Some Monsters Never Die by EA Comiskey

Author:EA Comiskey [Comiskey, EA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scarsdale Publishing, Ltd
Published: 2019-08-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

Burke

She should have been sleeping. It was past midnight, and tomorrow would be another long day of driving, but here she was, sitting in an enormous, overstuffed armchair reading the hunter’s journal.

Nathaniel had been kind enough to offer them shelter for the night. When they’d protested about how little space he had for himself, he opened the door covered in unusual symbols and revealed a labyrinth of rooms, including, so far as she saw, several bedrooms, a library, at least four baths, and what appeared to be a bowling alley, though the lights were off inside that space so it was hard to tell for sure.

Her grandfather slept in the room across the hall, snoring so loudly that, even with both doors closed, she heard him. The sound soothed her. If he was snoring, he was alive.

After she’d studied the pages about skinwalkers until she’d memorized the words, she flipped backward, randomly stopping on page fifty-six.

The xochitl is an aspect of a human spirit that has broken away and learned to live independently of the flesh in which it originated. It should not be hunted indiscriminately. The nature of the spirit is dependent upon the nature of the human from whence it came.

“What does that even mean?” she asked the empty room, and she flipped forward to page sixty-two.

It is most important that one not sever the head of the Hydra, for it will be replaced by two more.

“Well everybody knows that,” she mumbled. She’d lived alone for a very long time. There were whole weeks of her life when, if she hadn’t talked to herself, she wouldn’t have talked at all.

Page seventy-eight was interesting.

A spirit possessing the strength to produce ectoplasm cannot be contained with a salt boundary as lesser spirits most often can. Rather, the only way to destroy such a spirit is to burn the bones of the spirit’s human body.

She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t be faced with the prospect of digging up a body any time soon.

The dybbuk is similar in most aspects to a low-level demon. However, it is derived from a tortured human soul, which gives it a drive to torture the souls of others. Under assault from the dybbuk, a person will experience flare ups of irrational rage and violence.

Burke slammed the book closed and tossed. “I’m not possessed,” she said. “I have a good reason to be angry. There’s nothing irrational about it. I’m a freakin’ rock star for how calm I stay.” She stood and started pacing again, but stopped when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

It was true that she was a woman of a certain age, but she’d never looked better. She was strong and fit. Confidence straightened her spine. The finest salon in the Detroit Metro area had curled her hair.

“You can be the finest peach in the orchard, Burke Dakota. Some people just prefer apples.”

How many times had her mother said that to her over the years?

She remembered being twelve years old and thinking,

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