Burt stopped the tape and reached for the plastic case. He stopped. He pressed record again.
“This just occurred to me. What if something I did caused me to come back in time? And if so, I brought you all back with me? The last thing I remember is Audrey making us all put candles on the cake. What was I thinking about when I blew out my candle? I think… NO! I was thinking of this place and how great it would have been if all of us were here investigating it. Shit. If my wish brought me back, you’ve all been pulled back too. Maybe you’re on your way to rescue me… This joy almost balances my dread. Because if we’re all back in time, we’re changing the future. Oh my god, bebe, I fucked up. You and Ted will meet but too early. Shit, did I just fuck up all the good things?
“One darker thought. What if it wasn’t my wish? Why would I think of this place after all this time? What if this is a major trap? A drama to be played out in the isolation of Smoky Hill River Valley. You without wings and other powers. You’d just have the ability to see ghosts… But you have the knowledge of what to do. Are you here? Have you already been corrupted, or worse dead? What has my hubris brought? I’m going to end this tape now and work on getting out of here. Maybe I can warn you.”
Burt turned off the tape. He placed it in the plastic case. He also reached over and pulled over the small Tupperware container. He dumped the graham crackers into his handkerchief and placed the tape in the container and sealed it. He placed another tape in the recorder and set it to record before he let the fatigue take him. He pulled the blanket over him and fell into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Mia listed all the things that were basics for a paranormal investigation. She and Murphy conferred and thought that perhaps Glenda would donate an old two-barrel shotgun that Murphy found in her barn. Ted and Cid were put in charge of refurbishing and adapting it to shoot rock-salt cartridges, which Mia packed herself after having Cid and Ted promise not to shoot each other.
“Salt and iron are available. Holy water isn’t, but that’s more of a demon thing,” Mia said.
“I’ve got Mike outside gathering all the rusted bits of equipment. Maybe we could fashion some weapons?” Glenda suggested.
“Whatever you can provide will be more than we started with. Ghost 101 says, when you interrupt the energy flow with iron, the ghosts go back to where their power sources are and have to recharge. But the more you use, let’s say, iron, the quicker they become immune to it. So, switching off between iron and salt may be a good idea.”
“How does Mr. Murphy handle all these deterrents?”
“The best thing is not to shoot him with rock salt or stab him with iron.”
“I know that. I mean how does he fight his own kind?” Glenda clarified.
“Oh. He has a spectral axe. This is a weapon that he died with in his hands. Murph is most effective.”
“Normally, do you carry so many weapons?” Glenda asked.
“No, but we have them handy. Most paranormal investigations are pretty tame. I’m just being over prepared because of the nature of what we may be facing.”
“Why does it have to be a hospital for the criminally insane,” Glenda moaned.
“I’ve been asking myself that very question,” Mia said.
“Come up with any answers?” Glenda asked.
“Not the kind you’d want to hear,” Mia apologized.
~
Wyatt and Nordin had just finished communicating with a very interesting demon. Sticks was a prepubescent demon - the right time to bind him to a marriage contract. Wyatt had seen a lot of surface earth demons, and this one was smarter than his years. The natural demons of this earth were an honorable race. Sticks was no exception. The only time these demons got out of hand was when the fallen messed with them, or when the human race cried victim when they wanted the things that demons had natural rights to, like gold and gemstones.
Sticks had established himself in a large park in the upper, interconnected oak branches. His branchlike appearance made camouflage easy.
“Sticks, do you have a moment?” Wyatt had called up into the trees.
The demon looked down, his oval face scrutinizing his caller. He sniffed the air and asked, “What do you want, fallen?”
“Just an interview. It’s about a possible mate for you.”
Sticks moved carefully down the branches. He didn’t venture out of the shadows of the grove because of the time of day. He didn’t like to attract too much attention. Attention brought priests, and he didn’t need that headache.
Wyatt looked up. “I may be adopting a daughter, and she’s a human-demon hybrid. I’d like to know how you feel about these fleshy creatures?”
“They are soft and need to be handled carefully.”
“Have you been promised yet?”
“I have no family to act on my behalf.”
“That’s a shame.”
“It is what it is,” Sticks said. “When you become her father, come and talk to me.”
“I will.”
“May I ask you a question, fallen?”
“Yes.”
“How come you aren’t thinking of betrothing this human-demon hybrid to a human?”
“Humans are weak; they won’t protect her like she should be protected. Also, they will break her heart. No one loves as deeply as my future daughter.”
“Set up a meeting,
