Unquiet Souls

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The knock on the door to her office startled Audrey, mostly because her work wasn’t the sort of thing that lent itself to drop-in visits. Her clients found her mainly through their insurance directories, or, much more rarely, through her website, and in general they set up their appointments online so they wouldn’t have to talk to an actual person. Well, at least not until they actually set foot in the office itself, but by that point they probably figured the die had been cast.

She got up from the chair behind her desk and went to answer the door. The place was too cramped to have a reception area, was only a plain square room with a window that overlooked Glendora’s small main street in the historic part of town. Just as well that it wasn’t any bigger, because she couldn’t afford to pay a receptionist anyway.

The man standing in the hallway outside Audrey’s office shared with the other micro office suites on the building’s second floor looked vaguely familiar, although for a second she couldn’t place where she’d seen him before. Then his identity seemed to fall into place — the shaggy, sandy blond hair, the scruff of beard, the piercing eyes in an unusual golden-gray hue.

Michael Covenant, self-proclaimed demonologist and frequent guest on shows like Coast to Coast and The Paranormal Podcast.

What he was doing here in tiny Glendora, at her office, she had no idea. Or rather, she had several ideas, none of which were particularly appealing.

He spoke before she could close the door and back away. “Audrey Barrett?”

“Yes,” she said reluctantly, since she guessed he knew exactly what she looked like, and so there was no point in trying to deny her identity.

“Can we talk?” he asked. Those gray-gold eyes were fixed on her, piercing. She wanted to look away, but for some reason found herself unable to. Some kind of hypnotism? That might explain all the people who paid good money for his books or to attend the conferences where he was a featured speaker.

However, Audrey hadn’t lost herself so much that she couldn’t reply crisply, “We’re talking now.”

His head tilted to one side as his eyes narrowed at her. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Come in,” she said, since she guessed the best way to get rid of him was to let him speak his piece and then tell him she had a client coming in and couldn’t afford to spend any more time in discussion. Besides, as much as his approach to the paranormal annoyed and sometimes downright offended her, she didn’t want to be rude.

A small smile touching his lips, he entered the office, then waited for Audrey to close the door before he sat down in the chair opposite her hand-me-down desk. There was another chair off to one side, placed there for those times when she had a couple in for counseling, but it felt safer to sit down behind the desk, thus giving herself the illusion of authority despite her unease at his presence here.

Since she guessed there was no reason to pretend ignorance of his identity, she asked, “How can I help you, Mr. Covenant?”

He didn’t even blink at her off-hand use of his name. Was he arrogant enough to think he was instantly recognizable? Minor celebrity on the paranormal circuit didn’t exactly provide the same sort of star power as acting in films or TV, but, despite being a psychologist, Audrey really didn’t want to speculate as to what might go on in Michael Covenant’s brain.

“It’s more how I can help you, Ms. Barrett.”

“Audrey is fine,” she said. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to be on a first-name basis with him, more that she disliked being called “Ms.” — it only reminded her of how she’d been forced to stop after getting her master’s degree, hadn’t been able to go on and earn a Ph.D. in psychology. Right then, even though she knew it was petty, she probably would have derived a certain small pleasure in telling Michael Covenant to call her “Dr. Barrett.”

He leaned against the back of his chair, hands resting on the knees of his dark trousers. The day was dank and damp, not rainy, but with a fog that had never lifted, and so his usual uniform of black jacket with black T-shirt underneath — the same outfit he seemed to wear in every publicity photo — didn’t look as out of place as it might have on a typical sunny Southern California afternoon. “Audrey, then. I’m currently developing a show for a cable network with producer Colin Turner…you might have heard of him.”

She had, just because his sensational one-off specials tended to clutter the cable offerings during October, when one could usually find hour-long shows like The 10 Most Haunted Places in America and Serial Killers Among Us to binge on if the usual horror fare of slasher flicks and alien invasions wasn’t enough to satisfy a viewer’s appetite for the macabre. Anyway, Audrey’s personal opinion was that dropping Colin Turner’s name probably wasn’t the best way to pique her interest in the project.

“Yes,” she said briefly, and left it there.

Michael Covenant was probably many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. His smile vanished, and he sat up a little straighter in his chair. “The show is called Project Demon Hunters.”

Her response was immediate. “No.”

His brows — much darker than his hair — drew together. “I haven’t told you anything about the show, Audrey.”

“I think the title tells me everything I need to know,” she returned. “If you want someone who’s into the sensational, why don’t you contact Raymond Shipley? Your show sounds like it would be more up his alley.”

This suggestion only made Michael’s frown deepen. Raymond Shipley had a fairly successful ghost-hunting show a few years back, and he also had a singular talent for turning the faintest creak or electrical malfunction in a house into clear-cut evidence of a haunting. None of his so-called “evidence” could have ever held up in a court of law, but he did know how to keep an audience from changing the channel.

“The execs at the network don’t want Raymond Shipley,” Michael said. “They want you.”

“Why?” Audrey asked frankly. “I study the paranormal, not the supernatural.”

“Same thing.”

Was he being deliberately obtuse? Tone sharpening a bit, she said, “In my opinion, they tend to be two different things. My field of expertise is extrasensory abilities, not hauntings and possessions…or demons.”

She didn’t bother to add that she really didn’t believe in demons or ghosts or other supernatural entities. So far, her research had generally proved the hypothesis that most unexplained phenomena of their ilk could be attributed to the peculiar powers of the human brain, and nothing more.

“But that’s exactly why they want you,” Michael told her. Now he was leaning forward, extraordinary eyes fixed on her face. “They want you to be the scientific, skeptical side of the team.”

“They want Mulder and Scully,” Audrey replied, doing her best to make her indifference clear. She had no desire to play the straight man on a cut-rate cable program. “I’m really not interested in rehashing that dynamic.”

“It was very successful.”

“On a fictional show. My work at the Rhine Institute was all about trying to make the paranormal more mainstream, not sensationalizing it for ratings.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, only sat in his chair and gazed at her with an expression so neutral, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Then he said, “One hundred thousand dollars.”

Audrey blinked. “Excuse me?”

“One hundred thousand dollars for six episodes. If they renew the series, then of course you can renegotiate for more money.” A pause, and he added, “Although at that point, you might want to consider getting an agent.”

Now it was her turn to be quiet. Although she hated to admit she might be swayed by the promise of filthy lucre, a hundred thousand dollars was a lot of money. She could pay off the remainder of her student debt, possibly get herself a better office…

…not have to worry about the looming tax bill on the house that had once been her parents’ and had come to her after their deaths nearly fifteen years earlier.

Also, the exposure would probably be helpful. She could rail against the subject matter and the distasteful reality that the network execs had probably zeroed in on her because she was more camera-friendly than some of her peers, but the cold truth of the situation was that appearing on such a show would very likely get her more clients, something she desperately needed at the moment.

“Six episodes?” she asked, and he nodded. “How long would filming take?”

Now his smile returned, as if he knew he’d already sealed the deal, even though she hadn’t yet said yes or no. “About six weeks. We’re still scouting locations, although the one for the first episode has already been chosen.”

His remark surprised her. After all, homes being oppressed by demons didn’t tend to be all that thick on the ground. “It has?”

“Yes.” Michael leaned forward in his chair, still smiling. “In fact, it’s right here in Glendora.”

Audrey felt her eyes widen. “I hadn’t heard about any supernatural phenomena occurring here.”

A shrug. “Well, the people involved wanted to keep the matter quiet.”

“So putting it on national television is keeping it quiet?”

“By the time the episode airs, their problem will have been solved. Besides, we’ll be discreet — a fictionalized name for the town where the incident has occurred, aliases for the owners.”

That made sense, just because amateur ghost hunters tended to descend whenever they had a new location to investigate. If the house was distinctive enough, it probably would still be found eventually, but Audrey supposed that was the owners’ problem. Better a bunch of looky-loos to contend with rather than a horde of demons.

Not that she believed in demons, of course.

“I’ll need to think about it,” she said, which she knew was a cop-out. She just didn’t want to agree right then and there.

“Take your time,” Michael replied, then took the manila envelope he’d been holding and set it down on her desk. “Just don’t take too much time. Colin wants to start taping the show next week.”

Next week? While it would have sounded good to say that she needed much more time than that, had to rearrange her clients’ appointments to accommodate the production schedule, that would have been a complete lie. At the moment, Audrey had a grand total of ten patients, none of whose issues were anything remotely paranormal. Thank God her master’s degree and the certification she’d received from the state of California allowed her to practice psychology, which might have paid the bills well enough if she’d had any skills at marketing herself, or the necessary dedication to make counseling her one true calling.

As it was….

“I think I can manage that,” she said calmly. “I just want to have my lawyer look over the contract before I sign anything.”

“Of course.” A certain glint in his eyes seemed to indicate he knew she was bluffing about the lawyer. She certainly didn’t have an attorney on retainer, especially one who specialized in entertainment law.

However, Audrey’s best friend Bettina was a paralegal at a local law firm, and she knew she’d give her a hand by looking over the contract. Maybe it wasn’t the same as hiring some pricey Hollywood lawyer, but better than her trying to puzzle the thing out on her own.

“End of day tomorrow?” he went on, and that was when Audrey knew she’d really committed to this thing, despite her reservations. Being free of her ever-nagging concerns about her finances was just too alluring. “You can scan the signed contract and email it to Colin. His email address is on the letterhead. Unless you want to bring it to his office in Hollywood, that is.”

The off-hand way Michael had made the suggestion seemed to indicate he knew she wouldn’t take him up on that particular offer. Maybe driving into Hollywood would have proven her dedication to the project, but she knew she wasn’t that dedicated. She just wanted the relief — and breathing space — that kind of money would provide for her.

“I’ll scan it,” Audrey said. “I have clients tomorrow.”

His expression was so bland that she could tell he’d seen through the lie. However, to her relief, he didn’t call her on it, only said, “I’ll let Colin know to keep an eye out for your email.” A very brief hesitation, and he went on, “I’m looking forward to working with you, Audrey. Once we have the signed contract, then you can meet with me and Colin, and we’ll go over some details with you.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she responded, although inwardly she could feel herself wince. It sounded as though she’d be heading into Hollywood in the near future despite her best efforts to stay safely here in the San Gabriel Valley.

Michael got up from the chair then, hand extended. She took it, was a little reassured by his firm grip. At least it felt straightforward and confident. “Until then,” he said.

After that, he let himself out of her office, quietly closing the door behind him. Audrey stared at it for a long moment, at last experiencing some very nervous butterflies in her stomach.

Just what in the world had she gotten herself into?

“An additional forty hours of promotion, including but not limited to, participation in local radio programs, interviews on podcasts, and in-person appearances,” Audrey’s friend Bettina intoned, reading aloud from the contract she’d given her to inspect. One French-manicured finger was twirling an expertly highlighted strand of hair as she spoke; she’d come over to Audrey’s house as soon as she got off work, and so she still wore her silk blouse and pencil skirt, although she’d kicked off her sling-backed high heels.

“No extra pay for that?” Audrey inquired.

A brief glance over the contract’s contents, and Bettina shook her head. “Nope. Although really, you’re getting a hundred grand for about six weeks’ worth of work, so I’d say it’s still pretty fair, all things considered.”

Well, that was true. Audrey picked up her glass of pinot noir and took a sip, using her free hand to knead away at the knot of tension at the back of her neck. It didn’t seem to help much.

Bettina also drank some wine before returning her attention to the contract. Audrey had bribed her with pinot noir and takeout lasagna from Spaghetti Eddie’s, since she didn’t have anything monetary to offer. Usually, the sight of the soothing blue-gray of her living room walls and the comfortable, well-worn furniture only helped her to relax. Now, though, all she could do was look at those walls and remember how that tax bill of $10,427 was due in six weeks…and how she had less than half that amount in her savings account, with nowhere near enough coming in to make up the difference.

Except for the pay outlined in the contract, of course. One third as an advance, one third paid at the midway point of the shooting schedule, and the final third due when filming was complete. It would definitely be enough to keep her going, since her parents’ life insurance policy had paid off the mortgage and the tax bill was now her biggest operating cost besides her ever-present student loan payments. Yes, there was the rent on her office, but that was only five hundred a month, and her therapy clients’ fees covered that and her utilities and food…barely.

“A lot of this is boilerplate,” Bettina went on, putting down her wine glass. “Residuals, that kind of stuff.”

“Do cable networks even have to pay residuals?” Audrey asked. Her grasp of entertainment industry pay standards was admittedly shaky.

“Yep. And a lot more than you might think, because the rates were renegotiated a few years back. If the show’s popular, you might get a nice passive income for a while.”

It was nice to think that she would still be making money from the show in the future, even if all they ever did was shoot those first six episodes. Of course, she still had to find a way to survive that process, something she really wasn’t looking forward to.

Bettina must have picked up on some of her misgivings, because she said, “Are you really sure you can do this, Audrey? You’re not exactly what I would call the TV-show type.”

No, she wasn’t. She hated public speaking, even while she understood all too well the psychology which lay behind that particular phobia. However, this wasn’t quite the same thing. It wasn’t as though she’d be on stage speaking her piece in front of hundreds of people, but in a closed environment with a small crew, filming on location in haunted houses. Or possessed houses, she supposed, although technically the correct term when you were dealing with demons wasn’t possessed, but infested.

“I think Michael Covenant will carry most of it,” Audrey replied. “I’m sure they just want me there to be his sidekick.”

“I suppose so.” Bettina didn’t say anything else; she really didn’t need to. Although Audrey knew her friend wasn’t what you could call a believer in the paranormal, she at least respected Audrey’s evidence-based approach to the subject. Bettina knew she wasn’t the sort to chase after every woo-woo theory that crossed her path, but rather believed there could be physiological and psychological rationales behind a lot of those phenomena.

Unfortunately, Bettina also knew Audrey wasn’t a fan of Michael Covenant’s, probably because of a rant she’d gone on about the way he blithely attributed clairvoyant talents to intervention by extra-dimensional entities. As if the human mind, in all its intricacy and power, wasn’t capable of manifesting abilities that went far beyond what most people would consider “normal.”

Audrey sipped her wine as Bettina read through the contract again. At last she straightened, then got up out of her chair, took her own glass of wine, and came over to where Audrey sat on the couch. She gave Bettina an inquiring look, and she said, “I don’t see any red flags. The part about the show providing medical/liability insurance is a little out of the ordinary, but I suppose if you’re going to go tromping around in haunted houses, the production company wants to make sure they have people ready in case you fall down a flight of stairs, or whatever. They do require mediation in case of a workplace injury, but again, that’s the sort of clause most companies ask for these days.”

“Good,” Audrey replied, hoping she sounded cool, although those damn butterflies were fluttering around in her stomach again. She hadn’t even thought about the possibility of being injured somehow during filming — after all, this wasn’t an outdoor adventure show or a Survivor type of scenario — but she supposed it would have been strange if the producers hadn’t done whatever they could to plug those sorts of loopholes.

“Demons.” Bettina shook her head, peach-glossed lips pursing slightly. “I thought you didn’t believe in that kind of thing.”

“I don’t,” Audrey said at once. “All of the reported cases I’ve studied have shown that the behaviors which manifest themselves in supposed cases of demon possession or oppression can be attributed to a variety of physiological and psychological issues. Anyway, it’s TV. They’re just going to be filming jump scares for the benefit of the audience at home, while Michael Covenant and I bicker about the real reasons behind what everyone is seeing.”

That all sounded very calm and matter-of-fact. And it was nothing more than the truth. All the same, the nervous sensation in her stomach translated itself into a creepy-crawly sensation along her spine, as if her body knew more about the subject than her conscious mind wanted to admit.

“And you’re really okay with working with him?” Bettina drank some of her pinot noir and then lowered her wine glass, although she didn’t set it down on the coffee table. Blue eyes speculative, she watched Audrey for a few seconds before adding, “I mean, it just seems that what he does is pretty much the antithesis of all that post-grad work you did.”

She was right, of course. Audrey had spent a frustrating six months working at the Rhine Institute, which had carried on the research first begun at Duke University, exploring the extrasensory powers of the human mind. She’d interviewed and tested those with clairvoyant abilities, and had done her damnedest to get the grants which would allow her to continue that line of research. Unfortunately, her efforts had come to naught, which was why she was doubly glad she’d put in the required three thousand hours of supervised counseling after she got her master’s, just in case she had to go into regular counseling rather than pursue her dream of adding to the field of the paranormal. The work gave her something of an income stream, although Audrey knew she should have been working harder to build her client list. The most she’d done was jump through the requisite hoops to get her name added to the list of approved providers for several insurance companies. Unfortunately, her heart just wasn’t in it.

Maybe if she’d been more dedicated, the job offer from Michael Covenant wouldn’t have seemed so appealing. However, she knew she couldn’t blame her current situation on anyone other than herself. Once her work at the Rhine Institute had ended, she’d found herself adrift, not really sure what she wanted from herself or her life. It had been easy to come back to Glendora because she had a home and something of a life here…or at least people who recognized her in the checkout line at the supermarket. Where else, really, could she have gone?

“I know Michael’s theories and mine don’t jibe,” Audrey told Bettina, then drank the last swallow of wine in her glass. “Which is why I’m really looking forward to proving him wrong.”