Page 43 of Mack's Horribly Hellacious Ghost Town
Was it bad I looked forward to shooting something?
Mack knocked at the door. A young mother with a toddler on her hip opened it. She appeared frazzled but smiled at Mack in relief mixed with welcome. “Are you the FBI agent?”
“Yes, ma’am. Special Agent Mack Lafayatte, enchanté. This is my anchor, Brandon, and my apprentice, Gwyn.”
“Nice to meet you.” She paused on Gwyn, eyes very curious, but didn’t say anything about our apprentice. “I’m Jo Ann, and this is my daughter, Hailey. My husband’s at work but said he can be here in five minutes flat if you need him.”
“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that. May we ask a few questions before we start?”
“Please.” She stepped back from the doorway and gestured us in.
I took a better study of her and the little girl as I came inside. No DNA test required there; they had the same honey-blonde hair, heart-shaped face, and big brown eyes. The little girl clung to her mom, but it didn’t seem to be us she was reacting to. Her eyes were on something else…something in the far corner of the living room, maybe?
The home did look like a young family lived here. Lots of toys in bins lining the wall, stuffed animal and blanket on the couch, with very lived-in furniture. Someone had a good eye for decorating, which was mostly age appropriate for the home.
As we filed through, Jo Ann explained, “When we first bought the house, we did hear it was haunted, but we didn’t put a lot ofstock in the rumors. I’d never had a paranormal experience until I moved here. But it started up the first week we were in, and it’s escalated since then. It’s so bad our daughter now sleeps with us every night, as we’re scared of what’ll happen to her if she’s alone in her room.”
“Not good,” Mack murmured. “What exactly has happened?”
“Most of it is noises—loud slams of a door, footsteps, whispering where you can hear tone but not pick out individual words. What got us to report things was when it became dangerous. The kitchen especially. We’ve had knives thrown at us, a pot of boiling water knocked right off the stove, and my husband was shoved backward off the back steps trying to bring in groceries last week.” Jo Ann put a trembling hand to her forehead. Stressed didn’t begin to cover it. “I’m scared of what’s going to happen next. We were talking of selling the house, just cutting our losses and finding somewhere else to go, but…”
“Don’t sell just yet,” Mack counseled with a smile. “We can fix this, ma’am, but it’s going to be a fight. I can tell you’ve got some mean ghosts in here. I’d advise you to step out for a few minutes. I’ll call you when it’s safe to come back in.”
Jo Ann stared at him for a long second. “You can tell already? Can you see them?”
“Not actively in this second, but I can see the trails. Light grey isn’t a good sign, and you’ve got multiple trails, ergo, multiple ghosts.”
“Oh. Fuck.”
“About the size of it. But after we’re done clearing, I’ll show you how to lay down salt, keep the house clear.”
“I would love to know that, thank you. Then, uh, I’ll pop over to my neighbor’s.”
“That’ll be fine.”
I escorted them both to the door, making sure I knew which house she meant by neighbor. Turned out to be the blue housenext door. Only then did I come back in and start putting on gear. Thermal goggles first, just so I had a prayer of seeing shit.
Gwyn already had a water pistol in one hand, mouth set in a grim line. “Mack, I think there’s two?”
“At least two,” he agreed. “Mayhap three.”
Wonderful. No wonder the poor family here was having so much trouble. I palmed a rock salt gun but wasn’t sure what else to do here. “Mack? Canvass the place first?”
“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully, still looking around. “I might be able to force a passing, so bring the big Maglite, too.”
“Got it.” I slung the light into a pocket.
I shadowed them both as we made a tour of the house. It was a pretty basic square, where living room connected to dining room, which connected to kitchen, then back around to the front where a room had been turned into an office. It seemed to get regular use, too. No ghosts, though.
Mack started upstairs and then stopped dead. It took a second for thermals to kick in, and then I saw three ghosts all crowded ahead on the stairs, staring down at us. Thermal wouldn’t give me an idea of facial expressions, but worryingly, I could hear them clearly enough.
A gruff male voice snapped, “Get out!”
“This land is for the living,” Mack countered. “I’m a Medium, I can help you pass on—”
“I said get out! We won’t listen to no cackler like you!”
Mack’s tone hardened. “You either go peacefully or I scatter your soul to bits.”
