Bolder Guit-Edged (A Zack Bolder Supernatural Crime Thriller Book 3)

1 IN THE BEGINNING

Five years earlier

Father Brennan sat in the semi-worn-out Edwardian chair that hugged the wallpapered wall and the old, ornately designed fireplace, inside a charming, renovated home situated on the outskirts of Ravenswood’s small Queensland ghost town. That was the front end and how it appeared to any person who happened to be passing by.
This one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old home had once been the residence of a mining manager, who oversaw the large-scale gold mine operations. Like many homes of the era, it had a back end, a legacy of spirits that hadn’t moved on. Some ghosts were fine, manageable if you knew how to deal with them. However, some were outright evil.
The crackle of fire burnt the redwood logs, providing a feeling of warmth, that everything was okay in this house. A ploy to suck you into thinking it was a great place to stay. But that was the spirit’s attempt to lock you into a pretense. After that, they got to work, slowly destroying your strength, courage, and belief system. If you believed in God, that made you an even bigger target. A challenge and a good old fight, because you were the enemy.
The dark spirits that had anchored themselves into the structure’s walls for over one hundred and fifty years only had one interest—your soul.
Father Brennan knew this and the history of the house, plagued by a long line of evil and deception.
As he took hold of his teacup, it was clear his frail body wasn’t like it used to be. There was always the shaking of the cup on the saucer as it rattled continuously until he controlled it with his other hand, so he would drink tea with two hands on the cup.
But it wasn’t just old age that made him this way. The dark spirit entity that controlled this place made him feel edgy. He knew what lay within—a poltergeist that had tormented the residents of this home for generations. The locals knew about it, too, and wanted the house destroyed. However, it was a symbolic home. The government had placed it on the historic registry, so the evil prevailed.
So, what was he doing back at this home in the middle of a cold winter’s night? Zack Bolder had called him in to help flush out the evil energy. And, even though Father Brennan preferred to stay out of it, based on his experience, Bolder had convinced him to partake in this challenging process.
Some called it exorcism, but Bolder was a parapsychologist and had a more scientific explanation for removing a harmful spirit.

Bolder took his seat next to Father Brennan and crossed his legs. The radiance from the fireplace had filled the room and replaced the evening chill. It was comfortable. He looked toward Father Brennan and squinted—usually a sign that he wanted to ask something important.
“Father, I never really explained to you the more scientific version of what I believe is going on here.” He lifted his teacup and swished it around gently. “With Kelly, I mean, and her illness.”
Father Brennan nodded and tightened his lips as he caressed the palm of his hand over his balding head. “Well, you are a parapsychologist, and I’m a priest. However, I’m not that insular that I can’t listen to other explanations. So, tell me.”
“I explained to you that, ever since we arrived in Ravenswood, she has been acting strange. At first, it was the loneliness of this outback town. I mean, it’s pretty much a ghost town, and Kelly grew up in the city.”
“You mean, the drinking?”
“Yeah, and not just that.” Bolder paused for a moment and scratched his chin. “It’s the mood swings, and they’ve been getting worse by the day. At first, I thought she had a mental health condition.”
“Bipolar?”
“Something like that. But then I saw other things she was doing that was strange and not typical of someone with bipolar.”
Father Brennan took another sip of his tea, not saying anything. He looked at Bolder curiously with both hands held together, as though he were in prayer.
“I mean … the sudden fascination with certain objects in the house and how they should be positioned—that sort of stuff.”
“I’ve noticed your house is always meticulously laid out and clean. You could eat off the floor.” He pointed to an old phone of 1930’s vintage on a side table. “And you have a lot of antique furniture in perfect condition.”
“Oh, that phone … Once she picked it up and started talking on it as though she were having a conversation. Weird, huh?”
Father Brennan nodded while partially closing his eyes. “Anyway, tell me your thoughts about what’s going on with Kelly? The scientific version, right?”
Bolder took a deep breath and relaxed back in his seat. “There’s a negative spirit energy in this house; a poltergeist that has not crossed over.”
There was dead silence as Bolder and Father Brennan stared at each other.
“A spirit with unfinished business?”
“Yeah, something like that. It’s usually unfinished business, scared to be judged by the Almighty.”
“Hmm, you know your stuff, Bolder. But tell me; how has it affected Kelly?”
Bolder smirked. “I knew you would ask that question.” He paused and thought about his response, placing his right hand on his cheek, gazing toward the holy cross on the wall in front of him. “The negative energy attached to her through distortions in the energy field in the house after she started drinking and became depressed.”
“It saw an opportunity?”
“That’s how it normally happens.”
“So, what’s this ghost? I mean, who is it?”
Bolder placed his hands together like he usually would in prayer and put them to his lips. “It’s the spirit entity of a deceased man, and it has been looking for a human body to occupy.”
“Hmm, really?”
“Yep, it’s called entity attachment.”
“Is that what they call it at parapsychology school?” Father Brennan smiled sarcastically. “It’s just a good old demonic possession, if you ask me. That’s what the Church would call it. And it’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with an evil bastard.”
Bolder took a sip of his tea and sighed as he sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. “Oh, I know your track record in fighting off demons, Father. That’s why I brought you here.”
“So, what’s your plan, Bolder? Spill it out.” Father Brennan was a straight shooter, wanting to get to the point.
“We expel the demon.”
“An exorcism? That needs to be cleared by the Church.”
“No, I’m not asking you to do that.”
“So …?”
“We direct the demon to another place through the love of prayer.” Bolder was resolute in his response.
“I still don’t understand the difference between an exorcism and you directing it to another place?”
“Well, we don’t use religious symbols or artifacts. Just loving prayers, continuously, until it finds its way.”
“So, that’s why you say it’s not an exorcism?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm, it makes sense, and I can run with that. It’s not an exorcism, but an expulsion of negative energy.”
“Precisely.”
“You’re a clued man, Bolder. And when do you want to do this expulsion?”
“Today, as soon as we finish our tea.”
“Woah, woah, woah … Not so fast, Bolder. Don’t we need to get ready for it? Prepare?”
Bolder smiled and pulled out a book of prayers from the side table next to him. “It’s all in here. I read the prayer, and you follow me with the response.”
“Are you sure this is not an exorcism that you have relabeled?”
“It’s not an exorcism, I promise you. It’s an expulsion normally done by lightworkers.”
“Lightworkers?” Father Brennan asked curiously.
“Yeah, they’re special people with almost psychic ability. They have a strong intuition about what other people are thinking, feeling, or need to heal.”
“They’re psychic healers?”
“Yeah, that’s a simple way of putting it.” Bolder was surprised by Father Brennan’s interest.
Although surprised by the impromptu challenge, Father Brennan was ready to confront the negative energy that had taken hold of Kelly. “I’m ready when you are. Let’s give this negative energy the sucker punch it deserves, right?”
Bolder liked Father Brennan’s roll-up-your-sleeves approach. He was always ready to take on a demon when required.
He nodded gratefully and patted Father Brennan on the back as he led him to Kelly’s room down the hallway.
The door to Kelly’s room was slightly ajar, a shade of light filtering out from an antique lampshade leaning on a side table next to her bed. She was fast asleep, having taken medication beforehand to calm her nerves. She was in a bad place, having taken up drinking because of her depression. She blamed the isolation of Ravenswood—a ghost town in the middle of nowhere—with no friends and no community. She only had Zack, and he wasn’t always around.
Father Brennan walked in first, surveying the room with his eagle-hawk eyes. He wanted to get a feel for what he was about to confront. “Is it just me, or is it colder in here?”
Bolder nodded. “It’s always like this in the room. And don’t ask me why.”
“It’s like walking into a different dimension, as though—”
“It has a life of its own?”
Father Brennan glanced toward Bolder superstitiously. “Yes, and it’s not from this place.”
Bolder handed him the book of prayers and marked out the section containing The Love of Worship. “We plan to compel the negative energy to leave her body and direct it to another place, to cross over to the other side. We’re lightworkers, remember? Not exorcists.”
“I can at least bless her with holy ointment, can’t I?”
Bolder nodded. “Well, why don’t you start with that first?”
Father Brennan walked toward Kelly as the old, rustic timber floors creaked underneath. He opened his small container of holy ointment and brushed his index finger across it. Then he gently marked her forehead with the sign of the cross. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the holy spirit. Amen.”
Kelly jolted as though something had bitten her, and she trembled for a few seconds. She was still sleeping but aware of what was going on around her.
“What was that?” Bolder asked.
“What was what?”
“You mean, you didn’t see the dark shadow that was standing beside her?”
“I didn’t see it, but I felt something grip my hand.” Father Brennan was perplexed.
An ominous image of a woman in a faint white dress had glided across the bed, motionless and stoic, yet holding her stomach with both hands in a pained pose. Within seconds, it had disappeared, barely enough time for Bolder to capture a glimpse of it.
“I sense something else in the room,” Bolder said.
A pulsating wave of energy screeched from within, penetrating both Father Brennan and Bolder. They shook from the sensation. There was no movement or breeze, and the windows to Kelly’s room were shut. Still, it required they hold their balance as the snappy spiritedness vibrated their eardrums with a ringing noise.
“Whatever is in here’s not going to give up with prayers of love,” Father Brennan said, ready to launch into a full-blown exorcism.
“Let’s read from the prayer book, Father. Starting at page thirty.”
Bolder read the prayers of love, one after the other. They were short phrases that encouraged the negative spirit to find solace in another place and end its short journey. Father Brennan completed each prayer with a response.
Kelly was unmoved by the prayers and remained sleeping, impervious to what was happening around her. That was a good thing as far as Bolder was concerned, expecting a much fiercer battle with the negative presence than he had anticipated.
The prayers continued, and although it wasn’t an exorcism, Father Brennan couldn’t help performing the sign of the cross each time. It was his way of expelling the energy that had gripped Kelly, holding her hostage to acts of drunkenness and depression.
Another pulse of energy filled the room, this time sending a chill through their bones. It was different than the last one, filled with the pain of one hundred people. They felt remorse, anxiety, and a storm of negativity all packaged into one burst. They were in a state of deep propensity of sadness and guilt, to the point that they felt teary. Something darker had entered the room to confront them, but it had a different game plan. This wasn’t your usual demon.
“So, you want your darling Kelly back, I see …” A deep, croaky voice in a British cockney accent filled the room, but there was no apparition to be seen.
“Who are you? Announce yourself!” Bolder demanded.
“Oh, your prayers aren’t going to help Kelly. We like her. We may keep her. Never had someone so loving and pure before. It could be helpful in our world.”
“I told you to exorcise the demon,” Father Brennan said, angry with Bolder for not having taken his advice.
“Oh, Priest, where I come from, we say, Barnaby Rudge. You can’t judge me. Do you think your pompous Church and their men of the cloth can stop me? He’s old and frail, and past his use-by date.”
“Keep reading from the prayer book, Father. Don’t engage in conversation with the dark spirit,” Bolder said.
Father Brennan was a maverick and ignored Bolder’s advice. As far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t let the demon push him around and belittle him.
He took out a bottle of holy water and swiftly unscrewed the cap, splashing the contents on the bed and onto Kelly.
The demon growled, and Kelly jolted as she felt the pure essence of the holy water penetrate her skin.
“Hampton wick, you prick!” Father Brennan’s move had angered the demon. “So, a fight you want, then?”
Bolder kept praying and focused on the job at hand. He knew Father Brennan could challenge for control once he got into his assertive mood.
“Can you focus on the prayer, Father?” Bolder reinforced, but this time with an authoritative tone.
Father Brennan ignored Bolder’s request again and placed the symbol of the cross on Kelly’s forehead. This time, Kelly woke up, sitting upright, eyes bulging and looking nowhere. She was neither in the present nor elsewhere, immobilized like a puppet on a string. Someone else was in control of her body.
She growled so loud that her voice filled the room like an echo chamber, forcing Bolder and Father Brennan to clasp their ears. She was in the hands of the demon, the poltergeist having decided to use her body to fight off Father Brennan and Bolder. Kelly was now a conduit for the evil manifestation of the devil, a handy vehicle for deception. The demon didn’t care if she died in the process. It would just move on to another soul, and there were plenty of those to choose from.
It made Father Brennan angry and ready for a good fight. He splashed more holy water on Kelly, causing her to shake into a fit and the demon to growl again.
Bolder kept on with prayer, raising his tempo, authoritative and confident, knowing their devotion would wane the devil slowly. He wanted to save Kelly from the influence of the demon at all cost, even if it meant letting a rogue priest confront the demon. Bolder was desperate.
The room had become a spiritual war zone as evil forces continued repelling the advances made by Bolder and Father Brennan. Being a lightworker and showing the negative energy to a new place wasn’t going to be enough. This evil entity was strong and adaptable, with a bag of tricks that they had never experienced before. It was a demon that had embedded itself into the house and its surroundings, and it wasn’t going to let go of Kelly that easily.
Another pulse of energy forced Bolder and Father Brennan to take a step back. Father Brennan’s frail body struggled to hold up against the demon and was thrust to the ground by force.
The stench of a thousand corpses filled the room as the ominous vapor trail infiltrated their nostril like a scathing tirade, causing them to cough profusely. Father Brennan retreated to the corner of the room, vomiting from the side effects of the vile, wretched gasses.
The demon laughed and said, “Oh, that was nothing, my dear spirit hunters. I’m just warming up.”
Bolder resumed praying and ordered the poltergeist to leave Kelly’s body, to find the new place. But the poltergeist wasn’t agreeable to his request and continued his mental anguish toward the pair.
As Father Brennan recovered from his fleeting pain, he returned to his post, picked up his prayer book, and recommenced his prayer. He turned the page. The book became alive with images that resembled a black and white video in super eight vintage cameras. The demon was projecting his deepest thoughts from the past that only served to hurt the father’s conscience.
“No … no!” Father Brennan cried as he was taken back to his younger brother’s death during a bicycle ride that had led to a tragic accident. He had only been eight when it had happened. A lorry had collided with his brother’s bike, sending him flying off into the pavement. They’d had no helmets back then, and so the fall had cracked his skull against a light post. His brother had died instantly.
Father Brennan was in a form of paralysis as the memory that he had kept tucked away in the deep crevasses of his mind, one that had taken him ten years to self-manage, played out right in front of him, like a vivid memory, as though it had happened yesterday. Father Brennan fell to his knees, in tears, as he placed both hands over his face like a defeated man.
“Oh, Archie, my dear Archie, it was me who pushed you ahead on the road. If only I had stopped you from wandering off. Oh, Archie, forgive me, forgive me.”
Kelly twisted her head ninety degrees toward him. “Hello, my dear brother, and how much I miss you. Don’t worry about me; I’m fine.” It was Archie’s voice in the gentle tone of a little boy.
Father Brennan raised his arms toward Kelly, acknowledging Archie. “Forgive me, my brother, and how much I miss you, too.” Father Brennan was in tears as he fell to the ground with his hands clutched around his head, tormented by the pain of the memory.
Bolder watched on, unsure what to make of the situation—Father Brennan curled on the floor in a fit of regret. But it became clear that he couldn’t continue with the poltergeist’s expulsion, not while Father Brennan was in a semblance of guilt.
“So, dear lightworker, what escapes your mind?” the demon asked in the same cockney prose. “Let me take you back and remind you … Oh, isn’t it nice to bring back the pain, my friend? And don’t worry; you will feel it.”
Bolder stared into the open room as a visualization of an incident long past came to haunt him. He had only been ten years old at the time, playing along the rocky shore of his parents’ beach home. He had loved spending time with Joey, his cousin of the same age, throwing stones from the water’s edge and watching the waves smash along the rocks with such venom, the ocean spray rolling above their heads, landing behind them. It was a thrill from a calculated distance that worked all the time … except for one day.
A massive wave had hit the rocks unexpectedly, no ocean spray following as it flooded over the rock pool, pulling Joey away and into the rough water in front of them. Bolder had happened to instinctively hold on to a protruding rock, clasping his hands together, hugging it with his life.
Joey had been waving his hands around as the water continuously pulled him underneath then back up again.
“Help me! Help me!” They had been the screams of a terrified boy.
Bolder had been in shock, unable to help him from where he stood, realizing that jumping in to save him would lead to drowning. Panic struck, and he had hopped off the rocks, carelessly catching his foot in a gap between the stones and twisting his ankle.
The lifeguard station on the protected beach had only been one hundred feet away, and Bolder had screamed toward the lifeguard, who had been perched on the lockout with his binoculars while Bolder waved his hands profusely to get his attention. He had been so desperate to save Joey, his stomach turning with the anxiety as he had cried helplessly. There was nothing more terrifying than watching your cousin fight for his life against a raging torrent of waves.
Even though Joey could swim, it hadn’t been enough for the little boy. He hadn’t the strength.
Bolder’s gut curled, and tears rolled down his cheeks as he relived the agony of watching his cousin’s death. A memory that had laid dormant in the shadows of his mind after years of counseling, packaged away neatly only to be lifted from the gates of painful memories by the demon.
“So, do you remember now?” the demon asked.
The dark apparition of a ghost reappeared next to Kelly, a faint image with the outline of an older gentleman with a bowler hat and tailored suit, typical of the early nineteenth century.
Bolder watched on, emotionally stricken, disabled by the presence.
Joey’s face jumped out in front of him. It was a gruesome sight—a vivid, pale-faced boy with red, bloodshot eyes. He was pointing at Bolder with an elongated, rigid arm that was disproportionate to his body. It looked freakish.
“It was your fault,” Joey accused, repeating it over and over again, faster and faster until the words became incomprehensible.
Bolder placed his hands over his ears, closed his eyes, and screwed his mouth, biting his lip.
In the background, Joey’s parents hovered over the little, macabre boy, side by side, cursing Bolder, blaming him for what had happened.
“You should’ve watched over Joey! You knew he liked to wander off. We always warned you!”
Joey and his parents’ apparitions floated closer to Bolder, leering from within a foot from his face, waving their arms wildly and yelling at him continuously.
They pointed at him like deranged schoolteachers. “It was your fault, your fault, your fault …”
The condemning continued for another minute before they disappeared within an instant, inches from his face.
The demon nodded at Bolder while holding onto the rim of his hat. He was enjoying the terror before their eyes.
“Oh, my dear boy. We are not done yet,” he said in a contortionist’s way. Then the demon floated toward Kelly surreptitiously with a glass of brownish liquid.
“Here, my dear, drink this. It will make the pain go away.”
The demon pushed forward the glass to her lips and started to tip it slightly. It was a tasteless substance, not meant to be enjoyed.
It trickled down the side of Kelly’s mouth and onto the bed sheets, but the glass never seemed to empty.
Kelly screamed and spat the liquid over the demon as her teeth chattered. She hissed like a mountain lion and twisted her head with violent movements, her jawbone clicking.
This angered the demon, knowing she was rejecting the poison. With one swoop of its extended arms, it launched a piercing dagger toward Bolder’s heart, stopping it six inches from his chest. The ornate dagger was a short melee weapon, featuring a decorative silver blade, and it glowed with a yellow intensity.
“Drink the liquid, or he dies!” The demon was incensed.
“No, Kelly, don’t listen to him.” Bolder was frozen, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not move out of the way of the dagger.
It was a standoff. Either Kelly drank the poison, or Bolder died by stabbing.
Kelly took the glass from the side table and brought it to her lips. She stared at Bolder, wide-eyed, until the dark spirit left her body. With one tilt of the glass, she swallowed the toxin. Then she fell back onto the bed with her head resting on the pillow. Her body had returned to normal, all the markings of evil gone.
The dagger fell onto the ground, landing next to Bolder’s feet. He had just eluded death by inches due to Kelly’s bravery and love for him.
The room had returned to the original state—quiet again with the lamp light’s ambiance predominantly displayed. The demon had left the room, having achieved its objective—Kelly having consumed the poison.
Bolder crawled to Kelly, took hold of her hand that was icy-cold, and measured her pulse. She was barely alive, breathing shallowly, as though something was caught in her throat, or blocked. The ordeal had placed her body under so much stress that it was reacting adversely.
I need to call for help quickly, he thought.
Considering the situation he was in, Bolder remained calm on the outside. Still, on the inside, his stomach turned and tightened. Simultaneously, the anxiety gripped his mental state by taking control of his hands that twitched and shook intermittently.
Father Brennan managed to lift himself from the floor and leave the room, walking in a zombie-like state without uttering a word, a man beaten by a devilish hand more powerful than he had realized.
Ravenswood was far away from the next town. Getting an ambulance in time to attend to Kelly was questionable. In emergencies, the life flight service was all that could be relied upon. Regardless, time was running out for her. Would she make it out alive?
Bolder sat next to her, clutching her cold hand and caressing her forehead, reassuring her, telling her to hang in there. He knew there was a limited window of opportunity to get her to a hospital. It would be touch and go … and take an hour to get the life flight to Ravenswood.
Bolder sobbed, feeling himself give in to the stark reality that he might lose his partner of five years. Was it an exorcism gone wrong? Or a demon that played by different rules, a master of mind games that could penetrate your most hidden nightmares? And having forgotten them a long time ago, the entire ploy of the demon was to unbury and unleash your fears onto yourself. The poltergeist didn’t have to do anything other than watch you become consumed by the dark thoughts tucked away in the innermost depths of your mind.
Should anything happen to Kelly, Bolder had already resigned himself to fulfilling a mission of destroying the demon. It would become the beginning of an obsession with negative energies and spirits, to free souls from their captivity. From this day forward, his life would change forever.