, mostly because her legs were too weak to hold her up. “Menial servitude? What does that mean? What do they do?” She had so many questions she had to stop herself from blurting them out all at once.

Rose sighed and closed her spell book with a snap. “They’re responsible fer sending spirits tae the other side.”

Ashley’s mouth went dry. Everything was fitting together one by one. Puzzle pieces falling into place. “You mean they escort the dead to heaven?”

Rose picked up one of Camile’s bras that was hanging on the back of her chair, grimaced and tossed it aside. “In a way. Boot these spirits are spirits who donae want tae go.”