Borgin Keep: Berkley Street Series Book 8

A building that combines the horrors of both worlds... Shane Ryan and his ghostbusting partner, Frank Benedict, have been killing ghosts all over New England. He’s always thought the jobs were random until he runs into The Watchers, an elite group who’s decided Shane is a threat to their own sinister plans. Their leader, Harlan Canus, sends Shane a gruesome message that can’t be ignored. Marie Lafontaine joins Shane and Frank as they descend on Borgin Keep, which is set in the lush hills of Vermont. They discover The Watchers have a few ghastly secrets of their own, hidden within the chilling castle. Emmanuel Borgin, long dead, has an uneasy alliance with Watchers. Alliance or not, Shane is determined to finish the job … even if it means destroying Harlan right along with the deadly Emmanuel! The trio searches the hidden passages and secret rooms for Emmanuel’s bones, realizing Borgin Keep is a shifting house of horrors. From the flesh-eating undead to faceless demons, Emmanuel throws his worst supernatural minions at the crew. Shane knows he’s got to stop Emmanuel and Harlan or more innocents will die, suffering unspeakable torture, and agonizing deaths. Failure is not an option, but annihilating the uncanny ghost and his grisly castle could be the last job Shane ever completes. PRINT LENGTH 221 Pages AUDIO LENGTH 7 hours and 56 minutes NARRATED BY Thom Bowers PRODUCT DIMENSION 6 x 0.5 x 9 inches ISBN 979-8-89476-008-7 LANGUAGE English PUBLICATION DATE April 26, 2017   Read a Sample Chapter 36: Another Phone Call   Harlan’s days were becoming worse instead of better, and his mood was not improving. Ms. Coleman stood in his office, her body rigid and tense. She had delivered the bad news and it was obvious she expected his wrath to fall upon her. Normally it would have, but a dim part of Harlan was impressed with her refusal to run from the room. Courage and intelligence seemed to be in short supply in the organization of late and he didn’t want to punish it. “Ms. Coleman,” he said, forcing his voice to remain even and neutral. “Sir?” she asked, the question a squeak. “Please take the rest of the day off,” he said. “I want nothing, thank you. Only leave the office, do something pleasant, and return to work in the morning at your usual time. I will call if something changes.” “Yes, sir,” she replied, and he could hear the relief filling her words. Her discipline continued to impress him as she walked calmly from the room, easing the door closed behind her. A few minutes later, he heard the main door thump as she left for the day. Harlan leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and trying to ignore his pounding headache. He was, it seemed, suffering a setback for every bit of ground he gained. Less than an hour before, the phone had rung and Jenna had called in. She had reported the first good news he had heard in days. David had been removed by Emmanuel, which ensured there would be no loose ends in that regard. While Harlan had regretted the necessity which required the death of David, the man had chosen an unfortunate time to leave the organization. Jenna’s good news had been quickly followed by bad news, and from her as well. Harlan had learned of Abigail’s continued existence. Somehow, the woman hadn’t died in the Keep. From what he was told she had lost her limbs, and she was more than likely insane, but she was still alive. And alive meant she was a danger. Harlan had never had any doubts about her capabilities and her ability to survive in Borgin Keep was justification for his thoughts on her. She would die soon enough, as long as she didn’t have any other food, although David might help her in that sense. And what if Emmanuel manages to trap her soul? Harlan wondered. What if she decides she wants to stay a little longer? How will that come back on me? He sighed and forced himself to examine the second bit of bad news he had received. Shane Ryan wasn’t dead. Far from it. The man was alive. And the Lieutenant was dead, murdered by the ghost who had been brought in to end Shane. Which meant Harlan had lost all of his avenues of influence into Nashua, a city which still had several structures on the ley lines. Let us not forget the loss of the ghost, he thought bitterly. And the inability to return the possessed wire to Elmer would mean either a hefty payment in like objects to the collector, or the refusal of the man to help them again. Harlan snarled and slapped his palms down on the desk, knocking the phone out of its cradle. He snatched it up, slammed it back into the base, and fumed as he sat in his chair. A moment later, the phone rang and Harlan leaned forward to read the caller ID. All he could see was a random assortment of numbers. The phone stopped ringing at ten. Less than a minute later, it rang again. Once more, it was the same random numbers. It stopped ringing at nine. The pattern repeated itself until Harlan answered the call after it had gotten down to three rings. “Who is this?” he yelled into the phone. “My, you’re a little testy,” Shane Ryan said. Harlan was shocked and couldn’t respond. “I can hear you breathing,” Shane said, chuckling. “Which is good.” “What do you want?” Harlan said, in perfect control of himself. “I want to chat,” Shane said. “See how you are. Find out what the weather’s like down in Boston.” “You could always come down,” Harlan replied. “You have the address.” “I may,” Shane said. “Don’t count it out. When I do though, it’ll be to finish this whole show up.” “And what if I send someone up there first?” Harlan inquired. Shane let out a pleased laugh. “Oh, Harlan. You already have. Two observers in the house across the street. Someone to set fire to my house. The Lieutenant. And let’s not forget Lisbeth. Did you forget her, Harlan?” “No,” Harlan growled. “I certainly did not.” “Excellent,” Shane said. “Fantastic, really. You know, I’ve been doing a bit of research on your organization. Fascinating stuff. I’m not quite sure what your endgame is, but I’m looking forward to helping you fail.” Harlan’s heart beat erratically in his chest. He tried to speak but his anger refused to allow words to form. “I will find out,” Shane said and the joking, playful banter was gone from his voice. It was replied with a cold, hard edge. “I want you to understand that. You need to remember, Harlan, that I have one of your little workers with me. And they like to talk. I like to listen. You should too. Soon, and I mean very soon, you’re going to hear something you won’t like.”