Spirits Rising (4 page)

In languages I could not understand, Viking men shouted and hurled themselves at the Beothuk-like peoples, but could never catch the fleet-footed Skraelings. They possessed a surefootedness that made them appear to be running a centimetre or so off the ground. Considering they weren’t alive, there was no reason to suppose that they were hitting earth.

I gulped down my fear and managed to look at Jeremy. He pulled his sidearm and took a shooting crouch, though he did not fire.

“Shoot them!” David hissed.

“This isn’t TV. I don’t just shoot people.” Jeremy looked at me, waiting for my answer.

I shrugged. “They aren’t real. It probably won’t do any good.”

David looked as if he’d seen a ghost. Consistent, I suppose, with several dozen ghosts heading our way. Jeremy, at least, hung around me enough to have heard my stories and believe something other in the world existed; he’d even seen some questionable things in his life. David O’Toole, on the other hand, believed anything outside the biblical world was tantamount to devil-worship.

“Who are they?” He asked, his voice trembling.

“Ghosts.” I answered, sucking in a deep breath of the cold, salty air. “Only worse.”

Jeremy stared at me. “Define ‘worse.’ “

A Viking picked up a circular, wooden garbage bin from the end of Manny’s driveway and hurled it at a Beothuk hiding behind a car. The bin missed and, instead, smashed against the car’s windshield, the safety glass pebbling and splintering.

Siren wails pierced the evening air. Porch lights flicked on as people came out of their houses to see what the commotion was about.

I didn’t take my eyes off the skulking Beothuks as they hid in bushes and tree shadows, avoiding the street lights. “Whatever, or whoever, brought them back, didn’t just raise their spirits. They raised their bodies, too. They are flesh and blood.”

“You’re telling me these are zombies?” David snapped. “Zombies are walking down the streets? Zombies?!”

I shook my head and let out an exasperated sigh. “No, no. Zombies aren’t real.”

“I don’t care what they are—we need to do something,” Jeremy said.

Several ideas flooded my brain. The most likely course of action was also my least favourite one. “There’s no way that I can send them back permanently, but I can banish them until sunset tomorrow.”

“Banish?” O’Toole screwed up his mouth. “Witchcraft.”

I glared at him. “No, I don’t practice witchcraft. I practice the ancient ways passed down to me by my mother.”

“Devil worshiper,” O’Toole muttered under his breath.

I ignored him. For a person who believed in demon possession, angels of mercy, a guiding Holy Spirit, and a guy who was raised from the dead, he was rather closed-minded. One would think he’d be more open to the entire paranormal.

I closed my eyes and shut out the battle cries, the crashes, the screams. I ignored the heat on my face as a garbage can exploded near us. I reached into earth with my senses, pushing down into the dirt and waiting for Mother to hear me. She did. The spirits were too strong for me to banish completely. My power was in sensing the other side, not in managing it. Still, I could pull enough power from the earth to give us twenty-odd hours to discover what was going on. Perhaps with more information, I could send these souls back to their rest.

“Rachel . . .” Jeremy whispered.

“Almost,” I whispered.

A gale struck us, sucking away my breath. I snapped open my eyes and the spirits were gone, though their damage was not. The O’Toole’s garbage smouldered, neighbours stood in the streets: some in their slippers, some with hunting rifles.

I wobbled as I stood. My hands shook against my side, and I struggled to stay upright.

“You okay?” Jeremy asked, reaching out to touch my arm for support, but never quite making contact.

I nodded. “It . . . passes.”

David looked around before looking back at me. “What just happened?”

It was a moment before the shakes subsided enough to allow me to answer. “I’m not sure. All I know is that we have a day to figure out what’s happening or they will be back. And, from the power I felt earlier, I think even more will come.”

“I can’t believe there are demons. Right here, in St. Anthony,” Jeremy said, shaking his head.

I glanced at him and nodded. In the end, it didn’t matter what he called them, as long as he understood enough to help.

“The only person I know who could have brought this evil here is you.”

“David, back off,” Jeremy snapped. “That’s way out of line.”

I lifted my hand and David didn’t snipe back. “He’s right. Not about me, the spirits generally follow me. Someone, though, had to bring them here.” I shifted through my memory of Manny’s basement. A drinking glass with a butter knife in it. Sand on the floor.

“Stupid me. Why didn’t I notice it before?” I said aloud to no one in particular. “I need to have a chat with Manny. I think he knows more than he’s letting on.”

Manny’s kitchen resembled a circus tent on a Sunday afternoon. Jeremy was there, along with another Mountie, a Corporal Amanda LeBlanc. We’d worked together a few times when I was a grief counsellor for the Province. A sweating, red-faced Manny sat at the table, David flanking him.

Apparently, Manny’s mother was staying overnight in Deer Lake, so at least Manny could clean the basement up before she arrived. A small mercy for the kid, at least.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, and listened to the endless, useless questions. They all meant well, of course, but they were quizzing him on the basis that the Vikings were living flesh, not the immortal spirits of the dead.

“Manuel,” I said in a clear, raised tone so that it silenced the others. Manny flinched. “Why did you have a chalice and an anthame in your basement?”

Manny’s eyes grew wide and, I swear to the gods, goddess, and precious puppies, he let out a little gasp of horror. Corporal LeBlanc turned around in her chair and stared at me, while Jeremy just looked confused. David looked at Manny and back at me. “What’s an anthame?”

I let out a breath. I was about to ruin the rest of the kid’s teenage years, but I needed answers. “It’s a ritual dagger used in witchcraft.”

The explosion from David stabbed my heart. I cringed as he unleashed his verbal assault. “Witchcraft?” David shouted, “You’re worshipping the devil in my house?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Manny said, desperation in his voice. He looked at me, his expressing pleading. “Tell them.”

“Manny did call me when your house was broken in to,” I said, my tone calm. “That should count for something here.”

“Manny, why didn’t you just call us?” LeBlanc asked.

Tears welled up in Manny’s eyes. He wasn’t going to answer any more questions while his father continued to rant under his breath about his son’s eternally damned soul. Guilt pricked me. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything and e-mailed or Facebooked him later.

“Answer her,” David said, his tone absolute.

Tears spilled from Manny’s wide eyes.

I could answer for him. It was the least I could do. “Corporal, Manny was afraid the Mounties would call his parents and tell them he was drinking in the basement. So when he called, I contacted Jeremy because I didn’t want to come here alone,” I said, scowling at David, “since his father thinks I’m a Satanist.”

LeBlanc rolled her eyes. “I don’t care about anyone’s religious beliefs. I just want to understand what’s going on here.”

“Did you summon those demons?” David asked, still not shouting, his voice still firm.

LeBlanc narrowed her eyes and looked at me. “Demons?”

I shook my head dismissively.

David ignored us. “You summoned demons! In our house!”

“Honest to God in Heaven, I didn’t summon no demons!” Manny turned his wide eyes to his father. “Dad, you gotta believe me. I didn’t do it!”

LeBlanc raised a hand. “What is going on?”

I waved her off. I wasn’t in the mood to explain the supernatural. “Someone had to summon those spirits. They generally manifest wherever the spell originates. That means, someone in this house called them. I doubt it was your parents.”

Manny slumped in the chair, his arms crossed firmly. Teenaged sullenness stretched across his face. David glared at him and demanded in a stern voice, “Sit up straight, young man, when an adult is speaking to you.”

Manny instantly sat up straight. I jerked my back straighter myself. I saw Jeremy flinch and sit up, though he caught my eye and smirked. David O’Toole had that voice, the kind that made you react before your brain even registered the words. It made him one strict terror of a father.

Which is why I knew Manny would never confess. Yet, the more I thought about it, the more I knew he’d done it.

“I’d like to talk to Manny myself.”

“He’s a minor,” LeBlanc pointed out.

“And my son,” David said.

“Your son isn’t going to answer any questions with you snapping at him. Jeremy can stay if you insist.”

He stared at me for a long moment. I returned the stare. LeBlanc broke the deadlock. “Come on, Mr. O’Toole, let’s make sure the fires in your front yard are out.” She turned to me. “Five minutes, and then I want to know what’s going on.”

I nodded my agreement. I’d get the truth out of Manny and then I’d prime him on what to actually say to her.

I looked over my shoulder and waited until the door slammed shut. I turned to Manny and said, “I’ll do my best to protect you, but I need to know the truth.”

Manuel shifted in his chair. “Look, my parents will kill me.”

I mustered the most exasperated expression that I could. “They will not kill you.”

“Close enough.” Manuel crossed his arms. “If they know I’ve been practicing witchcraft, they’ll homeschool me, cut off the Internet, TV—you name it. They’ll drag me to church and have an exorcism on top of it. Dad asked for a transfer to Newfoundland because of the trouble I was into back in Halifax.” He let out a depressed sigh, laced with guilt. “This is gonna kill Mom.”

I wanted to tell him that he was exaggerating, but we both knew he wasn’t. Until he turned eighteen or found a relative to take him in, the next three years of his life would resemble an unimaginable hell. Yet, he’d made the choice.

“You should have thought of that before you involved yourself in something you couldn’t handle,” I snapped.

Jeremy gave me a reproachful look. “Rachel.”

“What? It’s a little too late for pussyfooting around.” I winced. “I can’t believe I just said ‘pussyfooting.’ ”

Manny looked at me, his expression pleading. I ignored it. “Manny, if you don’t tell me exactly what you did tonight, people will get hurt. Do you understand me?”

Manny’s eyes grew wide, his face pale. “But I didn’t mean to—”

I cut him off. “It doesn’t matter what you meant. You called for spirits and, worse, somehow you screwed up the spell and they’ve manifested in corporeal form. Now tell me what you did.”

He cringed at my tone. Jeremy glared at me.

I closed my eyes and counted to five before opening them again. “Tell me what you did; otherwise, the native spirits you’ve summoned might see the local people as invaders and come after all of us. I need to know so I can put them back before someone is hurt.”

Manny licked his lips before letting out a long sigh and slumping back into his chair. “I was only trying to contact the spirits of the Vikings. For strength and stuff.” He shrugged. “I get picked on at school for being fat.”

Contacting any dead spirit was a complicated, dangerous process for someone who’d never had experience doing it; however, asking the collective energy of an area for help was fairly benign. “How did you do it?”

“I downloaded a spell off the Internet and—”

“The Internet? You used a spell off the Internet?!” I rubbed my forehead. “What were you thinking?”

His face flushed even more. “What’s so bad about that?”

It took all my strength not to lash out at him in that instant but I recovered quickly. It was unfair to blame an isolated teenager for doing what teens do best: make mistakes. “All right, all right. Show me the spell you used. I might be able to figure out how to put them back.”

Manny said the spell was downstairs and left to fetch it. I looked at Jeremy and sighed. “Well?”

“LeBlanc is never going to stand for demon summoning.”

I rolled my eyes. “Spirits, Jeremy. They are spirits.”

“Whatever. The fact is, we have a couple dozen rampaging dead things and there is no way we can put that in a report.”

David came in first. I gave him a warning glare, but he ignored me. It was his strongest trait. “What’s going on? Tell me the truth.”

“Manny summoned the spirits,” I said quietly.

“Manuel is engaging in witchcraft? We have murderous spirits in our town because of his devil worship?”

I shushed him. “He’ll hear you. First, witchcraft is not devil worship. Second of all, he didn’t understand what he was doing. I’m not excusing it, but let’s not jump down his throat. We still need to put these spirits back into the grave permanently.”