Chapter 25: Marina Murders (5)

Staten Island, NY

“Only when trying to catch the supernatural equivalent of Jack the Ripper.”  I continued, “But I don’t think… I uh, I don’t think ghosts and haunts can do that.  Veer so far away from their innate nature, I mean.  It would have to be a very powerful spirit.” I swallowed, “So spirits are back on the table.”

“Great.”  Lev’s knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard.

Me too.  I didn’t feel great.  Talking about the supernatural, right after I had to look at the photos…

It felt all too real.  I wanted to close my eyes and lean my head back; but I knew that images from last night would appear on my eyelids.  

The faces, the teeth, their visage, the cold calculating gaze that the Fox-sister looked at me… I think the fact that they could think, that they could commit evil, that they wanted to hurt me and could hurt me, do things so horrible to me that I couldn’t put into picture, words or sounds… It creeped me out.

No, it scared me.

“You’re not bad for someone who’s supposedly so new to this.”  Penelope commented.

“Glad someone thinks so.”  I said drly.

Penelope nodded, “I like your theories.  It’s more than what anyone else had.”

“What do you mean, anyone else?”  There were other people looking into this murder?

Before Penelope could answer or I could follow up, Lev put the truck in park and said, “We’re here.”

The whole area was fogged over and the snow wasn’t helping.  We were on a public road not too far from the factory.  The side of the road was fenced off with metal railings, the ground sloping downwards to a riverbank.  There was an industrial waste pipe sticking out of the ground.  Nothing was coming out of it, but I wasn’t going to go ice skating on this particular river anytime soon.

Dead grass and branches stuck up here and there from the shallower parts of the riverbed.  Recognizing the scene, I pilfered through the photos; trying not to look too closely at the bodies.  Finding the photo, I lifted it up and compared it to the landscape before me.

“Why isn’t there yellow tape?”  I wondered out loud.  “Don’t cops close off muder scenes?”

“Cops never look too hard into supernatural murders.”  Lev repeated for my benefit.  “I doubt they even investigated.”

I felt that there was more to the lack of law enforcement presence than just the stereotypical laziness or overworked cops.  But now wasn’t the time to explore that point of topic.

Thinking of what to do, my mind eventually reached the conclusion that I just wanted to sit in the backseat of the truck where it was warm.  Which was congruous with stalling.

Whatever I could do, I had to get out there.

“Let me go take a look.”  I shifted closer to the door.

“I’m going with you.”  Penelope zipped up her track jacket.

Lev wordlessly zipped up his leather jacket too, producing a beanie and putting it over his ears.

The snow piles had formed an icy layer and crunched underneath my worn sneakers.  Within seconds, they were drenched.  It didn’t help that I was practically wading through two feet of snow.  The numbness of cold hugged my toes, ankles, and shins.  It wasn’t windy though, a small blessing.

I was about to lift up the photo to look at where the bodies had been when Penelope simply pointed to a spot.  The three of us walked over.

I probably looked nonchalant on the surface.  But inside, I was freaking out.

Questions of whether this was even legal or not, doubts about what I could even do here, and the disbelief that I actually followed these two strangers (because that’s what they were: strangers) out to god-knows-where in their car combined with the fact that they definitely probably weren’t even human and on top of that, no one even knew where I was–

“Hallow?”

“Hngh?”  I replied with all the class of a reptilian-ape.

“You’re standing on the spot.”  Penelope pointed.

I managed not to scream and took a dainty step out of the patch of snow.

We were a good distance away from the pipe, maybe half a basketball court.  Here, I could see the steam coming out from the pipe.  Black, murky water trembled with ripples, the snow disappearing as soon as it hit the surface.

I looked at the spot in front of me.  It looked the same as everywhere else; carpeted with a thin layer of ice and crumbly snow beneath it.  The flurry continued to fall, piling on top of my head and shoulders.  My shadow had grown long, it was well-past lunchtime.  We’d spent a good amount of daylight on the road.

“You going to do something?”  Lev asked casually.

“Yeah.”

“Well?”  Lev urged me when I didn’t make a move.  “Not getting warmer.”

“Jesus, you complain a lot.”  I said with a bit of snark.  I don’t like feeling rushed.

“It’s cold.  And wet.  And–”

“Lev.  Hush.”  Penelope said quietly.

He quieted down.

I was thinking.

My immediate response was a summoning.  The one thing that I actually knew that worked.  Theoretically, I could summon the ghost of the murder victim whose body was discovered here.  An old lady by the name of Susan Rightly.  It said so right on the photo.

But the book, both the Musok: Bestiary and Genus said that ghosts weren’t always formed.  Only in specific cases were they formed: strong attachments to life, unfulfilled promises, intense emotions at time of death… and they weren’t supposed to be the actual person who died.  I didn’t have a complete understanding, but it was more of a snapshot of who they were –a small part of them that was left as an imprint.  A copy, but not the real thing.

Did Susan, age 87, have enough attachment to life to leave a ghost?  An unfulfilled promise?  An intense experience?

My gut told me yes.  That a murder this violent was enough to leave a ghost.  If this was a test exam, I would have answered ‘True’ to that question.

The question was: was the ghost here?

Which… didn’t matter with a summoning.  That was the point of a summoning.

Besides… something was here for sure.  I didn’t notice it at first, but the longer I stood here, the more I felt it.  A mass of roiling blackness that settled in my chest and made it harder to breathe.  Penelope was right.  Whatever happened here, there was an aspect of the paranormal.

Yet… I didn’t want to go through with the summoning.

I kept remembering last night.  Her long hair, the traditional dress, the fingernails being dragged on the RV floor–

“Fuck.”  I swore, rubbing my palms over my eyes.

“Hallow?”  Penelope did small hops in place to keep warm.  “You ok?”

“Give me a second.”  I mumbled, fumbling in my pockets.

Could I clear the snow away to draw a circle?  No, the snow would break it.

Quickly, I realized even if I wanted to do a summoning, I couldn’t.  Not right away.  Too much snow, too many variables –like what I’d need as the symbols.  Or even the others ghosts.  I wasn’t sure the same formula for summoning mythical spirits applied to ghosts.

Which left one option.

Slowly, I reached inwards.

A twisting sensation that was a mixture of drifting away to sleep and waking from dreamhot-t the same time.  It was akin to someone turning on the lights, except the world took on a murky tone, all shades of gray turning in on itself and warping.

I opened my Third Eye.