Demon Walk Read online

  Sam came to a halt. He was facing almost due north, but then Lacey saw him look to his left, to the west. He held his body stiffly, head up, as if testing the air. After a brief moment, he swung his head to the right, and went completely still. Lacey studied him through the screen of her phone. She saw no movement in his body, no rise and fall of his chest, no change in his facial expression. It was as if he’d been turned to stone.

  That’s stupid, she thought. But she continued to look for movement—the twitch of a facial muscle, a blink, anything—to prove he was alive. After what seemed like several long minutes, she finally saw the set of his shoulders move, as if he were loosening tight muscles. He turned due east, toward the street beyond the wall. Then he began to slowly back away.

  When he drew near to Lacey and Father David, he sucked in a deep breath and turned to the priest. His eyes were wide, and had an alarm in them that Lacey had never seen before.

  “You see,” Father David said. It was not a question. “You feel it.”

  Sam nodded slowly. He pointed to the eastern wall. “It comes from over there.”

  “Yes,” the priest said. “And it’s getting stronger.”

  “Do you know where it originates?” Sam asked.

  Father David turned and began to walk back, but not to the admin building. Instead, he walked that way a short bit, then angled toward the wall. Sam and Lacey followed.

  At a gate in the wall, he stopped. He pointed over the wooden gate.

  “You see those houses over there?” he asked.

  Sam and Lacey looked where he pointed. The beginning of a residential neighborhood, older houses, but well-kept. It didn’t look like anyone’s version of a “problem area,” Lacey thought. She turned back to Father David.

  “Do you see that first house, the white one with blue shutters?”

  Lacey nodded.

  “Now see that small house tucked back behind it?”

  “That’s a house?” Lacey asked. She squinted at the flat-roofed building, thinking it looked more like an old adobe shed than a house. The area around it was bare ground with a few weeds, nothing that spoke of care of even habitation. The two windows were small and dark.

  Both Lacey and Sam looked to the priest for an explanation.

  “That house is very old, as you can tell,” he said. “The woman who lives there has owned it for decades. She will not sell it. Even as newer, larger homes were being built all around it, she won’t let go.” Father David sighed. “We believe the… presence issues from that house.”

  Sam stared at the unremarkable little building, then scanned the area on either side. “Does the feeling radiate out in all directions?” he asked.

  “We believe so,” Father David said. “We aren’t completely sure. Some of the people in this area refuse to even talk about it, or admit it exists. As if, maybe giving voice to it makes it real. They ignore it, probably hoping it will go away.” He paused. “It doesn’t.”

  “How long has it been like this?” Lacey asked.

  The priest turned and started walking back toward the director’s office, and Sam and Lacey fell in beside him.

  “As long as anyone can remember. There have been rumors, legends, for years. Sometimes there seems to be more activity, sometimes less. Or maybe it’s a matter of more reports. I don’t know. It’s so easy to dismiss uncomfortable feelings, you know?”

  “But the experiences you’re having now?” Sam asked. “What’s been reported?”

  The priest looked distinctly uneasy. “Many of the staff here won’t even venture to that back corner. The facilities manager has problems getting maintenance people to work out there. They report feeling that they’re being watched, even stalked. Some report having difficulty breathing. We had a boy not long ago say he felt like he was being choked.”

  “Any witnesses?” Sam asked.

  “Actually, yes. He was with three other boys, playing hide ‘n’ seek. The other boys saw him stumble out of his hiding place behind a tree, his hands at his throat as if he were trying to pull something off. He was crying, coughing, gagging, until he managed to run back toward the center of the campus. Then he felt he could breathe again.”

  “Any marks on him?”

  “Not then, not right away, but the next day he had bruises. As you can imagine, his parents were very upset. There was quite a row about it in the director’s office. The parents insisted the bruises had to come from another student, maybe even from a teacher, but the boy held to his story. Even so, the parents pulled him out of our school.” The priest shrugged. “I don’t blame them.”

  As they neared the administration building, they were all thoughtful.

  “And you say it’s growing,” Sam said. “Growing in size—in scope—or in strength?”

  Father David shot him a worried glance. “Both.”

  They filed into the building and Belinda waved them into the director’s office. Swayze was on a call but finished up quickly, hung up the phone and leaned on his desk. Lacey started her recorder.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  Sam didn’t mince words. “You have a problem.” The director’s shoulders slumped. It was obviously not the response he’d been hoping for.

  “We’ll have to do more research to find out exactly what it is and where it comes from”—Sam glanced at Lacey—“but it’s definitely threatening. I felt like a black cloud was looming over me out there—dark, oppressive… dangerous. And it was more difficult to breathe out there. Almost like heavy, humid air. And it got more difficult to breathe the longer I was out there.”

  Sam looked down at the floor for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Normally,” he said, piecing it together, “very few spirits attempt to make contact directly. They are usually bound up in their own anguish, and they relive it over and over like a loop. If their agony is very strong, it bleeds over to the living people close by, who may see things, hear things, feel things. But the contact is more accidental than deliberate.”

  He paused. Lacey was glad the director didn’t press him, but let him sort it out at his own pace.

  “There have been times when spirits have reached out to me,” Sam continued. “When they’ve asked my help to release them.” He shook his head. “This thing doesn’t want help. It wants to kill. And it’s not terribly particular about who its victims are.”

  The room was silent. Lacey felt a distinct chill, although the morning sunlight outside the windows looked as bright and warm as ever. She chafed the skin of one arm with her hand.

  “So what you’re saying,” Swayze paraphrased, “is that this will just continue to get worse?”

  Sam nodded. “Worse, in every way possible.”

  The director and Father David exchanged looks. The priest turned to Sam. “That was my assessment as well, even though I don’t share your ability. If someone should die here at the mission, a child in our care...” He swallowed. “Well, obviously, that would be unconscionable. What can we do to get rid of this thing?”

  Sam studied the priest’s face as he considered the question. “I’m afraid I don’t know exactly—not yet, anyway. I need to find out more about it, who it is, what its history is. Why it is the way it is.” He glanced around the room, noting a crucifix on the wall. “Has anyone tried exorcising it?”

  Swayze sat back in his chair, seeming to distance himself from the very idea. Father David looked uncomfortable.

  “I did,” he said. Swayze’s eyes widened. “I went out early one morning, before anyone else was here, and I sprinkled holy water on the wall. I began to recite the Lord’s Prayer, but when I got to the part about deliverance from evil, I felt it… roar at me. Not in voice, not in sound at all, but in feeling. As if it were charging me, leaping at me. I, uh, I’m afraid I faltered and ran.”

  Sam listened sympathetically. “That’s about what I would expect,” he said. Father David looked only slightly mollified. “This thing is old. I believe its power comes from ancient wisdom, anci
ent magic, magic drawn from the very earth itself. I’m afraid modern religions can’t defend against it.”

  The director ran a hand through his close-cropped hair, frustration evident in his face. “So what do we do? We can’t sacrifice a chicken out here.” He waved toward the wall.

  Sam smiled grimly. “Let us work on it. What’s the address of that house over there? And what’s the name of the owner?”

  Lacey immediately dug out her notebook and a pen from her pack, ready for the details.

  Father David gave her the address. “The woman’s name is Pilar Archuleta. She’s very old, lived there all her life. She speaks very little English. I know she has family; sometimes I see a car over there, and a young woman takes her shopping. But that’s all I know.”

  Lacey wrote the information down, then waited for Sam’s direction. This was one case where she was completely in over her head.

  “All right,” Sam said. “Let us work on it.” He stood up, and Lacey followed. The other men scrambled to their feet.

  “So that’s all?” Swayze asked, obviously frustrated.

  Sam leveled a look at him. “For now, yes. I can’t go at this thing blind. It’s too powerful. I need to know what I’m up against.”

  “All right.” Swayze settled somewhat. “I think I understand. But you’ll keep us informed?”

  Sam nodded. Lacey pulled out cards and handed them to the director and the priest.

  “We’ll call you with our progress, or if we have any questions,” she said. “But if you—or anyone here—thinks of anything that might be helpful, don’t hesitate to call.”

  They all shook hands. Father David gave Sam’s hand a heartfelt squeeze. “Thank you,” he said with obvious relief. “We were totally out of options.”

  “Don’t thank me, yet,” Sam said wryly. “But we’ll do all we can.”

  He and Lacey left the two men staring thoughtfully after them.

  ~~~

  FOUR

  Lacey was glad to get out into the sunshine again. The autumn warmth helped to chase away the chill that had gripped her.

  She headed for the car. “So I’ll get right on property records…” She stopped when she realized Sam was angling off toward the east. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Come on,” he said, waving her along. “I just want to walk over that way.”

  Surprised and not particularly pleased about it, Lacey followed him down the driveway to the street. “I thought you said you didn’t want to go at it blind,” she muttered.

  “I don’t.” He held out a hand to her. “Trust me?”

  She took his hand and let him pull her across the street. “Of course. But if you were trying to scare those guys back there, you did a pretty good job. Did a good job on me, too.”

  He smiled at her grimly. “Don’t worry. I just want to push against the bubble a little. See how much resistance there is. I’m not ready for a full-on confrontation yet.”

  Lacey felt only slightly better about that.

  They gained the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street and Sam released her hand. She settled her day pack more firmly on her shoulder and kept pace with him as they approached the residential area. Sam walked briskly until they neared the property line of the little adobe house. Then he motioned for Lacey to stop behind him.

  “Stay there,” he said. “Just give me a minute.”

  Not liking this at all, Lacey pulled out her phone and began to video.

  Sam approached the mostly bare ground where it butted up against the sidewalk. He stopped there, peering into the property, scanning the empty yard around the house. He kept his hands free, his arms loose, but he held his body stiffly upright.

  Lacey zoomed in on his face. He wasn’t unfocusing his eyes as he often did when he walked. His stare was fully aware, fully cognizant of his surroundings. His nostrils flared. She’d never seen him hold himself apart from a spirit they were investigating, but perhaps they’d never encountered one like this.

  Suddenly he raised his hand—and waved! Waved toward the little house. Lacey could hardly believe what she was seeing. He smiled. Smiled and nodded, then turned and walked back to her.

  She clicked off her phone and tossed it in her day pack. “What was that all about? Who were you waving to?”

  He touched her elbow and guided her across the street. “The old lady in the house. She saw me through the window and waved to me. So I waved back.”

  Lacey stared at him.

  “Watch the sidewalk,” he said. She glanced down and saw they were nearing the curb, and if he hadn’t said anything, she would have tripped. “And close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

  “But, but…” Lacey’s mind churned with all sorts of questions. She did her best to untangle them. “So you don’t think that she…?”

  “She’s the source? No, I don’t.” They headed back onto the mission grounds toward the parking lot. “The entity, I’m pretty sure, is male. At least it feels like male energy. I’m not sure what her relationship is to it, but I felt like she recognized me as… a helper. Someone sympathetic.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Lacey grumbled. “From the sounds of it, we need all the help we can get for this.” She locked eyes with Sam over the roof of the car as she opened her door. “Have you ever run into anything like this?”

  Sam shook his head. “Not like this, no,” he said, sliding into the car. “You remember the witch we came up against out on the reservation?”

  “As if I could forget,” Lacey muttered. The Navajo witch—a shapeshifter—had been the weirdest case she’d ever worked on. It was also the first time she’d ever felt stalked, and in real danger, since pairing up with Sam.

  “This is worse,” he said. He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. The reassuring touch was belied by the serious look in his dark eyes. “We’re going to have to be very careful with this.”

  She nodded, swallowing down a feeling of dread.

  ~~~

  FIVE

  As soon as she got back to her apartment, Lacey jumped on the computer to begin her research. Property records were an easy way to start.

  Pilar Archuleta had owned the property since 1949. Before that was Humberto Casales, since 1918. Before that… nothing.

  Lacey started to dig. She searched on Pilar’s name and found her mentioned in an obituary… for Humberto Casales.

  Humberto Maria Casales left this world on July 6, 1949. Born September 27, 1890, to Octavia and Guillermo Casales, he was instilled with an abiding love for the Lord, and served that love his entire life. He was schooled at the Mission San Juan Capistrano and attended divinity school in San Diego. Upon attaining the priesthood, he returned to San Juan Capistrano as a humble servant and conscientious teacher. He guided with love and compassion, helping many of his young students find their own true path to the Lord. He will be remembered for his gentle soul and pure heart.

  Humberto was predeceased by his parents, two brothers and a sister, as well as his wife, Ramona. Lacey skipped past the names until she found Pilar’s, listed as his firstborn child. There was no mention of a cause of death.

  Lacey jotted down notes as she put the timeline together in her mind. So Pilar inherited the property from her father. Lacey thought that was fairly unusual for a woman in a Hispanic family of that time, but perhaps it made sense because she was the oldest child. Interesting that the family was so firmly rooted in the area—and the mission. She wondered if neither Director Swayze nor Father David mentioned the connection because they didn’t know it, or didn’t think it pertinent. She made a note to herself to check.

  Humberto bought the property in 1918, when he was approximately twenty-eight years old. Young to become a property owner, especially on a priest’s small income. Lacey remembered Father David saying rumors and legends about the evil presence had been reported for decades. If the evil was known as far back as 1918, would Humberto have bought the property? That would seem rather foolhardy
. Yet Pilar had been there for decades and refused to sell or move away. Why would anyone choose to live with a presence like that? Especially if she didn’t share the evil nature, as Sam suspected.

  The names and dates only told her so much. She went back to her search results and found Pilar again, this time mentioned in an obituary for her husband, Manuel. He had died in 1958. If Pilar had become the homeowner after her father’s death, it struck Lacey as odd that her husband would not have been listed as a co-owner, since they were married at that time. They married in… she scanned the article… 1937. That was eighty years ago. Lacey sat up.

  How the hell old was Pilar?

  Quickly she accessed birth records, confident that Pilar was born in California. She knew her parents’ names, so…

  Bingo. Pilar Henrietta Casales, born to Humberto and Ramona Casales… in 1916.

  Jesus, Lacey thought. She’s a hundred and one years old.

  A hundred and one years old and living in close proximity with a demon ghost? What was up with that?

  This case just got weirder and weirder.

  Lacey pushed her laptop away and stood up, stretching her legs. She walked to the sliding glass door and looked out at her tiny back yard. She had enough names and dates in her head to choke a horse, but for some reason all the facts didn’t fit together smoothly. It felt like a jigsaw puzzle where the pieces looked like they should fit, but in reality they were just slightly off, slightly skewed, so there were small spaces between the pieces. What was she missing? And how was she going to find out?

  Well, hell, she thought wryly; might as well go to the source.

  She sat back down again and checked phone listings. There it was in black and white: Pilar Archuleta, same address. Apparently the woman wasn’t concerned with having a public listing, nor of showing herself as a likely single woman, rare for this day and age.

  Taking a gulp of air, Lacey dialed the number.

  Three rings. Four. At a hundred and one, the woman probably could not move quickly. Would voice mail kick in before she got to the phone? Did she even have voice mail?