It had taken nearly a full day of driving (with them switching on and off to stay fresh), but they finally arrived in a dusty little town nearly 45 miles southwest of downtown Dallas. They got a room at the local 'No Tell Motel' and set up shop. After making sure they had emergency Devil's Traps in place, Tootie quickly hooked into the internet and her fingers were flying over the keys. Meanwhile, Timmy was at the local copy shop, making sure that their real looking fake ids were in order. They met back up, dressed for their parts, and went straight for the town's historical society to glean as much information they could before heading over to the ranch itself.
They approached they front counter and encountered a kindly older lady manning it. They both gave her a smile and nod, which she returned gently.
"Yes my dears, how may I help you?"
Timmy gave her another kind grin as they both pulled out their badges.
"Yes ma'am you can. I'm Special Agent Kripke, and this is Special Agent Wheldon with NCIS. We were called in because of a mysterious suicide of a Gunnery Sergeant at the Newton Ranch."
"Oh my! Well Agent Kripke, there was a death out there; a nice couple had purchased the land, real pleasant too. Then, all of a sudden the sheriff is getting called out there at least twice a week because they are having knock down, drag out fights. I don't wish to speak ill of the dead, but rumor around town is that she had one hell of a drinking problem, and he…well let's just say that him and preacher's wife were doing more then praying after Sunday service."
The two young hunters exchange glances before Tootie takes over the conversation.
"We understand ma'am. Have there been any other…'weird' incidents out there that you know of?"
"Well my dear, I've lived here all of my life, and I'd have to say there has been at least a dozen to maybe twenty incidents out there in my lifetime." She beckons them closer. "Some say the place is haunted, though most are quick to dismiss that theory." she whispers.
Another fifteen minutes of general small talk later, the couple thanked the woman and made their way back to the motel. They spent the better part of the morning making sure that their equipment was in order and functioning, as well as making two dozen salt rounds for their sawed off shotguns. From their experiences and research, the only thing that can repel a spirit is rock salt, because it represents purity. Most ghosts they had come across were either souls who couldn't move on, due to a number of factors, including unfinished business. The others were vengeful spirits, who chose not to move on and are now tortured by the pull of the afterlife, but could not move on.
At nightfall, the pair made their way to the ranch house, after making double sure that they had everything with them. Their pistols and shotguns, as well as their Electromagnetic Frequency (EMF) meters, which helped find spirit activity when the ghost didn't make itself visible. The drawback could be power lines that still had juice in them, because that can give off false positives.
They arrived at their destination, prepared for anything the spirit could throw at them. Timmy grabbed Tootie's shotgun and bandolier and tossed them to her. They loaded up on ammo, making sure to split it evenly. They covered each other's backs as they made their way through the front door, scanning from ceiling to floor and everywhere in between. They both sighed, nervous even after all these years of hunting. Their guru once said that the moment they didn't have butterflies in their stomachs while on a hunt, then they needed to get out of the life.
"Damn, this place is massive! It could take days just to search the house." Timmy sighed, continuing to visually scan the stairs and second story hallway.
"Place this big, we better split up. One of us takes the downstairs and the basement if there is one. The other takes the upstairs. Whoever takes the first floor also has to search at least five hundred yards outside and try to find that grave." Tootie said, scanning the room before her.
"I'll take the downstairs. I am taller, so I can cover more ground quickly, plus I think I remember how to handle this terrain." he said with a smile. They sealed the deal with a kiss, and then broke off to begin the search.
As she ascended the stairs, he began rummaging through the various nooks and crannies of the lower level. He scanned everything with his EMF, and got a hot spot at the chandelier (no surprise to him), and continued his tour. He got nothing in the kitchen, parlor, or formal dining room. He did get a hit in one of the less formal dining rooms, but according to the legend nothing happened in there. He continued his sweep, slowly scanning every possible place.
Upstairs, Tootie was having more luck then her beau. She got spikes in the master bedroom and three of the other bedrooms. While scanning, she felt a chill run up her spine, and decided to check out the master bedroom again. This time, she took a breath and was able to see it when she exhaled, even in the heat of a Texas summer. She held her next breath, her petite hand slipping to the pistol grip of her shotgun.
She whirled around, and came face to face with a woman dressed in Civil War era clothing. She knows immediately that it was Rachel Newton's spirit. She went to pull the trigger and blast the ghost with the salt, but the ghost just gazed at her and gently caressed her cheek. Tootie shook as ectoplasmic power coursed over and through her, unlocking those long ago memories of the mistreatment that Timmy had wrought on her.
"He has done you wrong my child. I can sense it in your eyes. Let that anger out. Get rid of him, before he does much worse to you." Rachel said in a haunting southern drawl.
The happy memories the couple had forged in the years since they first became a couple were locked away in the back of her mind. The only thing she could remember was the humiliation, the anger, the…RAGE she felt towards the young man downstairs. She grits her teeth and shook her head in one last desperate attempt to override the power, but it was a lost cause.
"He will be unfaithful to you child. Every man is unfaithful in the end, and they must be punished. You must strike quickly Tiffany, or else you will face my fate." the voice finished as it faded to nothingness. The young huntress gripped her shotgun tightly. She knew he would be. He would always be worshipping Trixie's ghost, and Tiffany Layla McDonald isn't second place to anyone, especially one who is dead.
She descended the stairs, forcing a fake smile across her face as she looked for him. In her now warped and twisted mind, she had to lull him into a false sense of security, before she can take her revenge. She remembered that they were sharing a single room, and she had to fight her own body from gagging at the thought of being in the same room, let alone the same bed as him.
Timmy was just finishing up his sweep of the downstairs. He saw his girlfriend coming towards him, and he smiled, none the wiser to what happened to her. He walked over and tried to embrace her, but was surprised to feel her push him off. This was odd because even when she is on her 'special time', she never pushed him away like that. He looked at her with a confused and slightly hurt expression on his face.
"Ok, so did you find anything upstairs? I got zilch down here, and there is no basement."
"No I didn't. There was a little bit of EMF in the bedrooms, but no sign of Rachel anywhere." she said with a very terse tone in her voice. She was now barely containing the rage and anger building up inside of her.
Timmy could only stare at her as she bumped passed him and made her way to the car. As the sun rose, he could not wrap his mind around her actions since they reconnected. She was acting very strange, and had an angry, almost hateful tone to her voice. He followed close on her heels, and was stunned when she spun around and sat on the hood, just glaring at him. He didn't say a word, so not to start a fight.
Sliding behind the wheel, he sat stock still as he started up the car and drove back to the motel. She stormed into the room, and he had to step in quickly before his girlfriend slammed the door in his face. He was just staring at her, wondering what the hell happened at the ranch.
"I'm thinking that we could go back there after midnight and try to find ole' Rachel's grave. I found an original map of the land, and I believe it's still accurate. It says the remains should be about 200 yards due west from the back patio."
She just glared at him, wondering who died and put him in charge. She was now wishing that Vicky had put him in the hospital permanently. Why hadn't her sister finished the job? Oh well, since her sister wasn't strong or competent enough to do it, then she would have to pick up the slack. Tonight, she would get her revenge, and no one would ever find his body way out there.
"That's…good…thinking Timothy. It I…we can lure Rachel out, we can blast her, then do the old salt and burn." she said with an evil glint in her eye. This disturbed her boyfriend further, as he still couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with her.
Tootie excused herself to get cleaned up, leaving Timmy to his own devices. As soon as he heard the water start, he grabbed her laptop and pulled up her research on the Newton case. He speed read the information until he got to what Rachel Newton could now do in spirit form
His tired eyes bulged at the new information. In it, it said that now she had the power to turn even the most loving girlfriend/wife into a violent, stark raving lunatic who is also plagued by paranoia of her husband/boyfriend being unfaithful to her, or painful old memories coming back to the forefront of the infected female's mind. The only way to break 'Rachel's Curse' was to destroy her.
Oh no…that bitch got to Tootie, and now she's recalling all the bullshit I put her through when we were kids! I gotta watch my back from now on. He thought in horror.
The shower had turned off, and he quickly shoved her computer back into her messenger bag as if nothing was wrong. She eyed him with a mix of disdain, contempt, and suspicion. She said that both should get some rest, to get freshen up before they had to go back tonight. He agreed, but instead of sleeping in bed with her, he pulled out the sleeper sofa and curled up there, deathly afraid of what she could do in his sleep.
Later that night…
They made it back to the ranch, and they got their weapons out of the trunk. He handed her the map, so he could keep her in front of him at all times. Instead of going around the house…they went through it, though Timmy tried to salt as much as he could. Suddenly, Tootie turned and looked at him maliciously. He swallowed hard, and tightened his grip on his sawed off double barreled.
"Let's keep moving Timothy, that grave isn't going to dig itself you know." she said, turning her back and smiling a pure, evil grin.
"Yeah, it sure isn't babe." he replied nervously.
Then, he exhaled and could see his own breath. That was his tip-off to a spectral presence. He turned around, and there was a woman wearing period clothing standing before him. He tried to get his shotgun up to fire, but Tootie ripped it out of his hands. Rachel didn't take any time, punching the young man and sending him flying into the wall behind him. He got up, only to catch the butt of his own shotgun from his now demented girlfriend.
On dream street, Timmy tried to fight back, but his swings went wild and easily ducked by both women. They knocked him around real good, until they knocked him too close to the duffel bag. In the mess of his landing, he found a large tube of rock salt. He poured some in his hand, and when Rachel got close enough to him, he flung it at her, making the ghost dissipate into nothing. He drew himself to his feet and beckoned Tootie to bring her best stuff.
She launched herself at him, throwing a flurry of kicks and punches, which he was able to duck or block. He hesitated on throwing his own, fearing for his love's health and safety both mentally and physically, and knowing this wasn't really her fault.
"Come on you coward! Hit me! What, I'm not good enough for you? Come on, pretend I'm Trixie, like I know you do when we make love!" she spat at him.
He held his ground, knowing that this was Rachel's influence talking and causing this outburst. His fist was balled up and cocked at his side, but he still couldn't pull the trigger.
"Heh, I always knew you were a coward Turner. I don't know why I waste my time on you, considering that Remy would make me feel like more of a woman then you ever can!"
He couldn't control himself any longer. He flung himself to his feet and went after her, hitting combination left hooks and right jabs before hitting his trademark knockout left hook-right uppercut combo. He stood there, breathing hard and spitting out the blood in his mouth from catching the butt of his shotgun. He trudged out the back door, having grabbed the map from Tootie and heading for the grave.
He was not twenty feet from it when he was thrown into a nearby tree. Dazed, he stood before Rachel once more. With her was a rejuvenated Tootie, who held her shotgun level with his chest.
"Oh come on Tootie, that thing's filled with rock salt! It won't kill me!" he shouted. She fired, and the salt round hit him square in the sternum. He flew back and had a lot of trouble breathing. She rolled him over with the toe of her boot and sadistically grinned down at him.
"No, but it will hurt like Hell." she spat at him. He was on the ground, coughing and gasping for breath. He tried to roll onto his side, but it was difficult and very painful.
"Tootie, we need to burn Rachel's bones and this will all be over! Then you'll be back to normal!" he choked out.
"No, I am normal. I'm just thinking for myself, and remembering all the Hell you put me through back in the day. Vicky was right about you: you are nothing more then a pathetic loser! It's payback time Turner!" she screamed. He reached into his waistband and pulled a nine millimeter pistol out. He handed it to her, and she smiled wickedly, cocking the weapon.
"You hate me that much? Think you can kill the love of your life? Then do it! Pull that trigger damn it!" he taunted. She knelt down and shoved the gun into his face and pulled the trigger. All she heard was the hollow click of an empty weapon. She tried again and again, only to hear the same sound.
Sweeping his legs out, he knocked her on her backside. "I'm not stupid enough to just hand you a loaded weapon Tiffany!" he says calmly. He knocks her out again with a punch to her forehead, before pouring a salt circle around himself and the grave. Rachel tried in vain to break the seal, but the barrier did its job, protecting the young hunter as he quickly dug down into the ground.
He hit pay dirt when the tip of the spade broke through rotted wood. He quickly pried it open, dumping salt and lighter fluid on the bones. Tootie had awoken, and tried again to kill him with her own handgun, but the shots went wide of the mark, ricocheting off the hard clay of the grave.
She had had enough. She jumped feet first into the grave, shovel in hand. They two began struggling over it, with Tootie getting the upper hand. She forced him to his knees with the handle pressed hard against his throat. As he fought unconsciousness, the young man lunged for her leg, missing the first couple of times, before grabbing it and flipping her to her backside. Timmy drags her by her hair out of the grave, before quickly lighting a book of matches and tossing it in and setting them ablaze.
At first, Rachel Newton didn't know what was happening. Then, she looked down at her body and screamed as it was consumed by flame, before it dissipated, along with her screams…and she passed into the afterlife.
Tootie, her face now a mask of confusion, looked at her boyfriend. He was panting hard and bleeding, and just gazed at him as she felt her own blood trickle into her mouth. She wiped it away, and suddenly felt the aches and pains of a hard battle. She stretched and twisted, trying to work out those painful kinks.
"Uh…what happened baby?" she asked, holding her back.
"You're not going to try and kill me again are you?" he asked flatly.
"NO! Why would I do that?"
"Oh, no reason sweetheart."
The pair made their way back to the Charger. Once there, they dropped their gear into the open trunk, and Tootie pulled two colas out of the back and handed one to Timmy. They leaned against the side of the car, and Tootie was still confused.
"Do you remember anything?" he asked cautiously.
"The last thing I remember is searching her room, and then feeling this overwhelming hatred towards you fill me. It was like nothing I've ever experienced before. It was like Rachel unlocked all the old feelings I felt before we started dating."
Timmy could only stand there, wiping the blood that was running down his face from a laceration on his forehead. "So, do you still feel that way, or are we in love again?"
"We're in love again. Those emotions faded with Rachel Newton."
"Good, because this could become awkward."
The pair laughed and piled into the car. They got back to the motel, packed up, and headed east. They needed a long vacation, and they were going to take it now. And it started with heaping bowls of Loretta's home made gumbo and some TLC.
A/N: Read and review. So the ghost of Rachel Newton is taken care of, but at what cost? Next chapter, we deal with the fallout of Tootie's infection, and take on a new case. Special thanks to my loyal readers and to MisterBlue for helping me along the way.