THUS FAR:

The Maine Paranormal Society has been hired to investigate poltergeist activity at the notorious Bellingham Manor—the site of the murders of Catherine Bellingham and her French lover. MPS is instructed to meet with the estate’s caretaker, Jenkins Porter where they encounter hostility and veiled threats. Their backup plan is to enlist the aid of the renovation contractor, Jim Norris, and they meet with him on the evening of their arrival in Nobleboro, Maine. Just as they begin their initial sweep of the house, Jim Norris is attacked by the caretaker who shoots at him while in a drunken state. With the help of two of the team’s members, Luke and Mike, the caretaker has been subdued. However, another danger lurks for which they are unprepared.
 
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Last Chapter:

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 dropped to his knees and examined his hands for burns.

Reaching Luke’s side, Mike placed a palm at the base of is friend’s skull and made note of the violent trembling beneath his hand.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, just a bit unnerved. Bellingham fights dirty, even for a demon. Do you think he’s working in league with others like himself?”

“I’m certain of it. Retrieving the transmitter hooked to his belt, he instructed Luke, “Make sure the ladies are safe while I help Norris tie up Jenkins Porter. We can’t have that crazy coot running around with a loaded gun.”

Luke hurried off, but Mike was forced to make another choice as the sounds of an animal ready to strike came from the shadowed end of the Manor’s basement. He pulled the flashlight from his belt and shone a light into a darkened corner. What the hell… that’s Porter’s dog!

He’d barely registered the dog’s identity before realizing it was stalking Jim Norris. Launching itself into the air, it knocked Jim to the ground and sunk its teeth into an exposed shoulder.

“Kill the bastard, Mike!” Jim screamed.

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Bellingham Manor, February 7, 2010

Mike fought between his fear of the enraged animal turning on him and the need to save Jim from a horrible death. Grabbing a nearby plank with three-inch nails protruding from its surface, he assessed his advantage. He was acting on pure impulse and conscious only of the need to distract the dog long enough for Jim to roll out of its reach.

He raised the improvised weapon above his head and advanced in the direction of the wolfhound, but before he could strike, it was shoved backward and pinned to the floor.

Mike dropped his arm and stepped closer--utterly confused by what he was seeing. Jim lay against the wall in obvious agony, and Mike hadn’t had time to reach the animal, so who or what was the intervening force?

The dog howled his rage, and Mike clearly heard the crunch of his breaking bones. Further maddened, the dog snapped his jaws frantically as if trying to rip the flesh off what only it could see. In desperation, it used its powerful front legs and the force of its one-hundred-twenty pounds of weight to push aside its attacker, but could not gain ground.

Into the space above and around the thrashing dog a viscous, purple mass materialized. Mike’s emotions went from disbelief to wishing he had a camera to record the whole twisted show as he observed the dog's body levitate upward--reaching the approximate height of a man's chest. It dangled in mid-air, muscle spasms rippling across its hide, bound by the wishes of a spectral puppeteer. An instant later, the dog’s body flew across the room, bounced off a wall and hit the ground with a solid thud. It whimpered briefly and went silent. Blood pooled around its shattered skull.

The mass grew brighter, changed directions and flew at the paranormal investigator. Years of experience helped Mike to stand his ground. He sent out a telepathic message to whatever was at the core of the energy facing him, “We are here for only one purpose - to help rescue trapped souls. Are you one of them?” He kept his thoughts neutral because he’d learned to avoid antagonizing a powerful entity.

Feelings of hopelessness and longing assailed Mike as the shape drew close. Internally, he heard an answering male voice with what sounded like a French accent. You can barely help yourselves, what can you offer Catherine and me? You do not yet understand what you are up against. Amulets and faith have done little so far...the once-Lord of this Manor still wields a great deal of power in your dimension.

Fighting the despair projected by the entity, Mike gripped the plank in his hands. He used the sensation of its rough-cut edges to stay within his thoughts. "We intend to do everything in our power to help you find peace, and we’re not leaving until we send that monster to hell.” Mike's thoughts vibrated with deep feeling, and in response, a wild moan reverberated off the basement walls and built in intensity like ions before a rainstorm. Then the mass compressed into a single line and disappeared. 

The sadness dissipated when the mass disappeared. Mike remained a moment longer looking at the dog and assessing the likelihood he’d just made contact with Phillipe Magret, the murdered lover of Catherine Bellingham. The situation hardly qualified for euphoria, but Mike was as excited as he’d ever been on any of their paranormal investigations. He could hardly wait to share his experience with the rest of the team.

Jim’s grunts reclaimed Mike’s attention. The contractor struggled to get up while using his jacket sleeve to staunch the flow of blood from his shoulder. Mike bent to place a steadying arm across his shoulder, but Jim shrugged him off. “I don't understand. There was no one there—what in God's name just happened?” 

“Explanations can wait. Right now we need to get you to the hospital,” Mike urged.

Just then, Luke came through the door at top speed and stopped just short of where the two men huddled. He studied them a moment then snapped his gaze in the direction of the dead dog. “I don't know what I expected to find,” he said, “but it looks like you two had yourselves a wicked time.”

"You don't know the half, Luke. Thousands of dollars of digital equipment locked in our van, and I'm here without a shred of proof of some of the weirdest shit I've seen in years." Mike’s forehead wrinkled in distaste.

He turned his attention to the injured man. "While I put together a tourniquet, check on the caretaker. There was enough racket in here to wake a whole graveyard, and he hasn’t appeared to move a muscle. Make sure he's still breathing, will you? And tie his hands and feet.” Pointing to the animal, he continued, “That's his creepy, and thoroughly dead, wolfhound over there. If he wakes up and sees him like that, he’ll go ballistic.”

Before Luke could act, Mike grabbed his sleeve. "First tell me... are Mia and Emma okay?" 

"Emma’s bruised up a bit, but nothing serious as far as we can tell.” Luke shifted his stance. “The girls encountered a very nasty entity upstairs and are more than ready to wrap up tonight’s investigation.”

“I completely agree.” Mike pulled a deep breath and slowly released it. He made sure he had Jim’s attention and continued, “We’ll transport you to the hospital in our van, and one of us will follow in your vehicle. I also think it’s time to involve the local sheriff.”

The contractor jerked upright and pressed his good arm into the wall for better balance. “No hospital and no police,” he ordered. His face lacked color, and his eyes had a wild look in them. “I'm in charge here, technically, and I say we bury the dog on the property and make sure Porter is tucked away safely in his cottage.”

Jim’s chin drooped, and he swallowed repeatedly. In a decidedly weaker voice, he continued, “Besides, he’s so drunk he won't remember anything that's happened. Look at him, all the noise and he's over there snoring peacefully.”

Mike looked at Luke and shook his head. “We’re not going to help you transport the caretaker or bury the dog, Jim. Since you were the one shot at and nearly ripped to pieces, it's your call to make regarding the police. But we will not participate in covering up what happened here tonight.

"What possible harm could it do to involve the sheriff?” Luke added.

"I have an excellent reason for why I don’t want to call the man. He’s Jenkins Porter’s nephew and I don’t trust him.”

When nothing more was forthcoming, Mike prodded, "Are you suggesting this... nephew... would be willing to risk his job to help his uncle?"

"That's what I'm saying, young man. Our sheriff has a great deal of money that he takes every opportunity to flaunt in public. Somehow, Porter and his nephew are using this estate for illegal activities." Jabbing a finger in Mike’s direction for emphasis, he continued, “and when I get solid proof of that, I intend to cut the heads off those two snakes!”
 
~~ TO BE CONTINUED ~~ 

Dear Reader,

This has been heavily edited from the original post. Please do not read ahead to the next chapter as you will find it confusing.

Thanks for reading!

WFD