Spirit Caller 01 - Spirits Rising

him. “No, I don’t practice witchcraft. I practice the ancient ways passed down to me by my mother.”
    “Devil worshiper,” O’Toole muttered under his breath.
    I ignored him. For a person who believed in demon possession, angels of mercy, a guiding Holy Spirit, and a guy who was raised from the dead, he was rather closed-minded. One would think he’d be more open to the entire paranormal.
    I closed my eyes and shut out the battle cries, the crashes, the screams. I ignored the heat on my face as a garbage can exploded near us. I reached into earth with my senses, pushing down into the dirt and waiting for Mother to hear me. She did. The spirits were too strong for me to banish completely. My power was in sensing the other side, not in managing it. Still, I could pull enough power from the earth to give us twenty-odd hours to discover what was going on. Perhaps with more information, I could send these souls back to their rest.
    “Rachel . . .” Jeremy whispered.
    “Almost,” I whispered.
    A gale struck us, sucking away my breath. I snapped open my eyes and the spirits were gone, though their damage was not. The O’Toole’s garbage smouldered, neighbours stood in the streets: some in their slippers, some with hunting rifles.
    I wobbled as I stood. My hands shook against my side, and I struggled to stay upright.
    “You okay?” Jeremy asked, reaching out to touch my arm for support, but never quite making contact.
    I nodded. “It . . . passes.”
    David looked around before looking back at me. “What just happened?”
    It was a moment before the shakes subsided enough to allow me to answer. “I’m not sure. All I know is that we have a day to figure out what’s happening or they will be back. And, from the power I felt earlier, I think even more will come.”
    “I can’t believe there are demons. Right here, in St. Anthony,” Jeremy said, shaking his head.
    I glanced at him and nodded. In the end, it didn’t matter what he called them, as long as he understood enough to help.
    “The only person I know who could have brought this evil here is you.”
    “David, back off,” Jeremy snapped. “That’s way out of line.”
    I lifted my hand and David didn’t snipe back. “He’s right. Not about me, the spirits generally follow me. Someone, though, had to bring them here.” I shifted through my memory of Manny’s basement. A drinking glass with a butter knife in it. Sand on the floor.
    “Stupid me. Why didn’t I notice it before?” I said aloud to no one in particular. “I need to have a chat with Manny. I think he knows more than he’s letting on.”

    CHAPTER 5: Kids, Stay Off The Internet

    Manny’s kitchen resembled a circus tent on a Sunday afternoon. Jeremy was there, along with another Mountie, a Corporal Amanda LeBlanc. We’d worked together a few times when I was a grief counsellor for the Province. A sweating, red-faced Manny sat at the table, David flanking him.
    Apparently, Manny’s mother was staying overnight in Deer Lake, so at least Manny could clean the basement up before she arrived. A small mercy for the kid, at least.
    I leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, and listened to the endless, useless questions. They all meant well, of course, but they were quizzing him on the basis that the Vikings were living flesh, not the immortal spirits of the dead.
    “Manuel,” I said in a clear, raised tone so that it silenced the others. Manny flinched. “Why did you have a chalice and an anthame in your basement?”
    Manny’s eyes grew wide and, I swear to the gods, goddess, and precious puppies, he let out a little gasp of horror. Corporal LeBlanc turned around in her chair and stared at me, while Jeremy just looked confused. David looked at Manny and back at me. “What’s an anthame?”
    I let out a breath. I was about to ruin the rest of the kid’s teenage years, but I needed answers. “It’s a ritual dagger used in witchcraft.”
    The explosion from David stabbed my heart. I cringed as he unleashed his verbal assault. “Witchcraft?” David shouted, “You’re worshipping the devil in my house?”
    “I didn’t do anything!” Manny said, desperation in his voice. He looked at me, his expressing pleading. “Tell them.”
    “Manny did call me when your house was broken in to,” I said, my tone calm. “That should count for something here.”
    “Manny, why didn’t you just call us?” LeBlanc asked.
    Tears welled up in Manny’s eyes. He wasn’t