A Ghoul's Guide to Love and Murder (23 page)

The building in question was none other than Ashworth Commons. I hadn't realized we were so close to it, but Murdock appeared to know it well. He didn't waver as he crossed the street, heading right for the side entrance.

At the moment he leaped from the street to the sidewalk, Olivera's car rounded the corner with a screech. She hadn't beaten Murdock, who'd taken the shortcut through the garage, but she did see where he was going. An oncoming car stopped her from turning left
and cutting Murdock off, and he made it to the side entrance of the building before any of us could really react. Once he got inside, I just knew that all hell was certain to break loose.

Literally.

Olivera pulled up next to Ashworth Commons as I finished helping Heath limp across the street. “You've
got
to be kidding me!” Olivera said when she got out and stood looking up at the building.

“This day just gets worse and worse!” Gilley whined as he too stared up at the four-story building.

“Why the hell did he go in there?” Olivera demanded, rounding on me and Heath. She seemed genuinely angry to be back here. I figured it was a coping mechanism, because she had to be freaking scared. Just like I was.

“I think the dagger is hidden here,” I said. “Somehow, Murdock heard about this place and decided it was a good idea to stash the dagger here.”

“Did you post about this site on our fan page?” Heath asked Gilley.

Gil copped a defensive attitude. “I needed some new material!” he snapped. “You guys weren't doing anything interesting for the longest time, and this was the only thing I had to work with!”

“Great,” Heath said, turning away from Gilley dismissively, which was a bit unlike him. Heath was usually more patient with Gil than I was.

“Let's focus on the problem at hand,” I said loudly, trying to remind everyone here about the mission to get the dagger back. “If Murdock got into the building, we can assume he's headed for high ground, which is probably all the way up to the fourth floor. Between all of us, we've got enough armor to go in after him without exposing ourselves to any undue harm.”

“Can I just remind you of the
freak show
that took place at the museum last night?” Olivera snapped. “That demon
thing
came after us, and you two were covered in magnets!”

“True,” I said. “But what choice do we have, Detective?”

Her lips pressed together and she stared at me for a long moment. To show her I wasn't backing down, I squared my shoulders and began to move toward the side entrance. “Anyway,” I said over my shoulder, “we've got even more armor with us today, so lock and load, people!”

Heath fell into step next to me and I waited nervously for Olivera and Gilley to come with us. I wasn't completely convinced they would, but we had no choice. Our only chance of getting the dagger back was to apprehend the person who'd stolen it. If we let
him get away, then none of us would ever be safe and the body count would only rise, and it was likely to include someone I loved.

Heath and I marched steadily forward, and finally, as we reached the other side of the street, out of the corner of my eye I saw Olivera come even with me. And then I felt Gilley's hand on my back.

Olivera put her hand out to stop us, however, right as we reached the side entrance and Heath pulled his set of keys from his inside vest pocket. “I think I should call for backup,” she said. Her skin was pale, and her eyes wide. She was seriously scared, and it was no wonder; she'd had only two encounters with the supernatural, and both of those had nearly been deadly. For a cop who was taught that she could fell any threat with good aim and enough bullets, this new reality had to be insanely intimidating.

“No backup,” Heath said to her, subtly tucking his long hair behind his ear to show her the bandage covering his head wound. “You can't call a bunch of cops in here and expect them to resist the temptation to shoot up the place once a demon appears, Detective. They'll do way more harm than good.”

Olivera was breathing heavily now; I felt she might be on the verge of panic. Reaching for her hand, I put two of my spikes in it and said, “These work. They do, Chris. You're going to go in there and likely face a knife fight, but it's one you can win. Keep one of those clenched in your fists at all times, and if something comes at you, then stab it for all you're worth. Otherwise, stay behind Heath and me. We'll be on point.”

Olivera gripped the spikes in her fists, her knuckles whitening around them. “Yeah,” she said. “Okay.” And then she seemed to think of something else. “My uncle's a priest,” she said. “I could call him.”

If the situation weren't so dire I would've laughed out loud. “He won't be able to help us in there,” I said to her. “Exorcisms need to be conducted by priests seasoned in the ritual and who know what they're doing. Otherwise, heading in there with only a cross and some holy water is likely to get your uncle killed.”

Olivera gulped audibly. “Jesus,” she said.

“We'll be okay,” I assured her. “We will.”

I then turned away before she could think of some other plan to stall us from going inside. We needed to get to Murdock before he spent too much time in the company of the dagger. Heath inserted his key into the door. It unlocked and he held up a finger as he inched his torso forward through the doorway to look around. Then he motioned for us to follow him.

We walked into the first-floor hallway and I was brought up short by the feeling of the place. Malice permeated the very air of the building, and I swore I hadn't felt it until I'd hit the fourth floor the day before. “They've taken over,” I whispered in Heath's ear. He nodded.

Goose pimples lined my forearms, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Wicked things haunted these halls.

Heath took the lead again and motioned for us to follow him single file. He walked us over to the stairwell and I felt the evil energy ratchet up a notch. My
heart pounded as we began to climb the stairs, all of us on tiptoe. On the landing of the third floor, my palms started to sweat and my breathing became labored. I paused and tugged on Heath's vest to stop him. He turned and I pointed to myself so that he could see I was struggling to keep my fear in check.

Fear is a really bad thing when you're going up against a demon. It's not just that it can make you panic and do something stupid, like freeze in place, or run into a wall as you're trying to escape. It's more that fear is like blood in the water, attracting all manner of man-eating monsters directly to you.

If you ever come up against a nasty spook in close quarters, don't be scared—which I know sounds ridiculous, but you'd be doing yourself a solid to calm the hell down before getting the hell out.

To calm myself down, I flattened myself against the wall of the stairwell and took deep breaths. Olivera was looking at me like I was nuts, but I pointed to her and whispered, “We need to set aside our fear before we face them.”

She was trembling from head to toe by now, and her own breathing was heavy and quick. She shook her head at me. No way was she going to be able to set aside her terror. And by the looks of Gilley, who was clutching at least ten spikes to his chest, neither was he.

At last I'd taken enough deep breaths to feel a bit less freaked-out and was about to push away from the wall when I felt something drip onto my forehead. I
wiped at it and happened to look at my fingertips, which were smeared with blood. “Oh, no,” I whispered, slowly lifting my gaze up and up to the fourth floor. All the effort to calm myself vanished as I startled at the sight of Murdock, pressed against the railing of the stairwell, his eyes sightless and his torso dripping blood down onto me.

Perched above him on the railing itself like an ugly raven was the Grim Widow, gleefully snickering at me as I took in the sight of both her and the dead security guard. She licked her black lips and revealed jagged teeth when she smiled wide.

“Em?” Heath said softly. I felt his hand on my shoulder. It was all I could do to point up the stairs toward Murdock's body, my hand shaking hard enough to cause tremors throughout my entire body.

Heath's head tilted up and he sucked in a breath at the same time as Olivera.

Gilley was the last to notice, and I know that because a full three seconds after Heath and Olivera reacted, Gilley began screaming.

That's when the Grim Widow launched herself off the railing and into the air. She spread her arms, and the rags for clothing she wore fluttered out while she fell down toward us like a giant, horrifying bat. Heath shoved me against the wall and put himself directly in her path. I saw him raise a spike as the Widow descended, hissing loudly as she came and baring her jagged teeth.

As I watched in stunned silence, his body tensed just before impact and she landed with a triumphant
scream right on top of him, taking him down to the floor. I screamed too, because the sound of their crash was loud. The Widow covered Heath, her arms and legs thrashing and kicking at him. I was so shocked by what'd just happened that for a moment I couldn't move, but then Olivera darted over to the Widow and started driving her spike into the center of the spook's back.

The Widow screamed and her bony arm lashed out, striking Olivera so hard she flew back into the wall. Anger replaced fear in the center of my chest and I dived for the Widow. I got her around the waist and unleashed my rage. She rolled off my husband and took me with her, shrieking as I stabbed her with the spikes but cackling with hysterical laughter as well. It was maddening.

We rolled three times before I realized she was taking me toward the stairs. Too late I tried to stop the momentum she'd created and we fell onto the first stair together, with my head taking a terrible blow against the hard surface.

Gritting my teeth, I just continued to stab her, plunging my spikes into her bony back for all I was worth. I had no idea how she could take that much abuse, or how she could possibly hold on to me so tightly, as I was covered in magnets from head to toe.

We hit another stair and I took it on the shoulder. It was a slow roll down to the third, which was on my back, and then the fourth, which was on that same shoulder. I cried out and my right arm went numb
with pain. I'd only gotten my breath back when we landed on yet another stair, which hit me in the ribs.

I didn't think I'd make it to bottom of the staircase before I blacked out from the pain. The strikes were too intense to bear, and just as I saw stars from yet another blow to the head, I felt something brace against my back, stopping the roll down. A moment later the Widow was doing a whole lot of screeching and not much cackling. And then she let go of me and scrambled away.

With stars still popping behind my eyes, I looked up to see Gilley there, teeth bared and a ferocious look on his face. Channeling his inner Sigourney, he roared,
“Get away from her, you bitch!”
It was then that I noticed him holding up his dukes, which were covered in steel-lined gloves, and in his right hand was one of his longest spikes.

The Widow spat at him as she backed away up the stairs, moving on all fours like a spider. I did my best to get to my knees without falling farther down. My head was pounding from the beating, and my sore ribs were protesting all the extra air I needed.

Somehow I managed to perch myself on my haunches next to Gilley while he continued to focus on the Widow.

She stopped backing up and hissed again, then darted a little forward, but Gilley got in a right hook and jabbed with the spike at her. She spun away hissing and screeching but began to come around again. That's when Gil stomped his foot and yelled,
“Do it and I'll gut you like a fish!”

The Widow's eyes narrowed. She seemed to be considering his challenge. She reversed direction and backed up a few steps before stopping, that sinister smile reappearing. She now had the high ground, and I knew she was gonna come at us again. With significant effort I forced the numb fingers on my right hand to reach for the spike at my belt and shouted to Gil, “Brace yourself!”

No sooner did I get those words out than the Widow launched herself right at us. My entire focus was on her, but the synapses in my brain were firing at the speed of light. We were midway down the stairs to the second floor. She'd hit us with enough force to send us tumbling. One or both of us could end up with a broken neck.

Somehow I got to my feet before she hit, and grabbed Gilley's arm to pull him out of the way. The Widow landed on the stairs exactly where we'd just been, and she whipped toward us like a scorpion, with barred teeth and outstretched hands, ready to rip us to shreds. I raised my arm to strike at her with the spike, but I had no idea if I'd be fast enough to block her lunge.

And then . . . and then . . . in that pinnacle moment right before she struck, there was a sound that I cannot fully describe. It was primal—yet familiar—and when it reached my ears, my chest filled with hope and courage. It was one note . . . one beautifully rich, sweet note that seemed to blast to the farthest reaches of the building. Filling the space with its essence, it banished the cold, sinister atmosphere the deadly spirits that had
come to haunt Ashworth Commons had brought with them. It was like sunshine after a storm, and my eyes misted in witness to its purity and strength.

I didn't realize at first where the source of the sound was, until my husband appeared high above us, in midair, descending the staircase after making a giant leap, and from somewhere deep inside him came a war cry that awakened his ancestors, who appeared from nowhere and everywhere. They lined the stairs, surrounded us, and closed in on the Widow.

She shrieked and tried to turn away, but Heath reached her before she could get far; landing on her as she had landed on him, he drove her into the stair where she stood and rode her down the rest of the steps like a skateboard. Not once did his voice break off from that one beautiful note.

I watched in awe as his long hair fluttered behind him, that distinctive white streak he'd gotten a few years back on another deadly encounter waving at me in triumph.

The Widow's density was starting to wane. She'd been as solid as any living soul only seconds before, with superhuman strength, but in the face of so many of Heath's ancestors, who effectively cut her off from her power source, she was no match.

She struggled underneath his weight, flailed her arms and legs, but she couldn't shake him. He rode her until they stopped. And then Heath's war cry went up one octave and I saw his elbow jerk and his fist went high and he plunged his stake into the center of the Grim Widow's chest.