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I think I’d feel the same way if someone had just tried to blow my head off,” Mike agreed.  He turned his head slightly to address Luke. “Let the ladies know we’re okay, and that Porter has been injured.”

“Should I instruct them to call the police?”

Jim Norris twisted around so that Mike could see his face. His eyes were slits of anger and, to Mike’s mind, telegraphed a clear warning.

Mike met his look and stopped to assess his next move. Decision made; he added, “Tell Mia to hold off calling the police until we can get a better handle on what’s happened here tonight. Also, have her bring the first aid kit down here.”

Jim grunted and resumed the vigil over his attacker.

Luke lifted a radio transmitter from his belt and spoke into it. “Mia do you copy?”

“That’s affirmative. Are you two okay? We heard the gunshots and were just about to call 911. Over.”

“Jenkins Porter tried to shoot Norris. Lucky for Jim, he missed. But Mike says not to call in the police just yet. Over.” 

“What was that, Luke? You’re breaking---“ An ungodly screeching sound drowned out the rest of Mia’s response and sent shockwaves of pain into Luke’s brain—causing him to drop the transmitter. Once the device left his hands, the pain eased up. When he stooped to pick it up, the device burst into flames!

“Holy shit, Mike. Are you seeing this?"

****** 
 
Bellingham Manor, February 7, 2010 

Mia clapped her hands to her ears when a sound akin to two automobiles colliding head-on blared from the transmitter. The sound penetrated through her protective barrier and set her eardrums vibrating. Her gaze shifted to where Emma sat a few feet away, and Mia saw shock mirrored in her teammate’s twisted features.

Emma scuttled sideways, plucked the device from Mia’s lap and threw it across the floor. It slid the length of the tile surface and slammed into the wall. Flopping backward, she said, “That noise--I’ve never heard anything like that before in my life! Do you think the guys are in danger?”

"I hope not. Since we haven't got a bead on their exact location, I think blundering in right now might make the situation worse. I say we stay put and wait for Mike to radio their status."

“I don't know... you heard the part about Jenkins Porter having a shotgun. Asking for a first aid kit tells me that someone in that basement has been injured.”

Mia flushed, and a vein throbbed at her temple. “As stone cold as this may sound, I hope Porter’s the one injured. That’s the price you pay when you mess with demonic energy. Jim’s got the physique of a body-builder, and I can see him twisting the little weasel's neck. Especially if he took a couple of potshots in his direction.”

Emma’s eyes and mouth opened wide. “Mia, this is a whole different side to you—I like it!”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a heckuva day so far.”

Mia got to her knees and leaned forward to peer into the farthest corners of the foyer. As her eyes scanned the open door to a room she knew, based on her study of the house plans, to be the original library, she felt the hair rise on her arms. Blocking her view of the book-covered west wall was a sphere of gray. Its center swirled with red and purple lines that overlapped and intertwined.

Grabbing Emma’s elbow, she pulled her from a sitting position and pointed to a spot which, by now, had doubled in size. Emma sucked in a sharp breath and, without taking her eyes from the object, said, “I’m going to grab the EMF indicator to see what kind of energy that thing’s giving off. It’s moving faster than a tornado on steroids.”

“We’ll need closer proximity to get an accurate reading. Are you ready to face whatever it turns out to be?”

"You might say I was born ready. Besides, I’m done being toyed with by the nasties.”

A brief smile flitted across Mia’s lips, and her eyes gleamed. “Your courage is born of innocence, but I admire it none the less.”

They got to their feet and, with Mia leading the way, moved toward the library’s entrance. They stepped around abandoned planks and scattered equipment. Unlike Mike and Luke earlier, they had the advantage of light from the now illuminated chandelier. Despite that, Mia’s feet nearly went out from under her when she stepped onto a pile of sawdust. As she righted herself, she called over her shoulder, “Be careful. The floor’s slippery in spots.” On reaching the doorway, she checked to be sure her teammate was safe.

Emma reached her side, turned the small device in her hand in Mia’s direction and said, “We had a nominal reading of .3 when I first checked. Now it’s at 5.2. That's a significant jump in electromagnetic energy.”

Both women looked in the direction of the menacing sphere. Emma was the first to remark on the sickening stench emanating from it. She pulled the edge of her shirt up over her nose and said, "Yuck…smells like the bottom of a dumpster.”

Mia gathered the strands of her will and pushed back the smell’s assault. She grabbed Emma’s arm, saying, “Hold strong, Emma. We can’t allow ourselves any negative reactions--whatever’s in this room is toying with us.”

Emma straightened her shirt and lifted her chin. “Right. Took me by surprise is all.”

“That’s how these things operate.”

Mia reached through the doorway and felt for a light switch without success. She was aware of Emma inching towards the phenomenon and decided to focus on her.

"Holy shit. It's now at 8.4!” Emma felt a jolt of static electricity and had the urge to run for safety. Instead, she circled the outer edges of the room, ending back at the spot with the highest charge. “Right here is the only spot registering any measurable activity.”

As the air in the room thickened, the smell of gardenias replaced the foul odor and a human shape emerged from the sphere.

Mia ordered Emma to back away, but the girl appeared frozen in place. Closing the space between them, Mia nudged her aside and hissed, “Take cover… now!”

Once she was certain of Emma's safety, the psychic turned to face the apparition.

A woman, whose nakedness was apparent through her shredded nightgown, hung in mid-air. Mia's heart thumped against her breastbone as she recognized the face of Catherine Bellingham, murdered ninety years earlier. The ghost lifted her hand and gestured Mia to approach. A red mist blurred the lower half of her jaw, but the words that came out were clear. Mia lifted her hand and, palm facing the entity, gestured for it to halt.

The look of the eyes shifted from soft and pleading to hard and hateful while Catherine's features faded in and out. A voice with guttural shadings chastised her, “Why are you wasting time? Jenkins Porter can’t help us. What you saw in your vision—the scene in the tunnel—that’s where you’ll get answers.”

“How do you know about the vision, Catherine? Or maybe that’s not, in fact, who you are.”

Thus challenged, the apparition dropped all pretense. Bulging reptilian orbs replaced Catherine Bellingham’s grief-stricken eyes. Mia grasped the silver cross around her neck, lifted it high and raised her voice to its most commanding level. “The blood of Jesus protects me. You will not harm this child of God.”

Guttural screeches whirled about her head, battering the bones of her skull: "Weee--will destroy you-- Weee—do not bow to that one—“ Claws appeared three inches from her face and she had a terrible vision of her eye sockets gouged and bleeding.

Mia held the cross tighter and pulled it to the limits of the chain, trying to ward off the attack. She heard Emma’s cry of pain behind her, but a massive weight pressing down on her head prevented any rescue effort. God help us, she thought.
   
At the periphery of her vision, a white flash appeared, moving from right to left, and entering into the apparition. In her mind’s eye, it took on the form of an angel, wrapping one of its powerful arms around the demon’s throat. The creature pawed the air and its claws glinted as they caught the light coming through the doorway. When they touched against the fabric of the angel's gown, a hiss and the smell of burning flesh was accompanied by the roars of a wounded beast. 

Stomach twisting in tandem with the struggle, all Mia could do was serve as witness to the event. The battle seemed to rage for hours, and when she felt her mind begin to put up a barrier of unconsciousness, the tide of the battle shifted--the angel bested the demon and dragged it, raging, upward through the ceiling. The pressure on Mia’s body immediately lifted, and she sucked fresh breath into her lungs. Room’s clear for the moment, she thought.

She whirled and gasped at the sight of Emma doubled over. She drew close enough to touch her but hesitated lest it cause more pain. “Talk to me,” she urged. “What happened?”

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” Emma gasped. “It was like someone tried to rip out my kidneys. God it hurts!”

Mia placed her fingertips underneath Emma’s chin and lifted her face. She felt a twinge of guilt at the pain she saw reflected there. “When you feel you can move,” she said, “we need to get you out to the van at once. This attack tells me you've been targeted for spiritual oppression. We need to get you out of this house pronto.”

Emma tried to straighten, but the movement elicited a moan. She took some deep breaths before continuing, “I’m no quitter. Charles Bellingham, or whatever the hell that was, won’t chase me from this house.”  

“You need to understand something,” Mia said as she grabbed Emma’s elbow and squeezed. “This case is no longer about being brave or stoic. There’s a part of the vision I had earlier that I didn’t mention because I wasn’t sure about the guidance.” She looked into the center of the room where the apparition had been, and her eyes were hard and unyielding. “The reason Charles Bellingham can keep his victims trapped here is because he has human helpers. I’m sure of that now.”

Emma straightened in increments until she was fully upright.  She rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. “If you mean Jenkins Porter, he’s only dangerous when he’s not drinking, which is rare.”

“We… I… have been misled. In fact, I believe the caretaker is a red herring.”

Emma’s eyes flew open, and she shot Mia a puzzled look. “We all saw how Bellingham took over his body at the cottage. How can you think he’s a bit player?”

“Because, in my vision of the murder in the tunnel’s main chamber, I saw other presences hovering in the background as Bellingham tortured Catherine’s maid. Some were demonic, but others were the etheric counterparts of living human beings.”

“You’re sure?”

“As I can be.”

Emma stuck the EMF in her pocket and stepped away from the wall. “How is what you saw relevant to what's going on right now? Whoever those people were, they’re likely dead.”

The shadows in the room thickened, and Mia felt cold to her core. “I wish that were the case. They're very much alive," she said, "and capable of deeds beyond their ancestors' wildest imaginings." 

                                                                      ***

Outrage churned in Mike's gut, like the center of a whirlpool, as he watched Luke's radial transceiver melt into a twisted heap on the floor. The young man had dropped to his knees and was examining his hands for burns.

Reaching Luke's side, Mike placed a palm at the base of his friend's skull. He was surprised by the violent trembling he felt beneath his touch. 

"Anything serious, Luke?"

"A little wobbly, otherwise okay. Bellingham fights dirty, even for a demon. Do you think he's working in league with others like himself?"
 
"I'm certain of it.” He retrieved the transmitter hooked to his belt and informed Luke, “I'll make sure the ladies are safe while you help Norris tie up Jenkins Porter. We can't have that crazy coot running around with loaded guns." 

But Mike was forced to make another choice as the sounds of growling and barking erupted from the other end of the basement. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Where'd that dog come from?

He’d barely had time to register the dog’s presence before realizing, with horror, that it had zeroed in on a target—Jim Norris. Launching itself into the air, it knocked Jim to the ground and sunk its teeth into an exposed shoulder.

Jim screamed, "Shoot the fucking dog!"
 
Mike grabbed the twelve gauge shotgun discarded by Porter and confirmed he was within range to take out the dog. He steadied his arm, sighted the target and pressed the trigger. In the back of his mind was the prayer he’d not be too late.

***

Dear Reader,

This is a newly edited chapter in this series. The novel is evolving in a different direction from its original format, and I suggest that you not read ahead because you will be confused.

Thanks for reading!
 
WFD