VOICES IN THE GHOST LIGHT is a classic paranormal mystery, driven by the trauma-informed internal narratives of its two protagonists, unlikely allies in a struggle to understand and resolve a chaotic and violent multiple haunting in an old Victorian home in San Francisco.
James Hatch, a man teetering on the edge of homelessness, takes envelopes of cash in exchange for using his gift to deal with frightening things in the city's oldest and grandest houses. Psychologist Ellen Perry alone in her father's home after his year-long battle with terminal illness, finds herself surrounded by increasingly alarming paranormal activity. A local Catholic priest gives her James' number saying, "He might be able to help."
The psychologist daughter of alcoholic parents and a man mis-diagnosed and institutionalized by psychologists since boyhood, struggle to resolve a dangerous mystery rooted in the long history of the city itself.
Voices in the Ghost Light is the second in Greene's James Hatch series. The first novel is titled Dance of the Hanged Man.
Excerpt:
The four men stood across from them. The basement light behind them cast their faces into shadow. James glanced at Ellen. She was looking at the men. She was smiling, a wicked smile punctuated by the red blood streaming down from her temple. Why is she smiling? he thought.
One of the men glanced back over his shoulder seeing nothing but an empty basement. But some instinct had warned him. Some small awareness had caused him to look back. One of the other men put his hand to the side of his head absent mindedly, as if there was some discomfort.
Moments passed as the four men gathered themselves for what they meant to do next. The light behind them made it hard to see their expressions, but something was relayed in their postures, in the way their heads turned slightly away. Why? they seemed to be thinking. Why is she smiling like that?
Then Ellen's hand reached out and took James' and he knew. The moment her hand contacted his, the pressure in his head was gone. He felt her hand as it held his, rising and lowering with the rhythm of her deep breathing. She was leaning slightly forward, anticipating. It was not fear. It was the breathing of a feral animal.
He turned away from her to look back at the men. Beyond them, standing silent, rank on rank, the basement was crowded with figures, diamond-sharp figures cut out of night shadow, silhouettes forming a small army, extending for hundreds of feet beyond where he knew the back wall of the basement to be.
He looked back at Ellen, shocked at the magnitude of what she had created. Of what they had created. The man with the gun raised his pistol. Then, abruptly, his arms fell to his sides. He turned towards the back of the basement, made it a few steps, and collapsed. The other three dropped to their knees, still facing Ellen and James.
"Oh my god," one of them said quietly. Then the four men started screaming.
