Witches for Hire (Odd Jobs #1)(77)

“If we weren’t capable of ending this haunting, this dark presence wouldn’t be so scared of us,” Clive said firmly.

The lights flickered.

The gauntlet has been thrown, Jeremy thought.

“Mr. Evans, your family,” Clive reminded the man.

Mr. Evans frowned as if he was reconsidering, but he finally squared his shoulders and continued leading the way.

When they reached the living room, Jeremy saw a woman sitting on the couch with a little boy cradled in her arms.

“It’s doing it again,” Mrs. Evans said. She had dark circles under her eyes, but beneath the fear and exhaustion, anger lingered in the edges of her set mouth.

Looks like I’ll have an ally if I deem this place too far gone and in need of torching. Jeremy slowly walked around the couch and kneeled at the edge. “What’s your name?” he asked the boy, who moved his face out of his mom’s neck to peek at him.

“Kevin.”

“I’m Jeremy.” He pointed at his boss. “That’s Clive. He’s a wizard who kills nasty things.”

The boy’s eyes widened, and he smiled at Clive’s staff. “Like Harry?”

“Just like him. Now what the wizard needs you to do is tell him about your new friends.” The boy frowned, but Jeremy went on, “You see, real friends won’t hurt you. Real friends are nice to you and your family. Have your new friends been nice to your mom and dad?”

The boy shook his head emphatically.

“What’s he talking about?” Mr. Evans whispered to Clive loud enough for Jeremy to hear.

“Ghosts prey on children because they’re more sensitive to them,” Clive whispered back.

“Oh my God,” Mrs. Evans said, horrified.

Jeremy raised his hand and motioned for the parents to stay calm.

Mrs. Evans looked down at her son. “Please tell us about your new friends, sweetie.”

The little boy swallowed. “They brought me the toys you hid. They played with me. But… they’re always mad. I gave them candy, but they still hurt the mail lady.”

“Her parked truck ran over her foot after she delivered the mail at our door last week,” Mr. Evans explained.

“Did they say why?” Jeremy asked.

“She never saw them crying for help.”

Jeremy turned to Mrs. Evans. “Have there been any crime reports related to your house?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. We bought it from an older man who had retired here and hated having so much space.”

Jeremy took out his phone. “The man’s name?” he asked, his fingers already poised to enter it in the search engine.

“Ebediah Cooke.” The TV flashed on at Mrs. Evans’s words. Spiderweb cracks formed on the TV’s surface, and Jeremy threw his hand out just as the glass exploded outward.

Jeremy whispered a spell of protection around them that would hold unless Bertha’s rage reached critical levels. With that taken care of, he was able to tap in his query. Nothing came up at first except for a brief mention in an article about gardening. He held up the small picture that accompanied the headline. “Is this him?”

Both parents nodded.

Jeremy looked up at Clive with his lips twisted in disgust. “He’s squeaky clean.”

Clive sighed. “That makes this job more unpleasant.”

Mr. Evans shared a confused look with his wife. “Why?”

Counting off on his fingers, Jeremy replied, “One, this is a haunted house with a conglomerate of pissed-off ghosts. Two, it wasn’t haunted before the last guy bought it. Three, the former owner doesn’t have an arrest record, which means it’s likely that whatever went down here, the evidence is still here too. Decaying evidence.”

Clive glanced meaningfully at the mother, and she covered her son’s ears. “If the victims weren’t found during the construction, something of the old house must be intact.”

“The gazebo,” Mr. Evans whispered. “Mr. Cooke begged us not to tear it down because it was where his wife used to sit all the time.”

Jeremy searched online again. He shook his head. “No mention of him ever having been married.”

With a sharp tap on the floor with his staff, Clive squared his shoulders. “We cannot leave you alone in the house. We can either return another time, or you follow us outside to investigate.”

“Can’t we go to a hotel?” Mrs. Evans asked.

Not if you don’t want to be dead by morning, Jeremy thought silently. “It’s likely you’ll never make it past the road. Ghosts are really good at car accidents.”

“If we wait?” Mr. Evans asked.

“The reason poltergeists are upset is because they’re murdered victims who’ve retained a strong will to live,” Clive said. “Even as ghosts, they want to survive. They will do everything in their power to stop their demise, including sabotaging efforts of police searching for their bodies. They can move their bodies to other parts of the land during the investigation.”

“This isn’t much of a choice,” Mrs. Evans said. “What about Kevin?” Her hands kept covering her son’s ears. “I don’t want him to see dead bodies.”

“We can cast an illusion that will block out what’s really being shown to him.” Jeremy looked from wife to husband. “We can do the same for the two of you.”