A teaser before the final chapter – to be delivered, of course, on Halloween!

Chapter 18

Roy stared at his friend, comprehension dawning as he watched the play of emotions on Johnny's pale face.

"She's here isn't she?" He asked, leaning forward and thumping his balled fist on the table.

Johnny looked up and nodded. "She is, and possibly Casper too, but I can't be sure. Although, who knows, maybe they really never left."

He considered that for a moment, glancing pointedly in Chet's direction but the lineman was oblivious to the attention. His back was to them and he was busy talking to Marco, hands gesturing wildly in the air to accompany his words.

"Is she trying to, uh, take you over? Honestly, you seem to be in total possession of your faculties, at least for the moment." DeSoto asked, glancing warily about.

"She's doing her best and I can feel her making an attempt; I'm beginning to wonder if it has something to do with my pain level."

"What do you mean your pain level? You did get hurt in that fall!" Roy accused, voice rising. John quickly shushed him.

"No, it just aggravated my stomach when I went over the edge. I think I missed a few splinters, that's all, and right now it's working to my advantage."

"Johnny," Roy hissed impatiently. He had half risen from his chair and was hovering inches away from Gage's face. "Splinters from what and when exactly did you hurt your belly?"

Johnny pulled back and was glad Roy couldn't see the flush of embarrassment warming his face. He definitely was going to get his butt chewed when they got out of here, both from his partner and his captain. Of course, that was if they got out of here in one piece…..

"Gentlemen, we're about ready to start. Am I interrupting something that needs to be taken care of first?" It was Marco's great aunt who now commanded their attention; Roy dropped back in his chair and heaved an exasperated sigh in John's direction before shaking his head.

"No, ma'am, it can wait."

"Good, very good, because I feel very strongly that we must proceed and finish this before daylight," she stated, emphasizing "daylight", which resulted in a groan from the younger paramedic.

"Are we talking vampires here?" He asked, glancing around the room suspiciously.

Mrs. Torres laughed quietly and laid a hand on the nervous man's shoulder. "No, John, no vampires, it's just that the spirits are always much more active in the dark of night, or really, I should say the very early morning."

"Ah, the witching hour, right?"

"Yes indeed, that's exactly what it's called," she answered. "Not really an hour, of course, just a period of time between midnight and about four."

Both men nodded in understanding but it wasn't like it made them feel any better. Besides, the spirit of Alice didn't play by any rules that they could see; she seemed to take possession whenever she felt like it, witching hour or not.

A shudder vibrated through the tired, tense body of the younger man and DeSoto watched him closely, his fists still clenched in helplessness and anger. He knew what to do when a patient was coding, could handle a hose with the best of them and beat back a raging inferno, and wouldn't hesitate to dangle off the side of a building, heart rate spiking – don't look down, don't look down -fingertips his only contact with certainty…but this situation was completely out of his control. Disbelief lingered in the shadows of his mind even though the evidence was there before him, sitting half hunched in a rickety, antique chair that had probably held the bottoms of senators and judges, gamblers and scoundrels.

Johnny shivered again, a decided contrast with the thin line of sweat sliding down his face. His hands, however, flat on the table in front of him, remained steady and unmoving. His eyes blinked slowly, completely in tune with the louder of the annoying drips echoing through the dank room. Roy, taking note of his friend's quiet strength and determination, took a deep breath, exhaled sharply, and forced his mind back into the realm of reality. He might not know how to get rid of this all too real spirit but he could absolutely stand beside Johnny and aid him in any way possible.

Maria Torres circled around their table and stood silently before both groups of men. An immediate hush fell over the room and DeSoto had to marvel at another example of quiet strength, this time from a tiny woman whose head didn't even reach his chin. There was no doubt in his mind that she would have wonderful stories to tell of her past adventures; he could only hope that at another time he would be able to hear them.

"Gentlemen," she began softly, her hands clasped together in front. At her bidding, all the lights were clicked off and doused except for the old lamp Chet had carried to the wine cellar. He placed the antique behind her on a ledge that was the top for a custom built wine cabinet that displayed rows of dusty bottles lazing on their sides. Turning the wick down, Chet stepped back as the tiny flame flickered; darkness rushed in and surrounded them on all sides.

"Not quite so far Mr. Kelly," Mrs. Torres suggested with a hint of humor in her voice. Chet snickered, retraced his steps, and turned the wick back up. The black night receded a tiny bit but lapped hungrily at the edges; all the men remained in obscurity but the faint illumination backlit Maria with a quivery waver.

"Mmm, better, but it doesn't really matter. Now you will hear some things that you won't understand, feel things, and I'm sorry Mr. Gage, but you will undoubtedly be in distress. You all must remain in your seats and let me handle this. Mr. Lacey will be here to assist me as needed, or if things get out of control."

A nervous giggle escaped, this time from Lopez, and Johnny wondered which part of Mrs. Torre's words had elicited that reaction. He hoped it wasn't the part about his distress – if it had been Chet there would be no doubt about that but Marco…hard to tell. It didn't matter though, as they were all here because of him and he was grateful.

He looked around the quiet room, not able to see much but blurred, charcoal outlined forms as they shifted uneasily in their chairs. He was glad when Maria turned and turned the wick up even more; the dark didn't bother him one bit but what might slither out of the shadows unseen did. Roy had told him about the smoky apparition that appeared almost every time Alice did and he was unable to stop himself from glancing around at the floor looking for some kind of physical sign. He could feel her dark energy pulsating around him, tiny little pricks of electricity tattooing against his skin. And there were the bloody annoying drips that seemed to be intensifying to match the dark storm building within the cellar, steady beats that matched the pounding in his head.

A vibration hummed through the wine cellar and a second later he heard the faint but ominous rumble of thunder through the thick walls of the basement. The storm was apparently picking up speed outside but he wasn't sure which was safer – an enclosed space where Marco's aunt was about to attempt rousing and banishing the evil Alice or the wide open area of the yard with the lightning zig zagging about. Sighing inwardly – no doubt the sharp eared Roy would hear even the smallest sound he uttered, Gage dropped his head and stared down at his palm flat hands still on the table. He flicked his eyes towards the third man seated at their table and wondered what was going through his analytical mind. Supportive and sympathetic, yes, he had already demonstrated that earlier. But what did Captain Stanley think about what was about to occur?

Mrs. Torres cleared her throat and began to speak in a low, mesmerizing voice, interrupting his swirling thoughts. He focused on what she was saying and realized with a sharp pang of trepidation that she had begun whatever it was she was going to do. So apparently there would be no hand holding or clearing the mind of wayward thoughts this time around. He swallowed hard, remembering his quip to Roy on the way back from one of the Teal runs – he had promised to hold his partner's hand if he needed reassurance. He was embarrassed to admit it, but now he was the one that needed the comfort!

As if reading his emotions, Roy's hand clamped gently down on his wrist as Maria's chant got louder and faster. Johnny's hands that had remained motionless were now twitching nervously as he tried to keep his body in the chair. He wasn't sure which was bothering him the most – the incomprehensible words pounding his ears or the thickening air sucking the oxygen from his lungs. For Alice was responding quickly to the incantations Mrs. Torres was wielding like a sword…..and not in a good way.

She took shape first as a vague shapeless shadow, grey as ash and barely perceptible in the flickering lamp light but keenly observed by the two paramedics who were waiting for her physical appearance. Johnny felt Roy's fingers tighten as he shifted in agitation and wondered if he could hold out against the ghost or whatever she was. His friend's whispered "steady" helped and he braced himself mentally to fight off her invasive advance. He noted that her all but invisible presence was raising all the hairs on his body and triggering the ancient fight-or-flight instinct within; there was no question about it - he was choosing to fight with the help of his colleagues.

~TBC~