The Invocation Read online

  The Invocation

  Carl Alves

  End of Days Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 Carl Alves

  Cover art and design by Kealan Patrick Burke

  Created in the United States of America

  Worldwide Rights

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form, including digital, electronic, or mechanical, to include photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author, except for brief quotes used in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Chapter XXV

  Chapter XXVI

  Chapter XXVII

  Chapter XXVIII

  Chapter XXIX

  Chapter XXX

  Chapter XXXI

  Chapter XXXII

  Chapter XXXIII

  Chapter XXXIV

  Chapter XXXV

  Chapter XXXVI

  Chapter XXXVII

  Chapter XXXVIII

  XXXIX

  Other Works by Carl Alves

  About the Author

  DEDICATION

  I would like to dedicate The Invocation to my wife, Michelle, and my two boys, Max and Alex, who continue to support me with life and writing and everything in between.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  Thank you to my readers, who continue to support my writing career. Thanks to Mort Castle and all of the writers who have given me sage advice over the years. A special thanks to Kealan Patrick Burke for the great job he did on the cover, and Tim Marquitz, for helping me whip this book into shape. Beyond all, I would like to thank my two sons, Alex and Max, who give me daily inspiration, and my wife, Michelle, for continuing to make my life complete.

  Chapter I

  “You’re moving it,” Kenna said.

  Ben’s face turned white. “I swear, it’s not me.”

  “If neither of you is doing it, then how’s it moving?” Carlos asked in a small voice.

  Kenna bit her lip. Using her brother’s Ouija board had been a bad idea. She wasn’t sure whose idea it was to try the board. Probably Cordy. She always thought they were mature enough to handle grown-up things even though they were still in the fourth grade. “I don’t know.”

  Cordy brushed her curly blonde hair back. She folded her hands and leaned forward. “Ask their name?”

  The poor lighting in the basement did nothing to help the apprehension she felt. Kenna took a deep breath and stared at Ben. He looked as scared as she felt. Her voice trembled. “What’s your name?”

  Kenna’s heart thumped as the planchette moved across the board. Her eyes went wide as she stared at Ben.

  The first letter was M, the second I, the third A. Kenna waited, but no longer felt resistance on the planchette. “Is your name Mia?”

  The planchette moved to the word Yes.

  “Um, are you dead?” Ben asked.

  How could he ask that? Kenna gasped when she felt resistance on the planchette as it moved to Yes. Her fingers were lightly pressed on the top of the planchette, barely holding it. The same with Ben. Neither of them was moving it.

  Kenna took a deep breath. “When did you die?”

  1975.

  “Wow,” Carlos said. “That was, like, a long time ago.”

  “Find out how she died?” Cordy moved in closer to them.

  It blew away Kenna’s mind that they were actually talking to a spirit beyond the grave. She had always believed in ghosts, but this proved it beyond any doubt. Now that they were actually communicating with a spirit, couldn’t they ask Mia happier questions? Her friends spent way too much time watching scary movies.

  A damp chill ran across the basement. Although the floors were carpeted, it was just used for storage. There were boxes of junk everywhere. The two lights that were on didn’t provide much illumination.

  “How did you die?” Kenna asked.

  A shiver ran through Kenna’s body as the planchette abruptly moved, spelling LAKE. Nobody spoke. Kenna barely breathed. DROWNED.

  “Oh my God,” Carlos said. “She drowned in a lake.”

  “How did you drown?” Kenna asked.

  ACCIDENT. Kenna thought this was all they would get, then the planchette moved, spelling FRIENDS DRINKING.

  Kenna shivered. Her father had died in a drunk driving accident when she was five. Mom forbade alcohol in the house. The couple of times she had caught her older brother Jake drinking, he had caught hell for it. After Jake had been released from prison, he told Mom he wasn’t going to drink again. Kenna thought he said it to make their mom feel better. No matter what anyone said about Jake, she believed her brother to be a great person. He always made her feel safe.

  “Where are you?” Kenna asked.

  There was no movement from the planchette. Then it spelled BEYOND.

  Carlos folded his arms. “How come she ain’t in Heaven?”

  Cordy’s eyes widened. “Because she was drinking. Drinking’s a sin.”

  “No, it’s not,” Carlos said. “My daddy drinks every night.”

  Kenna took her hands off the planchette and put them on her hips. She gave the others a stern look. “Focus, guys.”

  “Right,” Ben said. “Where were you from?”

  TRAPPE.

  “Freaky,” Kenna said. “That’s just up the road. How old were you when you died?”

  18.

  “That’s how old Jake is.” The thought saddened Kenna. She could barely remember her dad anymore. If Jake died, her whole world would shatter. “Are you alone?”

  The planchette went to No.

  Carlos’ eyes narrowed. “Who do you think’s with her?”

  Cordy shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s ask.”

  As each moment passed, Kenna felt less freaked out about talking to a dead person. It was no longer so mind-numbing. In fact, it almost seemed normal. Even her friends didn’t look as spooked as they had been when the planchette first started moving. “Mia, who’s there with you?”

  OTHERS.

  “Are they like ghosts or something?” Ben asked.

  No.

  “What are they?” Kenna asked.

  SPIRITS.

  “I don’t get it,” Carlos said. “What’s the difference?”

  “Aren’t ghosts and spirits the same thing?” Ben asked.

  The planchette went to No.

  Kenna didn’t fully understand the difference between ghosts and spirits either, but she figured the explanation would be long and complicated. A Ouija board probably wouldn’t be the best thing for that kind of explanation. “Let’s move on. There’s so much I want to find out about.”

  Cordy stood and began walking around the basement. “What else should we ask?”

  Ben took his hands off the disc. “Let’s find out what Mia did before she died.” He put his hands ba
ck on it.

  “Ooh, maybe she knows famous dead people like Kurt Cobain,” Carlos said.

  The planchette jerked. It spelled MUST GO before moving to Good Bye.

  A wave of claustrophobia hit Kenna. She had the distinct feeling this was somehow coming from Mia. It was hard to explain, but since they started speaking with her, she had felt Mia’s presence. It had been as if she was in the room with them. While they were communicating with her, it felt sunny, light and breezy, like an afternoon down the shore. What she felt now was cold and dark, like an oncoming storm. She wondered if the others felt it as well.

  Ben let go of the planchette as if it was a hot coal. He looked spooked.

  “What was that all about?” Kenna asked.

  “No idea,” Ben replied

  Carlos shook his head, staring at the board. “I can’t believe Mia would just hang up like that.”

  Kenna rolled her eyes. “She didn’t hang up. It’s not like we were on the phone.”

  “I can’t believe we actually talked to a ghost.” Cordy twirled her blonde hair. In the dim light, she looked more like a little girl and less of the mature pre-teen she always strove to be.

  “Spirit,” Kenna corrected.

  “Whatever. You two really weren’t moving it?” Cordy asked.

  “I swear it was going on its own,” Ben said.

  Cordy’s face tightened. “Swear on your mom that you didn’t move it.”

  In a low tone, Ben said, “I swear on my mom.”

  Cordy turned to Kenna. “What about you?”

  “I didn’t move it either.”

  “Swear on Jake,”

  Kenna’s upper lip flared. “I’m not going to swear on Jake.”

  “Then how do we know you’re telling the truth?”

  When Kenna crossed her arms, the planchette moved on its own.

  Carlos shrieked.

  Kenna stared wide-eyed as the planchette moved across the board slowly as if at a crawl. With shaky movements, it spelled out HELP ME.

  It was Mia. That feeling of despair must have been coming from her. Now she was reaching out to them. But how could it be moving on its own?

  “Quick. Grab it,” Kenna said.

  Ben held the other end of the planchette.

  “Is that you, Mia?” Kenna asked.

  It went to Yes.

  The lights went out. The next few seconds were a jumble of yelling and screaming as they tried to scramble out of the basement. Someone’s knee collided with Kenna’s back, and she grunted. She had to reach the door and get outside. Behind her came a crash, followed by a loud thud. She turned, and her heart nearly stopped. In the darkness was a glowing figure of a tall man with short hair glaring at her. She screamed at the top of her lungs as the silhouette approached her.

  Moments later, the lights came back on and the silhouette was gone.

  Kenna screamed at the sight of Cordy lying face down on the floor, blood surrounding her.

  Chapter II

  Jake Trigg put the applications on his desk. It felt good to be home. Anything was better than being in the pen. Still, he wasn’t looking forward to filling out these applications after completing several online already. He had been turned down for a half-dozen jobs in his short time back. In the couple of interviews he’d had, the prospective employers showed blatant consternation regarding his prison record. He tried what he could: dressing professionally, being as respectful as he could with the interviewer. He even pleaded with one woman that he would bust his ass for them if they gave him a chance, but who wanted to hire an ex-con?

  He couldn’t blame them. Attempted robbery. Assault. It didn’t matter that they didn’t know the full story. When he got convicted, Jake knew this would be difficult to overcome. He was a fighter, and he was damn sure not going to quit. Someone had to be willing to take a chance on him.

  The phone rang.

  “My man, Jake. It’s good to hear your voice again.”

  Jake closed his eyes and nearly groaned. Adam Fallon, the last person he wanted to speak with. Adam was the reason Jake had spent six months in jail.

  “Yeah. What do you want?”

  “I meant to stop by, but things have been hectic. I’ve got this high paying gig.”

  Jake scowled. Adam had some nerve calling like this and boasting. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “No problem, my man. Hey, I’m not going to get you involved in anything you don’t want to do.”

  Jake had nothing to say to Adam. They may have been best of friends once, but six months of hard time could destroy a friendship.

  “You know I hate asking favors and wouldn’t ask unless it was necessary.”

  Jake ground his teeth. “Favor?”

  “Yeah, you see, I have to make this delivery to some not so friendly folks, and I might be in a tight spot. They think I took something that belonged to them, which I didn’t, so I could use some backup.”

  Jake clenched his fist. “Adam, I don’t want to hear about this. I don’t want to know anything about it. I am not doing anything that might get me back in jail.”

  Adam spoke in a low tone. “Look, I really need your help. This delivery might be a setup, and I can’t get out of it. I think they might hurt me. That’s why I need you. They won’t do anything if you’re there. Everyone around here knows you’re a legit tough guy.”

  “If you think something bad might happen, then back away.”

  “I can’t, Jake. They’ll erase me if I don’t do this delivery. I’m in a no-win situation. I need your help. Come on, you’ve always been there for me since kindergarten.”

  “If you cared about our friendship, you wouldn’t put me in this situation again.”

  “You have to help me, Jake. It’s going down next week.”

  “I have to go.”

  “Think about it at least.”

  Jake hung up the phone. He slammed his fist on the desk, knocking over the applications. Less than a month out of jail, Adam was already asking him to do something that might put him back in prison.

  He sat, put his palm to his forehead, and sighed. If Adam really was in trouble, he would have a hard time just leaving him hanging. For as long as they had known each other, Adam had always done stupid things that pissed people off, and Jake would have to bail him out, often with his fists.

  Jake sighed. He had to fill out these forms. One of these places would hire him. He needed to work. Besides much needed cash, it would give him purpose and direction. He hadn’t even been to the gym to train since getting out of prison.

  Jake propped up a picture of him and Kenna taken at a park prior to his incarceration, having inadvertently knocked it down when he smashed his fist on the desk. The picture brought a smile to his face. Kenna wore a pink tank in the picture. She had an angelic smile. Her hair had been blonde back then, but it was steadily getting darker, and now it was light brown like his. In the picture, he had her hoisted on his shoulders, and she was picking leaves from a tree.

  She was the best little sister a guy could ask for. Kenna’s faith in him never wavered. She and his mom had visited him every weekend during his six-month prison stint. Her letters and hand-made cards got him through those dark hours when he felt lower than the dirt encrusted against the walls of his cell.

  He would die before letting Kenna down again.

  He leafed through the applications. Bus boy at a restaurant, working in the stockroom at Target, landscaping. None of the prospects thrilled him, but it was honest work, and he would gladly take any of the jobs if they were willing to hire him.

  Jake’s head shot up when a loud bang came from downstairs. Someone screamed.

  He bolted out of the bedroom and ran into the kitchen. More screams and shouting came from downstairs. He opened the door leading to the basement. What the hell were they doing with the lights off? He felt the side of the wall until he found the light switch, then flicked it on.

  “Kenna, what’s going on?” He r
an down the stairs, turned the corner, and found the faces of three terrified children. He followed their gaze to Cordy, who was lying on the floor, blood streaming from her nose and from a cut above her eye.

  He clenched his fists and got into a front stance, his eyes darting around the room, not sure what had happened but ready to fight if there was an attacker present. “What the hell happened, Kenna?”

  ***

  A surge of relief flooded through Kenna when Jake arrived. She had no idea what that silhouette was, but she felt safe now. Her brother would protect her.

  “What the hell happened, Kenna?”

  “I, um, don’t know. We were playing with your, um, Ouija board, and the lights went out and…” Kenna trailed off, not sure what to say.

  Jake stared at her, his face etched with concern. He cradled Cordy into his arms.

  “Aww, my head.” Cordy touched her forehead and screamed. “I’m bleeding.”

  “Let’s take her upstairs.” Jake carried her as Kenna and her friends followed. “Kenna, get me a towel. I’m taking her to the bathroom.”

  Once they reached the kitchen, Kenna opened a drawer. She picked the oldest towel she could fine. Her mother would be pissed if she used one of her good towels.

  She followed Jake into the bathroom where he sat Cordy on the toilet.

  “My head hurts.” Cordy’s eyes filled with tears.

  “It’s okay,” Jake said. “You’re going to be fine. Now tilt your head back.”

  Cordy tilted her head, and Jake took the towel from Kenna’s hands. He wiped the blood off her face and forehead. He then took a tissue, rolled it tightly, and put it in her nostril to stop the bleeding. He reached into the medicine cabinet and took out cotton balls, swabs, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “This is going to sting.” When he cleaned the cut on her forehead with the peroxide, Cordy cringed. “Now that wasn’t so bad. I’m going to apply pressure to stop the bleeding.”

  Jake pressed the swab against Cordy’s forehead and held it tight. “Get me a bandage, Kenna.”

  She found one with dinosaurs. She wasn’t a kid anymore, but her mom didn’t always realize that.