Ghostly Justice (Seven Deadly Sins, #2.5)(34)

“What do you mean that wasn’t a ghost? You saw it.”

“It wasn’t even a death imprint. It was a projection—”

“You mean fake?” Skye exclaimed. “Someone recorded Grace’s murder?”

“No, I mean a—” Rafe was at a loss for words, but Moira finally understood what he meant.

“Another poltergeist is playing games.”

“Would you explain how whatever it is locked us in here?”

Rafe said, “There is definitely a ghost here, and not a simple apparition—it’s a vengeful spirit. He put a supernatural force on the door—essentially, his will is keeping it shut tight. The ghostly image we saw of Grace Chin was from his memory.”

David shook his head. “That makes no sense. Skye, you can’t be buying this!”

“Did what you see and heard make sense?” Moira asked.

Skye paled. “The ghost is Ned Nichols?”

“Most likely,” Rafe said.

David shook his head. “But I saw Grace. We all saw her. I’m not crazy.”

“The delay between the imprints,” Moira said, “was about three to four minutes. It’s been at least ten minutes since the last gunshot. The show stopped when Nichols no longer had a captive audience.”

“But why?” Skye asked.

Before Moira could tell her the why didn’t matter, the temperature plummeted in the break room. “He’s locked us in.”

“We have to get out of here,” Rafe said. “Did you feel that?”

“Yes,” she said.

“What?” Skye asked.

“The cold.”

The small refrigerator fell over, the crashing suddenly loud in the silence. Locks spun on a row of lockers along the far wall, then one by one the metal doors opened and closed, banging in a caustic cacophony.

“The front,” Rafe said. “We’ll break the windows if we have to. But this guy Nichols has it out for someone. I suspect it’s you, David.”

“Why? Because I killed the f*cking bastard?”

The locker doors crashed faster and faster.

“Don’t piss him off,” Moira said.

“Too late,” Rafe said. “I don’t think he ever intended to let David leave.”

The door into the hall slammed shut at the same time as the lockers stopped making their agonizing racket. Skye pulled out her phone. “It’s dead.”

“It’s the electromagnetic field the ghost is creating,” Moira said.

“What do we do? Can you exorcise it or something?” Skye asked. The cop hated feeling useless. Moira understood exactly how she felt.

She reached into her pocket and took out a one-pound bag of salt. “This isn’t going to be enough for all of us,” she said. She glanced at Rafe.

He said, “I’ll need your help. I don’t think I can take him down on my own.”

“I’ve never dealt with a ghost.”

“I have, follow my lead.” He frowned and rubbed his temples.

“Rafe?” she whispered.

“It’s okay, just a memory lurking in the shadows. I can do this.”

Moira ordered Skye and David to sit on two chairs. She poured a circle of salt around them. “This should keep you safe for awhile. This poltergeist is learning his parlor tricks, he still doesn’t have a lot of control.”

“Salt?” David looked skeptically at the ground.

“It deters spirits. It’s not foolproof, but it’ll definitely buy you time.”

“What about you?” Skye asked.

“Years of memorizing exorcisms will come in handy,” Rafe said with a half-smile, taking out his dagger.

“You can’t use a knife on a ghost,” David said. He still looked skeptical, and Moira hoped he stayed put.

“It’s iron,” Rafe explained. “If he manifests himself, it’ll disrupt his energy for awhile.”

“How long is awhile?” asked David.

“A minute or so. Long enough.”

The iron shavings they both had in their jackets helped detour ghosts and demons from possessing them as well. Again, not foolproof—a small amount of iron wouldn’t repel the more powerful spirits. But Nichols was new at this game, and it would offer them some protection.

Rafe turned to Moira. “Ready?”

She had her knife out. “Right behind you.” The door into the hall opened easily enough. “Divide and conquer,” she muttered.

“You’re being the pessimist tonight,” Rafe said, his eyes focused on the dark in front of him. “Flashlight?”

Moira handed her light to Rafe.

They walked down the short hall, past the offices, and stood along the wall looking into the main showroom. During the ritual to summon the Seven Deadly Sins, the coven had moved all the furniture to the sides. During the battle that ensued, much of it had been tossed or broken, but the police and emergency crews had cleaned up enough so Moira and Rafe could now maneuver through the maze.

“There’s more energy here,” Moira said. “I feel an electromagnetic increase.”

“You’re a regular human EMF detector,” Rafe teased.

“Ha ha.”

Rafe tensed beside her. “Do you—”