She Talks to Angels | {BOOK 2}

8|Killer Ghosts

One of Bobby's Hunter friends, Olivia Lowry, was dead. When we got to her house to check on her, we found her with her chest ripped open and signs of spirit activity in the house. Bobby had to step out when we found her, and when he came back in, he informed us that some other Hunters nearby weren't answering their phones either. So we split up. Sam, Dean and I went to check on one guy while Bobby checked on some others.

"We're in Jackson," Dean was telling Bobby over the phone as we left the guy's house. "It's not pretty. He looks even worse than Olivia. What about you?... What the hell is going on here, Bobby? Why did a bunch of ghosts suddenly want to gank off-duty Hunters?... We're on our way."

A few hours later, Sam and Dean had traded spots. Dean dozed in the passenger seat while Sam pulled into a service station. I climbed out, taking care of the gas while Sam slipped inside for a minute. While I waited, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick update to Brigham.

"Who do you keep texting?"

I jumped a little, looking over at Dean.

"No one," I said quickly.

Before I could put my phone safely away, Dean reached over and grabbed it from my hand.

"Dean!" I cried, reaching for it, but he held it out of my reach.

My heart thudded in my chest as he read the words on screen, scrolling through the messages.

"Dean, give it back," I tried again, lunging for the phone.

He lifted it higher again, continuing to read.

"Brigham," he said, looking over at me but keeping my phone. "As in Bela Talbot's friend Brigham?"

"Yes. Now give me my phone," I snarled, grabbing for it a third time.

He put it behind his back, still staring at me.

"You love him?"

I froze, my chest constricting and opening my mouth to defend myself. However, no sound came out. Before Dean or I could say anything else, the EMF meter in the backseat started going off.

"Sammy," I looked over at the building.

Dean went around to the trunk, grabbing out a shotgun and hurrying inside.

"Dean, you still have-" I started to call, but he disappeared inside before I could finish.

"My phone," I muttered a bit softer, rolling my eyes. "Ugh."

I replaced the nozzle on the pump and slipped into the driver's seat, pulling the Impala up closer to the building so the brothers wouldn't have to walk as far. What felt like an eternity later, Sam and Dean emerged, Dean helping Sam along a little. He got him settled into the back and then I slid over into the passenger seat so Dean could drive.

"What happened?" I demanded.

Dean ignored me, using my phone to dial Bobby.

"Damn it, Bobby! Pick up!" he cried in frustration a moment later, hanging up and throwing the phone in my lap. "How you feeling, huh? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"None," Sam responded from the backseat. "I'll be fine, Dean."

"Henriksen?" Dean continued.

"Henriksen?" I repeated. "What the hell happened in there?"

"Yep," Sam answered, ignoring me.

"Why? What did he want?" Dean asked him.

"Revenge, cause we got him killed."

"Sam."

"Well, we did, Dean."

"Alright. Stop right there. Whatever the hell is going on, it's happening to us now, okay? I can't get ahold of Bobby, so if you're not thinking answers, don't think at all."

⁘

Bobby's house was quiet when we arrived. There was an iron poker on the ground next to the stairs and Dean volunteered to go up, telling Sam and I to check outside. We split up, checking different areas of the junkyard.

"Bobby? Bobby?" I called.

There was no response. I rounded another corner and my breath suddenly became visible as I exhaled.

"Bobby?" I called again, looking around.

When I glanced up at a pile of cars, I noticed some frost on one of the side mirrors as well as a figure in the reflection.

"Bobby! Hold on, Bobby! I'm coming! Bobby!"

I climbed up the pile, using a crowbar to pry open the door. Two little girls were holding Bobby there and they pushed me backwards, causing me to fall onto another car below, bleeding.

"Ellie!" Sam cried.

He grabbed the crowbar I'd been using and he and Bobby fought the girls, causing them to disappear. Sam hurried over and helped me up, and then we made our way inside as Dean was making his way down the stairs.

"Ellie!" he cried.

"I'm fine," I grumbled, pushing Sam away and making my way over to the couch in the study.

Dean came over and tried to check me over, but I pushed him away.

"I'm fine, Dean."

He looked like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it, just taking a seat next to me on the couch. We exchanged stories about what happened after we separated.

"So they're all people we know?" Sam asked when we'd finished.

"Not just know," Dean shook his head. "People we couldn't save. Hey, I saw something on Meg. Did she have a tattoo when she was alive?"

"I don't think so," I said.

"It was like a- a mark on her hand- almost like a brand."

"I saw a mark, too, on Hendriksen," Sam said.

"What did it look like?" Bobby inquired.

"Uh, paper?" Sam asked. "Thanks."

He sketched for a few moments and then held the drawing up for Dean to compare.

"That's it," Dean nodded.

"I may have seen this before," Bobby said, taking the drawing from Sam. "We got to move."

"Whoa," I piped up when he grabbed a bunch of books off the desk.

"Follow me," he instructed.

"Okay, where are we going?" Sam asked him.

"Some place safe, ya idjit."

We exchanged a look, following Bobby down the stairs into the basement. He turned a corner and led us into a room that had pentagrams and Devil's Traps on the floor and ceiling.

"Bobby, this is..." Sam trailed off.

"Solid iron. Completely coated in salt. One hundred percent ghost proof."

"You built a panic room?" I smirked.

"I had a weekend off," Bobby shrugged.

"Bobby," Dean smiled.

"What?"

"You're awesome. Oh."

I followed Dean's gaze to see a poster of a swimsuit model on the wall. I rolled my eyes, turning away.