Chapter Text
A barrage of noise disturbs the night when a slick black Porsche pulls up in front of a two story Victorian style home. It’s almost cliché how ominous it looks with overgrown foliage and rotting wood.
There's the loud rev of an engine before it dies, a flock of birds fleeing from a pitifully bare tree and the sound of Nat Scatorccio grumbling under her breath about the mud that just splattered her car.
"First thing's first," she sighs. She reaches into her pocket, fishes out a wrinkled cigarette, and lights it before taking a long drag in preparation for what will be an equally long night.
It's not often she has to drive this far out of Jersey for a job and even less likely that she's willing to, but she already burned through the cash she got from her last gig and she was desperate.
There wasn't much info she was able to collect from her sources, which weren't really reliable to begin with as her "sources" were drunken hunters that gossiped like housewives at the bar she frequented.
The job entailed an exorcism of a single spirit. Not yet corporeal, non threatening and non verbal. It sounded easy enough, so Nat ran with it as soon as she got a name and a vague sense of its location. She probably should’ve gathered more information before she hit the gas and whipped her car out of the parking lot, but time was ticking and rent was due.
Which led her to this dump.
With a small grunt, she shoves the car door open and kicks a rock out of her way upon exiting. Cigarette still hanging out her mouth, she pops the trunk and unloads her equipment.
The EMF reader whirs to life as she holsters it on her hip. Check. Pocket sized UV light. Check. Thermometer. Check. She leaves the salt gun for later.
It wasn’t much but it’d have to do. After a quick once over, she twirls the flashlight in her hand and slams the trunk closed. The cigarette is quickly snuffed under her boot.
It's chilly out, as evident by the way every breath she inhales leads to a foggy exhale. She reconsiders whether the thermometer in her pocket will do her any good but it's too late now as she's already got one foot in the door.
Floorboards creak with each cautious step she takes. The air is stale and the dust is thick in the beam of her flashlight. She holds the EMF reader outwards in the other hand, silently watching for any changes in its readings.
It took a couple botched jobs, but Nat got the hang of how to use it when she realized the numbers 1 through 5 on the small screen indicated the strength of a spirit's presence, with 5 being the strongest.
With a couple years of experience under her belt Zak Bagans didn't have shit on her now.
She makes her way through the house gradually, exploring the foyer, the kitchen, dining room and the study. There's nothing unusual, besides the questionable taste in decor. She kicks aside a tattered painting of a deer with shedding antlers.
Who the fuck would hang that?
Eventually the first floor is cleared, which leaves the second floor up next. The staircase holds surprisingly well when Nat trudges upstairs.
There’s a sudden thud. Nat jumps and shines her flashlight towards the noise. It lands on a tree branch smacking the window from outside. It moves and hits the window again. Another thud follows.
She frowns. Her patience is already wearing thin.
Every room in the house had a draft in it, so Nat begrudgingly shoves her thermometer in her pocket. She couldn’t rely on freezing temperatures to get a reading now and the UV light wasn’t proving helpful either. She hadn’t seen a single sign of ectoplasmic residue on the walls.
With no signs of activity after exploring half the house and little to no information on the entity, Nat considers she might've jumped the gun on this haunt.
She still has a few rooms to go though, so she decides to be thorough before cutting her losses.
As soon as she steps into the master bedroom she feels a shift in the air. It’s heavy, uncomfortably so.
That’s more like it.
Her flashlight hovers by her head as she raids through drawers and personal belongings hoping to find anything that’ll help her ping this ghost's identity. It only takes a minute before she finds a journal and immediately flips it open.
“Diary of Jackie Taylor,” she sniffs. Finally she has a name.
Well, it wouldn't hurt to look for more right?
She skims the pages for a few seconds and after briefly reading about Jackie’s scandalizing (boring) affair with one Jeffery Sadecki, Nat rolls her eyes and tosses the diary aside.
So her ghost is a prissy teenage girl.
"Big fuckin' whoop," Nat blows a strand of hair from her eyes.
Then, a vase flies past her face with a loud crash.
“What the fu-”
A book collides with her hand, knocking her flashlight away.
Another book flies at her. Then another. And another.
“Fuck!” Nat scrambles to the floor, hands over her head as she tries to chase the flashlight that’s rolling further and further towards the door.
Objects are flying all over the room, loud thuds followed by broken glass and faint whispering, if only Nat could make out any of the words over the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.
“Shit, fuck, fuck,” Nat pants as she finally stumbles out the door, her flashlight in hand. It slams shut behind her with as much attitude as a teenage ghost could muster.
Her chest rapidly rises and falls as she looks back at it.
Something sticky trickles down her forehead and despite the adrenaline rushing through her body, Nat feels a stinging sensation.
She touches her forehead and furrows her brows when she looks at her fingers.
Blood.
“Bitch actually got me,” she frowns.
“One point for Jackie Taylor!” a voice startles her and for the second time that night Nat jumps out of her skin.
There’s a feminine laugh as Nat clumsily tries to shine her light on the figure walking towards her. A head of frizzy blonde hair comes into view.
“Who the hell are you?” Nat sneers, already on edge from getting the thickest diary she’s ever seen thrown at her.
The woman before her adjusts her thick frames. Her eyes are comically large when they meet hers. Upon closer inspection the lenses seem modified.
Or maybe this lady’s just blind as shit.
“I should be asking you that,” she snorts. “I’m Misty Quigley!” a small hand suddenly shoots out to greet her.
Nat doesn't shake it.
Unperturbed, Misty continues. “I’m assuming we’re here for the same reason.”
“And that is?” Nat drawls. The longer she stays in this woman's presence the more anxious she feels.
“Ghost hunting!” she jumps excitedly.
Finding her resolve dwindling once again, Nat straightens up and crosses her arms. “Look, I don't know when you got here, but I already got this covered, so,” she waves her hand at her dismissively. “You can leave now.”
Misty scoffs. “Oh yeah, you're doing a great job. You know EMF readers don't work on Poltergeists right?” there’s a smug smile spreading across her face.
It feels like bait, some kind of test, and when Nat squints at her and instinctively glances down at her EMF reader she knows she’s failed it.
Ugh.
“Common mistake,” Misty shrugs. “I’m sure that device wouldn't have worked if it was another kind of entity anyway,” she lets out a grating laugh. “I didn't know people still used that model–”
“Alright, you smug little tumbleweed” Nat snaps, “I’m not giving up this haunt so either get out or I’ll make you get out.”
The last thing she needs right now is competition. She’ll be damned if this little freak messes with her money.
But Misty doesn't even flinch and Nat is almost impressed at this 5 foot woman’s audacity if it weren't for that irritatingly smug smile still on her face.
“I can help, you know!”
“What?”
“You're a hunter right?”
“Uh, yeah,” Nat drops her arms, unsure where this is going. Unsure if she even wants to know.
“I’m not!” she grins.
“Okay…?”
Misty adjusts her glasses and laughs, but Nat doesn't really see what's so funny right now.
“I’m what you might call a Demonologist,” she explains excitedly. “I study the occult and the like. I’m just here to collect data and observe activity.”
“So what exactly are you proposing here?” Nat raises a brow.
“Well,” Misty drawls, “Let’s partner up! I can help you identify and exorcise this ghost all the while gathering information on its behavior and the evidence it leaves behind. Also, I need the experience so… scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.” She laughs again.
Nat frowns and weighs her options. She could handle this on her own, she’s faced worse. Another person would just complicate things for her.
The hesitation must show on her face because Misty bounces on the heels of her feet and says, “If you say no I’m gonna follow you around anyway, you know that?” and by the glint in her eyes, Nat knows she’s not playing around.
Unblievable.
“Are you sure this isn’t about the reward?” Nat crosses her arms.
Misty tilts her head in the most puppy like manner and it’s almost cute. Almost.
“Reward?”
“There’s a bounty on this ghost.”
“Oh, I can work without payment. The research is a reward in itself!” Misty smiles.
Weirdo.
A ragged sigh slips past Nat’s lips. It wouldn't hurt to team up would it? Right?
God, the things I do for a paycheck.
There’s a brief moment of silence while they hold each other's gazes. Then Nat holds out her hand.
“I’m Natalie.”
Misty beams and quickly surges forward to shake it. “No last name?”
“If we survive the night, I might tell you,” she smirks. “I’m assuming you can hold your own in case it starts to hunt us, right?”
At this, Misty becomes surprisingly sheepish. “I have some crucifixes in the car, but honestly I’ve never exorcised or aggravated a spirit before, so…” she twiddles her thumbs.
Nat rolls her eyes. “Look, we can work together but honestly I can't guarantee your safety. I’d really rather not have anything happen to you while, uh, you know,” she gestures at nothing in particular. “So, are you a hundred percent sure you want to do this?”
Their eyes meet and Nat can see Misty process the weight of her words in real time. After a moment she responds with a short yet confident nod. “Yes, let’s do this.”
“Okay,” Nat suddenly feels a lot more at ease, enough for her lips to quirk up into a smile for just a second but only a second.
“Safety first though,” she nods towards the stairs. “Let’s get those crucifixes from your car.”
“Lead the way!”
Misty skips happily behind her, not catching the huff Nat lets out.
After a quick trip to Misty’s car (Nat blew raspberry when she saw the tiny Fiat pulled up next to her Porsche) they were back on track. Nat made sure to bring the salt gun and holstered it on her shoulder.
On the way back, Misty was able to catch her up on all the information she had dug up prior to coming here.
The ghost they were hunting was named Jackie Taylor, now confidently identified as a Poltergeist after Misty found traces of fingerprints with her Ecto Glasses. She also points out Poltergeists are known for throwing objects around when provoked, but for some reason Nat finds herself fixated on the fact Misty probably spent a small fortune on custom lenses that let her see ectoplasm.
“Wait, you’re telling me those goggles are actually modified with Ecto glass?” Nat almost cracks up. Misty either ignores this or doesn’t notice because she actually seems proud about it with the way she tilts her chin up.
“Laugh all you want but you can’t deny they saved your butt today,” she retorts.
Okay so she did notice.
“No, wait,” Nat lolls her head to the side as they walk back. “It’s kinda cool. Still dorky, but cool. ”
Misty hides a small smile and stops short of the front door. “Okay, so what’s the plan? I’ve read about how to exorcise spirits countless times, but I’ve never actually put it to use.”
“That’s fine, I’ve done it enough times,” Nat tosses a small item from her pocket towards Misty. “You’re gonna use this.”
“What is it?” She examines the small speaker.
“It’s called a spirit box, kinda like a walkie talkie for the undead. Press this button here when you want to speak to it,” Nat demonstrates. “First thing we’re gonna do is get her to manifest herself by using her name and then, you know, demanding she shows herself. The goal is to piss her off enough to make her appear.”
“What if she starts tossing things all around the room again?” Misty says.
“Uh, well, how’s the saying go? If at first you don’t succeed…?” Her voice isn’t as confident as she hoped, but Misty looks at her with these gleaming brown eyes like she absolutely believes Nat knows what she’s doing. And she does… most of the time.
Fuck, I hope this doesn’t go sideways.
She’s not used to partners, especially overly eager oddball researchers like Misty Quigley. This has always been a solo gig for her, but she promises herself she’ll try her best to keep her safe.
“When she does appear you’re gonna use the crucifix to protect yourself, okay? Keep it in front of you at all times. This will keep you safe,” she presses it to Misty’s chest and ignores the doe eyed look she gives her. “This only works once though, when she comes for you it’ll disintegrate but give you enough time to escape.”
“Wait, what do you mean when she comes for me?” she frowns.
Nat puckers her lips and twists them around a bit before explaining. “There is a slim chance it’ll hunt us once it manifests itself, but that’s where this comes in.” She pats the salt gun strapped to her back. “I’ll take the shot and exorcise her, you just gotta stay in front and keep the crucifix in front of us.”
She notices the confidence slowly drain from Misty’s stance now, how she fidgets from foot to foot as if she’s reconsidering the deal. Nat places a hand on her shoulder and tries to muster up the most reassuring expression she’s capable of. “Look, we’re… partners in this, Misty,” the word feels a little strange on her tongue. “I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine, and I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, okay?”
Wide brown eyes stare back at her suddenly swirling with renewed purpose. A wide toothy grin splits her face and she grips the items in her hands a little tighter. “I trust you,” she nods.
Okay, that was a little too easy.
Nat tries not to think about how weirdly close they are now and clears her throat when she steps back a bit. “Okay, cool,” she nods awkwardly. “Uh, you go first, I’ll be right behind you,” she slips the salt gun from her shoulder strap.
Misty treks forward with heavy footsteps. At some point during their walk back, Misty starts babbling about her research and the strange things she’s seen, going off on a tangent about her paranormal gadget collection and something else but truth be told Nat’s only half listening. She chalks up Misty’s inane chatter up to nerves so she indulges her just a little. When they reach the staircase Nat finally silences her.
“Keep your cool,” Nat says while they inch closer and closer to the master bedroom again. She opens the door for her and watches Misty slowly walk in, shotgun at the ready. Nat glances around the room and takes in the absolute mess of books, fabrics and shattered glass. “Nice one, Jackie,” she mutters to herself.
“What now?” Misty turns to her, crucifix in one hand and the spirit box in the other. “What do I say to it?”
“Ask her whatever you want, just use her name when you address her.”
Misty clears her throat and presses the button on the box.
“Jackie, are you in here with us?” She looks around the room. No response. “When did you die?” Silence. “Can you speak to me?” A few seconds pass and… nothing.
Until a loud wail makes them both jolt and somehow they end up back to back frantically glancing around the room. Somehow this response strengthens Misty’s motivation, an almost manic glee in her voice.
“Jackie, can you tell me something? Anything?”
“COLD.”
The voice is a loud rasp that echoes throughout the foundation of the house, it rattles the walls and shakes the already fragile window panes. The air feels suffocatingly thick and Nat thinks she might’ve broken a sweat now.
“Alright, Misty,” Nat breathes. “It’s time. Ask her to manifest herself.”
With a shaky breath, Misty holds up the spirit box once more.
“Jackie Taylor, manifest yourself!”
They both stare wide eyed around the room, waiting, panting, hearts beating rapidly as they prepare for this ungodly spirit to appear in front of them. Nothing follows. Nat adjusts her grip on the now sweaty salt gun.
C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.
Seconds pass and still no apparition.
Misty glances at her, “Should she have appeared by now?” she whispers.
“Maybe she’s got performance iss-”
Nat’s response is cut short by that same thunderous rasp from before.
“10.”
Oh, fuck.
“She’s counting down!” Nat yells and pulls Misty with her as she runs out the door.
“9.”
“What does that mean!”
“8.”
“She’s hunting!”
“7.”
If Nat’s sloppiness had never bitten her in the ass before it certainly did tonight, because God damn it, she really shouldn’t have left it up to chance that she’d be hunted and God damn it, she should’ve brought her own crucifix, because now her life is in the hands of this 5 foot blonde little nerd struggling behind her.
“6.”
Realizing they won’t make it to the exit in time, Nat pivots and aims the salt gun at the pitch black hallway they just ran through. Misty stumbles beside her with wide eyes and hair even wilder than before. “Wh-what are you doing?” she stammers, crucifix at the ready. They’re both walking backwards slowly, still facing the hall.
“5.”
“We’re not gonna get out in time,” Nat breathes heavily through her nose. “We need to do this now.” She meets Misty’s gaze and there’s silent understanding on Misty’s part.
“4.”
She steps in front of Nat and tries to quell the trembling of her hands, quietly muttering some sardonic quip about the things she does in the name of research and pretty women. Nat can barely register anything other than the sound of her own heart and the sight down the barrel of her salt gun.
“3.”
A steady breath.
“2.”
Finger on the trigger.
“1.”
The hunt was on.
Several objects began flying about the house in an angry flurry. Jackie was throwing a supernatural tantrum but Nat kept her gaze focused solely ahead. She’ll be damned if she doesn’t finish the job and get them out safely.
“Natalie?” Misty’s voice trembles.
“Right behind you,” Nat speaks up. “Just stay focused.”
The whirlwind doesn’t stop and suddenly the lights begin to flicker. It doesn’t throw her off until she catches the briefest glimpse of their beloved Poltergeist Jackie Taylor, face gaunt with eyes hollowed out in her skull. She flickers in and out with the light and Nat realizes Misty must see her too by the way she’s almost tripping over her own feet.
“We’re nearing the entrance, she’s gonna rush us the second we’re close enough,” Nat warns her. She doesn’t mention that they’re about 10 feet from the front door now.
“Rush us?” Misty squawks.
And true to her word, a guttural groan rattles the floorboards before the spirit picks up speed and surges towards them.
Misty yelps and quickly shoves the heavy crucifix forward with all her might, which is surprisingly a lot for her tiny hands. It disintegrates almost immediately, buying Nat a few precious seconds to cock the salt gun and aim it at the now weakened ghost. Misty is paralyzed and can only watch as Nat pulls the trigger.
In a blink, the gun bucks back against Nat’s shoulder and the spirit evaporates, leaving behind a pile of ash and an ungodly wail that rattles Misty’s bones in a way she’ll never forget.
The dust settles and there’s a heavy silence that follows the exorcism.
“And one point for Nat Scatorccio,” she chuckles quietly.
The quiet spell is broken by the sound of high pitched manic laughter. Misty doubles over, clutching her stomach. Her smile is all pearly white teeth, small and sharp and weirdly charming. Nat can’t help but let out another laugh. She knows it’s the adrenaline high, this weird charged energy between them. The air feels electric when they both step out onto the porch, giddy and victorious.
But clarity hits Nat momentarily and she runs back in the house. She crouches down to sift through Jackie’s ghostly remains.
Misty is behind her, she notices she stops at the doorway and doesn’t step back in, only watching her. “What are you doing?” She's sobered up a bit, but still wired.
“Gotta collect a token or I won’t get the reward,” Nat says. “They drop one most of the time. There we go. Got it.” She holds up a gold necklace with a heart shaped pendant. She glances over at the rest of the dust pile. “Do you want to, uh, collect a sample or something?” she gestures towards it. “I’d do it quickly, there’s always a chance these things come back.”
“Oh, God, no thank you,” Misty giggles. “I’ve got enough samples. Right now I just need a hot bath. I don’t know if I’ll even get any sleep tonight.”
Nat arches a brow. “Nightmares?”
“Ha! As if. I just have so much data I need to log when I get back. I learned so much today!” Misty replies so casually, Nat would’ve thought the woman didn’t just spend the past 15 minutes fighting for her life.
“Anyone ever told you how weird you are, Quigley?” she smirks. The suns rising now, she can see it in the reflection of those thick ass glasses.
“Occasionally,” Misty smiles, suddenly bashful.
Maybe partners aren’t so bad…
“Listen, uh-”
“Well, this was-”
They both fumble over each other’s sentences and Nat physically cringes, but Misty is still smiling. “You first,” Nat offers.
“Oh! I was just gonna say tonight has been a very eye opening experience,” she giggles. “If you ever need anything like information or resources or… whatever really, here’s how to reach me. ”
She untucks a business card from her wallet and holds it out to Nat. She takes it and suppresses a scoff at the eccentric designs surrounding Misty’s contact information.
She slips it into her pocket before opening the door to her car. “I don’t have a fancy business card to give you or anything, but I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”
A lie. Maybe.
“Oh, okay!” Misty perks up. “It was nice working together! Maybe we-”
“See ya, Quigley,” Nat says nothing else as she slips into the cool leather of the driver’s seat. The engine revs loudly and once she presses on the gas, she’s kicking up dust in the wind within seconds. She adjusts her mirror and notices in the growing distance there’s still a pair of big brown eyes watching her leave.
Big maybe.