Rotting Souls

  Rotting Souls

  Banshee Series Book 4

  Written by Sara Clancy

  Edited by Emma Salam

  Copyright © 2019 by ScareStreet.com

  All rights reserved.

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  See you in the shadows,

  Sara Clancy

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

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  Chapter 1

  He’s close.

  An icy chill came along with that thought. It clawed up Benton’s spine and burrowed deep into his bones. He balled his hands against his knees, pushing his knuckles painfully down into his kneecaps. Keep still. Wait. Allow the lurking ghost to gather its nerve. A surge of adrenaline sharpened his senses, allowing him to track the soft sounds of the ghost as it crawled over the walls. It moved with a slickly tearing sound. Something between the sharp break of bone and the snap of sapling trees.

  Benton knew he shouldn’t look. He had enough trouble sleeping without observing the twisted monstrosity that Oliver Ackerman had become.

  Being riddled with rot and covered with grave dirt now seemed pleasant. But, as the ripping sound crept around to his left, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over. The old man’s spine was forced into an almost perfect arch, forcing him to walk on his hands and feet. The bones of his fingers broke free of his skin like gnarled tree roots. They weaved through everything it touched. Constantly growing. Forcing him to snap his bones for every jerk forward. Ackerman met Benton’s eyes.

  The fury within his eyes was a sight Benton was used to seeing.

  The fear wasn’t.

  “Is he back?” Zack called to him, careful not to cross the threshold of the open barn doors.

  “He never left,” Benton replied absently.

  Zack’s eyes grew wide, flicking wildly around like a startled deer. “Then where did he go? He didn’t come out here with us, did he?”

  “Nah.” Benton didn’t take his eyes off of Ackerman as he waved a hand above her head. “He likes to hang out in the rafters. I think he feels safer off the ground.”

  “Safer from what?” Meg asked, her voice somehow both meek and demanding at once.

  It took a vast amount of effort to keep his eyes from rolling. An effort he only made because he knew Nicole was watching him carefully. “How would I know?”

  “Ask him,” Meg said as if he were mentally slow.

  “You ask him,” Benton shot back.

  Zack pried one hand off of his camera to gesture wildly. Apparently, that was necessary to get his point across. “You’re the medium.”

  “Banshee,” Benton and Nicole corrected in unison.

  “What’s the difference?” Zack asked.

  “I just warn you when you’re going to kick the bucket. I don’t chat.”

  “But you can talk to him,” Meg pressed.

  Benton took his eyes off of Ackerman just long enough to throw Meg an exasperated look. “So can you.”

  She gnashed her teeth in frustration. “I can’t hear what he says back.”

  “He never says anything back,” Benton countered.

  In his peripheral vision, Benton watched the tag-you’re-it game play out for the hundredth time that night. Zack was normally the one who started it. The teen was desperate to get proof of the supernatural. Unfortunately, his patience had the lifespan of a fruit fly. Every time he was annoyed with Benton, he’d wave to Meg, silently telling her to do something about it. Meg instantly handed the task off to her identical twin, Danny. Out of the three, Benton liked Danny the most. Because she had enough sense to know that he wasn’t exactly excited about her existence. The downside of that was that she would go to Nicole for help.

  “We all know by now that Mr. Ackerman isn’t exactly in a chatty mood,” Nicole said carefully, obviously looking for middle ground. Meeting Benton’s gaze, she smiled sweetly. “Maybe you could tell us what he’s doing?”

  “He’s circling like a shark, and you’re having me sit here like chum.”

  Nicole’s smile instantly faded. She began to bounce, shifting her weight between her feet with nervous energy. A small slither of guilt wormed its way through the pit of Benton’s stomach. Death had decided that they were besties when he was ten. It had messed with his perception of ‘normal.’ He sometimes forgot how hard all of this could be for someone on the outside.

  “He doesn’t make any vocal noises,” Ben ton said in a gentler tone. “But he only seems interested with people inside the barn. He hasn’t even looked at you guys.”

  It didn’t stop Nicole from bouncing around like a trapped rabbit, but she seemed pleased that he was making an effort with her friends.

  It had been quite a month since the Slaughs had swept across the Alberta plains, hidden within a storm that did just as much damage as the monsters themselves, and Nicole’s friends were still hanging around. Necessity had drawn them together. They needed the twins and Zack if they were ever going to make it back. And somewhere along the line, everyone had just sort of assumed that it was the new status quo. Nights like these proved why this was a stupid idea. Nicole’s little experiments with the unknown had consisted of blood pressure cuffs and EMF readers. Zack and the twins leaned towards poking the unseen monsters and watching Benton get his butt kicked.

  See, this is why I hate people.

  A sudden burst of frost encased every cell of his being, crashing his body temperature, making him shiver violently. Benton snapped back around, searching for Ackerman, finding the spirit barely an inch away from him. Rage flared in the dead man’s eyes. It crashed over him in a frozen wave. Dust billowed up around Benton as he hurriedly scrambled over the dirt floor, desperately increasing the distance between them. Ackerman’s decayed lips twisted into a snarl as he retreated, climbing back up the wall to disappear into the shadows around the rafters. Zack’s camera flash broke the night like lightning. Benton winced, lifting one hand to shield his eyes.

  “Benton,” Nicole gasped. “Are you okay?”

  “What happened?” Meg snapped.

  At the same time, Zack demanded, “Where is he?”

  Benton lifted a shaking hand to point into the exposed rafters.

  “You scared him off?” Zack said. “What the hell? We’re trying to get him on camera.”

  Benton glared in Zack’s general direction, still blinking away the stars in his eyes.

  “Yeah, I know your dumbass plan. He startled me.”

  Zack bristled, his broad shoulders hunching up like an angry cat. “No one will believe us without proof.”

  “You. Not us. I’m not putting my fingerprints on this train wreck.”

  Zack bared his teeth in frustration. “You have something to say?”

  “Only the blatantly obvious,” Benton shot back. “You can’t convince someone of something they don’t want to believe.”

  “I was convinced.” His chest damn near swelled up with pride.

  “You were attacked by a hund
red monsters and witnessed a banshee scream destroying them,” Benton countered. “Yeah, that’s the exact same as being shown a photo or two by some jerk online.”

  A string of barbed wire coiled tightly within the pit of his stomach, the sensation making his skin crawl and forcing him to snap around on instinct. Ackerman had started to circle him again, bleeding in and out of the shadows. His progress was marked by the snap and crackle of his twig limbs. While he could hide from Benton’s sight, Ackerman couldn’t smother the sensation that he provoked. The pain in Benton’s stomach. The pressure at the base of his neck. The sleet that worked through his veins. A sudden light made him jump. A cry clogging his throat, he whipped around to find Nicole leveling the beam of her mobile’s torch onto him.

  “Your lips are turning blue.” Concern laced through her words.

  Meg made a fascinated grunt and clicked off a few more photographs. It seemed that she never got tired of seeing him in ghost induced hypothermia.

  “Maybe we should take a break,” Nicole said.

  “But we haven’t gotten the photo yet,” Zack protested. “You can hold on a little longer, right Benny-boy?”

  Benton remained silent. He had been ten when Death decided to let him in on the game, filling his dreams with brutal murders. The thing that made that special brand of torture endurable was that it all stopped, or at least eased up considerably, when he woke up. That had changed after coming to Fort Wayward. Now he had to deal with the supernatural insanity while awake, too. So far, he wasn’t all that impressed. Not that he wanted Zack to know that. He might be pathetic, but he had some measure of pride.

  “He’s been doing this for two hours,” Nicole pressed, her sweet tone hardening around the edges. “It’s about time for a break.”

  “He’s fine,” Zack sighed.

  “His teeth are chattering. And look at his fingertips. That’s the start of frostbite.”

  “Nicole,” Zack swung his arms out as he twisted his torso towards her. “Do you maybe want to leave him with a shred of masculinity?”

  Strike one, Benton thought with a smirk. He watched with growing amusement as Meg and Nicole turned in unison to fix Zack with a sharp glare. Even Danny returned from her position as a lookout to let Zack know he had messed up.

  “I’m confused, Zack,” Meg said, crossing her arms around her chest. “Explain to me what exactly is demeaning to a man about a woman showing concern.”

  “You know what I mean,” Zack dismissed with a snort.

  Strike two. Benton bit his lips to hide his grin.

  “No, I don’t,” Danny replied. “Come on. Explain it to me.”

  Even Zack was able to pick up on the clear and present danger in Danny’s voice. For the first time, he seemed to notice that the girls were annoyed with him. His mouth opened, but no words came out. Benton could watch him flounder all day. It never got old.

  A blast of frigid air slammed into Benton’s spine, shoving him forward. He hit the ground hard. His thrashing kicked up the dust, letting it line his throat as he twisted around. Tight hands gripped his neck before he could get up, fingers of iron and ice squeezing tight as they slid around his throat. Looping. Squeezing. His lungs swelled, but he couldn’t feel any of the air. He choked as he breathed.

  Ackerman flung him to the ground, straddling Benton to pin him into place. The ghost was a crushing, icy weight. It felt as if it were enough to freeze Benton’s bones as it bent them. His temperature plummeted at the contact, encasing him in agony.

  Benton’s vision blurred and his body trembled violently. Ackerman loomed over him, bringing his distorted face inches from Benton’s own. A feral snarl rippled past dead lips. Benton scratched at his throat but couldn’t dislodge the ethereal fingers. Forcing his mouth open, he tried to scream. Ackerman squeezed his vice-like fingers, choking the sound off in Benton’s throat, making his body rattle with the residue.

  Suddenly, Ackerman’s body swirled, dispersing like oil in water. Nicole lunged through the hovering remains, grabbing Benton by the front of his hoodie. The iron fire poker in her hand smacked against his chest as she yanked him up. Benton helped as best he could, which wasn’t much. Ragged coughing fits kept doubling him over, and his limbs felt like stone. Together, they managed to drag one of his arms across her shoulders, allowing her to take on some of his weight. His feet carved paths through the dirt floor as she pulled him towards the barn door.

  Behind them, Ackerman quickly reformed himself, his limbs now longer and more twisted than they had been before. A furious, animalistic scream ripped through the barn, a brutal sound that pierced Benton’s ears like daggers and made his knees buckle. The air became ice upon his skin, locking his joints. Freezing until he was sure the next movement would shatter him like glass. The snapping and cracking sound followed them, closing in fast as they barreled to the door. Sensing the coming blow, Benton threw himself forward, bringing Nicole down with him. Neither could brace for the impact, and they landed in a painful tangle of limbs. Gravel and dust scattered around him as he sat up and twisted around.

  Oliver Ackerman paced the threshold of the barn. One swipe of his elongated arms could have claimed either of the teens sprawled upon the dirt. Ackerman didn’t even flinch towards them. He won’t leave the barn, Benton thought with a creeping sense of dread. Until recently, the ghost had refused to leave the sprawling three-story farmhouse. Whatever had forced him into the barn wasn’t something Benton wanted to meet.

  Snarling and spitting, his limbs cracking and reforming at a constant pace, Ackerman threw himself to the side and scurried up the wall, disappearing into the shadows lingering amongst the rafters. Relief washed over Benton as he lost sight of the ghost. He sagged under its swell and rolled to brace himself on his forearms, head drooping low.

  “Benton?” Nicole panted.

  Benton forced the words out through a wheeze. “He’s gone.”

  Nicole rolled to face him, flipping her hair out of the way. It was rather impressive. Her hair was a sheet of hip-length silk that by all rights should have always been in the way. Or picked up every speck of dust and twigs it came into contact with. On his good days, he’d admit that he was a little jealous; going gray before he was even twenty would do that.

  Still panting for air, he watched as she slipped her bracelet off and fixed it around his wrist. It was a dull metal band embedded with a beaded pattern of turquoise and ebony and trimmed with sunshine yellow. Honestly, he didn’t think he could pull off the cheery colors, but that didn’t matter. It was the metal he needed. Iron. Natural angry ghost repellent.

  “This is new,” Benton said, eyeing the pattern.

  “Grandma gave me the set this morning.” Despite everything, she beamed with pride, running one hand over the dangling strands attached to the bottom edge of her choker. “Isn’t it pretty? They’re already sold out on the website.”

  Nicole’s mother was part of a group that sold their jewelry at the buffalo jump museum’s gift shop. They were doing pretty well. Even the modern pieces got snatched up quickly. Some boasted it was because they were beautiful, the more cynical saying that tourists loved buying items made by an authentic Siksika. Of course, it didn’t hurt that they got Nicole to model the items every so often.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled and twisted his wrist back and forth, making the bright beads glimmer in the house’s floodlights. “For everything.”

  Nicole shrugged it off. As if she honestly thought running into a haunted building and facing off a murderous ghost was just a normal part of day-to-day friendship.

  “Did he go back to the rafters again?”

  Benton nodded, still struggling to clear his throat. On the next twist, his hand bumped against her fingertips.

  “You’re freezing.” She was instantly sliding over the minimal distance separating them and dragging him into her arms.

  Her body heat was heavenly. Benton melted into it, ducking his broad shoulders under her as best he could, burying his face into t
he crook of her neck. The resumed blood flow was both wonderful and painful.

  “You didn’t get the shot,” Zack snapped.

  Benton wasn’t sure how long he had been looming over them, and he really didn’t care.

  “Think you can jump back in there again?”

  “Zack,” Nicole snapped, voice bordering on sharp. “We’re done for the night.”

  “Oliver didn’t show up on camera,” Zack protested.

  “Then he’s not going to,” she countered.

  Danny was stalking around them, constantly shifting back and forth as she stared up at the barn.

  “Oh, God. Look at his neck,” she whispered a little too loudly.

  Benton didn’t need a mirror. He could already feel the bruises beginning to bloom across his throat. Light flashed across Benton’s eyelids. He battled against the visual bombardment to glare angrily at Zack.

  “Look over there,” Zack instructed. “I want to get a good shot.”

  “Give him a second to catch his breath,” Nicole said.

  “Guys,” Meg hissed the word as she waved her arms about. “Keep it down. Benton’s parents will hear you.”

  In her panic, Meg’s voice got a little louder with every word.

  “Everything will be okay,” Nicole soothed, her voice shifting from cold stone into something sweeter than honey. “Can you do me a favor and grab my duffle bag?”

  It was one of her father’s old deployment bags. Frayed with use and stained with gun oil. Nicole had the kind of preparation skills that would make boy scouts envious. Really, as a daughter of a Mountie and a soldier, it wasn’t all that surprising. Tonight, she had outdone herself now. A fur-lined hat, gloves, and slippers were all pulled out of the camo bag and shoved onto Benton. The minimal addition to his warmth left him reeling.

  “How are you feeling?” Nicole asked.

  “Like I just ran naked through the Arctic.” Benton’s teeth rattled as hard as his body. “Ackerman, you suck.”

  One graceful swish and Nicole cocooned him in a thick wool blanket. She pressed a flask between his shaking hands.