Soul Destroyer: Soul Collector Series, #2

By Ron Ripley, Nick Efstathiou and Scare Street

The terror has only just begun…

After a bloody battle in New Hampshire, ghost hunter and retired Marine Shane Ryan has crushed the Blood and Silver biker gang. Or at least, that's what he believes.

The sinister power manipulating them behind the scenes leaves a trail of evil and darkness in its wake. And Shane is ready to chase it to hell and back…

Following a trail of broken bodies and shattered souls, Shane's crusade steers him from sun-scorched Arizona to the snow-swept forests of Canada. But he quickly discovers that he is not the only one on the hunt.

As he battles ghosts and biker cultists alike, Shane slowly realizes that someone… Or something… is following his tracks. A deadly enforcer, with an army of malevolent spirits at its beck and call, is looking for a fight.

And Shane Ryan will give them the deadliest battle of his life...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scare Street
• Release date: Sep 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798224558773

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: Bad Times

Steven Eklund finished his stretches, wiped the sweat off the back of his neck, and stepped out onto his back porch.

The last rays of the sun kissed the grass of his lawn, and birds sang in the tall birch trees lining all three acres of the property. From where Steven stood on his deck, he could look out and know that everything he saw was his.

Your phone’s off.

Steven turned around as Christine came out of the kitchen, a glass of sparkling water in her hand. Her blonde hair was piled high on her head, held in place with a scrunchy that was, despite its outward appearance, artfully set. His wife shifted a little and adjusted the formfitting workout gear she wore, although she rarely worked out.

Steven didn’t mind. She still looked good, and she was only thirty-three.

He, on the other hand, was two decades older and had to work a hell of a lot harder to keep in shape.

Where’s Kate? he asked.

On the front porch, Christine answered. She’s expecting a package from Amazon.

Steven raised an eyebrow, and his wife shrugged her shoulders.

Does it matter what she ordered? Christine asked, sitting down in one of the three Adirondack chairs arranged around a low table. She set her drink down. She knows we’ll pay the charges.

Steven grunted noncommittally and took a seat beside Christine. Coming to think giving her a credit card wasn’t the best idea.

Well, it wasn’t the worst idea, Christine replied. She might as well get used to having a card now before she gets much older. We’ll be able to correct any bad habits that crop up.

Steven didn’t reply.

His marriage with Christine was his second, and he’d learned what to say and what not to say during his first marriage. His practice marriage, as he enjoyed calling it.

Do you want to order dinner tonight? he asked after a moment.

Christine nodded. Yes. I really don’t want to cook. The quality of meat from the butcher hasn’t been the best, and I think Kate’s getting ready to go on some sort of vegan kick. She was asking all about it this morning.

Really? Steven groaned.

His first wife had been vegan, and it had been a miserable experience for him. He was a Texas boy through and through, and he didn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want to have beef three meals a day, seven days a week.

Really, really, Christine replied and picked up her drink.

***

She’s good lookin’, Marty whispered.

Don’t care, West replied. He adjusted the scope on his rifle.

You sayin’ we can’t even play with her? Marty whined.

That’s exactly what I’m sayin’. West sighed. Without looking over at the other man, he added, There’s a thing called evidence, Marty. Evidence. It’s damned important not to leave any behind. That’s why you’re here. To collect evidence, not make more of it.

Marty rustled in the hide and muttered, I hate cleanin’ up.

You want to pull the trigger then?

Nope, Marty snapped. Bad enough I’d go down as an accessory, but I ain’t pullin’ the trigger.

Of all the nastiness you’ve done in your life— West chuckled, —you still can’t bring yourself to kill someone.

Marty didn’t answer, and West focused on sighting his target once more.

The man, Mr. Steven Eklund, was a large inviting target. Mr. Eklund’s dyed black hair framed his face perfectly, and West knew he’d have no issue putting a round into the center of the man’s forehead.

It would be important to kill Mr. Eklund first. The shock of the man’s death would cause the wife to panic and freeze. Plenty of time for West to shift over to her and to finish her off.

By that time, the team would be in motion.

And we got to kill them?

Marty’s question interrupted West’s thought process.

Sighing, West answered, Yes. There’s been a lot of research done on Mr. Eklund. Not just by us, but by the buyer. Mr. Eklund is the type of individual who would fight. And, given his physical appearance, his history as a soldier, and his overall aggressiveness, we can’t risk him coming after his daughter.

If you say so, Marty grumbled.

It’s not that I say so, West snapped. It’s what Cap says.

Marty remained silent.

If you’ve got a problem with this grab, West continued, keeping his attention focused on Mr. Eklund, then I suggest you bring it up with Cap.

No, I ain’t got a problem, Marty muttered.

Yeah, West snarled. I didn’t think so. Now, let me get this done.

Clearing his mind, West chambered a round into the rifle, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

***

Christine opened her mouth to say she wanted Thai food for dinner when Steven’s head exploded.

She winced and jerked back, blood and brains splattering her face and landing in her mouth. Bile rose in her stomach, and she watched, horrified, as Steven’s body shook and tumbled out of the chair.

The sound of a gunshot registered in her ears, and as she turned to look, darkness smashed into her.

***

Kate heard a pair of gunshots and stood up, righteous anger flooding her.

She knew people hunted around the house, and she hated it. No one, as far as Kate was concerned, had a right to hunt animals. Especially not anywhere near her house.

She left the front porch and went inside.

Dad, she called. Daddy? Did you hear the hunters?

Her father didn’t respond, and Kate rolled her eyes.

He had been working out, which meant he was probably on the back deck. She passed through the kitchen and saw her mother slumped over in one of the deck chairs. Her father was lying on the wood.

Something was wrong.

Confused, Kate walked out onto the deck and tried to understand what she was looking at. Her mother’s hair was in disarray, and it was a bloody mess. Most of the back of her father’s head was gone.

Kate’s fingers twitched as she stared down at the bodies.

Mom, she whispered after a moment. Dad. Can you guys stand up now?

Movement caught her eye, and Kate looked up to the backyard. Four men were running across toward the house. All were dressed in hunting gear, their faces hidden by masks, goggles hiding their eyes.

It took Kate a moment to realize that not a single piece of skin was showing.

And then the men were up and on the porch.

They didn’t speak as they took hold of her, put her hands behind her back, and zip-tied them together. Fear kicked in, and she opened her mouth to scream, only to have a rag slapped onto her mouth and nose. A strange chemical smell smothered her, and a moment later, the world went black.

***

Set.

The one word came through the earpiece, and West picked up the brass casings from his shots and got to his feet, Marty following. Marty carefully rolled up the mat they had been lying on, and together, they walked back to the van. West opened the back door, and Marty tossed the mat in beside a black body bag. Sitting down beside the bag, West kept the door open with his boot as Marty got into the driver’s seat, started the truck, and drove it to the front of the house.

The grab team was waiting for them, and West made room as the unconscious girl was slung into the back of the truck with all the ceremony Marty had mustered for the mat.

In silence, one of the grab team members opened the body bag, and they removed the corpse of a twelve-year-old girl. West rolled up the bag and kicked it off to one side as the grab team closed the door. With a sigh, West used tie-downs to secure the new girl to the floor.

We’re good, West called when he finished.

Marty grunted in response from the front and shifted into drive. As the van pulled away from the house, West looked back at the building. Soon, he knew, smoke would rise from the building, and he smiled at the thought of another job well done.

Closing his eyes, West leaned his head back and wondered if his wife was making a casserole for dinner.

Chapter 2: Making Plans

You’re planning on traveling, my friend? Carl stood in the doorway.

Shane looked up at the dead man. Huh? Oh, yeah, got to. All the information, it leads to Arizona.

The German shook his head. It will be strange to have you gone again.

Yeah. Shane sat down on his bed and looked at his hands for a moment.

Are you unwell? Carl asked, stepping inside the room.

No. Shane picked up his cigarettes, shook one out, and tucked the Lucky Strike into his mouth before lifting his Zippo off the nightstand. He lit the cigarette, took a long inhale, and then let it out through his nose. I’m just tired, Carl. Mentally. Physically, too, but really, it’s the mental weight that drags me down. I know bad stuff happens in the world. I’ve done some of it. But this stuff with the kids, it pushes me. I want to rest, but I can’t.

Will you take one of us with you? Carl asked after a moment.

No.

Why not?

Shane took another drag off his cigarette. I want everyone here. I got a bad feeling about this whole thing. This club, Blood and Silver, isn’t a fly-by-night operation. They know what they’re doing. It’d be stupid of me to think they aren’t going to figure out who I am. When they do, they’ll come here. People always do.

Anger flashed across Carl’s face. I will deal with anyone who trespasses.

I know you will. Shane grinned. That’s why I want everyone here. When it happens, I don’t think it’s going to be one or two guys. Property’s big enough to allow a good-sized group to come in at night and do some damage. They might try to set fire to the house. Set a bomb. Who the hell knows. Thing is, I need you all here to keep this place safe.

We will keep it safe, Carl said stiffly. I promise you that, my friend.

I know. Shane glanced around. All right. I have to finish packing, and then I’ve got to take a quick trip over to Edgewood.

Carl frowned.

Jo, Shane said before the dead man could ask.

I didn’t think you were still speaking with her.

I am. Shane stood up. Have to. More information. She’s a tool, Carl. Remember that. I need her to help me figure out where the bodies are.

Without waiting for a reply, Shane went back to packing the few items he would need for his trip.

***

Shane stood in front of Sophia Whitley’s home and took his time lighting a fresh cigarette.

The house’s faded paint absorbed the midday sun, and the warped glass of the Victorian windows appeared to glow. The unkempt lawn and the leaning mailbox all gave an air of desperation to the property, and Shane understood why.

The family had never recovered from the tragedy of the girl’s vanishing.

Neither had the house.

A few people had tried to live in it after the Whitleys sold it. But the house wouldn’t let them. There was too much sadness in it, and that sadness had affected the residents. Shane had heard of a pair of suicides over the decades, failed marriages, and financial ruin.

No one said the house was haunted by Sophia Whitley’s spirit.

The home, people believed, had merely taken in the grief of the Whitley family. A grief that was never-ending.

For a moment, Shane wondered if that grief would fade when he found her body. If he was able to give the family a body to bury.

He lit the cigarette and continued his walk to Edgewood Cemetery.

Shane moved along the streets, and past houses, nodded to people working in their yards, and said hello to dogs. Soon, he entered Edgewood through the back gate and came to a stop at the crypt where Jo slept.

He took a seat on the ground, fieldstripped his cigarette, and slipped the remnants into his pocket. For a short time, he looked out over the cemetery, watching the dead linger around their graves. Finally, he reached out and nudged the iron door to the crypt open.

After a few minutes of silence, the air chilled around him, and Jo’s broken form stepped out.

She sat down beside him and folded her arms over her knees.

You’re still alive.

And you’re still dead, Shane replied.

The dead woman laughed. Yup. No doubt about it. What’s the occasion?

I’m about to leave, he told her.

Suicide?

Shane grinned. Not yet. Soon enough, I suppose.

She looked at him, and when he didn’t elaborate, she shrugged. Where you headed to?

Arizona.

Jo tapped on her teeth with a fingernail, an act disturbingly devoid of sound. You hunting?

Yup.

The club?

He nodded.

They’ll probably go to ground, she advised.

You think?

Yeah. She leaned back and came to rest on her elbows, looking down over the cemetery. They were always good when I had to deal with them. Real professional. Pretty sure they had a few cops on the payroll. It was the only way they could move bodies, especially kids’ bodies, so easily.

Didn’t think of that. Shane sighed. I hate dealing with dirty cops.

Is there any other kind?

Shane glanced at her and observed she wasn’t joking. Of course. They’re the exception to the rule, Jo.

She shrugged. If you say so. Just all the cops I ever dealt with, they were all dirty.

When did you deal with them?

Whenever I was moving a body.

Shane rolled his eyes but didn’t continue on the subject. Anyway, I came to ask you about their system. If you can remember anything about it.

Of course, I can. She closed her eyes as if remembering what the sun’s warmth once felt like. They’re pretty straightforward when it comes to organization. They had the East Coast chapters, and they’d pretty much locked down the whole business of transporting prostitutes, willing or not. They were just getting into moving kids, though. It was dangerous. Everybody goes nuts when a kid goes missing. Takes a lot more work, you know?

Shane didn’t answer.

So, if a cop isn’t dirty, people really go looking for the kid, Jo continued. This means the club’s got to be tight. Tighter than the other clubs. Yeah, you’ll do some heavy time if you move too much narcotics, but nobody in prison is going to give you a hard time because you moved a couple of kilos of blow. But, if they know you’re moving kids and killing women just to kill them, well, life inside gets really unpleasant. In order to keep a lid on things, they’ve got their enforcer.

Most clubs do, Shane observed.

Yup. Jo nodded. Without a doubt. Except the enforcer I met for Blood and Silver. He was a bad man. Worst I ever met. I’m not joking when I say I think my father would have been afraid of this guy.

Yeah?

Oh, yeah. Jo straightened up. There were rumors that he’d found one guy running his mouth to a broad in a bar. Both the club member and the girl, they disappeared. I found out what happened, though. I went looking.

Shane waited.

This guy, he grabbed them both and took them to a little house on an island in the middle of one of the lakes in New Hampshire. Tortured her until she told him what the club member had bragged about. Then, he worked on the club member for a while. Maybe a month.

How’d he keep them alive? Shane asked.

The enforcer kept the club member alive. Force-fed him. Jo stared at him with her dead eyes. Cooked that woman up, bit by bit, and stuffed it down the club member’s throat. When the enforcer finally finished with him, he cut the member’s tongue out and brought it to each chapter house. Showed it to them, you know? Wanted them all to see what happened when someone went and talked to anyone about what went on in the club.

Shane mulled over the information for a short time. They all like this? The enforcers?

I think so, Jo answered. My dad, he was an enforcer in prison. Wasn’t affiliated with any particular club. Just kind of worked freelance. Never talked. Always told me that loose lips sink ships.

Shane chuckled. That’s old-school right there. I knew a couple of old Marines who would say stuff like that. Hard cases.

They were quiet for a few minutes, and then Jo spoke.

You should leave the door to the crypt open.

Shane kept still, senses heightening as he answered her. Can’t do that, Jo.

Why not?

You know why.

He saw her shoulders slump in the corner of his eye.

There are so many of them, she whispered. I can hear them when they walk by on their way to school. No one would miss one. Not now. So many kids.

You’re not killing anyone.

Not even one? Jo pressed.

No, Shane spoke sharply. Listen, you’re all done with hurting kids. All done with killing them.

I only kill the people you say I can? she hissed.

All I want, Shane replied, keeping his temper in check, is for you to try and relax. I’m going to close the door before I leave. People will come looking for their kids. If they find them, then they’re going to be angry, and someone, somewhere, will figure out what’s going on. I’m not the only one who can see the dead, and you need to remember that.

Chapter 3: The Doldrums

Ronald hadn’t shaved in a week. Not since the catastrophic episode with the New Hampshire chapter of Blood and Silver.

He rubbed at the hair on his chin and let out a sigh.

Losing a prospective student was not unheard of. It had happened to him twice before, and he knew of it occurring to others, too.

But nothing as dramatic had ever happened.

The New Hampshire chapter was destroyed. A reliable pipeline shut down, which meant he would have to find new ways to bring the students in.

And he would still have to make certain it was fine with Ms. Gillian.

Ronald’s phone rang, the sound startling him.

He looked at it for a moment, then picked it up from the coffee table.

Hello?

Ronald, we have a prospective student.

Ronald straightened up. Who?

We’re secure? the man on the other end asked.

Of course, we’re secure, Ronald snapped. Who is it?

Kate Eklund.

Ronald closed his eyes, and an image of the girl sprang up. Yes. Excellent. Absolutely fantastic. How is she coming in to view the school?

Taking a trip north, the man answered. We’ve got a chapter in Montréal.

When will she be leaving?

That’s a good question. We’re not sure. Cap wants to make sure everything’s in place. We can keep her a bit. Got a safe spot.

Ronald frowned. I don’t like that idea. The failure to rapidly transport the last student caused an issue with her finally refusing to enroll in the school.

The other man laughed. Refusal to enroll? She was rescued by the cops.

No, Ronald corrected, she was rescued by a bald man named Shane Ryan.

So you said, the man snorted. Well, anyway, we’ll be looking into that ourselves. I’ll give you a call when we figure out how we’re moving her and when.

The man ended the call before Ronald could respond.

Holding the phone, anger grew within Ronald. Finally, he set the phone down and stared at it.

After a moment, he got to his feet, ran his hands through his messy hair, and made his way to the bathroom. He needed to bring the news to Ms. Gillian.

***

When he reached the school, Ronald sat in his car with the engine running. He knew Ms. Gillian did not hold him responsible for the loss of the student. She understood how hard he worked.

But he couldn’t shake his