The Evil in Bethanbury: A Michelle Taylor Story: Michelle Taylor Stories, #1

By Chris Thompson

Michelle Taylor: demon slayer, vampire killer and vanquisher of evil spirits; a sensitive to the paranormal, Michelle has been forced to deal with many threats over the years. But now, the threat has turned personal. Mike Winters, her mentor and the closest thing Michelle has to a father, has reached out for help with a case - something he only does when it's particularly dangerous - and now he can't be reached. Concerned, Michelle travels to Bethanbury, a small town in Illinois, to try to find her mentor and solve whatever mystery he was trying to investigate. 

Not long after arriving, Michelle is reunited with Natalie, Mike's daughter, and together they team up to solve the suspicious death Mike had been investigating. But the longer the pair spends in Bethanbury, the more the innocent veneer of the town fades away, exposing a dark threat neither of them could have predicted.

With the danger increasing by the minute, Michelle and Natalie must rely on each other to survive and root out the evil that has taken hold of Bethanbury.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Thompson
• Release date: Mar 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386043843

Book preview

Also by Chris Thompson

A World Reborn

A World Reborn: The First Outbreak

Michelle Taylor Stories

The Evil in Bethanbury: A Michelle Taylor Story

The Beast from the Bay: A Michelle Taylor Short Story

The Merged Wars

Dark Warning

The Evil in Bethanbury

A Michelle Taylor Story

By Chris Thompson

Photo Credit

Text Copyright © Chris Thompson 2017

The model on the cover of this book is Liliana Celeste Flores Vega, and her image is used with kind permission. The original image can be found here: http://lilinaceleste.deviantart.com/art/Lilith-10-179845775 .She can be found on DeviantArt here: http://lilinaceleste.deviantart.com/ and also at her Facebook Fan Page here: https://www.facebook.com/lilethoficial/ .

Table of Contents

Photo Credit

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One

MICHELLE LOOKED OUT of the window at the distant Las Vegas cityscape on the horizon. It was beautiful in its own way; a glinting, brilliant sea of lights that could’ve been mistaken for stars were it not for the obvious fact that they were spread across the ground. Michelle wondered if, after her business was concluded, she should stay a few days longer and indulge in some of her favorite vices, but figured it probably wouldn’t be worth the expense. Looking away from the city, Michelle saw the inky, dark blue sky and knew her daylong wait was nearly over. Not that the wait had been particularly boring; she’d spent most of it by the swimming pool of the mansion, soaking up a little sun while she did some research on her phone to confirm the things she’d felt when she first entered the house. She’d also, unknown to the owners, made use of their expensive shower system. After using it, she felt invigorated and her dark hair, although in a ponytail now, had felt silky and soft after she had dried it. But that was during the day; now that night was approaching, it was time for her true business in the house.

Michelle felt for the pistol in her shoulder holster, making sure it was still within easy reach under her leather duster coat; it was, as was the large knife in the sheath hanging down her left leg. There were a few other items in her coat pockets that she could feel as she moved, including the four replacement magazines for her pistol, so she didn’t feel it was necessary to check them. Michelle turned and looked at her brown leather carryall bag on the bed. It had served her well enough over the years, although it was a bit raggedy around the edges now. She didn’t need anything extra to deal with her current task, a simple house possession, so she moved past both it and the bed and went into the main corridor. There were a half dozen other bedrooms on this floor, a couple of bathrooms and then the sweeping, semi-circular staircase that led down to the main hall. A couple of large glass doors faced the bottom of the staircase, through which one could view the long, curved front drive. While going left would take her to the dining room, kitchen and the utility room beyond, right would lead to the spacious den, as the owners called it, and the games room. At the back of the main hall at ground level was the door that gave access to the grounds at the rear, with its wonderful, heated swimming pool and expansive patio where the owners hosted parties for their circle of friends. There were also a couple of other rooms, essentially beneath where she stood now, including an office and a home theatre.

Feeling a little rueful, Michelle enjoyed looking at the large home, the likes of which she would never be able to afford, and doubted she would be invited back after ridding the house of its uninvited and troublesome guest. Seldom did people want to speak to her once the job was finished, as though socializing with her would somehow taint them and bring something equally unpleasant to their doorstep. It was a sad, but consistent, part of her life. It didn’t matter, Michelle thought as she started towards the stairs, because quite honestly she preferred to be on her own these days. She’d turned thirty five recently and, thanks to her chosen line of work, she’d seen a lot of people die; causing her to believe close attachments only made life harder. Not that her life was completely without social interaction; she had a few contacts, mostly in law enforcement, some in federal agencies, all of whom were aware of who she was and what she did for a living. They passed along information about cases she might be able to resolve for them, usually strange, ritualistic murders or phenomenon of that nature. She also had a few acquaintances in the paranormal research field and they passed along jobs that needed a special touch. While television shows and documentaries often dealt with residual energy apparitions, the really bad ones were left to be dealt with by the professionals, and that was where Michelle, or someone like her, came in. The owners of the mansion had been reporting an increasingly aggressive presence: objects being thrown, doors slamming, and even a disembodied voice demanding they leave. The owners had contacted a local paranormal investigator who had taken one look around the place and then called for Michelle. He had forwarded money for gas so that she could make the drive, which was good for Michelle because she was about down to her last dollar and really needed this job to make her rent. Fighting the forces of darkness, while a noble and honorable profession, was certainly not the best paying job in the world.

She went downstairs and entered the den, where a large television stood on its solid oak stand across from a white leather sofa. Absently, she approached the small coffee table where the remote was and turned it on, not caring what channel filled the screen; rather, she simply wanted to get things started. The activity from the television, coupled with the electrical charge it gave off and Michelle’s presence, would hopefully stir the spirit. She pushed the volume up and could hear a reality television show playing. When an argument started it almost attracted her attention, but she remained focused. The lights were on in the room, as they were in the rest of the house. It was necessary for her hunt. As she scanned the den, her eyes passed over a door that was half-open, which led into the games room, where she saw a faint gloom that seemed odd.

Are you in there? Michelle asked, her voice echoing slightly in the empty house. She didn’t draw her gun yet, but eyed a few other things in the room that could be of use to her, notably the heavy, iron pokers by the fireplace.

There was no answer from the growing shadow in the other room, but it seemed likely that the spirit was going to manifest there. Her briefing from the owners had informed her that the ‘thing’ would appear in empty rooms next to those occupied by people - be it themselves or house guests - and once it had fully formed, the terror would begin. She didn’t need to ask the owners any more questions as, when Michelle walked into the house she’d felt exactly what was causing them problems. She was, as were all those in her profession, extremely spiritually sensitive; she could see the true nature of things - people, places and, with training, had learned how to see the other things in the world. Michelle hadn’t explained this to the owners; they simply wouldn’t have believed her and, without the strong sensitivity she possessed, even if she showed them a picture of a demon or a vampire they would simply have seen a normal looking person. In the real world, exposure to such a thing could go either way; if a supernatural entity hid its true self then it could pass by undetected. However, if the entity revealed itself then the repercussions could be severe, even if the insensitive survived the encounter. The sad fact was that, for the insensitive, exposure to the supernatural could damage the mind. The more direct the exposure was and the longer it lasted, the more psychological damage could be done, ending quite possibly in madness. Spirits, because they were still mostly human, were unique in that most insensitive people would only suffer minimal mental damage. All of these factors combined meant that Michelle, and others of her craft, needed to tread carefully because those without the natural talent to see the supernatural would fail to understand what they were doing and, because of that, sometimes this would lead to trouble with the law.

There was a loud clunk from the games room and Michelle rolled her eyes.

Really? Throwing stuff? How about you make this quick and easy on yourself and just come in here?

Unfortunately, the spirit didn’t do as she asked. Instead, it tossed something breakable against a wall, sending a cascade of loud fragments skittering across the floor. Michelle sighed and started towards the door. In terms of enemies, she much preferred the aggressive type that got to the point quickly rather than those who liked to stalk to try to instill fear. She quickly crossed the room and went to the door, nudging it open with the tip of her boot.

H-Hello? Is... is someone there? Michelle asked in a small, fearful voice as she looked about the room. She couldn’t help but chuckle, amusing herself with her fake portrayal of fear as she mocked the entity. It was a little childish and immature to taunt the entity, but Michelle had dealt with an almost uncountable number of spirits and she had long grown weary of their tricks and tactics. She stepped into the games room and scanned it quickly. In one corner, a large television was set up with what seemed to be every video console from the past few years, while around the other parts of the room were various cabinets containing board games, trophies for winning pool or darts tournaments - amongst others - and a large pool table, which took up a central position. Michelle looked to the right and saw fragments of a glass trophy on the floor. She shrugged and stepped over to it, aware that the gloom in the room was gathering in intensity.

Michelle examined the fragments and saw that it was a trophy for shooting.

So, from what I could sense when I walked in this morning, you were murdered, right? Some, shall we say... criminal types, filled your mouth with sand. What the hell was that all about? Michelle asked the gloom as she stood up and casually made her way over to the pool table. She took the rack off the balls and swished them about, waiting for a response that didn’t come.

The strong, silent type, eh? I can dig it. Michelle said aloud, while feeling something watching her intently. She knew the kind of look she was receiving was very similar to one she’d seen on television on a nature documentary; it was the kind of look a lion gave its prey just before it pounced.

So, after giving you a mouthful of sand they shot you in the... Michelle thought for a moment, using her senses to try to locate the spirit. They shot you in the gut and then buried you. I’ll be honest: that’s incredibly sad. I feel sorry for you, I really do. You spent twenty years in the ground bound to your body because, for some reason, when you died you couldn’t move on and didn’t know what to do. And, when you finally learned how to project yourself, someone had built this house over your grave. I think that’s when you started to lose your mind and began to lash out, which again, is incredibly sad. Ten years later, you’ve gathered your strength and you’re holding the current residents accountable. But they’re not responsible; they didn’t kill you Joseph... hell, there’s a chance they weren’t even born when you were murdered.

Michelle picked up one of the balls and then rolled it towards one of the holes.

And that’s the point, Joe - do you mind if I call you Joe? Michelle picked up another one of the balls and held it in her hand. The point is, Joe, the people who killed you were put away. I’m sorry to say it wasn’t for your murder, but for a lot of others. I’m pretty sure they’re dead by now too, so there’s no reason for you linger; you can move on. Don’t let the darkness that’s trying to claim you into your mind. Just find the light and cross over.

Michelle put the ball down and rolled it towards a different hole; just before it dropped in, it came to a sudden stop.

No! A voice hissed, and then the ball was launched at Michelle. She quickly stepped aside, letting it hit the wall and drop to the floor, where it rolled away loudly over the hard wooden surface.

Yes! Michelle said firmly. The alternative is being sent over and that will be a lot less pleasant for you.

The pool balls scattered suddenly and something howled around her. Michelle sighed; she wasn’t lying when she said she felt sad the spirit had long since lost its mind, but that wasn’t going to stop her doing what needed to be done, both for Joe’s sake and the owners. The darkness around her gathered, and suddenly began to take on a form ahead of her, gathering and swelling into a shape that was vaguely human.

I’m giving you one last chance, Joe: let me help you or I’ll have to get a little rough.

Joe didn’t listen, not that she imagined he would or even could; the shadow had taken hold of him and needed to be cleansed in order for her to reach him. A gold plated trophy that had a generic looking figure with a pool cue on it flew from a shelf at Michelle’s head. She raised her arm to block it, and although it hurt, it didn’t do any serious damage.

All right! Remember, I warned you, Joe! Michelle declared angrily. She reached into her coat, pulled out a hip flask from her interior jacket pocket and spun the cap with her thumb. It fell off and hung from its chain as Michelle swung her arm, spraying some of the contents at the figure of Joe. The holy water the flask contained cut through the shadow form; Joe howled and dissipated, reforming a few paces away and springing towards her. Michelle tried to slosh more of the holy water in his direction, but he lunged forward and, with a surprising amount of physical presence, knocked the flask from her hand. Unfazed, she quickly reached into her pocket with her other hand and wrapped her fingers through the heavy, iron knuckledusters there. She took a pair of deliberate steps back then freed her fist from the pocket and thrust it forward, roughly into the gut area of the black shape. Where the iron met the shadow covering Joe’s apparition – a shadow borne from the darkness that seeks to snare trapped spirits - it became solid, and Joe recoiled backwards. Michelle followed up this attack quickly, drawing her fist back and slamming it forward for a facial blow. Joe howled and gripped her hand tightly but Michelle held her ground and, where his hand was clasped over the iron knuckledusters, she could see a flare of blue flame erupting within the shadow. Iron counteracted spiritual energy, so she knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it for long. With the few seconds she had, Michelle reached into her other pocket and grabbed the second set of knuckledusters, then launched a second punch towards Joe’s face. This connected, and sparks of blue light erupted out of the shadowy shape. Her other hand was released and it retreated and Michelle took the advantage it gave her, pummeling Joe’s ghost with blow after blow, each one knocking him back a little more and weakening the shadow energy surrounding his spirit.

Joe disappeared then reformed a few paces away. Michelle took on a fighting stance, ready to pound him when he came in close again. She glanced quickly in the direction the flask had fallen, and saw it had landed near a cabinet on her right which housed innumerable board games. She knew she’d need to retrieve it once she’d weakened Joe a little more. The problem was she had thought Joe would be weaker than he was; it was as though the house contained a source of anger for him, which was a negative emotion the shadow could feed on to strengthen both Joe and itself.

What is it, Joe? What’s making you so mad? Michelle asked. Joe didn’t answer, instead, the room began to rumble and a flurry of objects launched themselves at Michelle. She dodged backwards, bringing her arms up to protect her head. A few battered her, but she wasn’t injured. When she looked ahead again, she let out a soft curse and darted swiftly to the left, going behind and ducking below the top of the pool table, as the television slammed into the wall she had been standing near, the screen shattering with a loud pop as the internal mechanics exploded. Michelle barely managed to scramble to her feet before the pool table began to shudder. She zipped right - almost losing her footing as she stepped on the broken television – and seconds later, the pool table flipped over, slamming into the wall with enough force it would’ve broken a few bones, if not all of them.

Michelle didn’t wait for Joe to summon the strength to fling the cabinets at her. She surged forward, her right fist drawn back and ready to deliver what would be a knockout blow to a human; at best, on a ghost, it would destabilize their manifestation for a few seconds. Joe didn’t dodge; it seemed as though he wasn’t concerned, and when the blow struck his face, his head was knocked violently to the right and innumerable blue sparks erupted from his face. A moment later, one of the video game consoles was launched into the air, the arc almost certainly going to connect with her head. Michelle weaved right and, as she straightened up, slammed her other fist deep into his chest, punching right through the shadow form and causing licks of cold blue flame to lap at Michelle’s arm as she pulled her fist out. This seemed to weaken Joe as she had hoped it would earlier, and he shrank back, the shadow becoming less solid. Michelle spun and zoomed towards the flask, snatching it up before turning back to face him. She sprang forward again, striking his face twice with her free hand before thrusting the flask forward and spraying the holy water over him. He howled frighteningly, but appeared to have lost the confidence that had enabled him to shake off her attacks. She sloshed the holy water over him repeatedly, withering the shadow surrounding him more and more as she continued her assault. Michelle became overconfident, so certain that she was beating the shadow around Joe’s spirit that she was taken completely off-guard when, with a sudden explosion of force, she was flung helplessly through the air, landing in a winded, untidy heap in the den.

Dazed, Michelle shook her head to refocus and saw the shadow gathering in intensity in the other room and, as a result, the lights all around the house began to flicker. The television switched off too, and then the shadow flourished, more solid and darker than it had before.

She’s his daughter! Joe roared angrily.

Michelle saw flash images of the homeowner’s wife. Whether or not she had any idea who her real father was, Michelle couldn’t determine, but according to what Joe was showing her, she was the daughter of the man who had pulled the trigger on him all those years ago. It was quite a coincidence, but it did explain why Joe and the shadow infesting him had become so strong; the rage he’d felt towards the man who killed him didn’t have an outlet, and then his child came into his sphere of influence. To the addled mind of Joe’s spirit, it must, initially at least, have been like a slap in the face - a further act of callous indifference inflicted upon him since his murder. In those few, revealing moments it became apparent to Michelle that cleansing the shadow from Joe’s spirit and sending him over to the other side was going to be much more difficult than she had imagined at the outset.

She got to her feet as Joe started coming into the room, the shadow having coiled around the walls and drawn him in with it. Michelle freed the knuckleduster from her right hand and quickly drew her gun,