Read Online Emily's Ghost by Antoinette Stockenberg - Free Book Online
Authors: Antoinette Stockenberg
Tags: Humor, Fiction, Romance, Paranormal, Mystery, romantic suspense, amateur sleuth, Ghost, Near-Death Experience, RITA, Martha’s Vineyard, Summer Read
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the bedroom, clutching her mace,
her eyes failing completely to adjust to the darkness within. She
took one step inside, then another. The air flowing from the
bedroom was ocean-cold and damp; it wrapped itself around her like
a Nantucket fog. A new and utterly horrifying sensation took hold
of her. Inside her bedroom there was no burglar lying in wait.
There wasn't even someone so comforting as a Boston Strangler.
There was something else. Something more. Something worse. Her
heart became absolutely still in her breast. She took one step
back.
The lamp was six and a
half feet to the left, but she saw -- she was certain she saw -- a
shadow move in the emerging dimness to the right. She aimed
recklessly and fired; the wet hiss of mace managed to go somewhere
other than her face. She saw someone leap away, heard his startled
oath. Petrified, she fired again, this time sweeping the area.
Again the figure leapt away, unaffected by it.
"Jesus, woman! Put that
thing away!"
She knew the voice. Oh
God, she knew the voice.
"Kimberly," she whispered,
frozen in terror.
"Kimberly, my ass! I'm
Fergus. Fergus O'Malley."
Chapter 5
For an eternity or two,
Emily stood silent and still.
Then: "I don't believe ...
I know ... an O'Malley," she managed to whisper.
"Ye do
now ." The voice was low, almost a snarl.
"Get in here, girl. Let's see what we have."
"Ayyy ... don't think so,"
Emily said faintly, taking another step back. Her knees were all
rubbery; she was close to collapse. The can of mace fell from her
hand to the floor with a sharp rap.
Once again the figure
started in the shadows. "What in bloody hell is that?"
"I ... it's ... mace," she
answered in stupified obedience.
"Mace? A spice, that can
hiss like a snake?"
"What?" Her head was
reeling.
"Girl, are ye deaf? Never
mind, then. Come here, I say. Why do ye dress in trousers, like a
cowboy? Come here, damn
ye ."
Emily began to sway; she
grabbed the top of her dresser to steady herself and tried
desperately to rally her wits. In a low and terrible voice of her
own, she warned, "Get out of here right now -- or I'll start
screaming."
It happened
instantaneously: the shadowy figure seemed to increase in size and
hover over her, around her, through her. It was all done in
thundering silence. Emily felt powerless, consumed. She shrank
beneath the possession, shutting out the terror of it all. It was
an unbelievable nightmare; she had to wake herself up from
it!
So she fainted.
****
When Emily came to, she
was on the floor, and every lamp in every room was ablaze. There
were not that many watts in her lightbulbs: this light was
fantastic, blinding. Warding off the brightness with her hand and
squinting as if she were looking into the sun, she peered into the
corner where the figure had been lurking and begged, "Please ...
the light ... it's hurting me ...."
At once the lights in the
other rooms returned to normal, and the bedroom became dark once
more.
Oh,
hell , Emily thought, this is where I came in. She
staggered to her feet and stood there, woozy and unsure what to do.
"Mr. O'Malley --" she hazarded in the darkness.
"Plain O'Malley to ye,"
the voice answered roughly. "We ain't exactly on formal
terms."
"O -- O'Malley, then. Can
you just ... stay wherever you are? Until I turn on the lamp?" If he permeated
her again--it was the only word that could describe how she'd felt
-- she would probably burn out and die. He had a power that no man
still on earth could ever hope to possess. She had to keep him --
it -- whatever, at a distance.
"Light the bloody lamp,
then, and let's get on with it."
"Get on with what, Mist --
O'Malley?" she temporized, creeping the six and a half steps to the
right. If she could just reach the phone; if she could just dial
911 ....
Then what?
The voice was muttering,
"Gawd. So you're the best I could do. A female, no less." The
figure seemed to be talking almost to itself.
Emily picked up the
lighted Princess phone -- it was an old and
her eyes failing completely to adjust to the darkness within. She
took one step inside, then another. The air flowing from the
bedroom was ocean-cold and damp; it wrapped itself around her like
a Nantucket fog. A new and utterly horrifying sensation took hold
of her. Inside her bedroom there was no burglar lying in wait.
There wasn't even someone so comforting as a Boston Strangler.
There was something else. Something more. Something worse. Her
heart became absolutely still in her breast. She took one step
back.
The lamp was six and a
half feet to the left, but she saw -- she was certain she saw -- a
shadow move in the emerging dimness to the right. She aimed
recklessly and fired; the wet hiss of mace managed to go somewhere
other than her face. She saw someone leap away, heard his startled
oath. Petrified, she fired again, this time sweeping the area.
Again the figure leapt away, unaffected by it.
"Jesus, woman! Put that
thing away!"
She knew the voice. Oh
God, she knew the voice.
"Kimberly," she whispered,
frozen in terror.
"Kimberly, my ass! I'm
Fergus. Fergus O'Malley."
Chapter 5
For an eternity or two,
Emily stood silent and still.
Then: "I don't believe ...
I know ... an O'Malley," she managed to whisper.
"Ye do
now ." The voice was low, almost a snarl.
"Get in here, girl. Let's see what we have."
"Ayyy ... don't think so,"
Emily said faintly, taking another step back. Her knees were all
rubbery; she was close to collapse. The can of mace fell from her
hand to the floor with a sharp rap.
Once again the figure
started in the shadows. "What in bloody hell is that?"
"I ... it's ... mace," she
answered in stupified obedience.
"Mace? A spice, that can
hiss like a snake?"
"What?" Her head was
reeling.
"Girl, are ye deaf? Never
mind, then. Come here, I say. Why do ye dress in trousers, like a
cowboy? Come here, damn
ye ."
Emily began to sway; she
grabbed the top of her dresser to steady herself and tried
desperately to rally her wits. In a low and terrible voice of her
own, she warned, "Get out of here right now -- or I'll start
screaming."
It happened
instantaneously: the shadowy figure seemed to increase in size and
hover over her, around her, through her. It was all done in
thundering silence. Emily felt powerless, consumed. She shrank
beneath the possession, shutting out the terror of it all. It was
an unbelievable nightmare; she had to wake herself up from
it!
So she fainted.
****
When Emily came to, she
was on the floor, and every lamp in every room was ablaze. There
were not that many watts in her lightbulbs: this light was
fantastic, blinding. Warding off the brightness with her hand and
squinting as if she were looking into the sun, she peered into the
corner where the figure had been lurking and begged, "Please ...
the light ... it's hurting me ...."
At once the lights in the
other rooms returned to normal, and the bedroom became dark once
more.
Oh,
hell , Emily thought, this is where I came in. She
staggered to her feet and stood there, woozy and unsure what to do.
"Mr. O'Malley --" she hazarded in the darkness.
"Plain O'Malley to ye,"
the voice answered roughly. "We ain't exactly on formal
terms."
"O -- O'Malley, then. Can
you just ... stay wherever you are? Until I turn on the lamp?" If he permeated
her again--it was the only word that could describe how she'd felt
-- she would probably burn out and die. He had a power that no man
still on earth could ever hope to possess. She had to keep him --
it -- whatever, at a distance.
"Light the bloody lamp,
then, and let's get on with it."
"Get on with what, Mist --
O'Malley?" she temporized, creeping the six and a half steps to the
right. If she could just reach the phone; if she could just dial
911 ....
Then what?
The voice was muttering,
"Gawd. So you're the best I could do. A female, no less." The
figure seemed to be talking almost to itself.
Emily picked up the
lighted Princess phone -- it was an old and
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