Snow Globe: Six of One, #3

By DeAnna C. Zankich

Sonya doesn't know where she is; if she's alive or dead. Only one thing seems certain: she's imprisoned in a dark purgatory by an entity that means her grave harm. Does anyone know she's there? Can they help her?

Kathryn believed she'd gathered the necessary tools to exorcise the succubus once and for all: the ritual, the full moon, the readiness of her fearless tribe. The hag possessing Sonya was not in the plan. It skulks beneath her surface thinking it's safe from Kathryn's magic. If it waits out the power of the full moon, it can escape being banished by her ritual.

The outcaster has no intention of allowing that.

Drawing on every resource available, the Six formulate a perilous strategy, but the dire risks endanger Sonya's life even further. If this plan is going to succeed, they'll need help. Fortunately, the link between the tribe and their many friends is far-reaching.

Hearing the call, loyal warriors come from other towns, other lands and other dimensions to assist. Defeat is not an option.

The battle changes them all, but Sonya is the most altered. When she stands in the light once again, she sees it with very different eyes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DeAnna C. Zankich
• Release date: Oct 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9780999293591

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© DeAnna Zankich 2018.  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or were used fictitiously. No portion of this book may be reproduced by any means without prior written permission from the copyright owner.

For more information or to contact the copyright owner visit:

www.deannaczankich.com

ISBN: 978-0-9992935-9-1

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 Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Acknowledgements

Continued from Six of One: Vendetta

CHAPTER ONE

Mid-August of current year,

near Big Pine, CA.

DARIEN TAITE MET Evan and Henry at the door of a farm house perched against the mountains of the Owen’s Valley. They’d charged down the hill when she called them to assist her with a case. Darien hadn’t wanted to say over the phone what they were dealing with, but she told Henry to bring everything he’d ever successfully used for spiritual cleansing.

Evan had known the clairvoyant for years and had never seen the expression she wore as she held her hands out to them on the front stairs of the farm house. Darien was afraid.

Boys, I’m truly sorry to bring you into this. Her bony fingers were cold even in the warm summer evening. I’ve ... never seen anything this bad. The poor child. Father Jim and I are out of—

The heavy iron screen door flung open so hard its handle crashed into the log siding, leaving a cruel scar in the wood. Father James Carnassi, the Catholic priest on Darien’s team, was tossed out and sent staggering across the porch with such velocity, he nearly flipped over the rail. Faded blue eyes wide and frantic, the priest panted as he regained his balance.

Glad you men could make it. It keeps chucking me out, he reported. That’s the third time. It gets stronger with every round. God only knows what it’s taking out of that child. A hank of graying hair had fallen over his eyes and he pressed it back with shaking hands. Henry, even you and I together might not be enough to handle this.

"What is it?" Henry helped the priest dust the wood splinters and peeled paint from his black clothing. This wasn’t the good father’s first dance with the weathered porch railing that night.

Darien’s nervous fingers tightened on Evan’s wrist, drawing his attention back to her. We have a demon, gentlemen. The real deal. High level. It’s got this family’s eldest daughter, Annie, who’s only fourteen. She swallowed and her throat clicked. Foolish thing was using a Ouija board with some friends and asked if there were any spirits around who wanted to play with them. Darien shivered. "Play, for criminy’s sake!"

Evan met Henry’s eyes. In the nine years they’d been in the paranormal investigation business, their collective experience was always pushed to the edge by entities drawn forth from a Ouija board. Those damn things were the worst idea humankind ever had in Evan’s opinion, but he wasn’t too thrilled about porcelain dolls, either.

Henry said, I assume you’ve tried sending it back the way it came in.

Father Jim glared through the open front door into the seemingly quiet interior of the farm house. Soft weeping could be heard, but nothing else. He took a stabilizing breath. We’ve tried that and everything else in our arsenal, except a multi-faith exorcism. Hence, why we asked you boys down. Henry, I know you and I can make a dent together, I just don’t know if we can break it. We may only succeed in making it mad.

Henry surveyed the hall beyond the open door with tense determination. Let’s get acquainted, shall we? He shouldered his gear bag and stepped forward, but the door abruptly slammed shut.

Darien and the father didn’t seem surprised. It’s had fun with that, too, she said. It doesn’t hold the door shut, though; just slams it in our faces like a petulant child. It wants us to keep trying because it hopes we’ll get tired.

Evan walked up to the door with Henry but stopped before reaching for the knob. They glanced at each other, neither made a move. From behind, Darien spoke softly.

The girl’s parents are in there with her; Stan and Ellen Wallack. Otherwise, it’s just Father Jim and me. I wouldn’t let our techs come; we don’t need to chum the water. You’ll see.

Henry regarded the door again, quirking an eyebrow at Evan. Flip for it?

Nah. Heart hammering under his t-shirt, Evan reached out and turned the knob. The door opened without any resistance, which was good, but when he pushed for entry, the knob was yanked out of his hand and the door crashed against the interior wall. He and Henry flinched reflexively, exchanged another glance, then steadied themselves. They’d seen worse. They went inside.

Muted track lighting along the ceiling of the long entryway illuminated framed landscapes of the surrounding desert mountains. Someone in residence was an accomplished oil painter. Evan only registered the artwork for a second before a slight woman in her early fifties with cropped gray-blonde hair rushed down the hall toward them, her trembling hands extended. Her face was streaked with tears.

Are you the shaman? She clutched Henry’s barrel of an arm, craning her neck to look up into his eyes.

Yes, ma’am. I’m Henry Hunter from Mount Iolite Paranormal Investigations. This is my partner, Evan MacTavish. We’re here to help. His huge hand gently eclipsed both of hers.

Darien and Father Jim had come back into the house. Draping an arm across the frazzled woman’s shoulders, she said, Ellen, we’re going to do everything in our power—and that’s not insubstantial with the addition of these two soldiers. Come on, now. Let’s get back to Annie.

Dazed with distressed, Ellen Wallack nodded. Over the phone, Darien told them she and Father Jim had been working at this location for two days with very few breaks. They were weary, but undaunted.

In the living room, a man sat on the end of a heavy wooden coffee table, his head in his hands. The victim, a frail reed of a girl, was on the floor in front of him contorted by the ropes around her wrists and ankles. She was hogtied. Evan hoped that was for her safety and not everyone else’s. Superhuman strength was not an uncommon ‘gift’ given to hosts by spirit invaders—especially demons. It ramped up the fear quotient with unpredictability.

The man looked up when they entered, his exhausted face also stained with tears.

Stan, Father Jim said. These are our friends from M.T.I.P.I.: Shaman Henry Hunter and Evan MacTavish. They are very experienced investigators and creative problem solvers.

Stan Wallack vaguely registered Evan, then his gaze traveled the darkly tattooed length of Henry up to his eyes. In a weary rasp, he said, You’re scary, aren’t you?

Henry smiled mildly as he and Evan slid their gear off their shoulders. Not intentionally, sir. I assure you my partner and I know our stuff. May I have your permission to speak to Annie?

Knock yourself out. Stan’s voice cracked as though he’d been screaming for hours. "She can’t hear you. That thing won’t let her."

Has the entity been speaking? Evan asked.

Stan and Ellen only nodded, their eyes round with fear. Whatever the invader had been saying, it clearly wasn’t pretty.

Evan dug out his digital recorder and checked for a full battery charge. Henry placed two strings of beads around his thick neck, one with gleaming black onyx spheres, and the other a combination of wood carvings, animal bones and teeth, feathers, hide and stones, tied together with dried juniper berries the Navajo called ‘ghost beads’. Henry’s uncle Fred spent a year studying with a Navajo medicine woman; that necklace had been her going away present. Fred had passed it on to Henry for his eighteenth birthday.

Before approaching the girl writhing against her bonds on the carpet, Henry and Evan quickly clasped hands and imparted a silent prayer. They did this every time they went into the ring with a spirit, sharing their mutual protection as well as strengthening their unified front. Evan also wore black onyx around his neck to ward off evil, but his guardian wolf was ever-present, inked into the skin of his back.

Henry walked around in front of the girl on the floor, standing between her and her anxious parents. Her dirty blonde hair stuck to her head with days of stale perspiration. Eyes that were likely a pretty pale green under normal circumstances were wide and nearly black with dilated pupils. She’d bitten her bottom lip to bleeding and she reeked of body odor and urine.

Evan hung back and raised the recorder in her direction while Henry knelt down before her.

Annie, can you hear me?

Eerie vocalizations emanated from the girl, but no intelligible language. She murmured low in her raw throat, wriggling and pulling at the ropes. Her ragged skin oozed pink under the twine. Evan held the recorder close to capture whatever it was she was communicating. Often, distinguishable words sifted between the random noises when they reviewed recordings later.

Henry’s voice was deep and steady. Annie, my name is Henry. I’m here to help get you free from your captor. If you can hear me, please tell me in any way you’re able.

The girl’s head turned so quickly it banged into the floor under her. She glared up at the shaman, bearing her teeth. The vibration of the voice that came from her was unlike any human voice Evan had ever heard. This was more like a lion growling through a megaphone.

Filthy redskin. Bitch is mine. Invited me.

Calmly, Henry said, Your invitation is rescinded, spirit. You’ve been a shit guest.

The next sound was probably meant to mimic laughter, but more closely resembled a train wreck in a tunnel. The distinctive hollowness of these communications gave Evan an idea. He nodded to Henry and they stepped away from the girl, huddling with Darien and Father Jim out of earshot in the hallway.

Evan whispered to Darien. Have all the sounds coming from the entity been like that—echoing, like it’s in a tube?

Yes, she said. The volume has varied greatly, but all the sounds have that same quality. What do you think that is?

I think it’s the portal.

Henry nodded agreement, keeping his voice low between them. It’s not all the way free of it for some reason. It’s half in and half out of its own dimension. Obviously, it’s incredibly strong, but it can’t pull itself through to our side—not even with Annie as an anchor. Fascinating.

It’s restrained somehow? Father Jim reached for the heavy silver cross at his neck, curling his fingers around it. The Beast must be holding it back.

Darien’s hazel eyes gleamed behind her thick eyeglasses. Maybe this thing is some sort of favorite pet Captain Howdy doesn’t want wiggling out the cat door. But how would that help us?

Evan scratched thoughtfully at his beard. Maybe we can get Annie just far enough out of its reach to break the hold.

Father Jim considered, then shook his head. "We have no way of measuring that opening. Dimensional doorways are notoriously fluid—especially this doorway."

Evan stopped himself from saying that Father Jim was the only one among them who believed in the Biblical version of Hell, but Darien picked up the thought anyway. She lowered her chin at him.

Sonny, that’s semantics. There is no light without darkness, and vice versa. All energies balance in our universe, no matter what names we give them.

Evan accepted the correction with a polite nod.

Henry peeked in at the girl on the living room floor, then returned to their huddle.

Father, what have your communications with it been like?

As yet, it’s only offered obscenities and threats, and then it pitches me out the front door, as you saw.

Henry’s brow knit. I want to try an experiment. He ushered the group out the front door and onto the porch, well out of earshot of the living room, then took a note pad and pencil out of the pocket of his t-shirt. His voice was a near whisper. "I’m curious not only about what this entity is able to learn from us, but how it learns. I’m going to say a word to you all out here, then write a different one down. Quickly scribbling on the pad, he turned it around to show them the word ‘grass’, touching his finger to his lips so no one spoke the word aloud. With a wave of his hand, they all went back into the hallway just outside the main living area where even their hushed voices could be heard on some level by the Wallacks, and, logically, by Annie. There, Henry whispered, Violin."

The group returned to the living room. Henry put the pad back in his pocket, kneeling in front of the girl again. May I talk to Annie?

The girl spat at him. Bitch is in a box. No key.

All right, Henry said. Then I’ll talk to you. My name is Henry. What is your name?

That mocking laughter shook the air again, raising the hairs on Evan’s neck as he held the recorder close. The Wallacks clung to each other on the sofa. Ellen closed her eyes.

There was no immediate response, so Henry asked again. What is your name, spirit?

With a chiding snicker, the entity said, Uncle Fred.

That’s not your name.

Name of a dead man soon. The demon sneered. I see him in the ether around you. Half in and half out of this place.

Henry showed no reaction; remained calm. Tell me your name.

Evan moved the recorder closer than the entity wanted. Annie whirled her head around, trying to see him behind her. The way the bones in her neck crunched reminded Evan of making peanut butter cookies with his grandmother’s. Her recipe called for nuts crushed fresh under a rolling pin.

Away, filthy dog!! the demon snarled. Away or die!

Evan took a solitary step back but held his recorder out. He looked across to Henry, waiting for the shaman’s next move.

What are you? Henry asked, calm and even. Are you a ghost?

No ghost.

A witch?

The demon laughed.

A goat? Maybe a mule?

The thing inside Annie growled at that insult. Better goat or mule than dog. It glared through the girl’s eyes back at Evan. That dog stinks of licking its own nuts.

Evan moved back a bit as Darien went to where Henry knelt by the girl, standing beside him with her hand on his big shoulder. Tilting her head, she sought eye contact with Annie but the demon was having none of that.

Away, seer! No entry.

"Then what if I give you access instead? Darien said. Allow you to look around in my head all you want."

Henry frowned at this suggestion at first, but then seemed to grasp her idea. Evan, as yet, had not.

Your permission is not required, mind-reader, the demon hissed. I see inside anyone I want.

Not me. Henry’s tone was tinged with challenge. I dare you to try.

"You dare, savage?! Bigger fool than you look with all those marks on your skin."

I don’t believe you can read my mind at all, Henry said evenly. Go on. Prove me wrong. Demonstrate your might.

Easily done. The entity tried to move the girl’s body closer to Henry, which was interesting to note, but being bound in such an awkward way made it impossible to go far. Instead, it glared at him with Annie’s bulging eyes.

Evan saw Darien’s fingers tighten on Henry’s shoulder and finally understood her plan. He didn’t like it one bit, but he understood.

Henry gave the entity a moment, then he shrugged. I don’t feel anything. Are you reading my mind now?

"Viiioooliiiinnn. The demon pulled Annie’s cracked, bleeding lips into a horrid leer. In all your heads."

Henry nodded slowly. Impressive. Now tell me what I wrote on this pad in my pocket.

Annie’s brow wrinkled deeply as her captor concentrated. Too easy. No challenge.

Fine, then tell me what’s there.

Nothing is there.

Oh, yes there is. Henry tapped the notepad in his pocket. I just wrote it a minute ago out in the hall. If you’re so nimble, tell me what it says.

Lies. Paper is blank.

Henry and Darien exchanged a glance, then he covered her hand still resting on his shoulder, strengthening their connection. Are you strong enough to make me hear your voice inside my head? I bet you’re not.

Easy.

Evan swallowed. This plan was so dangerous, he liked it less every second, but if it worked, it could turn the tide. For Annie Wallack’s sake, they had to try.

Do it, Henry said. Tell me your name in my head. I promise I won’t say it out loud.

Liar. Won’t give you my name, redskin.

Father Jim stood near Annie’s feet, brandishing his big cross. You know you have no choice but to give your name when it’s demanded. You’re just prolonging the inevitable. Christ compels you to give your name, spirit!

The leer on Annie’s face pulled even wider as her eyes rolled to see the priest. Your Christ is a weakling, padre. Needed to call a witch doctor to the rescue. Not afraid of you or this spineless medicine man. Her eyes rolled back to Henry. I’ll tell you how your old man dies.

Henry dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "He’s old and sick. How he dies is no mystery. Tell me something special. He tapped his temple with his index finger, staring into Annie’s wild eyes. Right in here, spirit. Tell me your name. Just between us."

The entity gave Darien a long, suspicious glare, then focused its full attention on Henry. Evan feared this monster might try to jump from Annie into the shaman during this exchange of thoughts. The room went tomb quiet; the temperature dropped.

Strong vibration in the floor was followed by a massive ripping sound, as though the walls were being torn like paper. Nothing was actually happening in the room, but the noises were deafening. Evan’s teeth rattled from the force as it continued. He held the recorder out, making sure the green light was on. Whatever this sound was, it would be fascinating to analyze later.

And then the girl lifted off the floor, straight up to where her hip was at Evan’s eye level. The rope around her hands and feet hovered horizontally toward Evan as though someone stood there holding it up. He moved closer to Father Jim.

Cross gleaming in the lamplight, Father Jim’s voice rang out deep and true over the permeating tearing noise. Say your name!

Henry stayed down on his knee to keep contact with Darien’s hand on his shoulder. Annie was at his eye level then, her suspended body gliding slowly toward him. Her gaze fixed his in a mesmeric vice. Henry held his ground, never flinched, returning that stare with unyielding tenacity.

Evan shifted behind Father Jim, standing between him and Darien and closer to Henry. Annie floated, motionless. The air was frigid.

When Henry shouted over the noise, his breath puffed in the cold. Say your name in my head, spirit! Prove your strength! Don’t keep me waiting.

Father Jim reached forward with the cross in one hand and a bottle of holy water in the other. Flicking his wrist repeatedly, he sprayed Annie’s suspended body with the water, reciting an entreaty in Latin in a strong, steady voice. Evan recognized some of the words:  diabolus, immundus, ostium, abscedo. The father was telling the unclean devil to retreat back into the portal. The entity being caught between its dimension and theirs was just a theory, but they hadn’t tried acting on it before. Maybe this was the thing that would give them the upper hand.

The cacophonous ripping sound ceased all at once. The room fell dead quite. Annie hovered, her terrified parents clung to each other on the sofa, weeping. The air crackled with unbearable tension.

Darien screamed. Her eyes rounded with shock and she threw her hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet. She gaped at Annie, still hanging in the air just in front of her and Henry. The entity inside the girl was staring so hard into the shaman’s eyes that it didn’t seem to notice the old woman’s outburst at all. Evan put his hand on Darien’s shoulder to support her; she nodded that she was all right. Her gaze went to his device, telling him to keep recording.

Evan watched Henry like a hawk. The big man hadn’t moved since Annie began to levitate. He held his ground, his hand covering Darien’s on his shoulder. Whatever that thing was transmitting through him, she was also getting the message loud and clear.

While the entity was distracted by Henry, Father Jim strode purposefully forward and pressed his cross to Annie’s thigh. He flung holy water on her body and face, but there was no reaction. Not a flinch or curse, no rebuke. The priest’s expression dropped; he turned to Evan.

It’s not in her anymore. It couldn’t be.

Then ... Evan stared at Annie still floating in the air. "How is that happening?"

Annie flipped onto her back in mid-air, the ropes around her limbs going limp toward the floor. Her head went back at an impossible angle; that crunching peanut sound made Evan cringe. The girl shrieked then wailed, her filthy hair flying as her head whipped. Every light in the house went out.

In the silent darkness, Henry’s deep, base voice spoke in unison with Darien’s. They said the demon’s name and one more word in Latin: Or’edoth. Resacro.

Annie screamed again and the floor vibrated with her sudden weight. Lightning flashed over top of her, filling the room with the stench of ozone and sulfur. They glimpsed the entity for only a second as the hole it tried to crawl out of sucked it back in like a bug in a bathtub drain. Three heads, all rat-like and toothy; tentacle legs and a thick, oily tail. It had both scales and fur, twelve eyes all gleaming yellow. It roared, calling forth the deafening ripping again, but only for a moment. The silence that followed seemed somehow louder.

The lights flickered on. Annie Wallack lay on the floor sobbing, struggling against the ropes that held her, demanding to know what the hell was going on. That was a good sign; maybe she’d get lucky and not remember much about the demon’s occupation. She screamed for her mother. Ellen and Stan ran to her, untied her and nearly crushed her between their ardent embraces.

Darien’s knees gave out and she sat down heavily on the coffee table. Henry sat on the floor, scrubbed at his face with his hands, then turned to Father Jim.

"You were right, Father. It was being held back by a higher entity—much higher, by the glimpse down the hole it gave me. I don’t subscribe to the Bible’s description of Satan exactly, but that thing was evil." He ran trembling fingers through his gleaming black hair, then asked the Wallacks if Annie was all right.

Ellen, sobbing with relief, held her daughter’s face in her hands and pressed a kiss to Annie’s forehead. The girl was dazed and crying from confusion and fear, but she appeared intact. We’re taking her to the hospital to get checked. Are you all sure that thing is gone?

Yes, Darien stated. I saw the portal close like a manhole cover after it went through. She shivered, removing her glasses to rub her weary eyes. It won’t be back. It wasn’t supposed to come here in the first place, which is why it couldn’t cross all the way through. But, you may still have residual activity from other entities that were drawn to this energy. It won’t last long. A week or two tops.

Stan was up and rushing to gather his wallet and car keys. What sort of activity do you mean?

Could be anything, Evan said. "Most likely poltergeist-type; moving objects, voices and shadows. Like Darien said, it won’t last more than a few weeks. We’ll do a sage clearing of your house before we leave tonight.