Shadows' End: Death Hunter Series, #6

By Ron Ripley and Scare Street

To stop the ultimate evil, Shane Ryan faces an impossible choice…

 

Retired Marine Corps sergeant Shane Ryan has seen his share of death and violence. And as far as he's concerned, the best defense is a good offense. So when he and his friends manage to head off a supernatural attack at a nearby orphanage, he is determined to hunt down whoever is responsible for the carnage.

There's just one problem. The evil behind all this is a hopelessly deranged young boy who has developed the ability to command the restless spirits of the dead.

Outnumbered and facing an evil beyond imagination, Shane and his allies must battle their way through an army of wraiths to get to this sinister child. But deep down, he knows there is only one way to bring this nightmare to an end.

The only way to stop the boy is to kill him.

Can Shane bring himself to do what must be done?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scare Street
• Release date: Mar 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9798224850440

Ron Ripley

Ron Ripley is an Amazon bestseller and Top 40 horror author. He is husband and father surviving in New England, a place which seems to be getting colder every day. Ron grew up across from a disturbingly large cemetery where he managed to scare himself every night before going to bed. Mostly because of the red lights that people put in front of the headstones. Those things are just plain creepy to a kid.Ron enjoys writing horror, military history and driving through the small towns of New England with his family, collecting books and giving impromptu lectures on military history to his family, who enjoy ignoring him during those dreadful times.

Book preview

Chapter 1: Deceptions

Sunday, 6:00 AM

The chiming of a bell brought Sally McCutcheon out of a bad dream, and she opened her eyes slowly, rubbing at them with both hands.

What, in the name of all that is good and true, was I drinking last night?

She had a vague recollection of Grey Goose Vodka, but little else. Sally couldn’t remember where she had gone out or who she had gone out with. She remembered talking about checking out some of the bars on the Upper East Side in New York City, but that was all.

Veronica will remember. Always does.

Sally moaned as she sat up, thankful for the darkness of the room. Her head was always sensitive to light after she had spent the night drinking. She ran her fingers through her hair to untangle the knots and stopped halfway through.

There were no knots to untangle. There was no hair to have been tangled.

Someone had removed it all.

With growing horror, her fingers explored the stubble on her scalp, her mouth dry. Someone had shaved her head while she slept.

When she lowered her hands, they were shaking, and her stomach twisted and turned. Leaning over, she went to turn on her bed lamp but, like her hair, it was missing. So, too, was the bedtable. Lowering her hands to the sheets, she jerked them back. They were crisp and rough, reminding her of hospital linens.

Above her, a light came to life gradually. As her eyes adjusted, Sally looked around her and took in the absurdity of the room.

She was in what looked to be a boy’s bedroom. There were newspaper clippings tacked to the walls, airplanes hanging from the ceiling by fishing line, and a baseball bat and glove beside the bed. There was a beaten chest of drawers off to one side, and the walls were papered with an absurd pattern of ducks in flight from a marshland. A single window occupied the left wall, and there was a door across from the bed. On a chair by the door was a pile of folded clothes and a pair of old sneakers on the floor beneath it. A battered and frayed dark blue baseball cap was hanging on the chair’s corner.

Looking down at herself, Sally was horrified to see she was naked. She snatched the top sheet off the bed and wrapped herself in it as she stepped onto the cold floor. In silence, she hurried to the window, pushed the curtain aside, and found only a blank wall.

The window was fake.

She clutched the curtain for a moment, her head swimming and her heart pounding. After a moment, she let the curtain fall back into place and took several stilted steps to the door. She tried the knob, and it turned. Holding her breath, Sally opened the door and let out a gasp of despair at another barren wall.

As she let go of the doorknob and staggered back, the door closed on its own. She reached the bed, climbed back up onto it, and pulled the sheet even tighter. Her mind was traumatized into numbness, and she sat, incapable of coherent thought.

A soft click and a whir caught her attention, and a heartbeat later, someone spoke. It was the voice of a boy on the cusp of manhood, his voice breaking as his words came through speakers hidden about the room.

Hi, Sally!

She winced and squeezed her eyes closed.

Oh, don’t do that, he laughed.

Where am I?! she shouted, refusing to look around again.

You’re at my house. My name’s Alex.

Can you let me go, please? she asked, her head bowed, her voice tremulous. Please, just let me go.

Oh, I can’t. You need to get dressed, though.

My clothes aren’t here.

Not your old ones, Alex agreed, but we have clothes in your size on the chair. You can put those on.

She shivered, the sheet unable to keep her warm. Easing her eyes open, she got off the bed. Her eyes flickered around the room, searching for cameras.

Don’t worry, Alex laughed. I don’t care that you’re naked. Just hurry up and get dressed.

Sally hesitated, but the stinging cold urged her on.

By the time she finished dressing, she felt warmer, especially when she pulled the baseball cap on. She looped the sheet up over her and withdrew to the bed once again. Sally cleared her throat and then ventured a question.

What happened to my hair?

Huh, oh, it’s gone, Alex informed her.

I know, Sally whispered. But why?

She doesn’t like girls, Alex stated. Just boys. Like, twelve-year-old boys, and you look like one. At least with your hair cut off and when you’re in boy clothes. So, that’ll be pretty good. She should be along soon. She’s kind of new.

I just want to leave, Sally pleaded, looking around the room. Please?

Why? There was a sullen note to the question.

Because I’m afraid, Sally whispered.

Alex laughed. You don’t have to be afraid.

Sally didn’t respond.

See, I’m not looking to have you scared. That’s not the data I’m trying to collect, okay?

Tears filled Sally’s eyes and spilled down to the sheet. In a hoarse voice, she asked, Then why am I here, Alex?

I want to see how she does it, he answered. I know what she did and who she did it to; I just don’t know how she did it. I’m curious. If it’s good enough, then she’s going to work with me. I guess you’re helping me find a new employee. Isn’t that cool?

Sally choked back a sob.

There was the sound of another voice in the background.

Huh? Really? Alex asked the unknown speaker. In a louder voice, Alex stated, Timmy says I’m being cruel, that you’re really scared. Are you?

Sally could only bring herself to nod.

Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t want that. The genuine note of sorrow caused her to blink away the tears and look up and around again. No, you don’t need to be afraid, okay?

Okay, she whispered. Plucking up some courage, she asked, What’s going to happen?

You’re going to die, Alex answered. Matilda is going to kill you. I just need to see how it’s done, and she was insistent on how she only likes to kill boys. There wasn’t time to find a boy the right age, and I want to get moving on my project. You look kinda like a boy and were an easy target, so we took you instead. Next best thing, right?

Fear froze Sally and rooted her to the bed. Her mind tried to process what the boy had told her, but she couldn’t think properly. Then, as she slowly recovered, movement at the door caught her eye.

A woman passed through the closed door.

She’s a ghost, Sally realized.

The dead woman was matronly, wearing an ankle-length skirt and a turtleneck sweater. There was a scarf draped around the neck and knotted casually on her chest. Her hands were long and elegant, her gray and white hair coiffed and beautiful. The dead woman’s face was full, a soft smile on her lips and a pair of glasses in cat’s-eye frames balanced on the bridge of her nose. To each arm of the frame was a small clip, and the clips connected to a chain that looped down to the back of her neck.

Oh my, the dead woman said, her voice soft and pleasant. They dressed you up like a little boy, didn’t they. I’m so sorry. As a young man, this must be thoroughly embarrassing for you.

Dumbfounded, Sally could only stare.

The ghost took a step closer, sympathy writ large upon her face. Look at you. I’m sure this room is terribly cold, and here you are dressed in ‘naught but these thin garments.’ The dead woman tsked several times. If I were alive, dear, I’d slip my scarf around your neck. It’s amazing how much comfort such a simple piece of cloth can give. Oh, but you have the sheet. You know, with it draped that way over your shoulders, it’s not going to do much for you. Do you mind?

The dead woman reached out, and Sally murmured, I don’t mind.

Of course, you don’t, the dead woman smiled. You’re a good child.

Sally shivered violently as waves of cold washed over her. The dead woman took the sheet, folded it over clumsily, and then looped it around Sally’s shoulders with surprising deftness and grace.

There, the ghost nodded, you’re quite a dapper young man.

Sally blinked, some of her wits coming back to her. I’m not a young man.

No, the ghost smiled. You’re a boy.

Before Sally could respond, the dead woman took hold of the ends of the makeshift scarf and jerked them sharply across Sally’s chest. The folded sheet cut into her throat, cutting off the flow of air and causing pain to explode in Sally’s neck. She clawed at the fabric, trying to free herself, but the dead woman only pulled tighter, bending forward and pushing Sally down.

For a moment, Sally resisted, but then her body gave out. She crashed backward, and the dead woman stayed with her. The ghost loosened her grip, and Sally took in a long, desperate breath before the dead woman tightened the sheet again.

It’s been far too long, the dead woman whispered. I don’t want you to die yet, my boy. It needs to last.

***

Alex clapped his hands and turned off the monitors. He spun around in his chair and looked for Timmy. The ghost stood off to one side, looking out the window at the morning sun shining down upon the trees. Alex spoke, but his words were muffled, almost drowned out by the incessant buzzing in his head.

Timmy turned and looked at him, eyebrow raised.

Alex yelled until he could hear himself clearly, and then he lowered his voice. Hey, Timmy, did you see her?!

I did. You happy with her, kid?

Oh, yeah, she’s just fine, Alex laughed. We just need to get her down to the orphanage along with the others. Has Penny showed back up yet?

You sent her away on vacation, remember? Timmy reminded him.

Alex frowned. No. I didn’t remember. Until how long?

You said she could take a break until she was ready, Timmy replied. You told her to leave all her stuff so no one could bother her.

Oh. Alex scratched at the back of his head. He smiled. That was really nice of me.

Yes, it was, Timmy agreed.

So, who am I going to send with the stuff?

One of the new people, Timmy told him. You picked out a woman named Paxton.

Good, Alex smiled. He tapped his fingers on his legs. Is she here?

In the other room.

Still smiling, Alex got out of his chair and made his way to the door, the floor feeling as though it was rolling beneath him.

We need to get this fixed, Alex said. Something’s wrong. I can’t walk steady.

Yeah, Timmy sighed. We’ll get it fixed, kid.

As the buzzing in his head increased in volume again, Alex reached the door and went to speak with Paxton.

Chapter 2: Jacinta

Sunday, 10:00 AM

They sat alone in the library, the door closed and the shades drawn.

Jacinta looked at the bookcase, behind which the oubliette was hidden, and shook her head. It’s terrible about Victor.

Yeah, Shane agreed. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingers. She smiled at him and touched the missing part of his left ear with her free hand.

Look at you, she murmured. You look like a junkyard dog.

Who says I’m not?

She kissed his forehead. I do.

Okay. He pressed her hand to his face for a moment and then said, I wish Eloise hadn’t hurt him.

Me, too.

They were silent for a moment, and then Jacinta asked, What’s going on, Shane?

We’re hunting, he told her. Hunting someone terrible.

The persons responsible for the deaths in Detroit?

Lots of places, he responded. In fact, I’m not even sure how many we can lay at his feet.

And we can’t arrest him.

Yeah, Shane agreed. No one’s going to believe anything about ghosts. Not in an important way.

Definitely not. She was quiet. Shane, I don’t want you to do anything that’s going to break you.

He blinked and looked at her with surprise.

You haven’t mentioned this person’s name or age. It makes me think that this is someone you wouldn’t think of hurting. She took in a deep breath. I know you’ve done what you’ve had to in the past. I’ve listened to you at night. Listened to the nightmares you have. I don’t want you to add another one. If there’s another way to deal with whomever this is, you need to. You can’t shoulder any more. You carry more than your fair share, my love.

I’ll do what I can, he told her. Shane got out of his chair, sat down on the floor in front of her, and laid his head on her lap. She traced the scars on his scalp with her fingers, then leaned down and kissed the side of his head.

I need you, Shane Ryan. You can’t leave me.

I need you, too, and I’m not going anywhere.

***

Frank Benedict stood in the backyard, looking out over the pond and the tall grass. Carl was beside him, the dead man standing and watching the water as well.

After a short silence, Carl spoke, his English tinged with a German accent.

This was a terrible place for a boy, the dead man said.

Frank glanced at Carl, who noticed and nodded.

It is true, unfortunately, he continued. Shane’s parents, they were good people. Good people who never should have purchased such a place as this. Shane still has nightmares.

About his childhood or after? Frank asked.

Carl gave him a small smile. Both, of course. But here, in the house when Ms. Jacinta is not here, the nightmares tend to revolve around the dead.

And when she is around? Frank inquired.

Well, it seems he is trying to protect her from some unknown horror in his sleep, Carl replied.

He’s mentioned the pond before, Frank said.

Has he?

Frank nodded as Carl seemed to consider how best to phrase something.

He has good reason to mention it, Carl said at last. The creature that occupied the water was a monster in the form of a child. Her crimes, Brother Benedict, are far worse than I wish to describe at this time.

Frank considered reminding Carl that he was no longer a brother, but then he decided against it. Focusing on Shane’s history, Frank asked, How bad did it get for him?

Terrible, Carl answered. You know his parents disappeared?

Yes, when he was in boot camp, right?

Carl nodded. Yes. That was difficult for him. Despite his being a newly minted United States Marine, he felt alone. In many ways, I think that the Marines are the only reason he survived to his current age. They taught him resiliency and self-dependence, as well as the importance of a good group of men. He has managed to survive and overcome all that has been thrown at him. But the monster, she still lurks in his memory. I can still picture her coming up out of the water and approaching the house or pulling people down into the pond to drown.

What was he like as a kid? Frank asked, shifting the conversation slightly.

Carl smiled. A bright child. He knew so much. When he was older, in his final year of school, he was offered a full scholarship to study divinity. Did you know that?

Frank shook his head. I can see him as a priest, though. Father Shane.

Yes, Carl nodded, he would have done quite well. More than likely, he would have risen high in the Church. However, there was too much violence in his heart.

Still is, Frank murmured.

Yes, Carl sighed. More than you can know.

***

Exhaustion slowed Tom’s mind, making his thoughts sluggish and incoherent. He stared at the laptop, then he raised his hand and closed the top. At the sound of the soft click, there was movement from across the room. Tom looked up and saw Victor facing him, his eyelids sunken in.

Hello, Tom.

Hi, he responded.

Victor frowned. Have you slept at all?

No.

Why not?

I’ve been trying to find the damned location of the orphanage, Tom answered. He rubbed his face and yawned. I guess I ought to try and sleep a bit.