Page 88 of The Spirit Key
With my strength waning, I put my feet against the door and pushed back as hard as I could. It wasn’t much but enough to move us away from the door, which burst open.
Tim stood there, huffing like a bull. “Get the fuck away from him.”
Instead of answering, Gideon squeezed harder. “He’s going to die, and then you’ll be mine.”
Tim reached out and grabbed Gideon, which apparently shocked him, because he let go of me. I slumped to the floor, harsh coughs wracking my body.
“No, this isn’t possible!”
I could see Tim’s sneer, and even I was afraid. “He’s my key. It’s up to me to protect him, guide him, and even though he’s an idiot, to love him.” He slammed Gideon against the wall.
“No, let me go!”
“Not happening. You killed Alexander and so many others. You tried to kill Scott. You’re not getting away from me.”
It was then that I noticed the fear on Gideon’s face. He was terrified of Tim. Or was it me?
I struggled to stand, my legs having less consistency than Jell-O. “What are you afraid of, Gideon?” When I reached for him, he flinched. “Is it Tim? Me? Or maybe it’s what the two of us can do.” As Gideon struggled, I knew it was now or never. I got in as close as I could and glared at him. “I had a thought while I was in the shower earlier. If spirits could contact us, shouldn’t we be able to call to them too? All those people you killed…. How many do you think are still here, waiting for their turn to be helped?”
“No, stop!”
Instead of answering, I reached out and slammed my hands against his face. As before, my mind was flooded with images. Pleading, dying children. Only this time I refused to pull away. “He hurt you, I know. I can sense you all out there, crying out for justice. Come to us now. Help us put an end to him.”
And they answered. A sound like a million tiny voices began to fill the small bathroom as ghosts of children of every race, creed, and color materialized, their focus locked on Gideon.
“You’ve all waited far too long for this moment, and I’m sorry for that. But we’re here now, and we want to help you move on.”
Gideon shrieked as tiny hands grabbed for him. “No, no! Don’t let them touch me!”
Tim scowled. “You made them trust you, love you, and then you killed them. Is there a worse betrayal than to tear away a child’s hope? Whatever they do to you, it’s not enough.”
Tim grabbed me and pulled me away as the children swarmed over Gideon, who disappeared, still screaming, beneath the ghostly mass. Everything went—pardon the expression—dead silent, but then the ghosts receded.
One of them, a young girl, came over to me and took my hands in hers. Surprisingly, this time I didn’t see her death. Instead, I saw a scene from long ago, with her laughing as she played with a woman and a younger girl.
“That’s my sister, Myra, and our mom.”
“They’re beautiful.” I knelt down so we were at eye level. “What’s your name?”
“Chrissy.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
She smiled at me. “I like yours too.” She glanced over her shoulder. “We’re not sure what to do.”
“What do you mean?”
She turned back toward me. “He hurt us, but….” She frowned. “We don’t want to hurt anyone. We just want to be with our families.”
Her tiny voice humbled me. “Then you should go ahead and find your mom and sister. I’m sure they miss you very much.”
She jutted out her lower lip. “We’ve been trying to find home, but none of us know where it is.”
Okay, that I could help with. I put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Can you see it now?”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh yes! And I can see Mommy. She sees me and is calling for me to come home.” Tears stained her cheeks. “But what about everyone else?”
“You go on to your mom and let us take care of them, okay?”
