Guardian Spirits by Jordan L. Hawk

Author:Jordan L. Hawk [Hawk, Jordan L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-17T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Vincent didn’t sleep at all the rest of the night. Henry curled around him, holding him tight, offering what comfort he could with his presence. Whispering to Vincent, over and over again: “I love you. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It helped. He clasped Henry’s hand with his own, held it to his chest, where they could both feel the beating of his heart. Breathed in Henry’s familiar scent, as they both lay awake through the small hours.

But nothing could banish the sense of dread suffocating Vincent’s heart, the same way the ghost had tried to suffocate his lungs.

The horror of the night Dunne died replayed over and over again in his mind. They’d had a small occult shop in New York, and Dunne’s long residency meant people in the neighborhood knew who to turn to when they had troubling encounters with ghosts. So when a man came to ask for help with a poltergeist, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary.

Poltergeists were simple spirits, most of them with no remaining personality or thoughts of their own. They mindlessly fed off the fear and frustration of the living, usually fastening onto the higher energy available from a child. Eventually, the poltergeist would grow strong enough to pinch people, or throw objects—anything to frighten the living, so it could further feast on their energy and become even more powerful.

This poltergeist had already reached the stage of tossing around furniture. Even so, such beings weren’t typically difficult for an experienced medium to remove. As Lizzie already had an appointment to conduct a séance elsewhere, Vincent and Dunne went to the house. Never thinking for a moment one of them wouldn’t return.

But the ghost lurking in the house hadn’t been a poltergeist, but a thing with intelligence. It possessed Vincent completely and used his hands to strangle Dunne.

If only Vincent had no memory of the event. He didn’t want to recall Dunne gasping ineffective commands at the spirit to leave Vincent’s body. Or the way he’d torn at Vincent’s grip, struggling for his life.

Least of all how his throat had felt, cartilage buckling beneath Vincent’s fingers. His skin going from warm to cold.

In the morning, Vincent awoke drained. The spirit had used him and moved on, leaving him beside the body of the man who had been like a father to him.

And now, to find out the ghost belonged to Dunne’s own sister? That she had become this creature of hate and horror, of cold water and wet bone?

Had she died on Angel Mountain? She’d murdered her mother and stepfather, along with the orphanage staff and several other children. Clearly her obsession had followed her into death…but why had she waited so long, traveled so far, to strike Dunne at last?

God, she was strong. Powerful ghosts usually had two things in common: they’d had forceful personalities when alive, and their passing hadn’t been easy.

But Dunne was here, too. In the taste of cigars, the feeling of warmth and comfort. Vincent had sensed him for a few moments, before Arabella took over.

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