Poltergeeks (13 page)

We met Marcus on the train platform at Southland Mall and I noticed that Marcus' T-shirt had a large purple stain running down the middle of his back. It was clear that Mike Olsen must have decided to exact some revenge after my little encounter with him. Naturally I felt bad about it and I had to stop myself from vowing to throw a hex at Mike's knee whenever the Crescent Ridge Eagles played another football game. Marcus seemed to have taken it all in his stride. Maybe after so many years of being pushed around, he'd become desensitized to it.

  And naturally I felt like a shit to the power of a million for dumping on him via text.

  "So this Hudibras guy is part of something called the Left Hand Path, huh?" asked Marcus as we entered the train. I sat down on a graffiti covered seat and Marcus slid in next to me. "This is getting more dangerous by the moment. Who are these guys anyway?"

  Betty took her seat across the aisle from us; her leopard skin outfit was wrinkly from having been worn for two days straight and I noticed her pallor had taken on an almost greyish tone.

  "Bad dudes with a hate-on for witches," I said flatly as the train left the station. "Let's maybe keep it down. You never know who might be listening."

  Marcus nodded. "Oh, sorry. Look, Julie, your mom is in the hospital – let's just go home, okay?"

  I clenched my jaw and dug my fingers into my backpack. "The only thing that matters right now is finding out who attacked her. I need your help on this, Marcus."

  "Be patient, Julie," Betty chimed in. "Let your instincts guide you."

  Again with the Obi-Wan Kenobi talk! I let out a weary sigh. I knew that we were dealing with someone whose magical qualities easily surpassed my own, but I had Betty to back me up and a bone to pick with whoever did this to my mother. Of course, dealing with the Left Hand Path presented a host of dangers because if dark magic represents the bad side of town when it comes to witchcraft and sorcery, then the Left Hand Path is the
bad
side of the bad side of town.

  Who are they?

  First off, there's argument among a lot of religious and philosophical scholars about whether the Left Hand Path is simply a belief system as opposed to, you know,
really
freaking evil people. Just close your eyes and think of the most terrifying experience of your life and multiply it by a jillion or so. They're into everything from human sacrifice to necromancy… Yeah, you heard me, some of these whack jobs actually r
aise
the dead! The worst of the bunch worship the Devil himself and are bent on bringing about the end of days, as in the
apocalypse.

  And it was looking like whoever stole my mother's soul was one of them.

  We sat in silence for a few moments. The train rounded a corner and came to a smooth stop at the Stampede Station platform. I gave Marcus a gentle nudge. "I'm sorry for dragging you into all this Hudibras stuff. I mean, you've already been attacked and you saved Marla Lavik from likely the same dark magic. I treated you like shit today and I just totally suck at this."

  He offered a thin smile and I noticed his eyes softened as he gazed at me. "It's cool, Julie. I've seen all kinds of weird ass stuff as long as I've known you. From what happened in your shed to the time a disembodied voice started a conversation with us during that time when we were ten. Remember that camping trip?"

  I snorted. "Yeah, it said it was the spirit of Albert Einstein and it told you the theory of relativity was a sham. You got pretty ticked off about that as I recall."

  Marcus chuckled. "Yeah, it tried to convince me that mass and energy weren't equivalent or transmutable – like
that
could ever happen. Anyway, like I said, I'm cool with you sometimes keeping me in the dark. I know you worry my brain might turn into sludge or something with all this crazy stuff going on, but you know what?"

  "What's that?"

  He beamed at me. "I'm really fascinated by all this, you know? I mean, everything that I've seen since I've known you defies my understanding of science and it's really mind-blowing. I'm actually starting to believe that magic and the supernatural is an undiscovered branch of physics. Maybe it's always been there, you know? Maybe our primitive monkey brains aren't attuned to this stuff and people like you and your mom are possibly the next link in human evolution. I wonder if this fits in with string theory somehow… I'm going to have to make a mental note to research that."

  "Marcus," I said softly. "You don't have to come with us for this."

  His eyebrows arched. Clearly he hadn't expected me to give him an out. "I've got your back," he said.

  "You only saw a part of what happened in the girls' bathroom yesterday," I said grimly.

  "I saw the aftermath," he replied. "I saw the ambulance take away your mom and I saw you crying your eyes out at the hospital last night."

  "Marcus, there's a reason why Mom's in the hospital and we don't have much time," I said firmly. "While you were at school today, Betty and I pieced together some missing facts from when you and I were looking at that video on YouTube. This is really big, okay? We're dealing with some really serious stuff here."

  He waved a hand in protest and his eyes narrowed. "Serious as in something more substantive than an attempt on you and your mom's life?"

  "Yeah."

  "The Left Hand Path would imply there's a Right Hand Path, am I correct?"

  I nodded silently.

  "Then I would assume people like you and your mom generally have your feet planted firmly on the right, so that would mean anyone on the Left Hand Path would be like your evil doppelganger or something."

  Betty pursed her lips tightly. "And some of those beings would love nothing more than to sink their teeth in you."

  "No doubt," said Marcus as he glanced out the window. "Where are we going again?"

  The train entered a tunnel and the sound of the steel wheels coasting along the rails roared through the open windows.

  "We're going to–"

  Suddenly the train lurched, pushing us hard into the seats. The lights went out both inside the train and along the tunnel walls and a shower of bright orange sparks lit up the darkness outside the window as the train ground to a sudden and unexpected stop. My stomach pitched violently as I doubled over, clutching my midsection.

  "Julie, are you okay?" Marcus asked in a worried voice.

  The two dozen or so passengers started whispering in panicked voices. I reached out with my senses just as an unearthly roar blasted through the tunnel, shaking the car like it was a toy in a child's hand. The roar and the shaking ended and an ominous silence fell on the passengers.

  But only for a moment.

  "Get your hand off me!" a woman shrieked.

  "I didn't do nothing, lady!" a male voice rang out.

  The emergency lights flickered for a moment and came to life. What I saw next sent every passenger tearing for the exit.

  Dozens of purses and cell phones floated near the ceiling of the car. Jackets and briefcases danced about in the air, as if guided by an unseen force. I heard a cracking sound behind me and ducked as a poster for next year's Calgary Stampede tore off its moorings and sailed into a window, shattering the glass into thousands of tiny cube-shaped pieces. I heard a whooshing sound, and suddenly both sets of doors on the sides of the car nearest the tunnel wall opened. The emergency lights flickered again. The two dozen passengers nearly trampled each other to death in their race to get off the train as quickly as possible.

  "Same energy that I felt at the school," I said, still clutching my stomach.

  "What do we do?" Marcus said.

  Betty got up from her seat looking wholly unimpressed.

  "We send it back to wherever it came from. Julie, my powers don't work terribly well if I'm underground. There are fewer living elements from which I can draw on to fuel my magic. If you can detect the source of the energy, there's a chance you can hex it."

  My bench seat started shaking and I clutched my amulet as I grabbed Marcus and scrambled to the back of the car.

  "I'll give it a try," I said, through stinging tears of pain. "I hope I've got enough in me."

  I clenched my jaw and drove my fist into the mass of supernatural fury. Marcus stood up to shield me from the flying debris, his body pounded by everything the passengers had left.

  "Just hang tight!" he grimaced as a briefcase sailed into the back of his head. "I've got you covered!"

  I wanted to draw another protective dome of energy, but it would keep me from finding the source of the poltergeist activity, so I grated my teeth together and shut my eyes. I reached out with my Sight and saw a haunting liquid-like glow that ran off the walls of the car, forming pools of shimmering malice along the floor. I pushed my senses further, through pure, concentrated hate that threatened to suck the air from my lungs. Then, in the center of the ceiling, I saw it: a throbbing, pulsating blob of energy that bubbled and seethed with a simmering anger that felt as old as time itself. It sensed my presence as I probed for a weak point to direct my hex, and then the unexpected happened.

  It spoke to me.

  "Being very useful for these times," the voice dripped with menace. "Wherein the Devil reigns and prevails over the souls of poor creatures, in drawing them to that crying sin of witchcraft. I shall not suffer a witch to live!"

  A jolt swept me off my feet, sending me tumbling against the back of the car. Marcus raced to my aid but suddenly he was lifted off the floor by his left ankle. He dangled in mid-air for less than a second and then he flew into the wall behind me, with a hard thud.

  "Marcus!" I screamed, as I scrambled over to him. "Marcus! Are you okay?"

  "Ow," he groaned as he slid onto his side. "I might have said this before, but poltergeists hurt like hell."

  It was at this point that something inside me snapped. This was the fourth supernatural assault in two days and twice Marcus had been attacked. I'd exorcised the spirit from the girls' washroom and I'd be damned if some witch-hating piece of crap was going to try and steal Marcus' soul, or mine for that matter.

  I strode up to the middle of the car as Betty looked on. I held out my left hand and spread my fingers until I knew I was directly beneath the spot where the entity spoke those menacing words. I held my amulet over my head and invoked the strongest banishment spell I could think of.

  "I am a witch of ancient lore," I roared. "And this is the twenty-first century. You want a piece of me, come and get some!"

  The car started shaking again and I grabbed a hand hold to keep myself from falling flat on my face. The floating debris which moments earlier had been pummelling poor Marcus flew straight up and crashed against the ceiling.

  "Begone!" I cried.

  A vaporous mass took form above my head, dripping spectral ooze down my forearm and onto my shoulders. I pushed my amulet into the slushy mess, willing my magic into my banishment spell. It twisted and churned as it tried to resist my power so I drew from my spirit further, digging as hard as I could for every ounce of energy I could muster. A shriek of rage roared through the car as I cast the presence back onto whoever had sent it here. My hair blew in every direction as a stinking breeze swirled around me. In seconds the mass dissolved into a harmless mist and I dropped to my knees exhausted.

  Betty strode up to me clapping her hands. "Well done, Julie! That was a remarkable show of will."

  "T-thanks," I panted. "You guys okay?"

  Marcus slowly got back to his feet and brushed himself off. "Yeah, I'm good. Are we going to head out to the Beltline?"

  "The hell with this!" I growled, knowing that where I wanted to go wasn't going to fly with Betty, but I was desperate. "I need an edge if I'm going to end this crap and save my Mom."

  Betty folded her arms and gave me a stern look. "This had better not be what I think it is."

  I shot her a defiant glare. "Yeah, Betty, it is – we're going to Bankers Hall to talk with Holly."

 
 

 
 
 

Towering over fifty stories, Bankers Hall is at the heart of a spider's web of pedestrian malls that connects thousands of shops and businesses to Prince's Island Park to the north (where last year there was a bona fide troll sighting, believe it or not) and to the Olympic Plaza and City Hall to the east. It is also home to Star Corp Petroleum, where serious players in the oil and financial worlds cut deals worth more money than I'll ever see in a thousand lifetimes.

  Oh, and I should mention the distinctive crowns of both buildings are designed to look like
cowboy hats
when viewed from afar. Talk about tacky.

  Betty, Marcus and I wandered through the mall until we reached the huge foyer of the east tower and sauntered up a corridor containing two sets of elevators. Sure, we probably stuck out like a sore thumb, particularly Betty's garish leopard skin outfit, but really, unless you're wearing an expensive business suit that costs more than a month's worth of groceries, you're going to get a lot of stares in a building like Bankers Hall. A pair of elevators arrived simultaneously, so we waited a moment and hopped on the one that had collected the fewest people. Within a minute or so, the large shining brass doors opened on the forty-sixth floor, and we casually walked into another foyer, this one with the Star Corp Petroleum logo embedded in the shining granite floor.

  Marcus and Betty sat down on a pair of luxurious leather chairs as I shuffled up to a mahogany reception desk that was about as big as my bedroom. A very curt woman of about fifty with a wireless microphone hanging down from her ear raised a finger for me to wait as she finished directing a call.