Spirit Caller 01 - Spirits Rising

real Vikings. A ball of dread formed in my guts.
    Jeremy obviously didn’t realize this, as he cleared his throat and said, “All right, boys. Party’s over. Move on home, now.”
    The party continued without acknowledging him.
    “Jeremy, stop speaking.”
    Jeremy gave me a puzzled look. “Why? Who are these guys?”
    “I’m not sure that they are guys in the biblical sense of the word.”
    Jeremy had talked to me about the paranormal on various occasions when we’d been working or went out for dinner together. He’d seen a ghost when he was a kid, but it wasn’t like he was a firm believer or anything. I’d have to tread lightly. Not to mention poor Manny, whose upbringing would have had him convinced that the very depths of Hell were opening to swallow him whole.
    Manny gulped. “That’s why I called you. They’re spirits or ghosts or zombies.”
    “Zombies aren’t real,” I said, annoyed. I eyed Manny, suspicion filling me. He didn’t seem overly shocked by all this. He was upset and terrified, sure, but considering that a horde of drunken Vikings were standing in his basement, he seemed rather calm about the entire thing.
    “Um, Rachel,” Jeremy said, shifting his weight and I imagined he’d moved his hand to settle on his sidearm. “What do you mean, ‘not in the biblical sense’?”
    Angry, whispering voices echoed inside my head. It was difficult to even hear Jeremy through all of the chatter. Cold spread through me. I shivered. “These are spirits.”
    “Shouldn’t they be, you know, see-through?” Manny stammered out.
    I shook my head, not taking my eyes off the Vikings. They were aware of us. They’d pointed at us a few times and leaned in to whisper to one another. But, other than indulging in what appeared to be Viking gossip about our weirdness, they didn’t seem bothered by our presence.
    “Rachel, what’s going on?”
    I ignored Jeremy’s question, though I touched his forearm lightly. “Manny, have they spoken to you?”
    Manny shook his head. “Not really. They pushed me out of the way a few times and saluted me with their bottles. But, mostly, they just grabbed the rum off the table, raided the fridge, and carried on talking to each other. I don’t know what they are saying.”
    “Um, Rachel, if they aren’t real people,” Jeremy said, his features ashen, “how exactly do we convince them to leave?”
    “I can try a few things.”
    “Exactly what are they?”
    "Remember the green, misty people in Lord of the Rings ? “
    He nodded.
    “Like them, only with flesh instead of green mist.”
    “Oh.” He looked back at the Vikings. “Rum-drinking spirits. Great.”
    A thought struck me and I turned to the young man at my side. “Manny, where did they get the liquor?”
    Manuel turned red. “Um, ah, see, um—”
    “Your mother will skin me alive if she finds out I knew you were drinking and didn’t tell her,” Jeremy said.
    “Come on, man. I’m sixteen.”
    “It’s illegal for you to purchase alcohol. I know for a fact that this isn’t your father’s. Who bought this for you? And, if you bought it yourself, I want to know who sold—”
    “Shut up, you two,” I said, grabbing Jeremy’s arm. I pointed. “Look.”
    The Vikings had stopped their drinking. A broad, bearded man held up a hand, and the bone, shell, and bead ornamentals dangling from his clothes clicked against each other. He did not speak, but the gesture was clear. The others responded instantly. All chatter ceased. A cold breeze blew my hair, even though no windows were opened. Chills went through me. I knew that feeling. Oh, Christ above, I knew that feeling. “I think we have a rather large problem.”
    Jeremy rolled his eyes. “You think? We have a gang of Viking zombies in a Pentecostal deacon’s basement. We might as well break out the pentagrams and the goats.”
    “They aren’t zombies. They’re solid ghosts.” My hands shook and my back muscles shuddered, as though I’d been in a freezer. “There are more coming. Lots more.”
    I tentatively stepped towards the leader. I flicked my gaze at the basement window and then back at him, giving what I hoped was a quizzical look, hoping the facial gesture was universal across time.
    The Viking leader leaned towards me. I didn’t understand most of what he said, but one word stuck. I swallowed hard. “Did you say skraeling ?”
    He shushed me before nodding his head, eyes widening. The men around him stiffened into attack