Deadly Spirits by Michelle Scott

Author:Michelle Scott [Scott, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror
Published: 2019-03-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Let me go.

Please release me.

All night long, David’s words echoed in Ethan’s mind. Not that Ethan believed them. No, the message had probably come from the old woman’s ghost. She wanted to possess David’s body, and had tried to trick Ethan into letting her do so. Well, Ethan wasn’t letting his boyfriend go. That was out of the question.

The next morning, when Tessa texted Ethan that Bev and John were on their way back to the hospital, Ethan left. He didn’t need more drama. He went to his apartment, got into the shower, and tried to scrub off some of last night’s misery. When he got out, he wiped steam from the mirror and studied himself. His eyes immediately went to the brand on his chest. The one that he’d gotten after agreeing to help the Angel of Death. The mark was still there, but below it was something that hadn’t been there the day before: a single hash mark. Puzzled, Ethan touched it, wondering why it had appeared. Then a sick thought struck him. He’d taken one soul the previous night. The Angel was probably marking him for every soul he collected. Which meant he’d be expected to collect more. The Angel had never said how many souls he was expected to gather, only that he needed to get them. There could be dozens, maybe even hundreds, of collections separating Ethan from his goal of saving David.

A wave despair threatened to overtake him, but he held it back, refusing to give in. He couldn’t help David if he was wallowing in his own dark emotions. In fact, Ethan needed to be more proactive, like Sophie. As he brushed his teeth and got dressed, he had an idea. He would reach out to David’s spirit and try to find the answers he needed.

Ethan had a vague idea that David’s spirit was trapped in some inter-realm, a place that wasn’t quite life, but not death, either. If Ethan could find his boyfriend there, he might be able to talk to him.

The problem, of course, was how to contact David. Ethan’s experience had taught him that most souls haunted the places where their lives had ended. It was as if they’d never gotten over the trauma of their own deaths.

With that in mind, Ethan packed a satchel with things he could use for a seance. His Scrabble tiles, which he used in lieu of an Ouija board; a polished, silver bowl; several pieces of chalk; and a glass prism. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any black candles, but the local home goods store carried dark purple ones. Hopefully, the spirits wouldn’t notice.

He drove to the Victorian house where David had fallen from the roof. It was after nine, and the street was mostly empty. A young woman pushed a stroller up the sidewalk, but she barely paid any attention to Ethan as he parked and got out of his car.

Turning his collar up against the cold, Ethan surveyed the house. Being back gave him an uneasy feeling.

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