What Lies Beneath

Chapter 1

Some called them hunters.

Some referred to them as psychos.

Especially Brooklynn.

From the time Brooklynn was a little girl, she could see and talk to spirits.

Her whole life was devoted to helping the supernatural, understanding their world, and destroying those who tried interfering with the balance between the living and dead. There were five other individuals just like her, who could do similar things. Brooklynn was the only one who could both see and talk to the spirits, as if they were another person as if engaging in a conversation.

Her mother died when Brooklynn was just an infant and her aunt Sophia took her in, raising her, teaching her the ways of her gift. Some gift. Brooklynn was special indeed. Her aunt died shortly after she graduated college with a journalism degree.

When she wasn't hunting spirits or trying to help them crossover, Brooklynn spent her time writing novels, secluded deep within a dark forest in an unknown destination. Only when she knew it was time to go hunting again did she leave. It'd been three years since their last hunt.

The time was at hand once again.

The ten, the circle, knew when the time arrived because every one of them had the exact same dream. It always involved one of them dying in the end, which is who the spirit would be haunting. Currently, it was Brooklynn. He was in his mid-thirties; soaked from head to toe, pale with a cut over his right eye, yellow teeth and wore a pure black suit.

Brooklynn looked in the mirror, pulling on her black fingerless glove, flexing her hand slowly before making a fist. It was time to go find the others; this spirit was evil, demonic and sometimes drained the energy out of her. Earthbound spirits lived and flourished on earth by being around the living.

Brooklynn wore blue jeans with a black tank top, black hair swept up in a high ponytail. She wore very little makeup, not really needing it, not caring about her appearance. Walking out of her house, Brooklynn threw her duffel bag in the back seat if the Ford Focus before sliding into the driver's seat, driving away moments later.

During the 'off season', Mark Calaway tended to just...dick around. He did a little of this and a little of that. Most of the time, he just tinkered with motorcycles or did tattoos. Occasionally, he went off 'hunting' on his own, though truth be told; a group was actually needed most of the time for this shit. The occult and supernatural crossed paths way too often for one person to make the attempt at going it alone.

"Hellfire." He muttered, using the heel of his black steel-toed boot to raise the kickstand of his Harley Davidson motorcycle and sped away from the bar he had been all but living in, feeling a change coming in the air.

Again.

Mark was not surprised in the slightest when he reached the basement apartment he was renting to find Steve Austin sitting outside on the porch steps. "You know...I live UNDER the house." He commented, after parking his Harley.

"More like in the damn bar. You smell, son."

"Hey, the more I drink the fewer dreams I have to worry about."

Steve snorted, shaking his head; the fading sunlight glinting off his bald scalp. "That's why you're sober? And here?"

"Can't escape it all the time. You're feelin' it too?"

"Yep."

Trish bit her bottom lip, looking at the phone, raking a hand through her dark auburn hair nervously. The dreams were getting more intense by the second, sitting in her comfortable bed. Sometimes she hated what she did, what she could do. Trish sighed, closing her eyes, and dialed the number.

"You feel it don't you?" Mickie's voice sounded somberly over the line, sighing heavily. "Have you heard from the others?"

"No, not yet. I'm sure I will though. Where should we meet?"

Mickie was quiet for a minute. "Nobody can ever find Lynn. She'll show up at Mark's so we need to head there. At least we know Steve and Glenn will be there too. John will be going with us."

Trish raised a slow eyebrow, groaning. "Mickie, tell me you didn't..."

"I did, be ready in an hour." She hung up.

Steve and Mark were still sitting on the porch steps when Glenn Jacobs showed up, working their way through a case of beer. These things took time. First off, everyone had to assemble and, as they usually wound up all over the southern United States, it could take a day or two. And Brooklynn was never anywhere to be found, so she usually found them. Generally, wherever Mark was is where she'd pop up, so naturally, the group migrated to Mark.

"Hey there, Jacobs." Steve greeted, tossing Glenn a beer.

"Austin, Calaway." Glenn popped the top and downed it, wincing. "My head is pounding." He groaned, settling down alongside them. His 'thing' was a headache when things started going downhill. The worse whatever was happening was, the worse his headache got.

Beth had visions that usually helped them find who the dark spirit or force was. She currently rode in the passenger seat, Randy Orton in the driver's, staring out the window. They weren't together per say, more like best friends, who used each other every now and again for comfort. Beth had dated his friend, Cody, but broke it off after catching Cody in bed with another woman. Randy took her in and they were currently roommates.

A lot had changed in three years.

"Do you think they're all going to Mark's?" She asked quietly, finally breaking the silence.

"That would be my best guess." Randy grunted, rubbing his temples. The force was dark indeed with unimaginable power, possibly the most lethal yet. Randy had to focus, gripping the steering wheel. "We have another day before we get there. Just relax and lay back, babe."

"Call me babe again and I'll put your head through that window."

Melina glanced at John, frowning. "Pay attention to the road."

"I'm nervous." He shot back, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Well?"

She stared down at her hand. "I don't know; my lines are changing." Her frown deepened. She had grown up using palm reading as a way to make money off of tourists, at least until puberty. Then her own palm had started showing her interesting things, scary things.

John didn't ask, trying to focus on the road instead of the urge to start writing. "I need a pen." He said finally.

Melina didn't question it, just held out a pen and, after he had taken it, extended a yellow notepad, holding onto it while he automatically began writing nonsense, his eyes still on the road. He was an automatic writer.

From the backseat, Mickie and Trish peered over John and Melina's shoulders, trying to read what John was writing.

After taking a redeye flight to Texas, refusing to drive all the way from Colorado, where she was currently located, Brooklynn drove the two hours to Mark's place. It was near daybreak when she arrived. The ghost hadn't shown himself since her last dream, so she had virtually nothing to go on. She had to get it to appear somehow to at least reveal the name. Sighing in frustration, Brooklynn took a swig of her coffee, pure black.

She'd gotten used to the taste over the years from a lot of sleepless nights.

That was until she could handle the spirits coming to her. Brooklynn pulled in the parking lot of Mark's apartment building, putting it in park. This was it. They were about to go on another hunt and she felt both scared and excited at the same time. Slowly stepping out of the car, Brooklynn retrieved her bag and turned around, only to stare at a chest.

"Hello, Mark."

"Brooklynn." He rumbled, staring down at her, emerald green eyes glittering at her in the darkness; the only light coming from the porch and it was flickering, threatening to go out. "Everyone else is here." He informed her, where else would they be? They all wanted to stop having nightmares and, the only way to do that was to settle whatever was going on with this spirit.

"I had a feeling and how many times do I have to tell you it's Lynn?" She sighed when he simply shrugged; knowing Mark would never call her by anything else.

He was the ONLY one who got away with calling her by her full birth name, shutting the door, pressing the lock button on her rental. Brooklynn was born and raised in Texas, though she hated the heat. Her Aunt agreed and moved her to Florida when she was still young. The woman was always a few cans short of a six-pack, but Brooklynn loved her regardless. Brooklynn met Mark shortly after her graduation from high school, on a chance meeting while he was in Florida for a tattoo convention. They became instant friends, understanding each other and the darkness they both dealt with.

"I-" She sighed again when he simply took her bag, shaking her head. "Could've gotten it."

"It's quicker this way." Mark said with a half grin, ribbing her for a moment before his expression turned serious. "Glenn's downstairs drunk off his ass." He informed her.

This wasn't anything unusual when his migraines struck. When the pain reliever stopped working, he resorted to whiskey until he couldn't feel it anymore. Thank the stars for Mickie; she had countered any mean drunkenness with some sort of concoction she whipped up, though it smelled like manure.

Brooklynn simply nodded with a leather jacket on, feeling a chill in the air. This was Texas and she was cold, something definitely wasn't right. She followed Mark up the steps and back down again, glad he had a lower floor. It would be easier to escape, not to mention if she had to leave suddenly to talk to a spirit.

She was the only one out of the group who could see and communicate with them so, naturally, most questions went to her. Brooklynn took a deep breath before entering the apartment, which was bigger than it looked on the outside. She didn't say a word, surveying the surroundings. It was a habit of hers, finally relaxing when she didn't sense or feel any spirits, walking into the next room where everyone waited.

"Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence."

"Randy..." Mickie's tone held warning, shaking her head before walking over, staring into Brooklynn's deep amber eyes. "It's so great seeing you again, my sister."

"Likewise..." Brooklynn was distracted, letting her other bag slip from her shoulder, turning the corner past everyone and staring at Glenn, nodding. "Sorry, I thought I felt something." Maybe she was more tired than she thought from the trip, shaking herself mentally.

Steve smiled at her from his place at the table where he was keeping Glenn occupied with a game of cards, distracting him from a migraine that was threatening to break past the whiskey. "You felt Mark." He informed her. "He's got a familiar prowling around outside, honey."

Mark rolled his eyes, ignoring the knowing look Beth and Melina shot him.

"That cat I kicked was his pet?"

Glenn started laughing when Mark began kicking John.

"Don't. Kick. My. Cat."

"Right, of course." It had been three years, Brooklynn would have to get used to Mark's creatures, shaking her head. They weren't ghosts, more like concoctions he created to help keep them safe, to stand guard. "Though I highly doubt an earthbound spirit will have a problem getting past his pet." Smirking, she walked over to give Steve a hug, frowning at Glenn, feeling terrible. "It is good to see you if it's any consolation big guy." She winked when Glenn just cracked a painful smile, turning around. "Before any of you ask, no, I haven't spoken to the spirit yet...and I'm going to tell you right now this one doesn't need to be crossed over. It needs to be destroyed. I think it's helping Nemesis."

Nemesis was a leader, so to speak, who controlled evil spirits that tried breaking the barrier between the living and dead. He was the worst battle they ever had with a ghost, not to mention Nemesis was still lurking in the shadows and John had nearly died. Brooklynn would never forget that as long as she lived, shaking herself again, needing to keep her focus on the task at hand.

As if on cue, John groaned and not just from pain, after suffering those heavy kicks from Mark's wicked steel-toed boots. "No...no...no..."

He remembered that night with Nemesis all too well. He had been trying to write out a spirit's thoughts, as it hadn't been able to communicate with Brooklynn, though she could see it. Instead, he had gotten stuck writing so fast, his hand had literally started burning through the paper; Nemesis had been involved in that one.

"Relax." Trish advised, pushing her brunette hair over her shoulders. "If the cat-"

"Bastet."

"Bassie senses something, or Lynn does, we're all here and more prepared this time."

"That will not happen again, John. Nemesis is weakened right now, but he is building an army." Brooklynn took the bottled water Melina handed her, nodding her thanks, and began pacing back and forth slowly. It's how she got her thoughts straight and helped her think clearly. "I had a dream the other night and Nemesis told me we're about to open hell's gates. He warned me that he would have his revenge..." She could still feel the invisible restraints, remembering how cold her blood ran when he touched her face, the dream in a black and blue swirl of nothingness. "The spirit came to me soon after and all I could get from him was a description...Mid-thirties, pure black suit, soaking wet, pale, cut over his right eye, yellow teeth...He died near water, that's all I know for now."

Beth arched an eyebrow. "Water?" That was her territory, though not in the usual sense. When focusing her energies on water, occasionally oil would do it too in a pinch, she could see past events. This was odd, but sometimes useful when trying to deal with a spirit and needing to know information about the person it had been while living. "Do you want to-"

"If Nemesis is involved, you'd be sucked right into the water more 'n likely." Steve pointed out, watching Brooklynn curiously.

"Maybe if I touched Brook, I could get a glimpse of this guy and see what's up?" Randy suggested, holding up a black gloved hand. A necessity, if he didn't want to be overwhelmed if he by chance picked up a pencil or something.