Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls by Victoria Laurie
“So what do we do now?” Kim asked softly.
I sighed again, because a tiny idea had come into my mind that was incredibly risky, but perhaps the only choice we had. The problem was that I was so tired, both physically and mentally, that I wasn’t sure I could pull it off, and I certainly knew I’d have to make myself a target again in order to try it.
Gilley seemed to notice I had a plan in mind, because he said, “M. J.? What’re you thinking?”
I didn’t look at him when I spoke, because I didn’t want to see the fear in his eyes. “I think I need to try and find a ghost within this castle to communicate with. I might be able to find a spirit who knows where Heath and Gopher are and maybe even to help me figure out what this phantom thing is and how to deal with it. And to do that, I need to be well away from all of you, because while I’m gone, you’ve got to keep your spikes out in the open and huddle around Gilley.”
We argued for at least ten minutes about my idea. No one in the group thought it smart, wise, or something I should even consider. In the end, we settled on a compromise: I would head into one of the corridors off the main hall and attempt to find a ghost to communicate with, and John would accompany me carrying a fistful of capped grenades. At the first sign of trouble, he’d uncork them and let the magnets rip. The part about John accompanying me was nonnegotiable, or so he and Gilley both told me. I argued that he could become a liability if the phantom found us, and I worried that he wouldn’t have time to uncap the spikes. “I’ll get to them,” he assured me, his face hard and stubbornly set.
In that moment I gained a new level of respect for him, because I knew that deep down he didn’t want to go anywhere but off that stinking rock. “Fine,” I relented. “But don’t uncap anything unless either I give the signal or I go down.”
“Got it.”
Before we left the group again, Gilley pulled me aside out of earshot of the others. “What happens if you don’t come back?”
I looked out the door at the storm. Much of the worst of it was over, but it continued to rain very hard outside. “Give us an hour, Gil, then get Meg and Kim out of this castle, and back down those stairs. Try to find shelter anywhere you can along the shore until the storm blows itself out and you guys can cross the causeway again.”
Gilley eyed his watch. “We missed our window for crossing.”
“You’ll have another shot later tonight.”
“Not if the storm surge keeps up.”
“Then use your cell to call for help.”
Gilley pulled out his cell phone and showed me the display. “It’s been drained,” he said. “All of our phones are dead, in fact.”
My heart started to hammer as I anxiously pulled my cell out and tried in vain to switch it on. Was nothing going to turn out right on this hunt? With a sigh I put it away and focused on Gilley again. “Do your best to stay safe, buddy. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
I turned to go then, but he caught my arm and whispered, “Please come back, okay?”
I gave him a brief hug, promised to do my level best, then motioned for John to follow me.
Chapter 4
As Heath and I had traveled the central corridor off from the main hall, I thought it might be wise for John and me to try to avoid the phantom by taking one of the lesser pathways all the way to the right, where I guessed the kitchen or cooking hall might have been. Luck finally gave us a break, because after only going a short way, we came out into a large open room with an enormous hearth and black tar stains against the brick. “What kind of a room was this?” John asked.
“It served as the castle’s kitchen,” I told him, relieved to have found it.
“Should we try another corridor?”
I shook my head. “Nope. This is exactly where I want to try to connect with a spook.” When he looked at me curiously, I explained, “Lots of large old castles like this are home to the ghost of a kitchen maid or cook. I’m hoping to find a nice, gentle female spirit to communicate with. Someone who would have looked after the castle and its occupants.”
“Why?”
“Because if they’re in ghost form, they’re likely still keeping track of the castle’s comings and goings, and they might know what happened to Heath and Gopher.”
John opened his mouth to say something more, but I shook my head and put a finger to my lips. I needed to concentrate and find my spook because all I could think about was what might be happening to Heath and Gopher at that very minute.
Turning away from John, I flipped my internal sixth sense on, and waited for a particular sensation to let me know we’d hit pay dirt. After a bit, I felt a very light tug on my solar plexus and I moved to the far corner where another opening led us out of the kitchen and into a smaller room.
“What’s in here?” John whispered.
“The servants’ sleeping quarters,” I told him. In the corner of the room I felt a surge of energy. “Hello, there,” I said, moving slowly toward it. “My name is M. J.”
The energy shifted a bit nervously and I stopped walking toward it. I waited a beat or two and mentally asked for a name. After a few beats I was rewarded with a name that sounded a bit like Eneey. I asked her to repeat it and closed my eyes to concentrate on the very subtle nuance of the name. She obliged me by saying it twice more, and I was able to hear it fully. Something that sounded like Eanin.
A small bird flew about in my mind’s eye, and I understood that this particular ghost was telling me her name meant “little bird.” “That’s a beautiful name, friend,” I said to her. “Do you work here at the castle?”
I felt the ghost reply yes. She was a scullery maid.
I nodded. “It’s lovely to meet you,” I told her, doing my best to send her some warm feelings across the ether. Her energy approached me, and I could feel such a lovely connection to this sweet little sparrow.
“I was wondering if you could help me, Eanin,” I said. “I’ve lost track of two of my friends, and I was wondering, might you be able to tell me where they are?”
In my mind’s eye I saw a small fire, and I knew she was referring to the group still gathered in the front hall around the fire near the door. I also had a sense that Eanin didn’t care for the fact that we had started the fire on the stone floor instead of using the hearth.
“I’m so sorry we didn’t use the fireplace,” I said. “We were worried the chimney might be clogged and we didn’t want to cause a problem.”
Eanin flooded me with warmth, making me feel like she understood fully.
“My friends by the fire are not the ones I’m looking for, Eanin. I’m looking for two gentlemen. They’ve gone missing.”
Eanin’s energy was quiet for a long moment and through the ether I could feel her wavering. Then, I felt a sentence waft through my mind. It’s got one of them.
My heart raced anxiously. I thought I knew what she was referring to, but I wanted to make certain. “Do you mean the phantom?”
There was a hissing sound, as if someone had just said, “Shhhhhhh!”
John gasped and looked in the direction from where the sound had come, and I realized that I’d been so focused on Eanin that I hadn’t noticed the other energy in the opposite corner of the room. In my mind I could sense that Eanin became alarmed and sent me the equivalent of a curtsy before darting out of the room. I called after her, but it was too late—she’d gone.
Turning to the approaching spook, I sent out a formal welcome, but this particular energy wasn’t at all pleased and I could sense a hostility wafting through the ether. “John,” I said, quickly moving back to stand near him.
“Yeah?”
“Uncap a grenade, but don’t take it out unless I tell you.”
There was a pop and a thunk as John uncorked the grenade and let the cap drop to the floor. The spook approaching us halted abruptly and stood about six feet away, just waiting and watching.
“We are very sorry to have disturbed you,” I told him formally, and at this m
Who are you? he demanded, his voice harsh in my mind.
“My name is M. J. and this is my friend John. Might I know who you are?”
I could almost feel the ghost puff out his chest and say, I am Caron, and I demand to know what you are doing in my keep!
“We’re looking for two more of our friends who’ve become lost within the castle.”
“Leave!” a disembodied voice demanded.
John flinched slightly and he tilted the tube with the spike, ready to drop it out of the canister. I placed my hand on his wrist and turned my attention back to the ghost. “We will,” I promised. “The moment you tell us where we can find our friends.”
“Leave now!”
Next to me, I could hear John’s breathing become labored. He was starting to get freaked-out by the ghost’s verbal command, and I really needed him to pull it together. “Dude!” I whispered, squeezing his wrist. “You have to remain calm!”
In the dim light, I saw John swallow hard and give a reluctant nod.
Turning back to the spook, I said, “We’re not leaving without our friends, sir. So please tell us where we might find them, and we’ll be on our way.”
The angry ghost standing in front of us was growing increasingly impatient, I could tell, and I figured it was only a matter of time before something bad happened.
I was right, as just a few heartbeats later a wave of fear wafted in through the door behind us.
“Shit!” I swore, and turned John’s wrist myself, tipping out the spike. I yelled, “Release all the spikes!”
Within seconds we each held several metallic spikes in our hands and I was by now trembling in fear. From outside something approached. I couldn’t hear it as much as sense it, and beside me John gasped and looped his arm through mine. “What’s happening?” he asked, his voice quavering slightly.
I closed my eyes and whispered a protection prayer as waves of fear wafted in through the doorway and all about the room. With dread, I waited for the intensity of the terror to increase and take over my mind, but it never went past the level that had already affected us. “Stand perfectly still,” I ordered.
My flashlight was tucked under my arm and clenched firmly to my side. It pointed directly at the doorway across the room, illuminating a small section of the kitchen.
The beam was suddenly interrupted by a very large shadow that darted across the doorway almost too quickly for me to catch ... until the shadow returned and remained in my beam for several long seconds. John stiffened next to me, and like me, he was too frightened to breathe.
The shadow was at least eight feet tall. It looked a bit like a giant man standing in a cloak with the hood pulled up.
Who am I kidding? It looked like Death. All it needed to complete the ensemble was a scythe.
“Je-Je-Jesus!” John stuttered. I could feel his panic mounting, and I was terribly worried he’d drop his spikes and run.
“Stay still!” I commanded, feeling a bit of anger creep through my own fear. “John! Pull it together!”
But he was trembling and shaking so hard that I wasn’t sure he’d heard me.
I got even madder then. I unloosed my arm from his and took one very bold step toward the phantom. “Get back!” I shouted, waving the spikes about. “Get away from us now!”
A laugh so horrible and so evil that it chilled me to the bone reverberated through the hall and into our room. I felt as if I’d been physically punched by it. In my mind’s eye I then saw the image of Heath, running along the side of the castle, dodging the rain. He kept looking over his shoulder—as if he was running away from something—and all the while he got closer and closer to the edge of the cliff without slowing down.
A thousand warning bells went off in my head just as the phantom twirled in a tight circle, and with a whoosh, it was gone.
Moving all my spikes to one hand, I reached back for John and shouted, “Let’s go!”
Running as fast as I could, I bolted through the old kitchen, down the corridor, and back to Gilley, Meg, and Kim. Without stopping to explain what had happened, I put a hand on John’s chest, ordered him to stay with Meg and Kim, then hauled a very startled Gilley up off the floor where he’d been sitting by the fire. “Come with me!” I demanded.
Gilley opened his mouth to say something, but I was in far too much of a panic to let him utter a single word. “Don’t speak!” I yelled, grabbing his hand and bolting out the door.
Thankfully, Gilley cooperated and ran stride for stride right next to me. Gil had been a sprinter on the track team when we were in high school—and he’d also been crowned state champ in his day.
I needed Gilley’s speed if I had any hope of saving Heath. “Where’re we going?” Gil shouted after we’d been running through the rain alongside the castle for a bit.
Instead of answering him, I gasped, nearly tripping when I finally saw what I’d been looking for up ahead. I pointed to the figure of Heath, running through the rain, covering his ears with his hands and blind with fright. He darted right, then left, dashing away in short zigzags. At intervals he also stopped and turned in a circle, as if he were blind and deaf to anything else but the nightmare playing out in his head. To add to the horror, just behind him lurked the phantom. It towered over Heath by at least three feet, a black menacing shadow, stalking our friend, herding him ever closer to the edge of the cliff.
Gilley squealed at the sight and abruptly stopped.
I had to stop myself and wheel around to come back to him. “What are you doing? We have to get to Heath before he runs off the cliff!”
Gilley was white with fright. His wet hair hung in his eyes, and his sweatshirt sagged against his frame. “But the phantom!”
“You’re wearing the sweatshirt, Gil! It’ll protect both you and Heath! But you’ve got to make it to him, and you’re the only one who can sprint to him in time!”
Desperately I looked back over my shoulder, and gasped when I saw that Heath was now just a few yards from the edge of the cliff. Grabbing Gilley again by the hand, I hauled him forward and shouted, “Heath! Stop! We’re coming!”
Gilley ran with me without fighting. I poured on the speed and Gilley matched me with every step, courage coming to him with every new stride. “Go, Gilley! Get to Heath!” I yelled as he began passing me.
I saw the firm set to Gilley’s jaw as he moved on by, his feet moving faster and faster and his arms pumping for all he was worth. Heath continued to stumble and hold his head, and now I could hear his agonized voice. “Make it stop!”
“Heath!” I shouted again, desperate to get his attention before he moved too close to the cliff.
Gilley charged right for Heath, who was now only feet from the cliff’s edge. The phantom stopped then and it had the appearance of turning to face me. There was no substance really to its form, just a giant black shadow watching Gilley running straight for Heath.
I hoped that Gilley’s sweatshirt was enough to make it back off, and my heart pounded in my chest as much with exertion as with anxiety. “Go, Gilley!” I shouted again.
Gilley’s stride came quicker still and he dug in with everything he was worth. I could hear him groan as he stretched those final yards, whizzing right past the phantom, who whirled away from him and darted to the side.
Heath meanwhile teetered on the very edge of the cliff, and I could tell that Gil would not make it in time, no matter how fast he was running. “Please!” I cried, and honestly, to this day I don’t know whom I was calling out to, but at that moment a white light appeared between Heath and the edge of the cliff, causing him to twirl and fall back away from the edge, right onto his rear. The light appeared only for an instant, but the image of Samuel Whitefeather—Heath’s grandfather—flashed through my mind.
Two more strides and Gilley launched himself, landing right on top of Heath and hugging him fiercely as he pulled our friend away from the deadly drop.
My heart was racing with panic and fear and I couldn’t seem to suck in enough oxygen. My hands were also shaking so hard that I had to abandon the effort to get the grenades loose. A terrible terror was welling up inside of me and I couldn’t seem to get away. Somewhere, in the very back of my mind, I knew that I wasn’t far from the front door to the castle, and the safety of John and the spikes, but I didn’t think I’d make it in time. What was more, I felt something cold and cruel creeping up along my left side. I darted right out of instinct, but it kept coming.
A rational thought seeped through a crevice in the wall of terror filling my mind. It said that moving right would take me away from the center of the rock and move me out to the edge. Warning bells rang, but I felt helpless to stop the panicked dash away from that cold horror still creeping along my left.
I started to cry and shake, blinded by the nightmare images flashing across my mind and the terrible presence of the phantom. “Go away!” I shouted. “Get away from me!”
But the phantom kept coming, pushing me ever farther from safety. I cried out and for a split second I thought again of the white light that had saved Heath and of Samuel Whitefeather. “Sam!” I screamed. “Help me!”