GENRE: Bisexual Thriller
LENGTH: 77,157 words
RATING:

Sequel to The Shed

Alex wonders if he’s seeing ghosts. His friend Justin has bought the Fulton place, a beautiful old mansion on the edge of Oakton. But something’s wrong in the house. Alex has visions of a small boy trapped in the basement and a man at the top of the stairs who won’t let him leave.

Logan Fulton has come to town, a psychic medium who wants something from his cousin Helen, whatever the cost. He and Helen spent time in the Fulton house as children and Alex suspects Logan has something to do with the spirits now awakening in the old mansion. But whether Logan is calling them forth or if something else is controlling them, Alex can’t be sure.

The child’s spirit calls to Alex, as do others trapped in the house. There is a dark entity holding them there, keeping the child forever in the basement, the others for his amusement. But Alex has never believed in ghosts, so what is really going on?

As he strives to learn the boy’s secret, his friends are pulled to the Fulton place and put in danger, while Logan works against Alex with an agenda of his own. Will Alex be able to solve the haunting of the old house? Or will he and his friends be taken one by one, doomed to walk the dark hallways forever?

EXCERPT:

They sat cross-legged on the oak floor in a small circle, close enough to touch.

Logan continued, “The first thing we need to do is to set psychic shields between us and whatever entities might wish to contact us.”

Alex gave Logan an inquiring look, ashamed the first image which sprang to mind was of some superhero’s glittering armor. Logan raised a mocking brow. “You don’t know about shields, Alex? I’m surprised, a notable psychic like yourself.”

“I don’t know about them either,” Christopher quickly put in. “How do I do that?”

Logan’s dark eyes flicked to him. He shifted on the floor, turning a shoulder, effectively shutting Alex out. “A psychic shield is a barrier we put up to keep us safe from negative energies. Many people call upon their spirit guides to stand around them ...” His expression warmed at Christopher’s bewildered look. “We can talk about spirit guides another time. You probably won’t need them today since we’re not doing an in-depth investigation.”

He relaxed his posture, including Alex again. “Think of a strong image, maybe angels. Hold them in your heart, then let their energy spread out and surround you. Once you do that, we can ask the entities here to join us.”

Logan fell silent, lowering his gaze to his clasped hands. Christopher followed suit and Alex watched them curiously. Spirit guides? He’d heard of animal totems, but spirits? He widened his eyes at a startling thought. Could animals also be spirit guides? He always saw crows ...

Christopher let out a soft breath, and Alex glanced aside when Christopher’s aura flared brightly, then settled back to its usual warm glow. He looked quickly at Logan and caught his breath. A figure stood behind the psychic, an elderly man, hand placed on Logan’s shoulder. It must have been Logan’s spirit guide Alex had seen in the basement earlier.

He jumped slightly when Logan spoke. “Listen to the house for a moment, take in any sounds or sights or even smells that come to you.” He gave an odd laugh. “Only keep an eye out for goblins.”

“What?” Christopher and Alex asked in unison. Logan snickered. “It’s something from when I was a child. Me and Helen used to sit on the back stairs reading the Little Orphan Annie poems by James Whitcomb Riley, always full of goblins snatching the wicked children away. Wonderfully creepy stories. Being here again, like this, reminds me of them. But don’t worry. There are no goblins. Let’s sit quietly and allow the spirits to come to us.”

Intrigued, Alex looked around the entrance hall, let the silence settle over him. The storm had broken for the moment, and sunlight filtered through the windows on either side of the door, poured through the picture windows in the rooms to their left and right. Dust motes danced on the still air, sparkling in a ray of light coming through the etched glass at the door, the light splashing on the wall beside Alex in a rainbow.

A step creaked and Alex froze. Was the house settling? Why had he sat with his back to the staircase? Dammit! He hadn’t put up a shield. Another creak, and the fine hair rose on the back of his neck. He shuddered, dread seeping into him as he became aware of a presence behind him, and choked back a cry when a cold breath brushed his skin. What is there? Alex wanted to look, but fear kept him immobile.

“Christopher?” he tried, but the word was snatched from the air before it became sound. Pressure built in Alex’s ears. Oh, God. The thing pressed against his back, a blanket of ice, chilling his blood. The air froze, a sharp knife stabbing his chest with each inhalation.

“Christopher!”

Why couldn’t Christopher hear him? Couldn’t he feel the terrible presence in the room? Alex stared at him, but Christopher continued to gaze at his hands relaxed on his lap. Fingers cold as death ghosted over Alex’s cheek.

“Mine.” The whisper was a spike of ice in his head, and Alex watched in horror as a dark tendril of something curled around him and stretched toward Christopher, taking shape as an arm and reaching hand. Christopher’s aura flared, but couldn’t keep out the darkness that spread like a bruise, blocking his light.

“No!” Alex scrambled up, slipping on the smooth floor but managing to keep his feet. Adrenaline pumped through him, and he clenched his hands, stepping closer to Christopher. “Get away from him!”

He winced as a shriek of fury clanged in his head, then gasped as his ears popped, the pressure gone along with the eerie presence.

Christopher gazed up at him, eyes wide, fear darkening the blue depths. “Fuck, Alex! What did you see?”