Read Ghouls Gone Wild Page 22

  “There are people hanging from that tree!” Heath and I both looked out the arched window, but the landscape was pitch-dark and we couldn’t see anything with clarity.

  “Keep going,” Gopher said. I took a quick glance over my shoulder as Gopher pressed himself close to both Heath and me, his shivering intensifying. “And get out your grenades,” he added. “Now.”

  Just as he said that, I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end and I had goose bumps all along my arms. There was also an intense chill in the air, and as I exhaled, I could see my breath. “Uh-oh,” I whispered, just as one of our meters started to make loud little bleeps.

  “Is that yours?” Heath asked, handing me the camera before pulling his own meter out to check it. “Yeah, it must be. Mine was off.” Awkwardly he turned his on as well and the needle immediately rocketed to the red zone and bleeped just as loudly as mine.

  “Move it forward!” Gopher pleaded impatiently. “Advance the tape, M. J.!”

  “Oh, sorry,” I said, fumbling with the pause button. I advanced two more frames and saw something dark appear on the view screen. I squinted, advancing again, and the shape became larger.

  “What is that?” Heath whispered over my shoulder.

  It took two more presses of the button to make it register, but when it did, I nearly dropped the camera. Three shadows riding separate brooms were snaking their way around the castle just beyond the window. “Shit!” I gasped. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  “Grenades!” Heath commanded. “Uncap ’em and keep ’em close!”

  I gave Gopher back the camera and pulled the canisters out of the loops in my belt. I had two spikes out and exposed in less than ten seconds. Heath was having trouble managing his grenades with his cast, so I shoved mine at him and pulled his canisters free. I then handed those two to Gopher, who was just staring blankly into space. “Gopher!” I yelled, to get his attention.

  He blinked and looked at me. “I think we should go.”

  Another flash and tremendous crash of thunder reverberated through the stone walls. And something else. Something with terrible, malevolent energy. “We’re in trouble!” Heath said in my ear.

  “We’ve got the grenades,” I told him. “As long as we keep the magnets exposed, they can’t get to us.”

  Heath set his jaw firmly and his posture defensively. At the bottom of the stairs we could see a mist form in the beam of our flashlights. If that weren’t bad enough, something began to sound above the rain and the thunder—something like the angry voices of a mob.

  From above and below we heard a cascade of noise that was like a group of people all shouting at once. Shadows came out of doorways to hover in the hallway below, swirling the mist and sending us wave upon wave of intense energy. My sixth sense felt overloaded and my vision became blurry. I felt queasy and sick to my stomach and I found myself trying to swallow, but my mouth had long since gone dry.

  Above us, angry footsteps pounded up and down the corridors and then doors began slamming, one after another after another. “What the freak is happening?!” Gopher shouted above the cacophony.

  “We need to get out of here!” Heath yelled, but I could barely focus on what he was saying. “M. J.!”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder, but I couldn’t respond. There was just too much input tunneling into my brain and it was all I could do to remain standing. I heard a Ting, ting, ting!and dully watched one of the metal spikes bounce down the stairs. I had the vague impression that I’d let go of it, but I hardly cared. I just wanted the assault on my sixth sense to stop, because my brain felt muddled and I couldn’t even speak.

  “Let’s get her up the stairs!” I heard Heath shout before two hands hooked under my arms and lifted me slightly off the ground.

  More noise and energy and chaos seemed to tumble all around us, cascading up and down the walls, the stairs, the ceiling, and the floors. Nowhere felt safe, and in the back of my mind I felt as if the entire castle had become one giant spectral creature, ready to swallow us whole. “Damn it!” I heard Gopher shout. “Heath! We’ve got broomsticks!”

  One of the hands holding me let go abruptly and I sagged against Gopher. Closing my eyes and using every last ounce of concentration I possessed, I managed to say, “Throw the grenades!”

  A moment later I heard that familiar Ting, ting, ting! followed by another set and another. I figured at least three of the metal spikes had been tossed down the steps.

  “They’re not stopping!” Heath gasped. I opened my eyes.

  Below, in the main hall, three of the shadows and their brooms moved in and out over the cluster of spikes that had been tossed at them. And to my horror, the grenades appeared to have only a mild effect on the witches. In fact, Heath had to grab my shirt and pull me into a crouch when one of the spikes came zipping back up the stairway at us, and I realized we’d just given the spooks several lethal weapons.

  “Run for it!” Gopher shouted when yet another spike slammed off the stair right below us.

  I was roughly hauled to my feet again and pulled up the steps. My heart was hammering in my chest, which oddly helped to clear my head, and I was able to run without too much extra help from Heath and Gopher. We made it to the first-floor landing and Heath—still clutching my arm—tugged both Gopher and me right toward a hall that I remembered led to the central tower. “We’ve got to get to that circular staircase!” Heath yelled. “The brooms will have a harder time navigating it!”

  I followed along behind, but winced and nearly went down when something struck the back of my thigh. “Uh!” I cried out as searing heat bolted up the back of my leg, and I could barely take a step forward.

  “She’s hit!” I heard Gopher yell. “Heath, she’s hit!”

  “Get her to the stairwell!”

  My vision started to close in and my breathing felt ragged. “Can’t . . . make . . . it,” I gasped, but the boys just tightened their grip and Gopher pulled my arm over his shoulder.

  “Hang in there, M. J.!” he encouraged. “We’re almost there!”

  I tried to focus, I really did, but the bobbing of the flashlight beams as we ran was like some sort of hypnosis, and the darkness seeped into the corners of my sight while small dancing stars appeared everywhere I looked. I was so out of it I had no idea when or how we got through the narrow doorway of the spiral staircase, but the next thing I was actually aware of was hanging between Heath and Gopher while we all stared at a wooden door. “This is the one that we couldn’t get through earlier today!” Heath said, his own breathing sounding labored.

  “Maybe they won’t come up here,” Gopher whispered. But I knew better.

  “Get us in,” I managed just as my head bobbed forward. I felt seasick and so out of sorts, and I had no idea why I couldn’t focus.

  “Here,” Heath said. “Give her to me. You try and open the door.”

  I could feel the hardness of Heath’s cast around my waist and he pulled my arm over his shoulder. “Stay with us, M. J.!” he commanded. “We’ll be on the other side of that door in no time.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned heavily against him. He smelled so good! Like sage and musk and sharper spices I couldn’t quite identify. And his heart beat rapidly in rhythm to mine, while heat from his body warmed me.

  I wanted to sink right into him, to give in to the cloudy sensation that had taken over my mind since I’d been standing on the main staircase. But several loud thwacks below where we stood caused me to raise my head. Another flash of lightning lit up the tight enclosure and sure enough, one shadow-riding broomstick was making its way with slow determination up the spiral stairs. “Gopher! Get that door open now!” Heath shouted.

  I could hear Gopher grunting and wood creaking, and finally, with one tremendous groan our producer managed to push open the door. “Get her inside!” he ordered.

  Heath tightened his grip on me and half pulled, half dragged me through the doorway, where he very gently set me on the floor, butted up against a wall near a narrow window—one of the ancient arrow loops. Wind howled into the small, freezing room and rain pe
lted my face. It helped more than anything else to keep me conscious.

  I looked over to where Heath and Gopher were struggling to close the door again. Outside, the raging storm kicked it up another notch; several lightning strikes flashed in a row—or maybe it was just one very long one strung out over a few seconds. I turned back to the arrow loop and craned my neck to look out the crevice.

  From up here I could see the tree where the three figures had been. Its boughs were clear of bodies now, and I knew that I was supposed to connect a dot or two about that tree and those images, but the muddled feeling worsened and I felt close to losing consciousness. I closed my eyes, struggling with all my might not to give in to the darkness. My fingers fumbled with the belt about my waist. Something was poking into me and it was difficult to breathe. I tugged on the object and it came free. I held it in my lap for a minute, focusing on taking deep breaths. I knew what it was, a grenade. If I could just get the top off . . .

  For long painful seconds I pulled gently on the cap and finally it came loose. I tipped out the spike and gripped it in my palm, but it had no effect. Chaos still bombarded my intuitive mind.

  Gripping the spike and concentrating on the cool rain that pelted my face, I opened my eyes again. Heath and Gopher were throwing all their weight against the door, which looked like it was pushing right back at them.

  The door was open only a few inches, but I soon saw what they were struggling against when the handle of the broom edged its way through the opening and threatened to burst into the room.

  Dully I looked around for something I could use to help them, and my eyes settled on a table near the center of the room. On the table was a large box that, as I squinted, looked like a speaker of some kind. There were wires running down from the speaker to another smaller box underneath the table.

  M. J., I heard clear as day in my head. Turn it off.

  “Huh?” I asked, my head bobbing loosely on my neck. “Wha?”

  Turn off the box. It’s the only way to stop them. Do it now! Right now!

  I recognized that voice. It was Sam Whitefeather. I took another series of breaths and flopped forward to the ground. Using my forearms, I crawled to the table, the pain in my leg making it incredibly difficult, but I made it. I felt around the small contraption that looked like a radio under the table. I could clearly see it was battery-powered and there was also something like a clock set into it. And an On/Off switch.

  “They’re going to get through!” Heath shouted, straining to push back the door. “Gopher! Shove that broom out of the way!”

  “Dude!” Gopher practically screamed. “It’s too strong! If I let go, they’ll all get in!”

  My head spun and I had to close my eyes again. M. J.!Sam demanded. Flip the switch! Do it now! Using the very last of my reserves, I lifted the hand still gripping the spike and felt for the switch. It took me a moment, but I finally got it just as the door was shoved violently open and three black shadows and their broomsticks thrust their way into the small tower room.

  Click, I heard as I pulled down on the knob. The box turned off. Instantly my head cleared and I became fully alert.

  The next instant there was a loud WHOOSH of air that knocked me backward, followed by the sound of three broomsticks striking the stone floor. Then, save for the wind and the rain, everything else was still.

  Chapter 14

  “What the hell just happened?” Gopher said, his breathing ragged.

  No one answered him. Instead, Heath ran to my side. Crouching down next to me, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, finally letting go of the spike in my hand and clenching my teeth against the terrible throbbing pain in my leg. “What’s in my thigh?” I asked.

  Heath’s expression turned grim. “A spike.”

  “Christ!” I hissed. “Is it deep?”

  He looked behind me. “An inch or two.”

  Swallowing hard, I reached back and felt the spike sticking right up out of my leg, and tried not to lose my cookies. Gripping it firmly with one hand, I grabbed on to the table leg for support.

  Heath shook his head vigorously, knowing what I was about to do. “M. J., I don’t think you want to do—”

  “SON OF A BITCH!”

  “—that.”

  My chest was heaving as I held up the bloody spike. Which was another mistake, because the sight of all that blood was not something I was prepared for. “Uh-oh,” I said a moment before I lost consciousness.

  I don’t know how long I was out, but it was long enough for Heath to tend to my wounds with some cotton balls and antiseptic from the very small emergency kit we carried on our belts. He’d also made a bandage out of the tail end of his shirt, and tied that around my leg. “How you doin’?” he asked when I opened my eyes.

  Gopher had set up one of the flashlights so that it illuminated much of the room. The tower was still chilly, but at least it didn’t feel as cold as it had been earlier. “All things considered?” I told Heath in response to his question. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Take a sip,” he said, offering me a bottled water.

  I took it gratefully. “Thanks.”

  “And eat this,” he added, shoving a granola bar at me.

  “I’m not really hungry.”

  “Don’t much care,” he said, looking at me like he wasn’t about to argue and I’d better eat the damn granola.

  I took a bite, chewing thoroughly, and sipped a little more water. Heath then handed me one of his Vicodins. “For the pain.”

  I swallowed the pill quickly; my thigh was burning something fierce. “And you’d better finish the granola. That stuff is awful on the stomach.”

  I continued to eat the granola bar and look around thoughtfully. Even though I’d just fainted and was probably still bleeding, I felt far more conscious and alert than I had since first spying those spooks and their broomsticks. I noticed now that Gopher was summarily making the brooms into kindling, holding them at an angle while he jumped on them and broke them into several pieces.

  “Something shifted,” I said to Heath after wadding up the wrapper from my snack.

  He pointed to the table. “Do you know what that was?” he asked me.

  “No.”

  “Me either, but I saw you playing with it right before the broomsticks entered. What’d you do?”

  “I turned it off.”

  “And the witches lost all power,” he said. Pointing to the spikes on the floor he added, “And those seemed to work again.”

  I scooted painfully around to sit on my rump and lean in toward the contraption under the table. “I bet Gil will know what that thing is.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “Okay,” I said, working my way up to my feet. “Let’s bring it to him.”

  Heath helped me stand up. “I think first we need to get you to the hospital. That wound’s going to need stitches.”

  I sighed. “Well, that’s a little inconvenient, don’t you think?”

  Heath smiled, holding his hands up innocently. “Hey, I don’t make the rules, darlin’.”

  Heath and Gopher dismantled the contraption into three parts, but ultimately they decided taking the whole thing back to the hotel would be too much hassle with Heath’s broken arm and my injured leg, so they settled for taking only the central box and leaving the speaker. “We can retrieve it later if we need to,” Heath said.

  I smiled ruefully at him. “Oh, I don’t think we’re coming back here anytime soon.”

  He laughed. “Good point. Come on, gimpy, let’s get you stitched up.”

  I was at the hospital until three a.m. Unlike when Heath was brought in, because of the storm there had been two auto accidents and I had to wait in line behind more-critical-care patients. I didn’t much mind as the Vicodin had by that time fully kicked in. In fact, I didn’t much care about anything by the time the ER doc checked on me. “How did this happen?” he asked while I lay on a gurney with my bare butt on display under the bright lights.

  “I slipped on some stairs, and a metal spike caught me just right.”

&nbs
p; The doctor grunted, but didn’t ask any more probing questions. “Well, you’re lucky it didn’t strike your femoral artery,” he said, squirting saline into my wound.

  I laid my tired head down on my arms and closed my eyes, not really in the mood for conversation.

  Once I was released, Heath and I took a taxi back to the hotel. Gopher had dropped the two of us off at the emergency room while he went in search of Gilley, and we’d told him we’d cab it back.

  When we walked through the doors of the hotel, Heath caught my arm and showed me a text he’d just received from Gil. Gopher fell asleep in M. J.’s bed. I’m beat too. Can she bunk with you tonight and we’ll meet up in the a.m.? I’ve got a lot to tell you about your gadget.

  Before I could even fully register the text, Heath was tapping the screen and replying to Gil. “What’d you tell him?”

  My companion wore a slightly wicked smile. “I told him it was no problem. I’ve got a king bed upstairs. Totally big enough for the both of us.”

  Gulp.

  Heath lent me a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt to wear to bed. I tried to resist the urge to sniff the shirt outright—which smelled just as good as Heath. I also had to hand it to him—he was nothing but a gentleman, offering me either side of the bed I preferred, and keeping to his half once I’d crawled under the covers.

  The back of my thigh throbbed as the local anesthesia wore off, but the Vicodin didn’t allow me to dwell on it, and before long I was blissfully asleep.

  Many hours later I woke up wrapped in strong, masculine arms. And bolted out of bed like a rocket. “Hey!” I yelped both from pain when I put weight on my right leg and from the shock of finding myself cuddled in Heath’s arm.

  “What’s going on?” Heath mumbled, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

  “You were groping me.”