3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series) (15 page)

Chapter Eighteen

My phone rang as I was getting ready for church the next morning.

“Aidan?”

“Mike? You sound terrible.”

“Yeah, I feel horrible. I hate to do this to you, but I can barely speak. Would you mind preaching this morning?”

He had never done this before, but as an assistant pastor, I always had to be ready for something like this. “No, I don’t mind. I’ll pull one of my old sermons from seminary. It’s only seven-thirty, so I should be able to get things in order by then.”

“Thanks, Aidan. I really appreciate it.”

I showered and dressed, making sure all ends of my shirt tucked into my pants. Old ladies of the church noticed that sort of thing. I sometimes wondered what would cause more of an uproar, going into the pulpit stark naked or leaving my shirt untucked. It would probably be an even tie.

I got to the office and pulled an old sermon on Jonah that I had done years ago. My preacher autopilot took over. Most of the congregation would sleep through the sermon anyway.

Bill led the first part of the service; Opening hymns, confession of sin, and the offering. As the last chords of the Doxology ended, I stepped up to the pulpit and began my sermon.

“As I said before the service, Pastor Mike came down sick, so I’m filling in for him. I chose a passage from the second chapter of Jonah that I thought would be good for you all this morning.”

The fluttering of pages in the congregation signaled that they had all brought their Bibles to church, like good Presbyterians. As I began to read from Jonah, I realized my mistake.

Why did I choose this sermon?

Everyone stared at me, so I continued, pausing after each verse. “I called out to the LORD, out of my distress, and he answered me; out of the belly of the dead I cried, and you heard my voice. For you cast me into the deep, into the heart of the seas, and the flood surrounded me.”

My breath shortened, and my heart speed up. My vision narrowed as I struggled to form coherent thoughts. I took a few deep breaths to get over the panic. I was in the belly of the dead, the belly of my own unbelief.

I found myself a dying hypocrite preaching to dying hypocrites.

The sanctuary spun around, and I gripped the pulpit to prevent myself from passing out. I excused myself and grabbed a glass of water so that everyone would think I just had a dry throat. The rest of the sermon erased from my brain. In a panic, I went with the old preacher standby of evangelical buzzwords. I flung out “grace,” “redemption,” “sin,” and “repentance.” Everyone ate it up. I just wanted to get out of the pulpit and into the solitude of my office. The words kept echoing in my mind, “belly of the dead, belly of the dead.”

In a daze, I led the congregation through the final hymn, gave the benediction, and made my way to the door. Everyone gave me the usual, “Good sermon, Pastor Aidan,” which told me no one actually listened.

I retreated to my office as soon as I could get away. I slid into my chair and saw my cell phone had two messages, one text and one voice.

I clicked on the text. It was from Jennifer.

I had fun last night. Had to come into the office. Call me when you get home from the ghost hunt
.

The ghost hunt. I’d nearly forgotten.

The voicemail message was from Father Neal.

“Aidan, this is Father Neal. Meet me at the church at six-thirty. I will tell you about the Bone Masters tonight.”

That did it. Now I would have to go. I sighed and sat back in my chair. My mind began to wander, imagining what the night would hold.

A sudden knock sent me right out of my chair to my feet.

“Aidan?”

“Olan? You scared the shi … tar out of me!”

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to. Me and the Mrs. want to know if you will come over for lunch.”

Olan steadied me with an old but strong hand.

“Of course, I would love to,” I said. “Do you mind if I bring Bishop? He needs to run around a bit.”

“Course, bring that ol’ boy around.” His smile fell, and he grew serious. “Edna wants to know how you are doing with everything going on. She won’t ask you directly and warned me not to ask. Thought I would give you a heads up.” Olan patted me on the shoulder. “Are you doin’ okay? You look a little pale.”

“I’m okay, or at least, I’m up on two feet, talking and breathing.”

He nodded. “But that ain’t really livin’, son. See you in a bit.”

After Olan left, I drove home to change into my jeans and get Bishop. When we arrived at the farm, Bishop pawed at the window, anxious to play with the dogs that ran alongside my car. Edna greeted us as we got out. Bishop bounded off, snapping and playing with his buddies.

“Aidan! So good to see you, dear, and Bishop, too! I think I have an old bone for you.”

“No thanks, Edna, broke my teeth on the last one.”

“Oh, you! You’re as bad as Olan!” She slapped me on the arm with a towel, but her eyes were full of concern as if I would collapse into a puddle of tears.

We sat down to a good Midwestern lunch of meatloaf, potatoes, and biscuits … all the stuff that would most likely kill you.

“So, Aidan, fine sermon,” Olan said after a forkful of meatloaf.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. I’m sure it was a bit rough, had to get it together in about three hours.”

He frowned. “Yeah, Mike’s alleged sickness.”

I nearly spilled my coffee. “Why do you say that?”

“Didn’t look sick at Graeter’s last night, did he, Edna?”

“No, he sure didn’t.” Edna picked at one of the leftover biscuits. “I even told him that. And Mike said he was ready for the morning.”

“Huh. Don’t that beat all. Must have had something come on all of a sudden,” Olan said, burping.

Yeah, he had something all right. His red-clad lover.

“So, how are things with your young, police lady friend?” Edna asked.

I smiled. “Let’s go into the living room, and I’ll tell all.” Following Olan, I sat down beside him on the couch. “I see the church gossip hounds are well on the case.”

Olan frowned. “Yeah, and I am disappointed you didn’t tell us first.”

“There is really nothing to tell. We aren’t dating.”

“Why not? Pretty girl, policewoman, and single.”

Edna cleared her throat and Olan stopped.

“I’m sorry,” Olan said, offering me his hand.

“It’s okay. I mean, Amanda is gone, and really, she was gone from my life six months ago.”

Edna leaned forward in her chair. “Aidan, don’t minimize your grief. Amanda was such a lovely girl. I felt so terrible for you when she broke your heart. Now she is gone, and gone in such a terrible way.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell them how terrible.

“Do they have any idea who did it?”

“Olan!” Edna shouted.

“I’m just curious, is all.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” I said.

I related everything that we had found out, including my conversations with Father Neal and Pastor Mueller. “And so, Father Neal wants me to go on a ghost hunt tonight.”

“Are you going?” Edna asked then glanced at Olan.

“At first, I thought, no way. I mean, I’m a pastor with a scientific background. It makes it hard to believe that a ghost hunt is anything but pseudo-scientific spiritual bull.”

Olan smiled. “Boy, you got too much mouth for your own good. So, answer the question, boy, you goin’ or not?”

“I don’t know. I need to catch up on some sleep.”

“I think you should go.”

“Why?”

“Well, aren’t scientists curious folk?”

“Yeah, about provable things.”

Olan chuckled. “I might be an ignorant Purdue grad, but it seems to me a scientist should always be curious about a possible source of new knowledge. Aren’t they supposed to be open-minded?”

I grinned. “Good point.”

“At least you’d have a good story out of it,” Olan said, rubbing his belly, a sure sign he would be getting the Pepto pretty soon.

“I guess. I have to say I am curious.”

“Ever watch any of them ghost huntin’ shows? They try to disprove a haunting before they recognize anything supernatural.”

Interesting
, I thought. I wondered if Father Neal’s group had the same approach. “No, but I guess I’ll be having my own real-life experience soon.” I stood up. “I should probably get going.”

“Guess so.” Olan nodded. “Say, Aidan?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful, son. You’ll be in danger tonight.”

I stared at him wide-eyed. “What?”

“I mean it. You’ll not be safe tonight. Guard your heart and your mind.”

Okay, now I need to leave.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“I hope so, and too late for that.”

I looked away and changed the subject. “Can I borrow
Revenge of the Ninja
?”

“Sure, help yourself. Third shelf on the right.”

I grabbed the movie and yelled outside for Bishop.

Edna met me at the door. “Here you go, Aidan, dear. Leftovers.”

“Thanks, Edna.”

“And as Olan said, be careful tonight.”

I tried to laugh it off. “I’m sure the only thing I need to worry about will be stubbing my toe in the dark.”

Her face went tense and her eyes wide. Her grip on my hand hardened until I flinched. “Aidan, I’m serious,” she said. “You might be messing with more than you can handle.”

I took her arm and gently removed her hand. “Okay, I promise. I’ll be careful.”

Chapter Nineteen

I drove up to St. Patrick’s with the clock on my dashboard blinking 6:45 P.M. The church building loomed over me, casting dark shadows on the ground. Tall oak trees stretched across the roof of the sanctuary, and only one light in the office gleamed out into the darkness. Thankfully, I didn’t see any footprints on the ground.

I shook my head. I couldn’t dwell on thoughts like that. I convinced myself to bring scientific objectivity into this whole thing. There might’ve been undocumented natural phenomenon that caused people to think they see ghosts. I decided to think of it as an interesting study of people who believed in the supernatural.

With my nerves thoroughly quelled and nothing more to chew, I went inside. The office had been shut down, and there was no Mrs. Ryder at her desk. Everything was quiet. A faint light emanated from under Father Neal’s door. I had to admit, I didn’t feel too excited about going back into that room.

“Father Neal?” I called out. “Are you there?”

The rustle of papers and thump of a book broke the silence.

“Yes, Aidan, come on in.”

I opened the door, and the same sense of peace washed over me.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Father Neal said as he slowly walked around his desk, leaning on his cane. I failed to notice how tall he was the first time we met. I realized he had about three inches on me.

“To be honest, I almost didn’t.”

He got out two shot glasses and poured a round. “Why not?”

“I was a science major before I became a preacher. Let’s just say I tend to place all of this in the same category as
nineteenth-century spiritualist meetings and everyone who listens to
Coast to Coast AM
radio with all the conspiracy theories and ghost stories.”

“Yes, interesting program, isn’t it? I put it on at night when I can’t sleep.” He smiled.

“Anyway, I’m really skeptical of all this. I bet they aren’t even that scientific in their investigations.”

“I would keep your feelings to yourself tonight. Zoe and her team are very serious about what they do. They consider their work scientific first, supernatural second.” He pointed his cane at me.

“How do they do that?”

“The group tries to debunk a haunting, to find rational explanations for things.”

“What is their success rate on that?”

“I believe about ninety-five percent. Most can be written off as having rational scientific explanations. Squeaky floorboards, drafts, high electromagnetic field readings from unprotected wiring that often cause sickness and paranoia.”

“And the other five percent?” I asked.

“That is the rub, isn’t it?” He handed me a whisky. I downed it and savored the smoky scorch.

I didn’t know how to handle Father Neal’s matter-of-fact manner.

“So, you are a member of this group?”

“No, I’m not. I consult for them on some of the more, shall we say, negative cases.” He swirled his drink around.

“What, like demons?” I said, failing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“Oh, yes, very much so.” He paused as he caught my look of skepticism. “I’m not sure I understand your doubt, my boy.”

“Well, as I said, I earned a science degree and was educated in hard-headed Calvinism where the spirit world is not a widely discussed subject. I find it more than a bit unbelievable. I don’t think I have ever seen anything that would be described as paranormal or spiritual.”
I’m such a liar.

“A bit ironic, isn’t it?” Father Neal said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the Presbyterian church has its roots in the moors and mountains of Scotland, does it not? And the last time I visited a small village in Scotland, they were having a serious discussion as to how to protect their houses from Brownies.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “What?”

“A Scottish folk spirit, as it were,” he said. “Anyway, it’s strange that their theological descendants take such a naturalistic view on things.”

Before I could answer, Father Neal glanced at the clock. “We must be on our way. We need to be at the house by seven-thirty, and it’s a bit of a long haul, I’m afraid.”

“I can drive if you want,” I said. I somehow didn’t think Father Neal was the speediest driver in the world.

“Ah, I was just going to ask. Thank you.”

We sat in silence as we made our way. Father Neal’s gray head bowed over his cane. I didn’t want to bother him, but I wanted to ask him about the house. I opened my mouth a few times but never quite formed the question.

“So, you want to know more about the house we are going to?”

“Are you a mind-reader as well as a priest?”

“Sometimes. To be a good priest, or minister in your case, you have to be a good mind reader, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I do. Okay then, tell me about the house we are going to.”

He didn’t move and went silent.

“Father Neal?”

“Sorry, Aidan, lost in my thoughts again.” He lifted his head and pulled his cane closer. “Right. The house, then. This couple approached Zoe because their infant daughter had scratches on her body every morning.”

“Shouldn’t they have just cut her fingernails?” I ventured.

“Believe me, these people never let her nails go beyond dull, much less let them sharpen to the point they might cause injury.”

“Sorry, too presumptuous on my side, I guess.”

“It was, but don’t worry about it. Besides, you have not heard the worst part.”

“What’s that?” I gripped the steering wheel.

“Well, being that it was an unusually cold winter, their baby, Audrey, was in a sleeper with one zipper down the middle. There is no way for her to scratch herself in this fashion, much less get to the location where the scratches were.”

“Where?”

“On her back.”

“How is that possible?” I glanced over at him. “Scratchy pajamas? Left over plastic tag?”

“That would make three distinct lines like fingernail scratches?”

“No, I guess not. Is there a human explanation?”

He looked at me. “Child abuse, you mean?”

“Yeah, maybe one of the parents. Terrible, but seems more likely.”

“Well, yes, it would seem so, except they put a nanny-cam in the bedroom at night. I have seen the tapes, Aidan. Each morning for four nights in a row, at about three o’clock, the baby would cry. They would run in, and the scratches would be there, fresh each night, blood oozing out of the wounds.”

I stared ahead as I drove. I had no category for what I’d just heard. Even when I did believe, I had been raised in a conservative Presbyterian environment where talk of the demonic only happened at late-night drinking sessions.

“Is that it?” I asked. “The scratches?”

“Unfortunately, no. There have been lights flickering on and off, moaning noises, appliances malfunctioning and apparitions.”

“This was all determined by the ghost hunter folks?”

“They’ve seen the tapes and interviewed the family. Tonight is their first on-site investigation. Because of the potential for, shall we say, negative forces, they have asked me to be present at the house.”

“What will you do?”

“Observe. Pray. And if needed, fight.”

“Fight?” I said, still not bothering to hide my sarcasm.

“Are you telling me that in all your years in seminary and ministry, you have never been taught anything about this?” Father Neal frowned at me.

Something about this old priest gave me the creeps, and yet, made me want to bow the knee at the same time. I shook my head. “Well, no, wasn’t really room between Calvin and Berkhoff. I mean, come on, this is stuff that happens with weirdo TV preachers.”

“First, you do Calvin a disservice,” he said. “He knew way more about these situations than his theological children. And second, this goes far beyond televangelists.”

“If you say so.”

He thumped my leg with his cane. “Aidan, I can’t stress how seriously you need to take this. If there is a fight, you must stand back. You are not ready for this sort of thing. But the group may ask you to help in the investigation.”

“How in the world will I do that?” I asked, rubbing the sore spot on my leg.

He smiled. “They will show you. Turn here at St. Michael Road.”

I made the turn and glanced over at Father Neal. “So, you don’t think I’m ready to fight a spiritual battle, eh?”

He stared out of his window in silence.

“Come on, I’m a minister in a Nicene-confessing denomination, fully ordained by the laying on of hands of the Fathers and Brothers of Columbus City Presbytery.”

Father Neal turned to me, his eyes blazing green again. “It would be like sending an infant to fight a dragon. No, you are no St. George.”

I grimaced, stung by his remark. True, I didn’t believe in anything he was saying, but he didn’t know that. I felt oddly offended. This priest, who I barely knew, somehow seemed to know me.

“You must promise me that whatever happens, you will not get involved. You will be protected to a point, but not if you directly interfere in any way.”

My thoughts went straight to the movie,
The Exorcist
. I just hoped I wouldn’t get puked on in the process or worse, thrown down a flight of stairs to my death. That usually happened to assistants.

Snow fell hard as we pulled up to the house. A black van sat in the driveway, and a few people stood around it. Light reflected off the vapor from their breath, and steam rose into the night air from the coffee cups they held.

Father Neal pointed toward them. “There’s the team. They all know you’re coming.”

“Do they know I’m a minister?”

“Yes. And not all of them are Christians, by the way.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes, it does make for some lively discussions at times. But, oddly enough, they all come to me for spiritual advice.”

I looked over at the gray-haired priest beside me. He examined me, and I couldn’t hold his gaze for very long.

Nothing special about him. Just an old man with a cane.

I looked back up. He still stared at me.

“Guess we should join them, eh?” I said.

Father Neal nodded, wearing a small smile. “Yes, boy, let’s go.”

We walked up to the group, and they all greeted Father Neal with hugs. As they chatted and laughed, I felt my phone vibrate. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw a text message from Jennifer.

Talk to Abraham Lincoln yet?

I smiled.
No, but Napoleon sends his regards.

Call me when you are done.

Despite the cold temperature, a warm feeling crawled up my toes to my stomach. “You’re damn right I’ll call you,” I whispered to myself.

“Aidan, come meet the group.” Father Neal’s commanding voice brought me back to reality. I strolled over and put on my best, fake pastor-smile.

“Hey, y’all, nice to meet you.”

A man in a green, Land’s End pullover walked up to me. His closely-shaven head gleamed in the van light. A bushy, gray mustache covered much of his upper lip as he smiled. “Y’all? Are you from the south?”

I laughed. “No, went to school in Texas.”

“Ah, that would explain it. Name’s Reg. From Georgia myself.”

“Reg, nice to meet you.” We shook hands. “What do you do for the group?”

“Tech manager. I run the motion sensor cameras and take care of the equipment.”

“Hello again, Pastor Aidan,” Zoe said. “Thank you for coming to lend a hand this evening. We are short an investigator. Melissa is out with the flu.”

“Sure, glad to help,” I said. “But I have to say, I’m not sure what I can do. Never been on a ghost hunt before.”

“Don’t worry, we will train you right,” she said with a warm smile. She looked more normal with an Ohio State stocking cap on her head.

Father Neal introduced me to the rest of the group, which included a mousy-looking graduate student named Kate with long, straight brown hair, and a wise-cracking guy named Darrin, who walked around with an unlit cigarette in his hands.

“So, what do you do?” I asked Darrin.

“Investigator-in-training. I’m learning this shi … stuff, just like you.”

“It’s okay.” I chuckled. “You can cuss in front of me.”

“It’s not that, really, just been trying to stop.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Right, got it. I actually meant, what do you do in real life?”

“Ah, right, grad student. English Literature.” He twirled the cigarette through his fingers.

“How did you get hooked up with this group?”

“Well, Kate and I recently had an experience.”

“Like what?”

“It’s not really polite to ask that question on a first date.” Darrin laughed.

I laughed with him. “Fair enough, but you have to at least tell me about the cigarette.”

“Help me carry the bags, preacher, and I’ll tell you.” Darrin handed me two large black duffle bags and then grabbed a couple of cameras. “Follow me.”

I fell in behind him as we walked toward the house. It seemed like a fairly typical 1930s Clintonville style building with red brick and a real wooden porch. Certainly didn’t seem like the house of doom.

Darrin glanced back at me and saw the look on my face. “Yeah, I know, it’s not
Amityville Horror
, is it? Then again, most places we investigate look completely normal on the outside. But it’s what goes on inside that you have to watch out for.”

“Why do you think that is?”

He fiddled with the cigarette some more. “Nothing is really
normal
if you know what I mean.”

“Not entirely, no.”

Darrin nodded as he put the cigarette behind his ear.

“Ya probably just need to see what I mean, preacher. I can’t really explain it.”

Not knowing what to say to this, I pointed to his ear.

“So, the cigarette?”

He led me to the living room and set the bags down by the TV. “I quit smoking. Not hard to do really, but it drove my fingers crazy. I needed something to mess with.”

“How long does one cigarette last?”

“About two days.”

“So how do you know Father Neal?” I asked.

“Well, Kate and I started going to his church recently.”

“Connected with your experience?”