Seven Deadly Ghosts
She hesitated at the head of the basement stairs, holding tightly to the jar and its restless contents. Although there was no longer anything to fear, she rarely went down there. She supposed anyone would have an aversion to visiting a place where they nearly lost their life, but still she scolded herself for her own hesitation.
She reached out into the darkness, searching for the light switch, and almost convinced that something foul and slimy was going to grab her fumbling hand and hurl her down the splintery wooden stairs. She found the switch and flicked it on; the sense of trepidation lessened, but still lingered.
Something rough and weighty bumped her leg. A ragged, guttural grunting sound filled her ears. Caught off guard, Deegie nearly screamed until she realized the source. “Tiger!” She laughed and ran a hand down her unseen guardian’s fur. “Where have you been? You startled me!” It had been several days since Tiger Spirit had paid her a visit, but he always seemed to know when she was feeling even the slightest bit fearful or apprehensive. Tiger followed her down the stairs, huffing and grunting.
At the far end of the basement was a heavy wooden table that had probably been there since before Deegie was born. The jar containing the ghost she’d captured in her shop sat in the middle. The entity inside stirred sluggishly. Deegie set the second jar, now equally languid, next to it. She heard deep, intent sniffing sounds; Tiger was inspecting the jars.
“Everything okay, Tiger?” She stepped back, letting him investigate.
Tiger did not react as he usually did when he sensed danger: there were no warning growls, and he did not try to herd her back up the stairs. The jarred ghosts were apparently benign; he might as well have been sniffing a box of rocks. He materialized for just a few seconds, giving Deegie a glimpse of his magnificent orange and black stripes, licked her hand with a tongue that felt like wet sandpaper, then slipped back into the Spirit World.
Deegie felt a pang of loss, as she always did when Tiger left, but she knew he would return to her side whenever she needed him. She returned her attention to the two captive ghosts. They seemed resigned to their fate now. She could still see them, miniaturized and sullen, and they glared back at her with glittering, rodent-like eyes. Satisfied that her spectral prisoners were securely locked down for the night, Deegie returned to her living quarters.
SEVEN DEADLY GHOSTS
The Complicated Life of Deegie Tibbs
Book 3
C. L. Hernandez
DEDICATION
For Olivia Marie, my greatest blessing
***
A WINLOCK PRESS BOOK
ISBN: 978-1-61868-707-4
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-708-1
PUBLISHED AT SMASHWORDS
SEVEN DEADLY GHOSTS
The Complicated Life of Deegie Tibbs
Book 3
© 2015 by C.L. Hernandez
All Rights Reserved
Edited by Monique Happy Editorial Services
Cover art by Kelly A. Martin
This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
PROLOGUE
“I thought you said we could talk to spirits on this thing.” Tiffany Warner’s face wore a look of boredom mixed with disgust. “It obviously doesn’t work. I mean, we tried it about a thousand times last night!”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that? It doesn’t surprise me, though. I ripped it off from that fake witch who owns The Silent Cat.” Tamara Biggs tossed the stolen talking board aside. Her bottom lip poked out in a disappointed pout. “No wonder it doesn’t work. It’s fake, just like she is. I think I’ll sell it. I could probably get a lot of money for it. Maybe we should just get a real Ouija board.”
“Really? You stole that thing? Aren’t you afraid you’ll go to hell?” Tiffany’s brown eyes sparkled; her bored expression lifted.
“According to my mom, I’m headed there anyway.” Tamara glanced at the antique talking board sitting in disgrace on her rumpled bedsheets. “Next time I’ll steal something better. Besides, Mom would prob’ly die if she knew I went into a witchcraft shop. I’m surprised I didn’t burst into flames.”
“Oh my gawd, the lady who runs that shop is like, so frickin’ weird!” Tiffany said as she zipped up her makeup bag. She lowered her voice and raised her drawn-on eyebrows. “I see her in Rainbow Foods a lot. My mom hates waiting on her because she’s so creepy-looking. I think she’s dating the guy who fixed our heater a few weeks ago. He’s a hottie. Too bad he’s with her.”
“He’s a hottie, and she’s a fake,” Tamara said, rolling her eyes. “Like, where does she buy her clothes, a thrift shop? He should wise up and date me instead!” She sputtered laughter into the palm of her hand. “Oops! Was that a lustful statement? I sinned again!”
An insistent knock on the closed bedroom door interrupted the girls’ giggle session, and Tamara’s mother called out, “Tamara Lynn? Time for Tiffany to go home. I need your help with the church bake sale now!”
Tiffany scooped up her pajamas and crammed them into her backpack. “Speaking of sins …” she muttered. “Can you call me later?”
“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything. I’ll be ass-deep in cookie batter and Bible quotes all day and into the night. Too bad I won’t see a dime of the money we make. It’s supposed to be for the needy or some shit like that.” Tamara opened the door for her friend.
Monica Biggs stood aside to let Tiffany pass. A tight, plastic smile decorated her face. “Tell your mother I said hello, Tiffany.” She poked her head into Tamara’s room. The plastic smile widened. “Hurry up now, Tamara. Sloth is one of the seven deadly sins, you know.” Her jaw dropped when she caught sight of the candy wrappers and corn chip bags that decorated the floor. “And so is gluttony! Move, young lady! Now!”
Later that evening, after a long day of cookie batter and Bible quotes, just as she’d predicted, Tamara returned to her room and collapsed dramatically on the bed. Her hand thwacked against the wooden talking board, and she pulled it out from beneath the floral-print sheets. “Piece of junk,” she told it, tracing a fingertip over its gold-leaf letters. “Talk to spirits, my ass.” But she located the board’s pointer and set it in place anyway; it was good for passing the time, even if it didn’t contact the dead. She rested her fingers, ever so lightly, on the pointer and closed her eyes.
“Spirits of the dead, hear me out!” Tamara intoned in an ominous,
theatrical voice. Giggles bubbled up from her chest and she didn’t try to hold them back; she really cracked herself up sometimes. “Oh, great oogah-boogah boo! Talk to me and say some spiritual shit! I double-dog dare you!”
Nothing. The talking board, in all its antiquated beauty, lay unresponsive on her lap.
“That’s what I thought.” Tamara shoved the board off her bed and picked up her copy of Teens Rock magazine. “It’s probably a sin to use that thing too.”
A stealthy, sliding sound caused her to look up from the glossy pages. “What the hell is that?” She said it aloud, putting extra emphasis on the word hell just to be rebellious. She put her magazine aside and sat up in bed.
Rustle, crackle, slide …
Tamara looked down at the floor. The purloined talking board was sliding across the carpet of its own volition. The empty chip bag rattled as the crescent-shaped board glided over it.
“Very funny, Todd!” She put extra ice in her voice as she called out the name of her younger brother. Of course it was him. He was always doing asshole things like this to annoy her. “I don’t know how you’re doing that, but it isn’t funny!” I bet he’s hiding under the bed, she thought. He probably attached a string to it somehow, and he’s pulling it. Damn little turd!
The talking board inched closer to the bed, then stopped. A generous puff of cold air belied the spring sunshine outside; it caressed her cheeks and tossed her bleached curls. Where had that come from? The window wasn’t open, and it wasn’t hot enough to turn on the A/C.
“Todd? Is that you?” Tamara’s eyes stayed glued to the inexorably sliding talking board. The cold breeze became a cold wind. Candy wrappers skittered across the carpet. “Todd …? Knock it off. I … I mean it!” All the authority and bluster had gone out of her voice, and her bottom lip began to quiver.
The board stopped its eerie advance, and the mysterious indoor wind quieted. “Todd?” Tamara considered the distance between the bed and the door, and decided to stay where she was. Putting her feet on the floor didn’t seem to be a good idea. The classic childhood fear of having one’s ankles grabbed by something lurking under the bed—even if it was just her snotty little brother—came to mind. She tucked her legs well away from the edge of the mattress. “That’s enough, Todd! You can come out now! And you didn’t scare me, I just …”
The talking board made a sudden and rapid spin on the cluttered floor, then rose up on its edge like a bizarre wooden monolith. A column of dirty gray smoke rose from its face. It began to rotate, making a miniature whirlwind right next to her bed. Tamara watched, horrified beyond screams, as it separated into seven smoggy tentacles. It was as if an octopus—minus one leg and made of smoke—had manifested itself in her bedroom.
It’s the devil! Tamara thought wildly. Mom was right all along! He’s come for me! I’m sorry I stole, I’m sorry I didn’t go to church! I swear I won’t do it again! I believe in God! I believe in Jesus! I do, I really do!
The hazy tentacles wavered before her face; one of them trailed its tip down her cheek. It felt colder than a January blizzard. They twined around themselves, writhing and pulsating, then shot out in all directions. Something hissed next to her ear. A voice, sibilant and tinged with ice told her: “Shhh … we are here now. Sinner … sinner …”
Tamara dove beneath the covers and began to pray.
CHAPTER 1
Deegie was amazed at how quickly the snow had been retreating from her back yard. It was as if spring was in a hurry to make everything fresh and new once more, and that suited her just fine. After the horrific events of the past winter, she was more than ready for a change of scenery. She shifted her attention from the nail she’d been pounding into the porch railing to a small patch of whitish mist drifting across the yard next to the old bird bath. “Looks like Lisbet’s cats are enjoying this nice weather too,” she said to Zach Altman, who was now officially her boyfriend.
Zach put down his hammer and followed the direction of Deegie’s pointing finger. One of the many ghost cats that roamed the old house at 14 Fox Lane was busily exploring the sun-warmed mud. “Amazing,” he said. “I never thought I’d get used to seeing ghosts almost every day.”
“I never thought I’d get used to seeing you every day!” Deegie winked to show she was joking, and finished nailing a length of chicken wire in place. “Now come on, let’s finish up here. I’ve already had two calls this morning, and we’re not even open for business yet!”
Deegie’s cat sanctuary, a lifelong dream of hers, was nearly complete. Once the back porch was screened off, it would make a perfect spot for her feline wards to take in a little sun without the danger of them wandering off. Two of the downstairs bedrooms had been outfitted with anything and everything a cat might need for a comfortable stay. She had decided to call it Lisbet’s Place, after the gentle ghost she shared her home with.
Zach’s brother, Gilbert, poked his head out the back door and squinted against the bright sunshine. “I got the doughnuts,” he announced, holding up a fragrant, grease-spotted bag. “I drove past The Silent Cat on the way home, and I saw a girl pounding on the door even though the sign clearly says SORRY, WE’RE CLOSED. Jeez, do people not know how to read?”
Deegie rolled her eyes and took the bag from Gilbert. “It happens. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow morning.” She selected a powdered doughnut from the bag and passed it to Zach. “So are you going to help us finish the porch, Gil?”
Gilbert reddened and tugged at his shirt collar. “Uh, no. Nix and I are, uh, going on a little day trip to the coast.” He pulled his ring of keys out of his pocket and jingled them for emphasis. “In fact, I’m late picking her up.”
Zach smirked and licked powdered sugar off his fingers. “All the more doughnuts for us.” He kissed Deegie’s cheek, leaving a white smudge. “More privacy, too,” he added with a wink.
“Ugh,” said Gilbert, “too much information.” He glanced at his watch and winced. “She’s gonna kill me. Gotta go.”
Deegie had no doubts that Nix would be annoyed at Gilbert’s lateness; the tiny blonde witch was a genuine spitfire, yet she and Gilbert had somehow managed to hit it off. However, Deegie still caught him gazing at her with lovesick puppy eyes despite the fact that she was deliriously happy with Zach. She dismissed the matter from her mind for now; there were homeless cats to rescue.
When Deegie opened The Silent Cat the following morning, she was both amazed and dismayed to see the number of messages on the shop’s voice mail. Upon replaying them, she discovered they were all hang-ups. “Well that’s annoying,” she told Bast as she let him out of his carrier. “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to be dealing with another weirdo today? There’s only room for one weirdo in this shop—me!”
Bast leaped up onto the counter and regarded her with his golden eyes before he resumed his duties as shop mascot. He was almost full-grown now, and his long, sleek body took up a great deal more counter space than it had when he was a kitten. He yawned hugely, showing his bristled pink tongue, and then settled down for his second nap of the morning.
“I can see how concerned you are.” Deegie patted his head and set about opening the shop for the day.
A nagging feeling of impending doom took root in her head and began to grow. Something about all those hang-up calls was sending out caution flags. It was most likely someone’s idea of a prank, but still, there seemed to be an ominous chill in those non-verbal messages. She took a black candle from the candle shelf—she had just made a fresh batch last week—and placed it next to the register and lit the wick. The black color and strong patchouli scent would banish any negative spirit that might be trying to work its way in, should that be the case. After the horrifying events of the past winter, it was better to be safe than sorry.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to work on negative humans.
A bright red compact car barreled into the parking lot, nearly going into a racing-style drift before coming to a stop. A frazzled-looking
blonde wearing a pink terrycloth robe over pajama pants and slippers practically fell out of the driver’s seat, and she stumbled to the door. A look of abject horror distorted her face. Her hair frizzed out around her face in a frazzled corona. She yanked open the door to the shop, almost fell over her own feet, and then braced herself against the counter, gasping, panting, and knocking over the patchouli candle. Its flame sputtered and died. “I need your help!” Her voice wavered on the edge of hysteria. “Please, you just gotta help me!”
Despite the overwrought bundle of teenage dismay wailing in front of her, Deegie just had to laugh. “Well, well, well,” she said. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Tamara Biggs, thief extraordinaire! And no, I don’t ‘just gotta’ do anything.”
“No, please, you don’t understand!” Tamara’s eyes flooded; tears spilled over her cheeks and ran down her chin. “That thing brought evil into my house! You have to help me! You just have to! I don’t know what else to do!”
“You stole something from me,” Deegie replied calmly. “Maybe it’s karma coming back to bite you in the ass, ever think of that?” She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing in an icy-blue glare. “You think I’m a fake, anyway. You told me so yourself.”
“I’m sorry, okay? Okay? I need your help! Please?” Tamara’s shriek woke Bast, and he raised his head to see what the humans were up to.
Deegie said nothing. Her expression remained grim and uncaring, yet in her chest, her tender heart stirred. Obviously something had terrorized the girl; Deegie felt the fear radiating from her in clammy waves. She’d felt fear like that before, recently in fact, and she knew how debilitating it could be.