ghosts. Disembodied voices whispered, wailed and screamed, then fell to an indistinct buzz. I was as keyed up as a hummingbird on caffeine, and I wanted to be done and out of there.
Sorren pushed open the heavy door to the chain room and we all braced for battle. Our flashlights shone into the darkness, illuminating several old, rusted chains with manacles that hung from the ceiling, props for the ghost tours. On the worn wooden floor beneath the chains was a freshly-marked circle drawn in salt and charcoal. Four burned-out candles sat melted and sooty at the quarters. Black chicken feathers littered the floor.
“We’re too late,” Sorren said. “The Watcher has made it through.”
“Uh oh.” I pointed to the chains and manacles overhead. They had begun to swing, slowly at first, and then more violently, though there was no draft in the room.
“Ouch!” Teag said as the door tried to slam shut and rammed his shoulder. Those distant voices were closer now, and their tone had changed from frightened and mournful to angry.
Shadows loomed on the walls, and dark shapes took form, stepping away from the plaster and into the room. Bits of stone from the ceiling pelted us. The temperature dropped until it was cold enough that I could see my breath. Orbs danced around the room like a cloud of fireflies, zipping toward us and emitting a nasty shock when they got too close. I ducked as one came right at my face.
Teag cried out as one of the shadows raked his arm, solid enough to tear through his sleeve. Bo’s ghost was barking loudly, running at the wraiths, snarling and snapping his teeth to keep them at bay. Heavy footfalls on the stairs and commotion in the hallway told me the Old Jail’s ghosts were massing. I blasted the wraiths with my athame, sending a cone of cold silver force against them. They parted and drew back, then rushed forward again, as if they knew my strength was limited.
The runes on Teag’s staff glowed brightly as he circled it slowly overhead, jabbing it toward any ghost that ventured too close. Each time he stabbed it into the dark figures, the staff’s runes flared and the ghosts receded as if stung. The room was far too small for him to use his urumi or for me to hurl my chakram without seriously injuring one of our companions or ourselves, though I thought the silver fire of Teag’s razor whip might give even ghosts pause.
“Let’s get out of here,” I yelped.
“You’ve got that right,” Chuck said. “Everyone get out. I’ll cover you.” We hurried out the door as Teag kept it open.
Chuck pushed to the fore. “Fire in the hole!” he shouted, tossing his EMF grenade and ducking, throwing an arm up to cover his eyes. We all did the same. There was a flash of bright light, a high-pitched squeal, and a burst of electro-magnetic energy that ghosts hated.
“Go!” Chuck shouted, pausing only to retrieve the spent shell of his grenade. We thundered down the stairs, while behind us, the ghosts swarmed in a swirling, green-gray cloud. Faces came to the fore, only to be clawed back into the mass. Skeletal arms reached out of the cloud with clawed fingers and sharp nails, ripping at our clothing and scratching our skin.
“Run!” Sorren fell back so the rest of us could escape, slashing through the ghosts with his swords, which had taken on a faint glow. Chuck took up a firing stance behind and to the right of where Sorren stood, so that nothing could get past them. He aimed his ray gun-lookalike and squeezed the trigger. Thin lightning bolts crackled from the gun’s snub nose, branching again and again until they were as wide as the corridor. The threads of lightning buzzed and snapped with electricity, and the cloud of spirits drew back abruptly.
Once the rest of us were out, Sorren and Chuck ran for the door, and Chuck paused to fire one last lightning net at the cloud of spirits as it massed to come after them again. In a few more steps they were clear, slamming the door behind them. That’s when we realized that we weren’t out of danger yet.
The broad gravel lot around the Old Jail was filled with ghosts. They crowded along the inside of the high wall, shadows and wraiths dark as storm clouds, while others were orbs, bobbing and weaving. One thing was clear: they were between us and the exit.