Ghouls, Ghouls, Ghouls Part 32

A little gasp from behind me told me that Gilley could see her too. She looked at him then, and she said, "Now, Gilley Gillespie, you don't be afraid neither. I need you to stay close to my Mary Jane. You hear? You be a good friend to her, 'cause I believe she'll be needin' a real good friend for a spell."

"Yes, ma'am," Gil squeaked obediently.

And then my mother looked one last time at me with such tenderness and love that I nearly shattered inside. She blew me a kiss, mouthed, "I love you," and then she vanished into thin air.

Gilley and I had never once spoken about that morning, and I carried the memory of it like a safely guarded secret. It was such a bittersweet memory that to tell anyone about it might forever taint it in some way, which was why I told no one, and I pushed it to the back of my thoughts to keep it safe and pure.

So, I couldn't imagine why, after all these years, I'd be dreaming about it on the eve of leaving Ireland for Dunkirk to film the next segment of our reality TV show, Ghoul Getters, Ghoul Getters, but here I was all grown-up now, having a dream about visiting that same porch back in Valdosta, which was once again scattered with Barbies, Ken dolls, and tiny clothes, and there was my mother, standing in the doorway, looking every bit as lovely as I had remembered. but here I was all grown-up now, having a dream about visiting that same porch back in Valdosta, which was once again scattered with Barbies, Ken dolls, and tiny clothes, and there was my mother, standing in the doorway, looking every bit as lovely as I had remembered.

"h.e.l.lo, Mary Jane," she said softly, almost shyly.

I blinked-just like when I was eleven. "Mamma?"

My mother stepped forward, her smile filling up the room and my heart. "I been watchin' you," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "My, what a lovely lady you've turned into!"

I opened my mouth to speak, but the emotion of seeing my mother was too much and the words just wouldn't come.

Mamma was kind enough to ignore that and simply stepped closer. Taking my hand she said, "I am so proud of you, Mary Jane. You just light me up with how smart you are and how courageous you've become. Why, I remember when you were afraid of your own shadow!"

I swallowed hard and attempted a smile. In recent years I'd played on my natural psychic-medium talents and become a credible ghostbuster. While working on the Ghoul Getters Ghoul Getters show, I'd faced and fought back against some of the most fearsome poltergeists you could ever imagine. show, I'd faced and fought back against some of the most fearsome poltergeists you could ever imagine.

"Lord, Mary Jane!" my mother exclaimed knowingly. "I've watched you tackle murderous spirits, and vengeful witches, and now, even a phantom!"

My chest filled with the pride and love from my mother. But just then my mother's beaming face turned serious, and she seemed to hesitate-as if she were about to choose her next words carefully. "There is a mission about to be offered to you that I know you'll accept, honey child. One that involves the most horrendous evil imaginable."

I blinked again. Was she talking about the ghosts in the haunted village in Dunkirk? The next place on the Ghoul Getters Ghoul Getters agenda? "I've already read the literature," I tried to a.s.sure her. "This time I'm going in prepared, and honestly, Mamma, I don't think it's anything we can't handle." agenda? "I've already read the literature," I tried to a.s.sure her. "This time I'm going in prepared, and honestly, Mamma, I don't think it's anything we can't handle."

My mother squeezed my hand, however, and sighed heavily. "Nothing can prepare you for this, Mary Jane. But I know better than to try to talk you out of it. Sam has come to me, you know."

I shook my head, utterly confused. Was she talking about the deceased grandfather of my fellow ghostbuster and current boyfriend, Heath? "You mean, Sam Whitefeather?"

My mother nodded. "He's tellin' me he's your new spirit guide."

I smiled. Sam had made himself noticeable to me shortly after I'd met his grandson and since then he'd worked hard to keep me from getting too beat up on our ghost hunts.

"He needs your help," my mother continued. "He wants my blessin' before he asks you to help his people. I've seen how Sam's been lookin' out for you, and how he's even saved your life a time or two. For that I'm truly grateful, but I just don't know that I can give my blessin' on this."

"Mamma," I said, trying to sort through this cryptic bundle of information and decipher why my mother looked so uncharacteristically worried. "I don't understand. Are you telling me Sam won't be coming with us to Dunkirk or something?"

My mother didn't answer me. Instead she stroked my hair, stared deep into my eyes, as if she was considering telling me more, and then abruptly looked over her shoulder. I followed her gaze and saw that Sam Whitefeather was now standing in the doorway. He seemed to be waiting for something like an invitation or permission to enter the room.

"May I, Maddie?" he asked, bowing formally to my mother.

Without answering him, my mother turned back to me and cupped my face in those familiar warm hands. "Stay safe, Mary Jane," she whispered, leaning in to kiss me on the forehead. "And under no circ.u.mstances are you to even think think about joining me for a very, about joining me for a very, very very long time. You hear?" long time. You hear?"

I nodded, still wondering what this was all about,but my mother got up then and moved away from me. "Mamma, wait!" I called after her, but she simply walked over to Sam, placed a gentle hand on his arm and said, "Protect her as much as possible or you'll have me to answer to, Samuel Whitefeather."

And then she was gone.

It was another moment before I could tear my eyes away from the place where she'd been standing to look directly into Sam Whitefeather's grim-looking face. "What's this all about?" I managed to ask.

Sam studied me for several moments, as if he were privately weighing whether to fill me in. "My grandson is about to receive a call. His uncle has been murdered."

I gasped. "Oh, no!"

Sam's shoulders sagged a little. "I didn't know until it was too late, M. J. Whoever released the demon used dark magic to obscure it from us, and by then, my son was dead."

My hand flew to my mouth. "Oh, Sam! I'm so, so sorry!" Vaguely I remembered Heath talking at length about his three uncles, and I wondered which one of them had been murdered. I knew his favorite uncle was Saul, who'd been like a second father to Heath, and I held my breath, hoping that it wasn't him.

"He's stuck," Sam said sadly, referring to the murdered man. "I've tried with our ancestors to reach out to him, but he's been through a terrible trauma, and he's trapped now by his own fear."

I opened my mouth to tell him that Heath and I would certainly do what we could to help the poor man's soul cross over, but Sam held up his hand. "I know you're going to volunteer to do what you can," he said to me, "but I want you to know what you're getting into by volunteering."

"What am I getting into, Sam?"

My spirit guide sighed, as if the weight of the world now rested on his shoulders. "There is a terrible evil afoot amongst my people. It will kill again. And it will keep killing until every last descendant from my tribe is wiped from your world."

"Sounds serious."

"It is."

"How do we stop it?"

"You must find the one that controls it, and you must kill them."

I sucked in a breath. What What had he just asked me to do? "You're joking!" And when Sam's serious expression did not falter, I inched away from him. "Sam!" I said. "I can't had he just asked me to do? "You're joking!" And when Sam's serious expression did not falter, I inched away from him. "Sam!" I said. "I can't kill kill someone! That's murder!" someone! That's murder!"

"No, M. J., in this case it's definitely not murder. This demon can be summoned only by pure evil, an evil that has taken control of a willing soul. Sending the person to jail will not stop the killings, and if you don't do as I say, then the demon will rise again, and again until it kills all my children and grandchildren."

I was shaking my head vehemently. I wouldn't do it. h.e.l.l, I couldn't couldn't do it. do it.

"And," Sam added, "once it has killed all of my family it will come after you."

"Me?!" I shouted. "Why I shouted. "Why me me?!"

"Because I am your spirit guide, and like it or not, M. J., you are now a member of my tribe."

Sam seemed to gather himself then, and he began to move over to the doorway. "You must tell my grandson what I have told you," he said over his shoulder. "He's about to have a terrible morning. Heath was very close to his uncle. He won't be much help to you as you work to change your plans, but he must partic.i.p.ate in bringing down the demon and the person responsible."

My mouth fell open. Sam was a.s.suming a lot right now, but my mind was so muddled with the visit from my mother and the shocking statements from Sam that I was having a hard time coming up with a reply.

Sam paused then in the doorway and turned back to me. "The others may choose not to come along," he said. "But Gilley must accompany you. Your mother was right all those years ago when she left you in his care. He will do what is necessary to help keep you safe. And so will I."

With that, Sam disappeared, and I woke up to a ringing telephone. I climbed out of my slumber with the dream still very much in my thoughts as I heard Heath's hand drop heavily on the phone and a moment later his throaty voice said, "Yeah?"

My eyes flew open and my heart began to hammer hard in my chest. Heath was lying on his side with his back to me. I sat up and leaned over to peer at him over his shoulder. "Heath!" I whispered urgently, knowing what he was about to learn.

Heath's eyes were closed; he was clearly still half asleep. "Yes, this is Heath Whitefeather. Yes, Saul Whitefeather is my uncle. Who is this, and what's this about exactly?"

I squeezed his arm. "Honey, give me the phone!" I didn't want him to hear the terrible news from some stranger. I wanted him to hear it from me via his grandfather.

But it was too late. In the next moment I heard Heath suck in a breath and he sat up so fast that I was tossed to the side. "No!" he gasped into the phone. "NO! That's not possible! You're wrong! It's a mistake!"

I watched with a pain in my heart as the caller repeated the information and Heath's handsome face seemed to crumple in on itself. His grief was quick and total.

I eased the phone out of his hand and spoke to the caller, who happened to be the sheriff first on the scene. I jotted down the sheriff's information and said we'd call back soon. After hanging up the phone, I just hugged Heath for a very long time. I know about losing a loved one better than most people my age, and I also know what a hug from someone you care about can do to ease the terrible grief.

Later, while Heath packed, I went in search of Gilley, our producer, and the rest of the crew, already bracing myself for the argument to follow. They wouldn't be happy that we'd have to put Dunkirk on hold, but I'd make sure they knew they had little choice in the matter. I was going with Heath to New Mexico to attend his uncle's funeral and figure out who or what had killed him. And if the other members of my special team wanted to tag along while we kicked some demon b.u.t.t, all the better.

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