Page 33 of Ghostmaker

“Well, well, well, gentlemen. It’s nice to see you all. Salem’s Cold Case Unit together for one last rodeo.” Crawford stood in the doorway to the back of the shop. The entire left side of his body was fully visible, while his right shoulder and arm were out of sight. He wore a black suit with a black shirt and a cape, which reminded Jude of Bela Lugosi’s Count Dracula, minus the suave and debonair charm. “That’s right, one final case before my good friend here shuts you down.” Crawford yanked his arm to reveal he was holding West Strickland’s left arm.

West’s head hung down, and his limbs looked like they were made of rubber, when Crawford walked him forward into the store.

Jude couldn’t help but think he looked like an extra on The Walking Dead. Drool leaked from the corner of Crawford’s mouth, while his eyes were glassy and unfocused.

“West? Are you okay? Did Crawford hurt you?” Ronan asked, taking a step toward him.

West didn’t answer. He didn’t even raise his head.

“Detective O’Mara asked you a question, West.” Crawford gave his arm a shake, which sent the man stumbling to his knees.

“What the hell did you give him?” Jude asked. It was taking all of his self-control not to charge at Crawford.

“What are you?” Crawford asked, letting go of West’s arm. He walked around Jude, as if he were assessing him. “Punch Detective O’Mara.”

Jude raised an eyebrow at Crawford and didn’t move a muscle. He had a feeling something like this would happen. Cope said Crawford wanted his death spell and now, he was going to want to know the spell Running Eagle had spoken over him when he was an infant. “Cope told me he thought you were an energy vampire. Sucking the metaphorical life out of people to give yourself extra strength. Extra power. I see now that you’re nothing of the kind. You’re a parasite. Attaching yourself to someone and stealing their gifts for yourself. That’s why you’re not paying any attention at all to Ronan and Fitz. They don’t have anything you want or need.”

“Bravo, Detective Byrne.” Crawford ducked his head, as if to doff his cap. “I have to say you’ve hit the nail mostly on the head. Ronan and Fitz aren’t totally useless, they’ve already told me everything I need to know about your plan in coming here today and the little crimes you suspect me of committing.”

“Little crimes?” Jude kept his eyes locked on Crawford. This man was going to take advantage of every opportunity to get a leg up on Jude. “You call murder little?”

“Come now, Jude,” Crawford offered a syrupy sweet smile. “You and I have more in common than you realized. Your first act on this earth was to commit murder. Before you’d even drawn your first breath, you signed your mother’s death warrant. You were christened in her blood. You have immense power from that act alone. You could join me in this quest. I’ll pick the candidates and you’ll kill them.”

“Candidates for what?” Jude asked.

“Revenge!” Crawford purred. “Most people think money and power are the keys to life, but they’re wrong. Power is fleeting, lasting only as long as it takes for the next person to seize it. Money comes and goes, but revenge is the gift that keeps on giving.”

Jude wasn’t impressed by Crawford’s speech. “Is this the kind of talk you use on clients to compel them to do your will? If it is, then you suck. You’re just a guy in a black suit with a cape. A magician minus the rabbit in his hat.”

“A magician, am I?” Crawford smiled again, only this time it was dark and malevolent. If this were a horror movie spiders or centipedes would be crawling out of his mouth. “Oh, no, you’ve got me all wrong, Jude. I am a ghostmaker. A bringer of death. A shadow lord. A wraith. Let me give you a taste of what I can do. Ronan, if you please.”

Jude watched in stunned horror as Ronan turned to face Jude. He grabbed his service weapon and pulled it free from the holster. His right arm seemed to raise up in slow motion. The gun was pointed at Jude’s head.

“Ronan, what the hell are you doing?” Jude asked, his heart in his throat.

“Fitzgibbon?” Crawford called.

Fitzgibbon, seemingly under the same spell as Ronan, unholstered his weapon and pointed it at Ronan.

“No weapon forged against me will prevail. Your power is useless. I will not obey,” Cope began to repeat.

“Do you honestly think those pitiful words are any match for my power?” Crawford laughed. Fitzgibbon and Ronan laughed with him.

Jude knew his best friends were both under Crawford’s command. One wrong move, one wrong word and Jude wasn’t going home tonight. “Ronan, do you remember the day Everly was born? It was in the middle of a snowstorm. I had to drive you all to the hospital because you were too nervous to drive.”

Ronan’s blank affect remained in place.

“Fitz, Ronan was with you when you found Aurora. It was your wedding night and we were trying to find a mass shooter, remember? You heard her crying in the dark. You saved her, Fitz. Both of your daughters are waiting at home for you. Fight against this curse. Fight with all you have.” Jude didn’t know what else to say. If Fitz and Ronan were unmoved by the mention of their kids, then Jude had no idea how to break the spell. He turned to Cope, who stood to his left, his eyes focused on Ronan and the gun pointing at Jude.

“Ronan, put the gun down. You don’t have to do this,” Cope said. “Fitz, neither of you have to do this.”

“They have to do whatever I tell them to do, Cope. Surely you see that.” Crawford turned to Ronan. “Switch the safety off your weapon and make ready to fire.”

Zombie Ronan didn’t hesitate to obey. He clicked off the safety and chambered a round.

“I love you, Cope. Remember that. Tell Wolf and Lizzie how much I love them.”

“Now, now, Jude. None of that.” Crawford stepped up behind Ronan. “I’ll make you a deal. Do what I ask and you all walk out of here alive today. I guarantee it.”