Footsteps of Angels (Marietta Book 2)

by M. L. Bullock

  Where would he find wood? Oddly enough, there wasn’t much on the ground. No branches or limbs. Jemima and Kitty picked the place clean earlier apparently. But there should be something here, something they could burn. He could not let the fire go out in this vast blackness. Too many ne’er-do-wells out this way. That’s what they said at the fort.

  Biloxi was a gambling town, not that he saw much in the way of a town but gamblers…he knew their kind. Mostly gamblers were losers. They’d sell their mother’s souls for the next card game. What would they do to him and his family if they believed he had something valuable? He didn’t want to imagine that but people like that had no moral compass. Not at all. And that the fact that he was half black, it didn’t always help in these situations. He didn’t mind being black, he was a proud black man but there were a lot of bigots roaming the hills.

  It was a fact of life.

  “This isn’t right,” he mumbled to himself as he stalked around hoping to find wood. Why was it so sparse when there were two large swathes of woods? He didn’t go too deep into the forest, he wanted to keep an eye on his family, but he desperately wanted to find fuel. Being here in the dark, the idea of getting lost in these strange woods, made him sick to his stomach.

  Adam would never tell his wife this but the longer they were here, the more anxious he became. It was not a good feeling. It was as if the ground had been picked clean and swept by others.

  Other ill-fated travelers.

  Ill fated? What was wrong with him? He didn’t usually behave like this. He was not one to be nervous about the darkness or the woods, but he was practically in tears and feeling desperate.

  Desperate times called for desperate measures. He’d read that before. In an old book by some philosopher whose name he’d forgotten. That was something at least. He knew how to read, thanks to his grandfather. Wonder what his Papa would think about this situation?

  Adam glanced over his shoulder, as if someone would see him do the unthinkable. “Go away,” he whispered to whomever might be watching him for indeed they were being watched. Every move, every step. Watched. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  The man stood still in the fragrant woods, but the feeling began to dissipate. He no longer felt as if he were being threatened or watched. He breathed a sigh of relief. In the moonlight he could see fairly well despite the trees but there was no ground clutter. No broken branches or limbs.

  Desperate measures…

  He had to do this. “Forgive me,” he said quietly as he grabbed the shaft of a pole and easily removed it from the ground. The ancient structure fell apart and he collected all the wood. There were no visible remains, obviously they had been collected long ago but this had been someone’s burial spot. Some brave warrior, a beloved family member, a chief perhaps. But he needed the wood. He gathered it all up ignoring the musty smell of the cloth strips that remained stuck to the dry wood.

  Immediately upon collecting the bundle of odd sticks and fabric his teeth began chattering. Adam scurried out of the woods like his pants were on fire.

  Jemima did not stir, and he was thankful. He tossed the wood onto the fire praying that his wife would not wake up and drill him with questions.

  He warmed his hands by the fire but even hanging out by the flames didn’t stop the chattering. He carefully added the remainder of the items to the fire.

  In fact, he got colder. Much colder. His teeth chattered loudly, so loudly he thought he would wake his wife and daughter. He eyed Jemima again but she didn’t move. Now he wished she would. He wanted her to be by his side. He was supposed to protect her, but he was not feeling confident. Could he protect his family?

  Should he wake her up? Should he try to lie down himself? No, that was impossible now. Footsteps. He heard footsteps all around him. Light steps, like moccasins, not boots.

  Before he could call Jemima, the ground began to shake.

  Chapter Seven—Carrie Jo

  “That was intense, Ashland. Really intense.” My body shook, a residue of the intense dream walk. My body responded like that when the dream was intense--or evil. Perhaps with the added fuel from Ashland’s abilities we’d stepped too deeply into the paranormal realm. I sometimes forgot how strong my husband’s abilities were. He liked playing them down and was always content to let me shine. But honestly, I was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t passed me up in a paranormal sense. Still, he didn’t enjoy dream walking. He’d rather talk to the dead then step back in time.

  “Ash, baby, are you okay?” He was sitting on the ground with a stunned expression on his handsome face. His blue eyes were red, as if he’d been crying. Maybe it was the heat. It had gotten quite warm out here this afternoon. He ran his hands through his damp hair.

  “Yeah, I am fine. Why would he take down that burial structure? It wasn’t that cold. It wasn’t like they really needed that fire. They had enough to cook a meal and stay warm. He had to know he was only inviting trouble.”

  Rachel squatted down between us; the camera pointed in our direction. I hoped she didn’t film us on our dream walk when I asked her not to. “Who? What did y’all see? Someone disrespected the boneyard? Desecrated a burial structure? Did you see the grim? What? Don’t leave me hanging, guys.”

  Gathering my composure, I asked her to put the camera down. She begrudgingly complied and I explained to her what we witnessed. A young pioneer family traveling through Biloxi to parts unknown. I told her how desperation drove Adam to make that poor decision, and fear. It had to be fear but how that ended, we couldn’t say. The dream ended before we had the chance to see what else would happen.

  Yes, he disrespected the burial grounds by dismantling the structure. The ground shaking that occurred before the dream door closed, reminded me of what Mary experienced when she visited the boneyard. Rachel believed a grim could be stalking this place but what we saw, led me to believe that it could it be a Native American protector lashing out. We talked amongst ourselves, despite the biting flies and darkening skies. Finally, we were breaking through and getting some answers, but I wasn’t satisfied with the little bit we’d seen.

  I felt electric.

  I didn’t want to complain, and I sure wouldn’t tell Ashland, but he’d been the one to break the walk. The dream door was still open--wide open, and it was waiting for me. I had to walk again but this time I wanted to walk solo.

  Alone.

  “I need to go back, guys. Just for a few minutes. Adam wants to show us what he did, Ashland. He wants help. You know he does. You saw him first. If he’s still here--and I believe he is--he might be willing to show us the rest of his encounter.”

  Ashland glanced around the boneyard as if he were hoping to see a reason why he should refuse to agree with me. But we were beyond that. Past the point of no return.

  To his credit, he was as curious as I was, and Heather needed us to figure all this out. As things currently stood, it wasn’t completely safe here or at least not comfortable. Not in the boneyard, not inside Marietta. Ugh. This spirit was biding its time. It would make a move soon. Nothing and no one would be able to keep it out. Eventually, nothing would stop it from breaching the house. Not spells or incantations, salt, or sage. This thing was near ancient. But which thing? The Native American or the grim? Or something else?

  Suddenly, my ears began to ring. I was not one to suffer from tinnitus, but the ringing persisted. The ringing became so loud it almost took my breath away. Then the whispering started. The voices of dozens of people were talking, threatening, spewing out hateful things. It made me feel sick.

  “This is so weird. Voices, Ashland. Guys! Can’t you hear them?” I asked as my heart began to race.

  Both Rachel and Ashland shook their heads. These voices, they were coming from the dream world. They were calling to me. I could hear them say my name over and over again.

  Carrie Jo, please. Come, Carrie Jo.

  “I need to dream walk again. I don’t know what’s happening. They were provoked, Ashla
nd. The grim and the protector. They were both provoked. It’s not just a grim here. Not just a protector. They really had nothing to do with one another. It is something else. Something we are missing. I need to confirm that.”

  Ashland shook his head in disbelief. “Are you saying that there is another spirit here in the boneyard? Are you prepared to deal with that? Let me go with you. I can do it. Just give me a second, okay?”

  “I think I need to do this walk solo, babe. I’m going to be fine. This is what I do, remember?”

  He kissed my cheek but didn’t say he agreed with me.

  “Imagine how the Native Americans feel? They were here long before the settlers. Having the grim here would tick them off. One would think, right? And now we’re talking about another instigator?” Rachel took another picture, this time of the boneyard.

  Ashland nodded but his eyes were blinking erratically. It was kind of a tic of his, proof that his psychic wheels were turning. And that potentially, the effects of his old illness had returned. “Yeah, possibly but we need to be sure how this all works. The ghosts have vanished with the dream. I can’t see anything now. I guess you’re right. I don’t think I could do a dream walk again.”

  Dusting the leaves off my bottom, I stood on my feet and wiped my hands together. “There’s no shame in your game, Ashland Stuart. I can do this. Let me walk while the veil is still thin.”

  “I hate seeing you disappear right before my eyes. It freaks me out and I always worry,” Ashland confessed as he took my hand. I squeezed his hand to reassure him and then released it.

  “I’d expect no less from you. But I am not a newbie, Ash. I’ve done this about a hundred times. I’ll walk back to Adam and I promise I won’t stay long.”

  “I agree with her,” Rachel added. “We need to strike while the iron is hot. I mean, I wish I could go with you, but I’d be less than useless. Hey, can I film you?” I frowned at her.

  “Seriously, Rachel? You want to film me dream walk?”

  “Please? I won’t share it with anyone. It would just be for me. For my own studies. I could compare it to other evidence I have. Wouldn’t you like to know if there were other dream walkers out there? People you could network and work with them?”

  She made it sound reasonable but how could she ask me that? I didn’t want to think negatively about my friend but her involvement with the Brotherhood bothered me. And now she wanted to film me? David warned us about the group, but Rachel continued to engage with mystical group. They were a strange, secretive organization that studied the supernatural, but they were too sneaky for my taste.

  “No, Rachel. I don’t agree with that. Please respect my privacy. I don’t want to see myself on YouTube.”

  Her crestfallen expression spoke volumes. “I would never do that. If you say no, it’s a no.” Rachel put the camera down and stood with us. “How can I help you?”

  “I am going to take a walk. That’s it.” I hugged Rachel to let her know I had no hard feelings, but I made a mental note to talk with her later. We needed to put this Brotherhood thing to rest. I squeezed Ashland’s hand and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right over there.” I tilted my head toward the back side of the boneyard. “That’s where they were, Adam, Jemima and Kitty. I should be able to reconnect with them quite easily.”

  “Sounds good, CJ. We’ll be here but don’t take risks. You know the rules. Don’t interact with them. Don’t make contact. I know you know all this, but I worry.” Ashland confessed with his hand on my shoulder. He had every right to be worried. The last time I interacted with the past it nearly cost him his life. The rules for dream walking were simple.

  Change the past, you change the present. And sometimes the future. My job was to witness and observe. Not prevent tragedy or change the course of history. Time didn’t like to be tinkered with. No matter how tragic the event, how heartbreaking the scenario, the Universe didn’t appreciate my hands working in its magic.

  “Ashland, you better believe that I am not taking chances. I haven’t forgotten what happened. And I haven’t forgotten I am not alone.” I casually but briefly rubbed my tiny belly. The baby wasn’t moving around at the moment. She had been much more active in recent days. I pushed fear out of my mind. Fear that I was putting our baby in danger.

  Why? Dream walking didn’t involve anything dangerous, no drugs. No hallucinogens. Just a little faith in my abilities.

  “Go, take your walk. I’ll be here waiting.”

  “Okay, guys,” I smiled at them confidently and headed to the tree line. The ringing in my ears stopped and so did the threats. Everything got quiet. So strange. My eyes scanned the tree line. I fixed my vision on one tree. Just one. And then one branch, and then one leaf. I kept my gaze fixed, just like I’d been taught.

  Yes, I heard the spirits before I saw them. A soft mumbling. Chanting. I discerned that it wasn’t evil. It wasn’t threatening me but unfortunately, this was not Adam Crossley. Not his wife and child. I almost turned back.

  No, Carrie Jo. Keep your eyes on the leaf. See how pretty and green it is? The sunlight was shining through it making it even brighter.

  “Adam? Jemima?” I whispered hopefully. It did no good. This wasn’t what I had planned, not what I intended. I continued to focus and then time began to slip away, it changed. The honey hued dream world swallowed me up. I saw things through the familiar sepia filter for the first few minutes.

  The air smelled sweeter. Purer. The grass was soft beneath my bare feet. Where did my shoes go?

  Flute music filled the air. It sounded hypnotic. Sweet, melodic. There was also the soft tapping of drums. The sound welcomed me. This wasn’t war music; this was a protective spell. Someone was doing their best to protect this holy ground.

  Yes, it was both holy and sacred.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  And just like that, the air shifted. The dull honey hue blurred my vision. I reminded myself that this was normal. The first few minutes of a dream walk made me feel uncomfortable, but it always faded.

  No, I wasn’t alone. There was a man with me. He was watching me, his black, sparkling eyes curious and assessing. He was bare chested but strong despite his age. The man had a regality about him, yes, that was the word. He shone with otherworld beauty, but he was old as anyone I’d ever met. Probably older than I could guess. It did not diminish him at all. He was a force to be reckoned with. It would be important to let him know right from the beginning that I came in peace. I had no desire to go to war with this man. Unlike other ghosts, he knew I was here. He knew without me doing or saying a word. He knew many things except why I’d come.

  The sepia lens lifted and the air brightened. Then it darkened. It was night here. The stars sparkled above us, and I saw familiar alignments like the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper. I smelled wood burning, the fragrance of charred meat and a plethora of herbs. Some herbs recognized, some I did not.

  Why are you here?

  Oh boy. Don’t interact, don’t interact. That’s the rule, right? But this was different. What would Ashland do? He’d do the same thing, I was certain. The old man was in tune with the dream world, and I felt an odd kinship with him even though I had no idea who he might be, except one of the dead who rested here. Maybe a chief? Could he be the protector? Well, he’d addressed me and I had to answer him. What else could I do except run back to my own time? How would that look?

  “The lady in the house asked me to come. Her name is Heather. She is afraid because of what is happening here. I am a dream walker.”

  Go your way, dream walker. This does not involve you. Go in peace.

  “But my friend is afraid. She asked me to come speak to you.” He said nothing but stared at me, his intelligent eyes blinking slowly as he assessed me. Through squinted eyes he studied me as he pulled on his long pipe. I felt compelled to continue making my case.

  “There is something dwelling here in the boneyard. It has been here a long time and it is getting stronger. You must know that.
It has stolen the peace of this place. Has Heather done something to disturb those that rest here?”

  Go, dream walker. The ancient dead must rest in peace or they will rise. Yes, evil things were done here, wanderer. Many things. Leave while you can.

  “What is your name? My name is Carrie Jo.” I thumped on my chest; my hands moved through the air in slow motion. So strange. Yes, it was so strange here in this time between times.

  Yes, we are between times. I have no name. None that you would understand.

  His mouth did not move as he puffed on his long pipe but his voice I heard in my mind. Perfectly. Without fear. I experienced no fear in his presence. But it didn’t mean I wasn’t in danger. I smelled the delicious scent of tobacco. No, he was not going to tell me his name. He was not obligated to do so. I had no idea on how to compel him.

  “Nobody wants to harm you. Nobody here or in the house wants to hurt you. Whatever happened before, it has nothing to do with my friend. If you are at war with another spirit, I can help. I have helped others before.”

  Harm has been done. We have not forgotten. I am the Watcher. I have been awakened and I will not rest until all have been punished.

  Drums began tapping slightly. The soft honey-hued air around me shifted. The man’s dark eyes peered into mine as he stepped closer. Was he forcing me to leave? Yes, he wanted me to go, the drums made him stronger.

  “My friend has done no harm! Please, listen to me!”

  Her blood testifies against her.

  I staggered back a half step but pushed against the invisible wall he was building against me. I didn’t sense hostility but there would be no reasoning with him. He had one purpose and just the one.

  Go from here!

  He shook his staff before pounding the feathered cover stick on the ground leaving me breathless.