The Skinwalker Conspiracies - 02 (32 page)

Jabbing a finger in the direction of my injured friend, I commanded,
“Help Silas. I’ll drive off the dogs.”
The animals howled bloody murder as I charged at them. Concentrating as I ran my hand across one of the gates that led back to the pens, making it fly open. It took another minute to force both of the mutts to run through. Quickly, I sealed it.

Karla’s face was a study in shifting emotions. Panic, anger, and anxiety dominated, but the darting eyes took in every detail. No wonder that despite all the times Darren Porter broke up with her, he kept coming back. She’s quick on the uptake and intelligent. Clearly, she’d make a better Ferryman than a walking brick like me. Then again, my innate stupidity probably blinded me from the danger I always seemed to find myself in.

“Is that you, Mike?” she asked. “I can feel you near me.”

For a second, I considered going to her side and trying to speak with her, but then I realized how stupid that was when I had my body only a few dozen feet away.

Drifting through the fencing, I surveyed the damage. Dad was … gone. Should I have expected anything else? Stopping at the overturned cage belonging to the poodle yipping for attention, I reached my hand inside and below the surface of the animal, and rummaged around while wondering how many lives an alley cat like Cassandra actually had.

“Ross!”
I felt her hand grasp mine.
“Pull!”

I yanked and moments later she was free. She sized me up and said,
“I keep underestimating you, Ross. William and Edgar were never capable of existing outside of their bodies.”

“I don’t want to make a habit of it. De Soto got away and we need to get out of here. See if you can find Oswald.”

She looked horrible and I didn’t know whether it was from her time inside the poodle or her proximity to the fight and the energy discharge. Turning, I reached down and touched my body. It was a long overdue reunion.

The old expression ‘I feel alive’ pretty much covered it. It was a little like a hangover and I had a bump on my head where it smacked into the bench, but I reasoned it was a good pain. Silas groaned when I turned him over.

“You okay?”

“Mike?”

“Yeah, I got my body back. Do we need to get you to a Doctor?”

“No, I was watching you and De Soto fight when your dad sucker punched me. There’s a joke in there that I should’ve seen it coming.”

Shaking my head, I said, “Typical. He hasn’t changed one bit. I swear! This whole trip has been one big mistake!”

The old man touched the welt on his head and answered, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve done a lot of good.”

“If you say so, but let’s forget about that for now. Wait here and I’ll get Karla and the others and figure out our next move.”

Descending a small staircase leading below the fighting pit, I found a dimly lit room filled with a cluster of animal carriers containing several irate animals. The bodies of a couple of dead dogs were tossed in a heap on a table. The handler had run off in all the commotion from my encounter with the ringmaster of this disgusting circus.

Ignoring the distasteful bit of cigar and alcohol flavored bile that crept up into the back of my throat; I hunted in the dark for Blackie. Oddly enough, the low lighting made it easy to find the slightly glowing pooch serving as a four-legged jail cell for the ghost of Lee Harvey Oswald.

After finding the mutt, I pondered how best to retrieve my not-so-friendly neighborhood ghost without getting bit by a dog that was fighting for its life a few minutes ago. My “phantom tweezers” only extended less than an inch from my fingers. Looking over at the table, I saw several objects that appeared to be tools a dog catcher would use, but lacking the training on how to use this junk, I figured that I’d have to “wing it,” which was par for the course.

“Hang on, Lee. Grab onto my … hand,” I said fumbling for the right words.

Using the same principle that just got me out of a smallish beagle, I pulled on those little tips to get something long enough to reach down into the carrier and fish Oswald out. Like most painful Ferryman experiences, this seemed easier now that I’d done it once. I only felt dizzy, not the whole passing out thing. Still, crouching by the carrier was necessary and the room didn’t move nearly as much from down here. It was like peeling a banana. The real flesh went one way and my spooky hand the other and immediately felt like it had gone to sleep.

Blackie was somewhere between frothing mad and batshit insane. The good news for me - the carrier wasn’t really big enough for the dog to spin around as I reached in through the back of the cage. The dog howled, spit, and tried to turn his head back to bite my ghostly extremity. It took a couple of tries, but I got my fake hand around Blackie’s right hind leg. The dog yelped in pain and I got some feedback as well, but I could grasp Oswald’s right leg and pull.

I played tug-o-war with what felt like a sumo wrestler for a solid minute, but Lee popped out of there and we both sprawled onto the ground. Gasping for breath, I pushed my phantom forearm back in and shook it violently to get the stinging sensation to go away.

Lee didn’t look so good. His aura was much dimmer now than I was used to seeing it, even compared to our fight in Dallas. If ever a ghost could look disheveled, it was him.
“Did you get him?”

“He escaped,” I answered his demand. “Right now, we need to get out of here. The police could be on the way.”

“Who gives a shit about the police? We have to track De Soto down! Now!”

The words reasonable and Oswald didn’t really belong in the same sentence. “Get real, Lee. You’re in no shape to take him and I’m pretty beat myself. I won’t be able to do squat from behind a jail cell except be a sitting duck. Now, c’mon.”

“No!”
he exclaimed,
“We tried it your way. This time we do it my way. We’ll storm his compound!”

I shook my head and turned away. “Do whatever you want, Oswald. I’m not going to stop you. I have real living people who need me right now and he just vanished. I couldn’t track him now if I wanted to and I really doubt he went back to the one place I could find him.”

“Coward!”
he shouted.
“Just go on then. I’ll kill him myself.”

Reaching the steps, I turned and stared. He looked pathetic. My buddy, Amos Sweet, might be able to take him in this state. “I’m guessing you tried that already and he beat your ass and stuffed you into a dog’s body. At least with me, he did it while I was knocked out. He had surprise that time and I had it this time. If you’re smart, you’ll stick with me.”

If looks could kill, I’d have lost my newly reclaimed body right then.

He glared at me before saying,
“I’ve killed more Skinwalkers than you can ever dream of, boy. Just because you got one over on him doesn’t make you some kind of authority. It just makes you lucky.”

I considered that he might be right, but at the moment, it didn’t really matter how I got my body back. Going up the steps, I shouted at him, “They’ve probably got a stash of energy nearby, Oswald. Better tank up before you go hunting for him. If you come to your senses, find me. If not, good luck.”

Karla and Silas were waiting for me. “Oswald’s free, but I don’t think he’s coming with us. Where’d Cassandra go?”

“I’m in here, Mike.” Karla said. The look of panic on her face spoke volumes.

“Oh dear God! Why?”

“Relax. All of you!” Cassandra addressed us. “I’m just riding shotgun with Princess Panic to get a quick recharge off her and some additional safety in case De Soto comes back looking for a rematch.”

Come to think of it, she hadn’t looked all that good either, but not nearly as bad as Oswald.

“Get out of me!” Karla hissed sounding like the very definition of a schizophrenic.

As tempting as it was to look for a wall to beat my head against, this wasn’t the time. “Okay, whatever. We get to safety and you get out of her. If you don’t, I make you. Are we clear?”

Karla’s eyes said hell no, but the ghost in charge of her vocal chords nodded and replied, “Crystal.”

“Then let’s get out of here … Wait!” I hopped over some benches and grabbed the carrier with the nervous beagle in it.

“You’re taking the dog?” Cassandra said. Maybe it was Karla. I didn’t care.

With a shrug, I answered, “I might need to practice and I’ve grown attached to the little bugger. Want yours?”

Cassandra made a dismissive motion with Karla’s hand that reminded me of the way Sonya Hodges acted. “No thanks. I’ll stick to humans. Better get rid of the collar, Ross. It probably has a tracking device in it.”

The dog was scared, but I reassured him while unhooking the collar. Sure enough, there was a little silver cylinder attached to it. Tossing it onto the benches, I closed the cage on my new pet. Suddenly, “Fido” didn’t seem like the right name anymore. From this perspective, it no longer fit.

“Lucky,” I said, recalling Oswald’s words to me. “I’m gonna call you, Lucky.”

“I think it would be best if we left, now,” Silas said after clearing his throat.

“Couldn’t agree more. Take Karla’s hand and I’ll go first.”

With Cassandra taking up temporary residence in Karla’s body, Silas didn’t have a problem seeing her. That made our exit much easier. Out in the parking lot, we were faced with our next minor problem – a lack of transportation.

“Who’s up for a walk?” I asked.

“Don’t you have keys in your pocket? De Soto didn’t exactly walk here.” That was definitely Cassandra. The sneer looked out of place on Karla’s face.

I set the dog carrier down and checked my pockets. No key’s, but I had a brand spanking new wallet with several shiny credit cards and a thick wad of cash. That thing rubbing against my side was the latest and greatest Blackberry, probably loaded with the secrets of De Soto’s empire. Not a bad little haul, but short of calling for a cab, nothing that would get us out of here anytime soon.

Opening my hands, I said, “Maybe they’re back inside.”

“What now, genius?” Cassandra was more than a little crabby.

“My car is over there,” Karla sputtered and jerked her right shoulder. “Just let me control my damn body for a minute!”

“You don’t exactly have a purse, Karla,” the Skinwalker replied.

“Keyless entry. Push button start. Dumbass.” Karla fired back … at herself.

“Very well,” Cassandra said.

Karla slouched for a second, almost like fainting, and then straightened immediately.

“C’mon,” she said storming off, forgetting to take Silas Parker’s hand. I picked up the dog carrier and grabbed the preacher’s arm as a bolt of pure white hatred erupted from the ground. The air around us crackled with power and anger. Oswald must have found some energy hidden down there. We locked eyes as I pulled Silas closer to me. Oswald sneered and shot into the sky.

Looking at my friend, I said, “All in all, not exactly one of our better nights.”

“Beats being back in the jungle for me, or the desert for you don’t it?” he answered with a question. “At least we know exactly who’s trying to kill us instead of having to guess. Why don’t we discuss this where there is air conditioning? Even this late, it’s still too hot out here. Everyone keeps saying, ‘Dry heat’ like it’s supposed to make things better, but honestly, I’ll be happy when we can get back to a plain old hot day in DC.”

Part of me enjoyed how Silas could show irritation at times. It reminded me that he was human after all.