Devil of a Ghost Tour

  Devil of a Ghost Tour

  Coral Russell

  Published: 2010

  Tag(s): "white magic" "black magic" ghost paranormal devil demons horror

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  http://www.amazon.com/Devil-Ghost-Tour-ebook/dp/B00486U5KM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1309282263&sr=1-1

  1885

  His black robe billowed out around him, exposing the red satin lining. In one hand he held a wand made from hazel wood, polished and consecrated in blood; in the other hand was a ceremonial knife with a black hilt. Both were engraved with the symbols of his faith.

  Shoulders relaxed, feet slightly apart, drawing air in through his nose and releasing it with a soft whistle, he spoke: “O Sadai, most holy and most powerful, vouchsafe to consecrate and bless this circle to contain the demon I am about to invoke. O most holy Sadai, to whom be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.” He drew a circle with his knife on the dirt floor, still speaking: “I invoke and conjure Thee… .” The point scratched through the fine sand and rocks as he carved a large outer circle and then an inner circle, filling the space between the two with ceremonial writing. “Choronzon, appear forthwith. Show thyself to me… .” He drew three obtuse triangles and continued the writing at the corners and insides of the triangles. “Choronzon, come and do not tarry; Choronzon come, fulfill my desires; persist unto the end, according to mine intentions.”

  He stood in the center and waited.

  Present

  Lynn and Lee Hoyt parked their car as the sun shot its last fading rays across Cleveland Square in front of the El Paso Downtown Library. Lynn pulled Lee along at a brisk pace even though she was the one who almost always made them late.

  Two men, dressed in black, approached them as they drew near and introduced themselves as the tour guides, Hector and Marcos. Both wore t-shirts with the El Paso Ghost Tours logo. Hector motioned for them to join the other couples of various ages and persuasions standing around a park bench.

  “Tell me again why we're here?” Lee asked.

  “I went on one of these ghost tours in Charleston. They tell you the history of the city and point out the famous buildings, plus elaborate on any local, popular ghost stories,” Lynn answered.

  “Great. You, me and a history lesson. You know how much I hate this stuff. Wait? When were you in Charleston?”

  “Believe it or not, I did a lot of things before we were married.”

  “That's not my fault.”

  Lynn playfully slapped his arm, “It was a lot of fun and we can always start season four of Pawn Stars tomorrow night.”

  “So, that means there are no real ghosts on this tour? What a rip-off.”

  Lynn nudged him with her elbow as they approached their first stop – the library itself. She listened as Hector told numerous ghost stories about the library, which opened in 1904 and was built on top of an old military cemetery. Hector and his investigators even experienced a book falling off a shelf for no apparent reason while trying to do an EVP session.

  “For those of you that don't know,” Hector informed the tour group, “EVP stands for Electronic Voice Phenomena. Basically, you catch something on this digital recorder.” He held up a thin electrical device. “You may not hear something during the investigation, but when you go back and review the recording, you hear voices or unexplained sounds.” Lynn caught Lee’s skeptical glance as she wrapped her arm around his waist.

  Hector continued, holding up a gray device with a rainbow of colors at the top, “Another device we use is called a K2 Meter. We've passed a couple out to the group. Ghost hunters believe these devices can measure the magnetic field given off by ghosts. Sometimes you can use the lights to ask 'yes' or 'no' questions.”

  Lee's warm breath close to her ear tickled as he whispered, “You so owe me for this.” She snuggled into his side as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

  She smiled and whispered back, “I know, I know.”

  They passed by the Plaza Hotel, which towered over downtown El Paso like a dark, silent sentinel. Lynn and Lee learned the new owner promised to restore the building, but was currently behind bars for tax evasion. The restored Plaza Theater, a bright spot downtown, hosted the world’s largest Classic Film Festival and also claimed that long-since deceased patrons still wandered the aisles.

  As they approached the seven story Caples Building where Pancho Villa plotted against the U.S., Lynn imagined, in the prevailing darkness, that the building had been drawn from negative space. She turned to Lee. Her jaw dropped in disbelief. He was snapping pictures. “Honey, what are you doing?”

  “I'm taking pictures.”

  “Of an empty building?”

  “I got a feeling.”

  She chuckled as they continued on holding hands. “See, this stuff is interesting.”

  “I didn't say that.”

  Lynn regarded the O.T. Bassett Towers as the most fascinating building on the tour. The art deco style architecture on all four sides was quite rare for its time. Small terra-cotta plaques decorated the outside, along with blocks covered in swirls and flowers. The center piece above the front door resembled the builder Henry C. Trost himself. The dull reflection in the windows signified yet another vacant historic building.

  Lynn turned to Lee, “It’s so gorgeous! I would rent an apartment here in a heartbeat.”

  “Oh, no, we wouldn’t.” Lee said, squeezing her hand.

  Hector overheard her and agreed, “We’re trying to bring awareness to the downtown area through these tours and get people interested in preserving the rich history and, of course, hunt ghosts. We’ve tried to bring the ghost tour inside, but some of the owners want to charge us $5000 to go in.” The group laughed in sympathy as he added, “Ghosts don’t pay that well.” He went on to talk about the gunfights, prostitutes, gamblers, and violence of Old El Paso, the original Sin City.

  “Does it feel cold to you?” Lee asked.

  “No. The wind isn't even that bad. You're not getting sick are you?” Lynn ran her hand up his back to the nape of his neck. “You don't feel warm.”

  “I'm fine. What's that saying? Someone must have just walked over my grave.”

  “Don't say things like that,” Lynn said as he bent down to kiss her forehead.

  “I'm just joking.” They slowed to a stop in front of a plain white building.

  “We end our tour at the Franciscan Hotel,” Hector said. “One of the most haunted places downtown. Inside the basement we'll investigate an evil spirit or entity. I want to warn you now, it could get scary.” He nodded at a husky fellow, “It’s usually the big, tough-looking guys that get scared and need to be escorted out.” Nervous laughter broke out among the group. “OK, let’s head in.”

  1885

  Alfred Crouse waited for the stirring of energy around him. Crouse had chosen to summon the ultimate demon from the abyss, Choronzon. If he pulled this off, he would claim power over most of the unseen world. He lived in a city of vice for a price, the perfect place to draw up this malevolent power. El Paso, Texas was a sinner’s paradise with more gamblers, whores, thieves, and outlaws than everyday citizens. A good run at the poker table would support a life devoted to the study of the dark arts.

  A tiny, swirl of energy appeared in the triangles, so subtle, Crouse continued with a second incantation, “… I conjure and constrain thee… . Manifest before this circle; fulfill my will in all things that may seem good to me. Should thou disobey and refuse to come before me, behold: I will curse and deceive thee of they office, joy and station. I will bind thee in the depths of the bottomless pit�
�� .”

  The energy whooshed up into a full-fledged dust devil that knocked Crouse off-balance for a split second. He failed to notice the nick in the outer circle caused by a kicked stray stone. A tiny offshoot of the swirling mass towering above him found the opening and shot out of the enclosure to hide in a far corner.

  A full skeletal figure and horse materialized from the middle of the dust devil. Patches of skull gleamed through an iron helmet decorated with two large horns. A skin cape with horns sticking up at the shoulders and neck billowed out then draped down to cover the horse and almost sweep the ground.

  “Choronzon,” Crouse whispered.

  Energy pressed against Crouse’s head. Choronzon was speaking to him. The sounds were soft and comforting one moment, thenm a thunderous scream the next. Crouse swayed on his feet as he fought not to be sick. No discernible words issued from the lip-less mouth. He decided to go on with the incantation: “Welcome, Choronzon. Welcome art thou unto me; I have called thee and thou hast obeyed. I bind thee to remain affably and visibly before this circle, within these triangles, so long as I need thee, to depart not without my license, till thou hast truly and faithfully fulfilled all that I shall require.”

  The soft whispering and shrill screams continued as Crouse detailed his plan to the demon. He took the change in energy and pressure in his head as confirmation of their pact. The ceremony was finished by closing the circle: “O Choronzon, because thou has diligently answered my demands, I do hereby license thee to depart. Depart, I say, and be thou willing and ready to come, whensoever duly exorcised by the sacred rites of magic.” His ears popped and he staggered as the dust devil sucked back into itself. The basement returned to normal as he kicked at the dirt floor until all the drawings disappeared.

  Crouse removed his robe and wrapped up the wand and knife before stowing it away in his satchel. When he exited the front doors of the Franciscan Hotel, he blended in with the crowd passing by. He never noticed the filmy, smoky air hovering in the corner of the basement.

  Present

  The interior of the Franciscan Hotel shone bright and cheery with white walls and dark, blue tiles in the shape of stars on the floor. A thick layer of dust made the objects in the room appear fuzzy. The group shuffled down the hall, single-file into a small room to the right. On the far right wall, a large trap door stood open.

  “OK, people, watch your step. Please don't lean against the door. I’ve had it fall on me and it hurts—a lot,” said Marcos.

  Lee whispered, “You’d think they would make this a little safer.”

  “Must add to the experience,” said Lynn. Lee’s comforting presence followed close behind her. He’d always been overprotective, but ever since her neck surgery he’d gone out of his way to make sure she didn’t trip or lose her balance.

  In Missouri, where Lynn grew up, basements were cool, damp places with stone walls. This basement was musty and humid. Lynn wrinkled her nose in disgust. The occasional flash of light, in the otherwise pitch-black room, came from other people’s devices - cell phones, cameras, iPhones with the Ghost Radar App, and K2 Meters.

  Lynn recognized Marcos’s voice as he called on the ghost of a little girl believed to be trapped in the basement. The session dragged on with minimal blips on the K2 meter and members of the group turning toward perceived noises and shadows, including Lee. One corner received some particular attention after the K2 meter jumped into the red for a few moments.

  “Is the ghost of the little girl here? We’re not here to hurt you, sweetie. Is that other spirit here holding you back? Is he not letting you come out?” Marcos said.

  By this time Lynn was standing behind Lee with her arms wrapped around his waist. She went on tiptoe and kissed the lobe of his ear. He answered by squeezing her forearms. The investigators had warned them that whispering would interfere with the EVP session.

  “Hey, that other spirit who thinks he’s such a bad ass, get out of here. We’ll be dealing with you in the next room soon enough,” said Marcos.

  Lynn rested her forehead on Lee’s back. Nothing spooky here, she thought. Even though she enjoyed the history part of the tour, it was getting late and she was ready to go home. Lee's shirt felt damp on her forehead. She touched her cheek to his back to be sure. His stomach muscles tensed under her hands.

  Just as she was about to whisper in his ear, a couple of people shuffled on the opposite side of the room. Hector's voice echoed in the small space, “These guys aren’t feeling so good. I’m going to take them back upstairs.” A sliver of light from a flashlight appeared and sure enough, a woman and the ‘tough-looking’ guy were headed upstairs. Faint footsteps echoed down the length of the hall overhead.

  Marcos and another investigator continued for about five more minutes, but by this time, even the K2 meters stopped lighting up. “Folks, let’s head to the other room where we encountered an evil spirit. I think he’s interfering with the spirit of the little girl we’ve experienced in this room. In the other room, people have been scratched and others felt sick. I will be provoking this spirit. I’m not trying to offend anyone, but I’ll be using some coarse language.” Marcos lead the group to the next room. “A lot of stuff is piled up in there, so please, watch your step.”

  Lee held her arm as they made their way through a room, into yet, another room. At least it smells better, Lynn thought. A red EXIT sign glowed on the other side. Through the debris she glimpsed a set of stairs. “That way is completely blocked off,” Marcos said as everyone settled into position.

  “All right, you son-of-a-bitch. We're here and I think you’re a coward. You can’t do anything more than keep a little girl trapped in here. Scratch me, push me, scare me, if you can. Come on, I'm right here.” No one so much as cleared their throat waiting for a response. The K2 meters flickered. When footsteps creaked over head, Marcos said, “Hector must be coming back.”

  Lynn frowned. The footsteps led away from the trap door, toward the blocked off EXIT. That's odd, she thought. The footsteps stopped. She stared in the direction of the EXIT, expecting someone to come down the stairs. Her head snapped back over her shoulder when the footsteps began again from the trap door. This time in a jog across the floor and in the direction of the blocked off EXIT. “It can’t be Hector. He never jogs,” said Marcos. Nervous laughter broke the group's self-imposed silence.

  Lynn asked, “Can you call him and see where he is?”

  “Good idea.” Marcos dug into his backpack for a walkie-talkie. “Hector, where are you?”

  “Hey, Marcos. Everything OK?” Hector’s voice crackled over the walkie-talkie.

  “Yea, are you in the building?”

  “No, I’m sitting outside with the two who left the basement. Why? What’s up?”

  “Someone is walking down the hall headed out of the building. Oh, now they’re jogging. I said it couldn’t be you because you never jog, ever.”

  “No, man, it’s not me. No one is in the building. I locked the door behind me.” Dull, metallic rattling came over the walkie-talkie. “Yep, still locked.”

  “OK. Well, someone is only walking out of the building. We don’t hear any footsteps coming into the building.”

  “You need me to come back in?”

  “No. We’re fine.” Marcos’s voice rang out again as he continued provoking the spirit, “Is that you walking above us? Come on, you can do better than that. You’re supposed to be this big, bad, powerful spirit. Show us what you got.”

  Lee shifted and bumped into a stack of boards on the floor. “Sorry, that was me.” To Lynn, he sounded nervous.

  A flare of red caught Lynn's eye. The sharp odor of sulfur, as if a match had been struck right under her nose, made her flinch.

  “Hey Marcos, the K2 meter went off,” a man's voice said on her right.

  The air thickened with odor of sulfur. She turned to the dark shape on her right, “Do you smoke?”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t,” he whispered back.

  Lee d
rew her close. “You feel something?”

  “No, but I smell something.” She sniffed the air, then gagged at the stench. The queasiness passed when she buried her nose in the nape of Lee's neck, breathing in his familiar scent. The air continued to wrap around her in a thick blanket.

  She was about to ‘cry Uncle’ and ask Lee to take her upstairs when Marcos told the group, “All right guys and gals, let’s head back up.” The group turned and made their way down the short hallway to the steep stairs. Marcos was the last one to make his way up. As he exited the room, the trap door slammed shut. Lynn jumped and ran to catch up with Lee, who was already out the front door.

  1885

  Crouse slipped into the flow of pedestrians headed down Mills Avenue, then stopped short. I did it. I really did it. People flowed around him as if he were a rock in the middle of a stream until he moved out of the flow to lean against a building. I did it. Resolve filled his eyes. Time to test my new powers.