Paranormal Agency BOOK 2 : THE FUNERAL HOME.
chapter 4

“Time to wake up,” Alison said, staring into the dead man’s hazel eyes. He was dressed in jean overalls over a plaid shirt with steel-toed boots and a straw hat over his head.

She had been hired for a haunting at a farm, a residence that took her almost five hours to reach. Her client had explained that he suspected the poltergeist lived in the barn, even though he had seen the spirit wandering around his house several times before as well.

The dead man stared back at her for several moments before acknowledgement struck. His face contorted with realization. She watched as he gaped in shock and took several steps back. “Now wake up,” Alison demanded, her voice growing louder to attract his attention. She snapped her fingers in front of her. “Right here. You’re right here with me. It’s time to go. You’ve been here way too long.”

When “You’re dead” failed to click in the poltergeists brain enough for them to understand her, Alison found herself using phrases such as “Wake up” or “Go home” instead. She clapped her hands loudly. “Hello? Can you hear me? It’s time to wake up.”

At the word “up”, the poltergeist finally went stiff all over and his eyes widened.

“You’re dead,” Alison continued. “Come on. Let’s get going. You’re halfway there.” She clapped her hands louder. “Are you listening? We gotta go. You can do it. It’s not that hard anymore. It’s easy for you now. It’s easy to wake up.”

The dead man blinked at her and began looking around him. “What the hell’s going on?” he muttered to himself. He looked dizzy. Alison watched as the man slapped a hand against his forehead. “How’d I get here?” A yellow glowing orb began forming above his head. Looking up, he silently acknowledged something that Alison couldn’t see before disappearing right in front of her.

All done.

She grabbed her purse from the floor and hefted the heavy thing over her shoulder. She left the barn full of frightened horses in their stalls along with seemingly limitless supplies of hay. The farmer that had hired her was waiting outside. Dirt streaked his damp face and he hastily wiped at the sweat beading his forehead with his hand. He was dressed in torn jeans, an oversized t-shirt and wore a baseball cap over his rust colored hair.

“You able to get that spook?” he asked nervously.

“I sure did,” she replied. “By the way, its $275. I have to charge the extra $75 for the gas to get here. I mentioned it when we were on the phone.” It was a five hour drive there and another five hours to get back home. She didn’t normally pick up jobs so far away but she had felt sympathetic towards the needs of the farmer and had decided to take the job anyway.

“Scared the bajeezes outta my poor horses,” he mumbled handing her a check. “I’m real grateful. Thanks for coming out. Sorry for the long drive. I know you said you lived far away from here.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m glad I could help.” She handed him her card. “Feel free to give me a call if you’re still having problems. I doubt you will but I’m here if you need me.”

He nodded. “Thank you ma’am.”

When she was done with talking to the farmer, she headed back to her car and left the farm. She had a date that night with her friend Marissa and they were going out to the Glass Martini if she could ever get back in time.

Groaning, she drove down the highway as quickly as possible, feeling miserable during the long drive the entire time.

Her mind began to wander to events she would rather forget. It had been three weeks since she had run into the gelatinous creature called the soulless. It had attacked her and she had been forced to kill it. Since then, she hadn’t heard anything about it. Nothing on the news or anything. The monster had killed her friend Emily and made it look like a suicide.

Many questions had arisen in the last couple of months. She had never found herself in such a frightening situation before in her life. Ghosts, spirits, the dead, whatever you wanted to call them, she was used to that. She was used to helping lost souls to cross over to the other side. Even a dead guy with a giant knife protruding from his chest, dressed in ancient clothes soaked in blood was nothing new to her. She could see guys like that and not even so much as blink differently.

But the Soulless… that was a completely different story. The creatures were frightening. They were dangerous, they were strong, and most of all, they were evil, as if they had crawled straight from hell itself.

A chill raced up her spine. The soulless. What were they really? And why did they kill Emily?

The Soulless she had managed to kill with the athame Emily had bought for her before she was murdered had said “The Blessed must die.”

The Blessed were also a reoccurring clue in the puzzle. She had heard about them more than once since all the craziness had started. First, because of Greg. Greg had mentioned that he had heard someone or something say to him a long time ago that exact same phrase, “the Blessed must die.”

Again, it had come up when Death in its human form had visited her. Death had called her a messenger that connected the human world to the spiritual world. He had told her that when the blessed die, the world would end. He had said that the unnatural was becoming natural.

Then finally, the Soulless Alison had killed had said the same thing again to her. The blessed must die. What did it mean? Who were the blessed anyway? Why did it kill Emily Burt? Was it because she was one of the Blessed? Is that why they murdered her? Her chest ached thinking about it. Emily had been a dear friend of hers that she had been trying to help. However, they hadn’t been able to save her.

She recalled the Soulless’ last words before it had died. “No redemption…” It looked sad even. No redemption.

Sighing, she leaned her head against her arm that rested against the closed car door, her other hand on the steering wheel. She still wondered what the creature had meant by that.

By the time she got home, her legs were stiff, asleep, and hurting from the experience. Marissa’s car was already in her driveway with Marissa in the driver’s seat. Marissa’s engine was still running and there was a cell phone in her hand. Her short dark raven-colored dyed hair was pinned behind her ears, showing off a long pale face.

Marissa turned and spotted Alison. “Oh. Alison,” Marissa called out from the open window of her car. Her car was parked along the side of the road in front of Alison’s Colonial-style house. “There you are,” Marissa continued, climbing out. “I tried your phone. Where were you?” She was wearing a dark blue dress, black tights, and black boots that came up to her ankles.

“Just got off a job,” Alison replied. She had left her own car and was now stretching out her sore legs, kneading her thigh muscles with stiff fingers.

“How long before you’re ready to go.”

“An hour, maybe. I have to take a shower first. Today’s big job was in a barn.

“Oh, gross.”

“On top of that, it was a five-hour drive there and back.”

“Why’d you take one from so far away?”

“He seemed nice enough, and I didn’t have any jobs today so I thought I’d pick it up and get some spare cash.” Alison headed to the front door of her house and unlocked it. She went inside, followed by Marissa. Normally, Greg would be around somewhere to stalk her but she hadn’t seen him around since their movie debate the night before. Did he love Furious8 so much? Genie from Hell was so much more entertaining. “So what’ve you been up to?” Alison asked.

“Just the usual. Got into a fight with my aunt over some missing spell candles. Guess she lost a box of blue and green ones and so she went and blamed me for it.” She shrugged. “Typical.”

Marissa worked with her aunt Jennifer Blaire at her aunt’s New Age store on Belvoir Road, called Enlightenment Palace. She worked in the back of the store reading tarot cards with perfect accuracy and had admitted to Alison that she could also see the future. They had met through a mutual friend, Joshua Hunt’s sister, Emily Burt, Alison’s client and friend who had been killed by the Soulless.

“Sucks,” Alison agreed.

“And, by the way, sorry I didn’t make it to the show. I had a wedding I had to go to. I recorded the episode though. I was so excited for you!”

“Thanks. Although I’m still mad at you for calling them up about my company. You know how anti-social I am,” Alison stated.

“Which is exactly why I called them. I thought it’d be good for you.

Alison turned to the television in the living room. “Here. Knock yourself out.” She picked up the remote from the couch and tossed it to Marissa. “I’m gonna shower real quick. Genie from Hell’s in the DVD player if you wanna watch it.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

Alison left her friend in the living room and headed up the stairs. Her hand went automatically to her pocket and she pulled out a half empty pack of cigarettes. Taking one out, she put it to her lips and lit it. She was stressed out. No denying that. The Soulless, the Blessed, Death, whatever they were, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She inhaled, reaching the top of the stairs and narrowing her eyes at the sight of Greg in the hallway.

“What are you doing here?” she asked suspiciously. “Who gave you permission to be in my house?” It was supposed to be their agreement that he never came in without asking first. Since he was dead, he could walk through walls and doors and obviously, she and made him promise years ago not to take advantage of that.

“Thought you quit smoking.”

“I unquit. What are you doing here? Thought you were disappearing for four days. You got my hopes up.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Just wanted to apologize for last night.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” She walked past him in the bedroom and went to her closet, opening the closet door. “By the way, FYI, stay outta my house unless I invite you in. I’m sick of telling you that.”

“Oh that.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re selfish. Guess you never learned to share when you were a kid. Shame on your parents.”

“I’m not sharing my house with you.”

“Why the hell not? I’m sick of living at the cemetery.”

“There are plenty of other places to hang out other than the cemetery,” she said.

“Well what can I say? They’re my people. Who else am I gonna hang out with? You? You never want me around anyway.” His people… the dead that also had yet to crossover.

She snorted, pulling the cigarette from her mouth. “Don’t be ridiculous. I love having you around. Don’t be so self-conscious. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

“So are you.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.

“Not that again”

“I’m just saying,” she said, picking out a plain black t-shirt from her closet. “If you’re so bored, just cross over. What’s keeping you here anyway?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I have unfinished business I have to take care of and I’m not leaving until I do it.”

“Blah blah blah.” She held the plain t-shirt up to her chest. “Should I wear this?”

“You dress like a guy.”

“Thanks.” She looked down at it. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“Or a homeless person,” he continued.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She dropped it on the bed. “Now where are my jeans?”

“I thought you were wearing them.”

“I own more than one pair of pants Greg.” She looked around the closet. “Oh wait a second, I think I threw those out. I guess I am wearing them.”

“And you smell like horses.”

“Yeah I know, I just got back from a job on a farm.” She sighed. “Guess I’ll have to wear a skirt then. I gotta wash these. I’m not going out tonight smelling like a barn.”

“Aw, why not? Its kinda cute in a simple country girl kinda way.”

“Shut up.” She put out her cigarette in an ashtray on top of her dresser. “Anyway, I’m headed to the bathroom and you’re not coming. So what are you plans for tonight?”

“Is stalking you an option?”

“No.”

“Then getting some work done,” he said. “Unfinished business and stuff, remember?”

“Which would be what again?”

He smiled. “Sorry. That’s a secret.”

She made a face. “Still? When are you gonna fess up? I’m sick of you hiding everything from me.”

“I like to keep my personal life to myself.”

“That’s not fair,” she complained. “You know everything about me but you never talk about yourself. I’m tellin’ you Greg, you’re nothing but a giant pain in the ass.”

“I appreciate that bitch.”

“Whatever.” She picked up the black t-shirt, a long white skirt, a bra and underwear from the bed and carried them with her out of the bathroom. She really hated how he kept so many secrets from her. As much as she hated to admit it, it bothered her. What did he have against being honest with her anyway?