them?”
“She leads them off and we never see them again,” the nervous spirit answered.
Amos laughed and added, “I bet she’s got one of those French things around here.”
“Huh?” One of the ghosts said.
“There’s a cage that can be made out of iron and in the shape of The Eye of Horus. It’s called an oubliette. Ghosts can’t get out of it and can’t get any more energy. After awhile, you just fade away.”
From the looks of horror on the deceased men’s faces, most didn’t know it. The major wasn’t one of them. A couple of the ghosts walked toward him, but he started to vanish. I was too far away, but Amos hurled the knife at him. The spectral dagger slammed into his chest and he fell to the ground. With a hateful expression on his wounded face, he disappeared from sight. The Skinwalker probably had his anchor with her.
“Dammit! He took the knife with him.”
“S’okay Amos, he won’t last long. That throw was perfect. With any luck, he’ll pass on before he can tell her anything.”
I reassessed how dangerous Cassandra Von Eckels was. These dupes in front of me were a bucket of mushrooms, kept in the dark and fed whatever bullshit she felt like. With the exception of a taskmaster or two, she kept them ignorant and that’s the way she liked them.
I gave my compadre a wide grin. “Today’s your lucky day, gentleman. Private Amos Sweet here has been around since taking a bullet at Gettysburg. He’s come all the way from the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to tell you all those things Madame Von Eckels didn’t want you to know. Amos, indoctrinate these boys and let’s see if we can get them to the other side without resorting to more violence.”
The leads in Killeen, Texas had all dried up. If there was any trail to pick up, it would be in Dallas, but I wanted to make certain that if Cassandra ever came back here that she’d have to start from scratch.
Episode 17: Dallas, Texas – Paranormal Population: One
I’m mostly a ‘suburbs’ kind of guy. Despite being close to DC, I generally avoid the big city. Maybe it was some kind of claustrophobia, but anything approaching a metropolis always gave me the “willies.” Who knows? Maybe before, it was my dormant powers sensing all the dead spirits in one area.
Dallas felt different, empty, like a real pretty picture frame with nothing in it, and that had to be a bad sign.
I really should listen to my instincts more often.
We dropped Silas off at a cousin’s house. He had family down this way and they were looking forward to seeing him. Despite his assurances, I felt like a fifth wheel after the first thirty minutes. His relatives had decided I was some type of wayward youth that Brother Silas was mentoring.
Oddly, it wasn’t that far from the truth, but let’s not discuss that. Besides, I had a job to do.
The Angela Chase Mental Health Center was a small, exclusive nut house tucked away near some expensive residential communities, and built for people who liked their privacy. The place obviously cost a fortune. The building had a rustic, estate appearance, with large brick walls hiding immaculately manicured landscaping, tennis courts, a swimming pool, and a guard shack barring the entrance. I wondered if it was Sonya’s money paying for it or Cassandra’s.
After copying my driver’s license and verifying I had an appointment, the burly private security officer at the gate informed me that I had to park along the brick wall and walk up the driveway. Only staff and emergency vehicles were allowed on the property. Naturally, he couldn’t see Amos, but I thought it best not to speak to or even look at my buddy. I didn’t want this visit to become an extended stay, if you know what I mean.
Either way, something told me that if Mike Ross ever got tossed into the loony bin, it wouldn’t be a place like this. It’d be some hellhole where they still do electroshock therapy on a regular basis. He says he can see
“She leads them off and we never see them again,” the nervous spirit answered.
Amos laughed and added, “I bet she’s got one of those French things around here.”
“Huh?” One of the ghosts said.
“There’s a cage that can be made out of iron and in the shape of The Eye of Horus. It’s called an oubliette. Ghosts can’t get out of it and can’t get any more energy. After awhile, you just fade away.”
From the looks of horror on the deceased men’s faces, most didn’t know it. The major wasn’t one of them. A couple of the ghosts walked toward him, but he started to vanish. I was too far away, but Amos hurled the knife at him. The spectral dagger slammed into his chest and he fell to the ground. With a hateful expression on his wounded face, he disappeared from sight. The Skinwalker probably had his anchor with her.
“Dammit! He took the knife with him.”
“S’okay Amos, he won’t last long. That throw was perfect. With any luck, he’ll pass on before he can tell her anything.”
I reassessed how dangerous Cassandra Von Eckels was. These dupes in front of me were a bucket of mushrooms, kept in the dark and fed whatever bullshit she felt like. With the exception of a taskmaster or two, she kept them ignorant and that’s the way she liked them.
I gave my compadre a wide grin. “Today’s your lucky day, gentleman. Private Amos Sweet here has been around since taking a bullet at Gettysburg. He’s come all the way from the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to tell you all those things Madame Von Eckels didn’t want you to know. Amos, indoctrinate these boys and let’s see if we can get them to the other side without resorting to more violence.”
The leads in Killeen, Texas had all dried up. If there was any trail to pick up, it would be in Dallas, but I wanted to make certain that if Cassandra ever came back here that she’d have to start from scratch.
Episode 17: Dallas, Texas – Paranormal Population: One
I’m mostly a ‘suburbs’ kind of guy. Despite being close to DC, I generally avoid the big city. Maybe it was some kind of claustrophobia, but anything approaching a metropolis always gave me the “willies.” Who knows? Maybe before, it was my dormant powers sensing all the dead spirits in one area.
Dallas felt different, empty, like a real pretty picture frame with nothing in it, and that had to be a bad sign.
I really should listen to my instincts more often.
We dropped Silas off at a cousin’s house. He had family down this way and they were looking forward to seeing him. Despite his assurances, I felt like a fifth wheel after the first thirty minutes. His relatives had decided I was some type of wayward youth that Brother Silas was mentoring.
Oddly, it wasn’t that far from the truth, but let’s not discuss that. Besides, I had a job to do.
The Angela Chase Mental Health Center was a small, exclusive nut house tucked away near some expensive residential communities, and built for people who liked their privacy. The place obviously cost a fortune. The building had a rustic, estate appearance, with large brick walls hiding immaculately manicured landscaping, tennis courts, a swimming pool, and a guard shack barring the entrance. I wondered if it was Sonya’s money paying for it or Cassandra’s.
After copying my driver’s license and verifying I had an appointment, the burly private security officer at the gate informed me that I had to park along the brick wall and walk up the driveway. Only staff and emergency vehicles were allowed on the property. Naturally, he couldn’t see Amos, but I thought it best not to speak to or even look at my buddy. I didn’t want this visit to become an extended stay, if you know what I mean.
Either way, something told me that if Mike Ross ever got tossed into the loony bin, it wouldn’t be a place like this. It’d be some hellhole where they still do electroshock therapy on a regular basis. He says he can see
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