Page 53 of No Surrender
The temperature plummeted, and an invisible power sent Simon sprawling. The ghostly form of an angry man formed from mist, matching the photographs they’d seen of Eliot Thompson.
Vic pulled the trigger and sent a blast of rock salt through the apparition. Thompson’s ghost vanished, and Simon accepted Ross’s helping hand to get back on his feet.
“We’ll cover you,” Vic said, giving Simon a quick once-over to assure he was unhurt.
Simon moved quick, laying a large circle of salt in the center of the parlor. “Officers, Gordon—please step inside the circle but don’t break the salt line. Stay here until we’re done. You’ll be safe.” He handed the canister to Gordon. “If anything breaks the circle, use this to close the openings.”
Gordon looked as if he might protest, but Vic glowered, and the retired detective put his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“Tell us what to do,” Ross said, watching the doorway to the next room with a grim expression.
Simon nodded and withdrew several items from his backpack. He set out a cloth marked with symbols that Vic knew had been sewn from threads soaked in holy water and colloidal silver to serve as his workspace without altering the crime scene.
Next, he put out a shallow silver bowl etched with runes and lit four pillar candles, one at each of the circle’s quarters. He added powdered aconite, juniper, sage he grew in his garden, and leaves from other protective plants, along with a disk of polished onyx and one of agate. Then he poured blessed oil over the mixture, spoke the incantation Travis had emailed him, and dropped a lit match into the mixture.
Bright purple fire leaped into the air from the bowl as the candle flames flickered wildly.
Vic ignored the gasps and whispers from the men inside the protective circle as he and Ross stepped forward to flank Simon at the doorway of the coffin room.
Thompson’s ghost hurled himself at them, only to be brought up short by an invisible barrier he couldn’t cross.
Vic recognized the man from old photos. Time had not been kind. Thompson was older than in his pictures, and just from his face, Vic guessed that even if the cancer hadn’t killed him, drinking would have. The man’s lips moved, but Vic could not hear the ghost.
“You’re dead,” Simon said in a level voice. “It’s time you moved on.”
Thompson’s sneer made his rejection clear.
“We’ll remove the bodies and your trophies. There is nothing to hold you. Go quietly, and I can help you cross over.”
Vic could lip-read well enough to understand “fuck you.”
“Then I’ll have to do things the hard way.” Simon’s tone held cold steel.
The lights went out, plunging them into darkness. Suddenly the mock torches in the wall sconces flickered orange. Screams echoed, no less chilling for being pre-recorded. Chains rattled, hellhounds snarled, and heavy footsteps drew closer.Shit. Thompson brought the castle to life.
An unexpected gust of freezing air broke the salt line. Ghostly hands grabbed Simon by the jacket and pulled him across.
Without needing to think about it, Vic leaped over the line, and Ross followed. Thompson hurled Simon to the floor and went for his throat. Vic leveled the shotgun and fired.
Thompson’s ghost vanished.
“Simon! Are you—”
“Behind you!” Ross shouted, swinging his rebar through the spirit as it formed behind Vic, dispelling its image.
Vic scrambled to help Simon up, grabbing his hand and yanking him to his feet before Thompson took shape again.
“Down!” Vic ordered. Ross dropped to the floor, and the shotgun thundered, deafeningly loud as he blasted the ghost that had been right behind Ross.
“Get back in the other room and fix the line,” Simon told them.
“Like hell,” Vic countered. “Do your thing. We’ve got your back.”
Simon nodded and then took a deep breath and recited the banishment rite once more. Thompson kept his distance, flickering in and out too quickly for Vic to get a bead on him. Instead, he hurled one object after another at them, hard enough that they gouged the wall and kept Vic and Ross dodging.
Vic barely managed to deflect a flying goblet from striking Simon. Ross dodged a dagger that pulled itself off the display on the wall and flew right at him.Hurry up, Simon. I don’t know how much longer we can hold him off.
The temperature dropped further until Vic could see his breath.
