8 comments/ 27685 views/ 2 favorites The Bad Place By: Edge23 Mike Stevens and Elizabeth Delaroca pulled up in front of the house in a nondescript red Jeep Cherokee. The stepped out, their blue jumpsuits not giving any indication that they worked for an agency designed to fight extradimensional beings. The FBEI, the Federal Bureau of Extradimensional Investigations, had cleaned out more haunted houses than the public would ever hear about. "Happy Halloween, Liz. Halloween with a real haunted house. Perfect," he said with a grin. "Thanks, Mike. You too." Mike stood almost ten full inches taller than his partner, reaching just shy of six foot six. Tall and muscular, he had the scars and markings of someone who had been cleaning houses for a while, though he was only twenty-eight. He had a light complexion and his brown hair was kept in a crew cut. Delaroca, on the other hand, was slim and attractive, somehow missing the burn marks and white scars that came with the job. Her scars were more mental, being the more sensitive of the two. She stood five foot eight and was muscular without being over muscled. She had a beautiful face, mostly thanks to her model mother, but her eyes were another story, much like the house they now faced: haunted. They were not the eyes of a twenty-four year old former model turned psychic investigator. They surveyed the lot they stood on now. The house was older, probably built sometime in the late nineteenth century. Dusk was settling over the three-story house, which was light blue with dark trim around the shutters. To the right of the house stood a couple of outbuildings and just behind the house, they could make out a large shed. "So, Liz," Mike started. "What do we have?" Liz opened the file that she carried and started reading. "The house was built in eighteen seventy seven. It is now the house of one Mr. David Bronson, born nineteen twenty-nine, died nineteen ninety-seven. He bought the house in nineteen sixty. The late Mr. Bronson left the house to his children. Two boys, Daniel and Donald, and one girl, Denise. The children have tried to sell the house on four separate occasions. Every time a new owner moves in, unexplained things start happening." "Unexplained? Like what?" "Furniture moving, doors slamming, voices in the night. The usual." Mike cocked his head to the side and looked at the house. "And what does the Bureau want?" "They want a full cleaning with a minimum of damage to the house or property. That means you're on the short leash for this one." She smirked. "The hell you say, woman. We came here to do a job. You know that." "I know, Mike. I'm just giving you the rundown." They stood next to each other and listened to children running a couple of streets away as they started their trick-or-treating. Almost as if she read his mind, Liz said, "Don't worry, Mike. The area kids know the house is haunted. They won't come anywhere near it. Unless they're teenagers." She shrugged her shoulders, knowing how teenagers were. Mike said nothing but headed for the back of the Jeep. "You getting anything yet," he asked as he opened the rear door. Liz focused on the house but then shook her head. "Nothing yet. Just a little residual, probably from the last manifestation." Mike nodded and started hauling boxes out of the Jeep. He set down a couple and then grabbed a golf bag from behind the back seat. He pulled the cover off and took a look at his bag. Instead of golf clubs, it was filled with a shotgun, a sledgehammer, a crowbar and an axe. Extra ammunition and smaller implements of destruction were tucked into the bag's pockets. Liz chuckled. "What happened to the short leash, Mikey?" "Hey. They can fire me when we're done. Now, let's get going." Mike slung his golf bag over his shoulder and hefted two boxes along with it while Liz grabbed her Beretta nine millimeter and slid it into the holster on her hip. She grabbed the last box off the ground and followed Mike, taking a second to kick the door of the Jeep shut. They climbed the small steps to the front door, Mike trying the doorknob. "You have the key," he asked. "Yeah. I've got it right...here." As she said this, the front door opened on squeaky hinges like any good haunted house. They looked at each other and Mike moved into the doorway, setting down his boxes and quickly drawing his shotgun, setting the bag down. Liz followed suit, moving next to him and setting the box down, drawing her Beretta and turning slowly in a half-circle. The living room was to the left and led off to the kitchen behind the stairs, which dominated the main entryway. The den was off to the right, following the far wall of the house. Mike got her attention and pointed at his head, silently asking if she felt anything. When she shook her head no, he pointed her to the right, toward the den, and motioned that he was heading for the kitchen. She nodded and moved slowly toward the door while he got up from his crouch and shuffled toward the kitchen. Liz passed the stairs and turned quickly and aimed up them, though there was nothing there. She got the sense she was being watched but hadn't felt anything on her 'radar.' She took a deep breath and nudged the den door open with the barrel of her gun. She moved in and looked around, finding nothing out of the ordinary. She holstered her gun and headed back for the front door. Mike reached the kitchen doorway and peeked in. From where he stood, he was facing a dining nook with the kitchen off to his right, running along the back of the house. He turned and saw Delaroca at the front door. He motioned that he was going in and that she was to stay by the door. When she nodded, he took a tentative step into the dining nook, looking under the table. Nothing. Mike turned and looked down the length of the kitchen, it's countertops polished so that they reflected what little light was left from outside. He moved over so that the counter was on his left, leaving the rest of the kitchen on his right. As he passed by the sink, which dripped quietly, he heard a small rattle from the cabinet about six feet in front of him. He turned and looked, seeing Liz standing in the doorway. He shook his head, knowing she had just obeyed orders, but feeling safer that she was there for backup. He moved to the far side of the pantry door and grasped the small wooden handle. Liz moved about four feet into the nook, keeping the counter between her and the door. Mike nodded to her and she nodded back. Mike shifted his weight, stretching his arm out to full length and then jerked the door open. He was assaulted by a handful of mops and brooms, as well as a couple of rolls of paper towels. He sank to the floor, a mop almost poking him in the face and started to laugh. Liz stepped out from behind the counter, obviously trying not to laugh but with tears welling up in her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and laugh, Roca," Mike said, a long breath escaping his lips. "I'm sure I'll have something to laugh about to you before this is all over." "Yeah, probably, partner." She walked over and offered him a hand, grunting as he took it and most of his two hundred and thirty pounds of weight threatened to tip her over. "Come on, " he said, putting mops and brooms back in the pantry. "Let's get the gear set up and get this over with." They went back out to the living room and switched on the light. They both noticed the front door was closed but neither said anything since it was expected. They crouched around the three boxes they had brought in and started unloading. Liz opened her box and brought out supplies. Most of the supplied were food for the two of them for three days. They didn't think they'd need that much, but you just never know. Other items were a portable shrine, several tubes of holy water and crosses. Mike was unloading the more technical gear. He opened a small box and pulled out two PDA-type devices. "This is your ectoscanner. It'll show you where a spook is and how far away. We should only need the short range readings for a single ghost haunt." "Mike, I've done this before, you know." He smiled in return. "I know. I'm just giving you the rundown. Hey. When was the last time they tried selling the house?" She looked at the file and scanned down. "Summer of oh one. They some newlyweds to buy it, but the couple would sign. Husband had a 'bad feeling' about the house. Mike nodded and took a quick walk around the downstairs, constantly checking his ectoscanner. Nothing was coming up. Nothing at all. "Why were you asking about the sale?" He stopped in front of the stairs and looked up and then back down at his scanner. Still nothing. "Because I'm not getting anything at all and you aren't getting anything at all." She tilted her head slightly. "Dormant, maybe?" He shook his head. "Wouldn't explain the front door." The both jumped a little as a ringing sound was heard, but it was only Liz's cell phone. She smiled and answered. "Delaroca. Hey, boss. What? No, we're just getting started." She shook her head. "Stop? What? But we're...no, I'm not arguing, boss. I'm just saying..." she dropped the phone as a horrible hissing noise emanated from it. Mike pulled out his cell and got the same thing. "That was quick," he said, replacing his phone. "They usually wait until we're in trouble to cut off communication." "Well, this is Halloween. Fabric's thinner, which means faster responses." "Great. A super-haunting." "No," she replied. "This is not a super-haunting. Those guys still haven't gotten out of the psych ward from the last one. The whole team is still there and that was four years ago." "That's because that super-haunting had over a hundred manifestations, not to mention a planar canker. It's amazing they all got out alive." Liz simply nodded. Mike looked at his scanner again and noticed one small blip on the screen, though it made no noise. "Hey. I got something." Liz suddenly grabbed her head and both scanners started beeping. Mike grabbed his shotgun in one hand and his scanner in the other, trying to locate the ghost. The scanner pointed toward the stairs. "Liz! Liz," he cried, trying to break through the energy that had doubled her over. She waved at him to go, cradling her head in her arms and curling up in the fetal position. He ran toward the stairs and took them three at a time, slowing as he reached the landing. The scanner was pointing to his right. He turned and there in the hallway was none other than the house owner himself, Mr. David Bronson. He was about sixty or so, his head mostly bald but with a ring of hair just above his ears. He was dressed well for a dead man, in a sweater and slacks. He was a pleasant looking man as long as you didn't mind looking through him. "So, young man. I assume you and your partner are here about my refusal to leave," he said politely. Mike sighed. "Yes, Mr. Bronson. Your family would like to sell this house and its property, something that you are making quite difficult. Now, if there's anything we can help you with to speed your departure, just let me know and I'll do what I can." Bronson laughed. "Oh, if it were that easy, young man. Unfortunately, I'm not the one holding the door shut or keeping you from making your calls." Mike's eyes widened. "Wait. You mean there's someone else here? I thought this was a single ghost haunting." "Oh, no," the spirit replied. "There are, I don't know, say forty or fifty of us, not counting the...perhaps I've said too much." "No, Mr. Bronson. Please. I can't help you unless you tell me." "I can't tell you, my boy. I wish I could. I really do. However, I will give you a hint." As Bronson said this, Liz crawled out onto the landing, her arms and legs shaking and her eyes still trying to roll back in her head. "Mike. Too many." "I know, Roca. Hang in there." He turned back to the spirit. "I'm listening." Bronson smiled again. "Mike, my dear friend, I can only tell you this: do your home work." With that, he faded from view. Mike's scanner started beeping like mad. He glanced at it and saw that the screen was covered in dots and they were all moving his direction. He cursed and slung his shotgun, stooping to pick up Delaroca like a small sack of potatoes and hurrying down the stairs. He laid Liz on the couch and started rummaging through the box he hadn't finished opening yet. He quickly found what he was looking for: four small bars about six inches long and a collapsible metal rod that he unfolded to be six feet high. He set up the rod in the middle of the living room and set the four bars equidistant from it. Then he grabbed all of their gear and put it on one side of the rod near one of the bars. He moved Liz to a chair and she groaned, the power still keeping her down. Quickly, he grabbed two couch cushions and a couple of throw pillows and made her a bed. He then moved her onto the cushions. One by one, he crawled around hitting the power switches for the four bars. Once there was power to all four, a hum began and a pale green light moved from each bar to the next until the square was completed and then four streams of light shot out to the top of the rod, forming an energy tent. As soon as it was complete, Liz sighed and drifted off to sleep. Mike lay down next to her, his shotgun by his side. He looked over the file, searching for an answer to his one question: how had a single ghost haunting turned into a super-haunting? The file said that the house was built in the eighteen seventies, but only mentioned Bronson as the owner, no one before him. He grabbed his cell and tried to call the office, but there was still no signal. He wanted to explore the house, especially the third floor, but he wasn't going to leave Liz down here essentially defenseless if something really big showed up. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to will sleep to take him. After about ten minutes, he opened his eyes again, knowing it was futile. He sat up and looked at Liz, trying to gauge her condition. Her breathing was normal and her eyes fluttered slightly behind their lids. Mike reached over to grab the file and saw movement coming from the kitchen. He grabbed his shotgun and moved toward the doorway. The field from the energy tent made his arm hair stand up as he passed through it. He moved through the doorway and heard a small giggle from the back of the kitchen. He moved in, lowering his night vision goggles, looking toward the back of the room. There, in the dark, by herself, was a girl about seven years old. Mike lowered shotgun. "Hey, honey. Where did you come from? How did you get in here?" "I live here, mister. I've lived here for a long time." "Really? What's your name?" "Sarah. My name's Sarah, though everyone calls me 'Runt' because I'm the smallest." "Can I call you Runt? Would that be okay?" The girl in the dark nodded. "Okay, Runt. My name's Mike, but you can call me Mikey if you want." "Okay." "Now Runt, when you say 'everyone' who do you mean by that?" "Everyone who lives here, Mikey. They all call me Runt. Except for...oh! I have to go now." "Runt! Wait! Except for who," he asked, but it was too late. She was already gone. He slammed a fist down on the countertop making the silverware in the drawer underneath jump. He turned and started to head back out to the living room. He stopped short and hid behind the doorjamb. He couldn't believe his eyes. In the space of the two minutes he talked with the little girl, the living room had filled almost to capacity with spooks. The only thing keeping them away from Liz was the energy tent but even inside, Liz was moaning and tossing in her sleep. He knew he could go through them and get to the tent, but they could still turn their energy toward him if the saw him. Before he could decide what to do, his ectoscanner sounded an alarm, which caused every specter in the room to turn and look at him. From the stairway, a large dark ball of ectoplasmic energy rolled into the living room, scattering the ghosts. It came to the edge of the energy tent and Mike watched in horror as the field started to flicker. Whatever that thing was, it was much too powerful for them. Without thinking, he fired his shotgun, immediately racking the slide for another shot. The entity stopped its advance on the energy tent and slowly moved toward him. Mike quickly shifted the shotgun to his left hand and reached around to his waist in the back and grabbed a vial of holy water, uncorked it and threw the bottle at the onrushing mass of energy. It stopped and shuddered, almost coalescing. In the midst of the chaotic purple mass, he saw a single face, that of an angry woman. Could this be whom Bronson and Sarah were afraid of? If so, he could see why. "She will be mine, mortal," the face in the cloud yelled. "She will be mine, as will you!" Then, the whole thing vanished as if it had never been there, though the air was a few degrees cooler. Mike shivered and looked toward the energy tent. The field seemed to be back up to full strength. As he walked back to the tent, he looked at the wall behind where the entity had been. He was surprised, though only slightly, that there were no marks on the wall from his shotgun blast. The thing had been fully manifested. He climbed through the energy field, the hair on his arms still standing up. He knelt next to Liz and checked her pulse and her breathing. She seemed to be okay, though he was worried that the face had claimed her as her own. Himself, he didn't really mind. The only thing it could do to him was kill him and death was part of the job. It was his partner he had to worry about. Mike sighed angrily, trying to keep himself under control. He picked up the file again and read over it, trying to figure out what Bronson had meant by 'home work.' The spirit had intentionally left it as two words, rather than just one that kids complained about. Robert Bronson had stressed the word 'home.' Maybe Mike was looking in the wrong place. He scanned down the file but it told him nothing. His attention was diverted as Liz groaned and tried to sit up. "Mikey, what happened?" "Long story, Liz. Here. Have an energy bar." He handed her a bar from their rations, opening it for her and handing it to her, followed by a cup of water. "Thanks. God, my head hurts." "That's not a surprise, given what I've just seen." Over the next five minutes, he gave her his account of what he had seen and heard, what Bronson had told him and that the ball of energy had claimed them both. "Wait," she said. "I climbed up the stairs and warned you?" Mike nodded. "I don't remember that at all." She held her head in her hands, almost trying to squeeze it tight around her brain. "Well, I'm not surprised, Roca. You were pretty much dead on your feet at that point." She just nodded and held out her cup for more water. After draining that cup and getting a third, she seemed much more steady. "So, have you found anything on the house?" "Not yet. I was about to pull out the reader and see if I can get anything. How about you? You getting anything?" She winced, but focused. "Some. It's almost like they're on the edge of my range. Are you sure there were that many in here?" "Positive. I'd say twenty-five to thirty spooks in this room alone. That jives with what Bronson told me, which was forty or fifty. If they could've fit more in here, I think they would have." "Mike, I can't believe you're trusting a ghost on this. That doesn't seem safe." "He doesn't have anything to lose, Liz, and everything to gain. He wouldn't get anything from us if he lied." Mike reached into one of the cardboard boxes and pulled out what looked like a small flat panel LCD with a spike on the bottom of it. Without a word, he slammed it into the floor below him and waited for it to load. The Bad Place "What is that thing," Liz asked, sipping her cup of water. "It's called a Terra-Ecto Area Compiling Historian. We call it TEACH. TEACH here taps into the floor or the foundation of a building or the surrounding area and analyzes it. Then, it filters historical information from the building itself and checks the data against the ectohistory..." "The what?" "Ectohistory. How did you make it through basic? Anyway. The ectohistory is a listing of hauntings or manifestations at a given site. By doing all of this, TEACH can tell us who had the house built, who owned it, who lived here, who died here, everything." "And by using that, we can try to figure out what Bronson meant and who he and the girl are afraid of," Liz finished for him. "Exactly. Except that for some reason, TEACH isn't getting anything. We may have to use the actual foundation of the house." Liz frowned. "Which is down in the basement, right?" "Yeah. But I'm not going down there alone and you're in no shape to go with me." "Mike, I'm fine, just a little overwhelmed at first. Now that I know what we're dealing with, I'll be okay." Mike snorted. "Liz, you were moaning and writhing inside the energy tent when that thing was out here. Outside the tent, you may not have a chance." "There's only one way to find out." She started loading up her gear, including holy water, her gun, and a reliquary to help her shut things out. Mike grunted and stood, loading himself up with similar items, but also included a combat knife and his axe. "You ready, kid?" Liz chambered a bullet and nodded. "Whenever you are, partner." Mike gave her a quick look but didn't say anything. He leaned down and picked up TEACH, stowing it in a shoulder bag. They nodded to each other and Mike stepped out, shotgun held level. Liz stepped out behind him and winced, but nodded her head. Whatever was hitting her was powerful to get through her training and a reliquary. Granted, the Bureau didn't have the kind of money to get the finger bone of Saint Francis of Assisi, but these were saint bones nonetheless. Mike led the way to the kitchen and past the attacking broom cupboard. He heard Liz snicker from behind him, but he didn't say anything. He found the back door of the house, which sat next to the basement door. Just for fun, he tried to open the back door. Nothing, just like he thought. He turned and faced the basement door, reaching into a vest pocket and attaching a flashlight to the end of the barrel of his shotgun. Liz grabbed hers and held it up under the barrel of her Beretta with her left hand. Mike looked at her and then grabbed the handle to the basement door and opened it quickly. A fetid smell reached his nostrils, almost as if someone had been growing mold down there. He covered his nose and heard Liz gag. They looked at each other and nodded, Mike heading down the stairs. When he was halfway down, a light flared on above his head, but luckily behind him so he wasn't blinded. He looked up the stairs and Delaroca had flipped on the light switch, grinning at him from the top. He smirked and continued down the stairs. Mike looked around slowly, seeing nothing apparent, so he knelt and drew out TEACH, which he slammed into the ground. The whole thing lit up and started processing. At the speed it was moving, there was a lot of history in this house. That wasn't good. "Liz, Bronson was right. We're..." He stopped and looked around. She hadn't come downstairs with him. He ran to the stairs and saw Liz lying on the floor, apparently unconscious. Even from here, he could see the flowing purple energy from earlier starting to engulf her form. Before he could rush the stairs, the light went out, leaving only the ambient light from the mass of roiling energy to show him that Liz was vanishing along with the evil laughing face of the woman. He turned to grab his shotgun and TEACH, but found his way blocked by David Bronson, as well as a few other spirits. "Mr. Bronson, you have to help me. You were right. We're in over our head." Mr. Bronson looked down at the floor, a sad look on his face. "I'm sorry, Mike. Truly, I am. But, when the Queen gives order, we have to follow them. "The Queen? Who is she, Bronson? She has my partner!" "I know, Mike. There's nothing you can do for her now. Now, please. Come with us. We don't want to hurt you." Mike started to argue, but one of the spirits touched his back and he felt some of his strength drain from him, not to mention the numbing cold from the touch. "Mike, please! Just come with us! It'll be better for you in the long run." "Screw you, you bastard!" Mike reached back and grabbed a vial of holy water but was hit again by the ghostly attack before he could throw it. More of his strength drained and he fell to his knees. "Why, Bronson? Why are you doing this?" Bronson smiled sadly. "Because I have no choice, Mike. I'm following orders, just like you. I'm sorry." He reached out and touched Mike in the chest and Mike shuddered, the touch chilling him to the bones. "I really am sorry, my boy." "S'okay," Mike responded mumbling. "Forgive you." Bronson reached out and touched his head and Mike's world went black. --- Mike woke up, his head throbbing. He tried to sit up and the world spun, making him nauseous. He lay there, face up, trying not to vomit on himself. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a workshop, probably one of the outbuildings. A single electric light hung from the ceiling. There was a plate of food, causing his stomach to rumble both in hunger and in nausea, though it passed soon enough. There was also a pitcher of water and a cup, along with an empty bucket. He smirked, assuming that he was to be the middleman between the two. He stood up, wobbling slightly, and then moved to the workbench and took the plate of food and the pitcher of water and sat back down. He began eating, first a peanut butter sandwich, then moving on to a roll, some fruit and a chocolate chip cookie. As he took a drink of water from the pitcher, he realized someone was in the room with him. He put down the pitcher and looked at the door. It was actually two someone. David Bronson and Runt. "What do you two want," he asked, not even looking at them. "Mike, I want to apologize for what I did back in the house." "Okay. Fine. You're forgiven. Now go away." Runt walked up to him and touched his arm. "Oh, please, Mikey. Don't be like that. He really is sorry." "Okay, fine. Can you two help me get out of here?" "No, Mike we can't. But we can give you this." Mike turned and looked at the older spirit and noticed that he was holding TEACH. Mike stood up and took it from him. "Thanks, Mr. Bronson." Bronson smiled in return. "My pleasure, Mike. Now, come on, Runt. We have to go before we're missed." He gave Mike that knowing wink and they both vanished. Mike sat back down and wondered what that wink meant. He knew Bronson had meant something by it and his parting comment, but he couldn't piece together what it was. He fired up TEACH and began reading the entry on the house. The house was built in eighteen seventy-seven by one Sir Reginald Montgomery. He had been in the United States for two years at that point, having made his money in shipping. He commissioned the house for himself and his new bride, a Ms. Lucinda Cummings, the daughter of a local trader, a fairly well off family themselves. Shortly after building began, a worker fell from the third story walk and was killed instantly. It was attributed to his lack of coordination and left as an accident. The outbuildings were added fairly soon thereafter. Once the family was settled in their new house, Mrs. Montgomery decided that she wanted to take up gardening, so Mr. Montgomery had workers cut windows in the sides of one of the outbuildings. During the work, a tradesman had a block fall and break his leg, while later that day, another man almost had an arm taken off by a saw. During his few years at the house, Mr. Montgomery complained of bad sleep and of dreaming of a beautiful woman named 'Ilianna.' She would come to him in his sleep and arouse him, sometimes to the point of climax. He tried to hide it from his wife, but couldn't. They were trying to have a baby and when she couldn't get pregnant due to what the dreams took out of him, there were rumors of infidelity. Mr. Montgomery's health, both mental and physical, declined. It was only after his back was stooped and his hair turning gray that his wife convinced him to move out of the house closer to the ocean, which would be better for his health. He agreed and she was apparently right. Within six months, his faculties as well as his physical strength returned and nine months after moving into the new house, Mrs. Montgomery gave birth to a wonderful daughter. There were numerous entries between eighteen seventy-seven and today. Such as eighteen eighty-six. Two spinster sisters moved into the house with no occurrences of violence, as noted by their infrequent visitors. Until one day, when a 'loud commotion' was heard from their house. It consisted of screaming and smashing sounds from inside. The police were called and had to break down the door, as all entrances into the house were locked. Police Sergeant William Kelly found the two sisters dead on the floor, hands at each other's throats. His search of the house determined that there was 'immense jealousy' between the two. Eighteen ninety-five. A man killed his wife after her complaints of jealousy over 'Ilianna.' Who that is never determined. The man is sentenced to death. Eighteen ninety-seven. A woman who had taken up Mrs. Montgomery's hobby of plants is found dead in the outbuilding, stabbed with a pair of pruning shears. Her husband is found guilty and sentenced to death. Nineteen hundred. Two male friends attending university in the area are found dead in their rooms, each 'drained of life' according to Sergeant Kelly. 'There's something wrong with that house. It needs to be burned down,' Sergeant Kelly's report said. Mike read through entry after entry, always of someone dying in the house. But there was a thread there that he just wasn't getting. Men and women both died in horrible ways. He scrolled a little faster to find the entry on Mr. David Bronson. He noticed that there was a gap between nineteen forty-seven and nineteen sixty where no one owned the house. David Bronson, the current owner, purchased the house in nineteen-sixty with his wife Lorraine. They had one child already, Daniel, and one on the way, which was Donald. They moved into the house despite warnings from 'local weirdoes' that the place was haunted and that it was dangerous. Lorraine Bronson gave birth to Donald three months later in the house. There was nothing unusual that happened, not even when Lorraine announced to David a few months later that she was pregnant again. Then, the oddness began. David began having dreams of someone named 'Ilianna,' who was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She would come to him, usually on nights of his and Lorraine's love making and somehow arouse him during his sleep, sometimes causing nocturnal emissions, which he tried to hide from his wife. David's healthy started to slowly decline, only a little bit at a time. He had been slightly pudgy his whole life, but started losing his stomach, assuming that somehow he was burning more calories than usual. Only once his hair started to change color did he take notice that, at thirty-four, his health was declining. A brief respite came when Lorraine gave birth to Denise, their only daughter. David regained some of his weight and he felt healthier than he had in a long time. Then, Ilianna came to him again. This time, he rejected her outright, saying that his family was more important than any pleasure she could give him. She showed him her true nature and he lapsed into a coma that lasted until he died. Mike looked up from the screen to see David Bronson leaning against the worktable. "David, I'm so sorry." "Mike, I appreciate that. I really do because I know you mean it. Unfortunately, there's not much to be done about it." "What was she, David? Was she a ghost? A demon? A devil of some kind?" Bronson chuckled. "You know I can't tell you, Mike. What I can tell you is that you're needed in the house." Mike stood. "Okay, let's go." Bronson sighed unhappily. "No, not like this." Mike nodded. "Okay. Get it over with." He stuck out his hand and the ghost took it, cold and weakness draining Mike again until he passed out. --- Mike awoke in a similar state to the outbuilding, head foggy and stomach upset. He didn't feel nauseous this time, maybe because he had had something to eat. He raised his head from his chest and went to move his arms to his head, but found he couldn't move them. He turned his head to the left and saw that he was manacled to the wall, probably of the basement. He looked to the right and saw the same thing. And he was naked, the cool air causing goose bumps. His arms were straight out to the sides, held in by his wrists. "Oh, Mike. What are we going to do?" Mike looked up and saw the naked back of Elizabeth Delaroca. He knew her back because he had seen it so many times. The were not lovers, per se, but even the Bureau had to admit when partners were so on edge all of the time, they sometimes took that energy and aggression out with each other. It was pretty much company policy now. She was sitting on a small table, her long hair out of its ponytail and hanging down her back. "Liz? Are you okay?" He slurred the words out, trying to wet his mouth. "I'm okay, Mike. Are you?" "Water. I need water." "I'm sure you do. Ghost touches are draining." She stood up and grabbed a pitcher off of the table next to her and walked toward him, her jumpsuit bunched around her waist. She wore no shirt under it, the air making her brown nipples stand out from her smallish breasts. She held up the pitcher to his lips and he drank large gulps, stopping only to catch his breath. "Roca, what's going on here? Why am I chained up like this?" She shook her head. "I don't know, Mike. The Queen wanted you this way, I guess." He rattled the manacles holding his wrists, trying to pull them from the wall, his muscles straining in his chest, shoulders and arms. After several seconds, he relented, sweat beading on his forehead. "Mmmm," Liz purred. "I do love those muscles. In fact, Mikey, I love all of you so much, I could just eat..you...up." Mike focused on Liz's face, seeing a change with each word she said. Her eyes glowed red, her smile became full of pointed teeth and her ears started to point as well. She held up a hand to his broad chest and scraped it with almost razor sharp fingernails. Mike hissed through clenched teeth and glared at her. "Succubus," he said, finally figuring out the thread he had been missing. "Always taking the men and killing the women. The jealousy with the two sisters. Trying to sway married men away from their wives. The two college students." "Each of them," she said, a smile on her face, "Gave themselves to me willingly." "Until David Bronson." "Yes. Until him. He decided that his family was more important, so I scared him. To death." "Tell me something, Ilianna. Why take Delaroca? Why not kill her and try to seduce me?" She frowned slightly; her features part Delaroca's and part devil. "That was more difficult, at least in your sense. You two aren't married and have no emotional bond to each other, other than being partners. But she was a treat to find indeed. A sensitive? Here? Oh my, what a delectable find. She will surely be a pleasure to corrupt from the inside out." Mike gritted his teeth and pulled against the chains again, still to no avail. "Oh, so maybe she does mean more to you than a partner. This will be even more fun than I thought." "Go to hell, bitch." "Been there, done that." Liz/Ilianna stepped back away from Mike and sat on the edge of the table facing him. She undid the rest of her jump suit, pushing it to the floor. She shook out her hair and moved her right hand slowly down the side of her face. Her eyes closed and she sighed, her own touch causing ecstasy. Her hand moved down her next to her breasts, where she pinched her own nipple, causing it to harden even more, and then switching to the other. Her left hand soon joined her right, pinching and tugging on her nipples, making them hard as pencil erasers. Soon her hands began moving again, down toward her belly. They sank over her hips and down between her legs and through her small patch of pubic hair. Her hands paused, parting her lips and letting Mike watch as she began slowly moving a single finger over her clit, pushing it around and around, rubbing it. Try as he might, Mike couldn't pull his eyes away from the scene in front of him. He had been with Delaroca a dozen times, but somehow, this was more erotic than anything she had ever done with him. Involuntarily, his cock began to rise. She opened her eyes and smiled as she watched him harden. She pushed two fingers into her folds and moaned, her head falling backwards. "You have no idea how good it is to have an actual body again, Mike. Over one hundred years without touching yourself? I thought I was going to go insane." She laughed as he struggled again. "Don't worry, Mikey. I won't hurt your prescious Roca. Too much." She moved her fingers in and out of her wetness, driving them harder and harder, growling and groaning as her orgasm shook her entire body. She looked at Mike, her eyes still partially glazed over and smiled, licking her own juices from her fingers. She pushed away from the table and walked toward him, her hand taking his shaft and moving up and down on it. Mike closed his eyes and began thinking about anything else. Football. Baseball. His grandmother naked. Nothing seemed to help. Her grip on him was too strong. "That's it, Mike, fight me. That makes it all the sweeter when you finally do give in." She sank to her knees and looked up at him, fire dancing in her eyes. Mike couldn't help but look down at her. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, the end of it forked and wrapping around his shaft as almost another hand. He recoiled and tried to pull away but had nowhere to go. Liz/Ilianna laughed and used her tongue to pull him into her mouth, her lips closing over her teeth. She bobbed her head, sucking on the tip hard, causing him to groan, even though he didn't want to. He tried to fight off the sensations, but she just laughed at him, sending wonderful vibrations through his cock. Her head moved back and forth slowly, drawing out his pleasure. To his tortured mind, she did this for a week. Without warning, she plunged down to the base of his penis, her fingers making an 'ok' sign around the base. She bobbed there slightly, her tongue sticking out to lick his testicles, moaning around his shaft. She moved only slightly now, knowing she was driving him crazy. She smiled up at him, his cock fully in her mouth and then she slowly pulled it out. "You know, Mike, that since I am a succubus, it's pretty stupid to try to fight this off. I mean, I am the best at what I do. Porn stars have nothing on me." "I don't care, bitch. I'll reject you just like David Bronson did." His breath was coming in ragged gasps, trying to fight off his impended explosion. She hissed at him and plunged again, this time letting her sharpened teeth drag along his sensitive skin. He cried out in pain and tried to pull away from her but he couldn't, his bare ass pressed against the cold stone wall of the basement. She moved back up, smiling again. Small furrows full of blood appeared on his shaft. She stuck out her tongue and licked them all clean, the forks of her tongue constantly brushing past the crown of his cock. The Bad Place "Give me your seed, Mike. Give it to Delaroca." She began bobbing furiously on the head of his penis, electricity flowing through his member. Her hand blurred up and down on his shaft. He held back as long as he possibly could but finally, when he could stand it no more, his gut exploded and his organ felt like that were pouring into his groin, he grunted and his entire body jerked, his legs coming up off the floor. His eyes clenched shut and he stopped breathing, pain tearing into his shoulders from supporting his weight. He ejaculated into her mouth, feeling like his entire being was flowing out with his semen. Several large bursts flew into her mouth and she moaned around his head, taking in all of his warm cum. He slowed after the seventh or eighth burst and she let him loose from her mouth, swirling the jism around with her tongue. She swallowed it all in one big gulp and laughed as Mike began crying, his body still twitching from the strength of his orgasm. Liz/Ilianna stood and lifted his chin with a finger. "What's that, Mike? I can't hear you over your moans of ecstasy." Mike took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, Liz. I'm so sorry." She laughed again. "Don't worry, Mikey. She enjoyed it as much as I did." Mike looked up, sweat dripping off his brow and tried to get to her, tears streaming down his face. Even after a momentous effort, he got nowhere and just sagged against the wall. She walked back to the table, swinging her hips. "Don't worry, Mike. I'll give you time to recover before I take what I really want." "Screw you, bitch. I'm not giving you anything." She turned and looked at him, a wry smile on her face. "That's what you said before, Mikey, and I still got what I wanted." Her tongue snaked out of her mouth and licked the smallest drop of cum off of her lip. "Mmmm. You taste so good." Mike felt his rage growing again, but these chains held him fast. She looked at him and smiled. "All ready to go? No wonder she likes you, able to get it up that fast." Mike gritted his teeth, feeling his penis rising again against his will. Liz/Ilianna stepped up to him again and gave him another couple of strokes to get him fully hard. "Oh, do I have something special planned for you, Mikey. Something you're going to love." "Doubtful. There's nothing about you I could love. Give Liz back her body and we'll leave." "Oh, no no no no, Mike. I'm enjoying this way too much." She stepped back and put her hands on the wall to his either side. She placed a foot on the wall and pushed herself up, climbing, her breasts swinging slightly in his face. She kept climbing until her groin was even with his stomach. She pushed her groin against him and slowly lowered herself onto his rod, sighing as she sank down. Mike turned his head and saw in the back of the room the ghost of David Bronson. If anything, the spirit looked embarrassed to be there. Mike noticed that Bronson had brought Mike's axe and was holding it, still ethereal. The other thing he noticed was that Ilianna didn't seem to notice that Bronson was there. She was too busy riding him hard and fast. In a flash, Mike understood the wink and the last comment Bronson made. Ilianna is powerful, but she's not ALL-powerful. Mike just needed to keep her attention. He nodded slightly at Bronson and Bronson smiled back in return. Mike began pumping his hips into her, his butt bouncing off of the hard stone wall. Liz/Ilianna opened her eyes and stared at him in surprise, but gasped when he tilted his pelvis and shoved the tip of his cock against her hot spot. "That's it, Mikey. Give it to me," she whispered in his ear. He silently prayed that this would work and tried to fuck her harder, trying to keep her from noticing Bronson. Since he had been with Liz on several occasions, he knew her body and even though Ilianna had taken it over, it was still her body and he knew what she liked, so that's what he did, trying to drive her over the edge. She writhed against him, feeling the heat of his penis driving into her over and over, her body meeting his thrusts every time. She could feel her own fire growing, Liz inside her head screaming and trying to claw her way out, but at the same time giving into the feelings Mike was giving them both. Mike shoved himself inside her to the hilt and held her there, flexing his muscles, rocking into her clit. She screamed and her orgasm hit and she clung to him, her body shaking. Mike saw Bronson fully materialize and start running forward with the axe. Before she could react, the axe arced down and shattered the chain holding Mike's right hand. Liz/Ilianna raised her head, her eyes glazed and looked to her left, but seeing nothing but Mike's free hand. A similar cracking sound came from her right. She turned and saw Bronson smashing the chain there too. She started to scream at him, but Mike's hand clamped over her throat. She started to fight, but Mike had both hands on her at this point, both wrapped around her throat and squeezing. He looked her in the eyes; her face changed and quietly said, "Forgive me, Roca." She looked at him, fangs reaching over her teeth, not knowing what he meant. Mike stepped forward, the one hundred twenty five pound woman/demon in both hands and slammed her into and through the table in the room, wood flying everywhere. He only hoped she survived long enough to forgive him. Without waiting to see if she was okay, he ran for the stairs, Bronson right behind him. Once he reached the kitchen, he opened the closet from earlier and laid the brooms and mops across the floor. He then raced to the living room and started preparing for the exorcism. He took about half a second to laugh, thinking that a very large naked man was going to perform and exorcism. "Bronson, I need your help. Get everyone you can down her. I need help holding her off." "I'll see what I can do, Mike, but you better hurry. She's coming." "I know. I can feel it too. Hurry!" He heard a crash from the kitchen followed by an incoherent yell. His mop trick did the job. Liz/Ilianna stepped into the doorway of the living room, naked as they day she was born. Purple energy flowed around her, Ilianna calling upon her supernatural power. Mike stood up, also naked, and began chanting the Vach-Viraj Incantation, the strongest spell he knew, splashing holy water around the room. Ya na kadishtu nilgh'ri stell-bsna Nyogtha, K'yarnak phlegethor l'ebumna syha'h n'ghft Liz/Ilianna screamed at him, almost completely covering her words, a large gust of wind emanating from her mouth. Mike continued, even thought he temperature was rapidly decreasing. She took a step toward him, but was suddenly held back by a legion of specters, each projecting their force of will against her. She screamed again, louder this time. Ya hai kadishtu ep r'luh-eeh nygotha eeh, S'uhn-ngh athg li'hee orr'e syha'h A sudden clap of thunder occurred and Liz, free of Ilianna collapsed to the floor. The spirits turned and looked at Mike, unsure of what to do. "David! Is she gone?" "From here, Mike, but you haven't found the heart yet. You need to find it before you can destroy her." Mike sank to his knees and slammed his fist into the floor, completely forgetting the heart since he was worried about Liz. He looked up at Bronson. "Where is it?" "It's in the gardening outbuilding. It's not really a heart, as you would call it, Mike." Mike set his jaw. "What would I call it, then?" Bronson took a deep breath, one he didn't need, and replied, "A planar canker. She's from another dimension." Mike sat completely on the floor. "A canker. Jesus. First things first. I need to get Liz some help. Can I at least get outside?" "I think so," Bronson replied. "You just wouldn't be able to leave the property." "Damn it. So going outside wouldn't help. David, can you get Liz's jumpsuit from the basement?" Bronson didn't even answer; he simply disappeared, reappearing in the same spot a few seconds later holding the jumpsuit. Mike took it and got Liz dressed and then picked her up, starting to carry her outside. "Mike?" "Yeah?" "Shouldn't you...um...put something on too?" Mike looked down and realized that he was naked too. He turned to Bronson for help, but the ghost had already gotten his clothes from the basement. "Thanks," he said sheepishly. "My pleasure, Mike, but you may want to hurry. I can feel her power growing again." Mike nodded and zipped up his jumpsuit and pulled on his boots without lacing them. He grabbed Delaroca and ran for the door, which opened for him. He got her out to the Jeep and laid her in the back seat. Once she was comfortable, he went to the back of the Jeep and opened the door, grabbing the last box out of the back. This one was marked 'Good Stuff.' He walked back inside and started throwing things together to take to the outbuilding. He grabbed timers and wire and a few other sundries. He looked for his shotgun, but realized it was gone, probably for good. He picked up his sledgehammer, the best backup he had left. Mike picked up the box and hefted the sledgehammer and looked around at the gathered mass of spirits. "Hopefully, when this is done, you'll all be able to go on to your final rest. Wish me luck." Sarah aka Runt stepped forward and threw her arms around Mike's waist. "Good luck, Mikey," she said, a tear in her immaterial eye. "Thanks, Runt." With that, he headed for the back door, the closet exit to the outbuildings. He moved up to the door and pushed it open with the hammer. The smell of fertilizer and compost assaulted his nostrils. He stepped inside, realizing that it was bigger in there than it was outside. He staggered as the power of Ilianna assaulted him. He began moving things around as his head cleared, looking for the canker. It had to be here. He threw bags of soil and fertilizer around, searching but not finding anything. "Mike," a weary voice said behind him. "It's under the planter box." Mike spun. "Liz! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in the Jeep." She leaned against the doorframe and smiled. "I couldn't let you do this alone, partner." Mike just shook his head and reached for the planter box. It was about four feet on a side, three feet high and full of dirt and plants, so this was going to be tough. He gripped both sides and heaved, barely getting the box off of the ground, but enough to see and feel the energy coming through the canker. Mike knelt down and connected the wire and the remote receiver to the box marked 'Good Stuff.' He handed Liz the box and looked at her. "Liz, if I can lift the planter high enough, can you get this box under it?" She nodded and he went to work. He dug his hands in under the side of the box and put everything into it he had. He got the box about a foot and a half off of the ground and held it there while Liz made her way over. That was when Ilianna manifested. She was about six feet tall, beautiful, but with flaming red hair, bat wings, a tail and cloven feet. Typical succubus. She began screaming at them, her hair flying in an unnatural wind. Liz stumbled and fell, the box landing next to the planter. Mike reached a foot out and kicked the box underneath and dropped the planter on top. He grabbed Liz and headed for the door, but Ilianna intercepted them. Mike, without even missing a step, unleashed a hard right hand to the devil's face, knocking her backwards. Before she could recover, he grabbed her by the hair and flung her across the outbuilding, a clump of her red mane ripping out and clinging to his fingers. "A souvenir," he said and slammed the door behind him as he ran for the Jeep. He put Liz on the ground and they ran hand in hand to the Jeep, where the timer was waiting. They ran around the Jeep to the far side and Mike grabbed the switch. Just before he threw it, he glanced at the house. There in the front window, made even more transparent from the coming dawn, were David Bronson and Sarah aka Runt. They waved at him and Bronson mouthed the words 'Thank you.' "You're welcome, David. Thanks for all your help." Then he pushed the button. --- Once bricks, plants and fertilizer stopped falling, they came out from behind the jeep to survey the damage. The outbuilding was completely gone, while the other stayed intact. Part of the house was damaged, mostly from flying bricks. Mike stepped in through the front door and realized that their stuff was still in the living room, completely unharmed. He started picking up the gear, Liz standing in the doorway, trying to recompose herself after the ordeal. He picked up his ectoscanner and set it for the widest possible beam and got absolutely nothing. All of the spirits from the house were released when the canker imploded and Ilianna couldn't keep them here anymore. He looked around, saw nothing special and simply began packing up their gear. He reclaimed most of their lost stuff and carried it all out to the Jeep, muttering that he was going to have to replace his shotgun. He helped Liz out to the Jeep and got her inside. "Hey, Mike," Liz said from her seat. "Yeah," he answered, his voice showing how tired he was. "Happy Halloween." Mike laughed as he drove away.