The Cat, the Crow, and the Cauldron: A Halloween Anthology

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The Cat, the Crow, and the Cauldron: A Halloween Anthology Page 21

by Joe DeRouen


  “Maybe he didn’t get away with the bullying, Marisa.” Alex turned his head to meet her tearful gaze, his face twisted. He could have been an avenging angel, passing sentence on sinners. “What if his actions gashed as great a wound in his psyche as his victims? It sounds like he struggles with the guilt today for transgressions he can’t undo or fix.”

  “I never thought about it that way.” Marisa examined his words, turning them over in her mind as carefully as an archeologist inspecting a new discovery. She packed them away for later testing and analysis.

  “Regardless, Tommy, you’re a drug dealer,” Marisa stated, “and you killed your father. But you didn’t kill Scrapper.”

  Around the room, people straightened in surprise. As the fire crackled in the fireplace, voices rose in speculation.

  Marisa turned. “She’s trying to shield someone else. Someone she’d wronged.”

  Panicked, Dovie struggled to rise. “Stop it! You have the murderer!”

  “It was Brittany,” Marisa stated. “Scrapper told her he’d named her his life insurance beneficiary. That lovely money was her ticket to freedom. She sneaked into the garage, where Scrapper was working. She’d lived there for three years. She knew how to work the hoist mechanism. All it took was a flick of a button.”

  Brittany leaped to her feet, knocking over her chair. “You’re crazy!”

  “I examined your head, Brittany.” Marisa rose. “There’s not a scratch on it. Not a bump, not a bruise, not even a red spot. You got the bartender’s clothes wet in the snow, or you poured water on them. Then, you stowed them back where you found them. You got the key, and you went outside. You faked the attack to take the suspicion off yourself. Your mother looked at your head, too, although you tried to push her away. Dovie put the pieces together.”

  Brittany reached into her purse, and pulled out a gun.

  Everyone screamed. Chairs fell over as people hastily backed away from her.

  “But why did Britt say all that stuff about her mom and her mom’s boyfriend? She wouldn’t torque off her mom, if her mother knew she’d killed Scrapper.” Poss jerked a step nearer Brittany. His face was set, and his arms akimbo.

  “Brittany was offering a quid pro quo,” Marisa interjected, hoping to distract Brittany from Poss’ movements. “She was offering forgiveness for what her mother had done, if her mother kept her secret. Dovie went even further. To make up for her part in her son’s death, she offered up Tommy as the perfect scapegoat. Dovie knew he’d already killed once. He might as well take the blame for Scrapper’s death, too.”

  Poss slid a step closer. “How could you, Britt? Scrapper loved you like a daughter. He tried his best to give you a good life.”

  “His best wasn’t good enough.” Brittany shot Poss pointblank.

  The onlookers screamed. As one, they stampeded to the door. Cold air and snow swirled in their wake.

  His face twisted in horror and disbelief, Poss staggered. As if in slow motion, he fell to the floor.

  “That wasn’t very nice, Britt.” Dovie scolded, kneeling next to the injured man. She unwound her ratty scarf, and pressed it to his bleeding chest.

  Marisa pivoted toward the wounded man.

  “Stop, bitch.” Brittany pointed the gun at Marisa’s heart. “It’s your fault. It would have worked, if it hadn’t been for you.”

  Marisa felt Alex rise next to her. She knew he’d always have her back, no matter what. They’d stand together, facing evil. Without looking, she reached out. He took her hand. He jerked, pushing her behind him. “Hey! I won’t hide behind you, Alex!”

  He was savage. “Be quiet!”

  Brittany screeched, “Move! I don’t want to shoot you! Just her!” She moved to the side, trying to get a clear shot at Marisa. She pulled the trigger. A lamp mounted on the wall near Marisa’s head exploded, sending glass flying.

  Alex shoved Marisa toward the door. “Run!”

  She whirled back. “I’m not leaving you, Alex!”

  Brittany smiled. “Then die together.”

  Alex upended the table, and held it in front of him and Marisa like a shield.

  Her smile widened. “Cheap plywood is not bulletproof.”

  Alex squeezed Marisa. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Brittany took a step back, one eye sighting down the barrel of her gun. She took another backward step.

  Brittany fell against the coffin. She screamed as it teetered on the stand. Finally, the heavy wooden casket crashed to the floor. Flailing and scrabbling, she tried to keep her balance. She fell on the casket. The coffin rocked to the side, the lid flying open. The upper part of the dead man fell out, hitting the floor. His limp arm lolled on the floor. The gun in his dead hand fired once.

  Alex leaped. He reached for the gun in Scrapper’s hand. He looked over his shoulder. “Brittany’s down! Run outside with the others!”

  “Like hell!” She darted to his side.

  He held the gun on the motionless body, the magenta hair garish against the dark plank floor. “Help her up, Marisa.”

  Marisa shook her head. “She’s dead, Alex. The bullet from Scrapper’s gun got her right between the eyes.”

  Alex lowered the gun. He drew Marisa close.

  Dovie screeched. “You killed her!” She threw herself on her daughter’s body, sobbing.

  Marisa allowed Alex to pull her away from the dead woman. “Scrapper loved that girl. He would be appalled if he knew what had happened.”

  “I don’t think so, Marisa. Scrapper picked up wounded animals. Many of them he nursed back to health, and released in the wild. I think he knew when they were too wounded to survive.”

  “Alex, are you saying he knew Brittany was too scarred by what her mother did to make it in the world? That he knew Brittany flipped the switch in the garage? And then he made the hard decision to… put her down?”

  “Remember what Tommy said at the store? With his dying breath, Scrapper begged to be buried with his gun. The last thing he said was ‘it’s my fault’. I believe Brittany talked to him before she crushed him. He knew what she’d done, and he wanted to be ready for the hard decision.”

  “He used his gun one last time, to euthanize a wounded animal he loved with all of his heart.” Marisa put her head on Alex’s shoulder. Tears flowed down her cheeks.

  Alex touched her wet face. “They’ll have to change his nickname from Scrapper to Dead Eye.”

  About the Author

  Jada Ryker is the author of Dog Days of Karma, the first Carr – Maah Consulting mystery/paranormal novel; A Pink Zombie, with a Mist, a Shaken, Not Stirred, mystery/horror adventure; and Murder Takes a Dare, the first book in the Takes a Dare mystery series. The books combine humor and murder in a total package of entertaining and fun southern adventures. At the same time, Jada sketches in addiction/recovery issues and ghosts of her own childhood angst with a deft and compassionate touch.

  Jada spent the first twenty-odd years of her life in rural Kentucky, many of those years without electricity or running water. In her writings, Jada draws upon her early years of deprivation.

  Now, she lives in central Kentucky with her wonderful husband and their cat, rescued from the animal shelter. In her day job, Jada works in higher education. She holds a masters degree in public administration.

  AUTHOR LINKS:

  Jada loves to hear from her readers. Connect with Jada:

  Email: Jada's Email

  Amazon Author Page (browse the books and purchase at will): Jada's Author Page on Amazon

  Website: Jada's Website

  Goodreads: Jada's Profile on Goodreads

  Facebook: Contact Jada on Facebook

  Beauty and the Beast

  Jalpa Williby

  What she wouldn’t do to end the pain. Once and for all. Sure, she had kept herself busy all these years, and even forced herself to go out with people. On most days, she was able to pull it off. She was eating, sleeping, holding a job, and hell, even paying her bills on time.


  It had been almost five years since she had lost her family. Her entire family was wiped out in that fire. She remembered that night clearly—especially since it haunted her dreams every single day and night.

  At the age of eighteen, she used to be a rebel. Even when her mom would beg her not to hang out at night, she normally didn’t come back home until three in the morning. She was carefree, had no desire to go to college, and heavy into drugs back then.

  She remembered it like it was yesterday.

  Tori and Ryan begged her to stay home to play cards with them.

  “Please, Kelsey,” Ryan said. “You never play with us. We’ll have fun.” He was seven at the time, full of life and mischief.

  Tori, her eleven year old sister chimed in. “Yeah, Kelsey. We hardly see you anymore. We used to have so much fun when we hung out together. Can’t you just stay one night?”

  Kelsey put her lipstick on and frowned down at her siblings. “Sorry, I got plans. I’m not wasting my Friday night playing cards.”

  As she was leaving, her mom followed her to the door. “Kelsey, please don’t go. We really miss you around here. Besides, I could use some more help from you.”

  Kelsey remembered shrugging her shoulders and flicking her hair back while she kept walking. “Look, Mom, it’s Halloween. That means there are lots of Halloween parties. I’m sorry you got diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I’m sorry your husband died. There’s nothing I can do about it. Just because you’re now confined to your wheelchair, doesn’t mean I have to stop my life. I’ll see you later.”

  Those were her last words to her mother—the mother who had worked hard every single day to help provide a better life for her children.

  Now, standing on the ledge, she shuddered, not sure if it was from the chill of the night or the torturous memories. She stared down below, the ground a few hundred feet away. Instead of being afraid, a sense of peace encased her. It would be so easy to end it now. All of the pain would go away. Then, maybe she could find her family again.

  No matter how much she resisted, her thoughts drifted back to the dreaded night again.

  After partying, she came home drunk to find the apartment complex swallowed in flames. When the realization hit her, she attempted to run into the fire to save her family. But, they held her back, restraining her.

  “My family is in there! Let me go!” she screamed.

  “I’m sorry. You can’t go. We’ll do the best we can to help them.”

  But they couldn’t save them. Her mom, brother, and sister died in that fire. Kelsey watched helplessly as her world ended within a split of a second.

  The guilt ate her up all these years. Maybe if she was home, she could have saved them. Ryan and Tori were so young…too young. They were good kids, always helping their mom. They did what Kelsey didn’t do. Where Kelsey had failed, they had shined.

  She didn’t deserve to live. They all had begged her to stay home that night, but she was selfish. She had wanted to have her fun, and her last words to them were cruel. It would have been impossible for her mother to help them. How could she? She was dependent on her wheelchair. But that didn’t mean she didn’t try. Knowing her mom, she would have done everything in her power to save her babies. If Kelsey had been there, maybe she could have brought them to safety. If nothing else, at least she would have been with them to hold them in her arms.

  Their bodies were found in a corner of Ryan’s room. They were all together, probably holding each other. Somehow, Mom and Tori had found a way to reach Ryan so he wouldn’t be alone and scared.

  As the memories tortured her, Kelsey took a deep, shaky breath, and the tears streamed down her face. It was a wonder she found the strength to keep going. She’d cleaned herself up and even attended the community college. Her history professor at the time had encouraged her to apply at the art museum for a job. Luckily, with his reference, Kelsey had gotten a part time job and earned her associate degree.

  In the last five years at her job, Kelsey moved up to management level. One of the perks was having the keys to the museum to come and go as she pleased. On nights that were especially tough, Kelsey found herself on the rooftop of the museum, sitting on the ledge.

  Here, in some strange way, she found peace occasionally. Kelsey wiped her tears and leaned back to rest her back on the statue of the gargoyle. Instead of feeling a cold, hard stone, for a brief second, Kelsey felt warm, strong body. Startled, she whirled around to find the stone gargoyle staring back at her. Immediately, Kelsey tapped on the statue. Shaking her head, she chuckled under her breath. She must really be losing her mind.

  Kelsey stood back up and hugged her jacket close to her. It seemed winter had come early this year. The wind was really picking up, and she knew she should start heading home. She had contemplated jumping off the ledge many times, but never had the courage to go through with it. Putting that thought away, she strolled toward the stairs. Tom, her kitty, was probably hungry. At times, Kelsey truly believed if it weren’t for the fact that Tom needed her, she probably would have ended her life long ago.

  Tom had snuck into her life soon after the loss of her family. When she was walking home from college, the black and white stray simply followed her to her apartment. No matter how much Kelsey had tried to shoo him away, he insisted she took him home with her. Since it was especially cold that evening, Kelsey didn’t have the heart to turn him away. Tom had become her best buddy for the last five years.

  Kelsey wrapped the jacket tighter and headed down the narrow staircase. It was already past midnight, and tomorrow was another day. She needed to wake up to get to work by six in the morning. From her calculation, that meant she would get about four hours of sleep. This was nothing new for Kelsey. In a way, she preferred it, especially since her nights were filled with terrifying screams of her family while the fire consumed them.

  Shivering, Kelsey quickened her pace when she reached the street. Since she lived only six blocks away, she always walked home. Walking in the pitch dark didn’t scare her. As a matter of fact, she welcomed it, preferring the solitude of the night.

  But with the chill of the wind slicing her face, Kelsey moved faster. She wasn’t particularly fond of the bitter cold temperature, and by then, she just wanted to get home. Annoyed she still had her work shoes on, she cursed herself for not wearing her snow boots.

  Kelsey knew she was in trouble when her foot slipped. She was unable to stop the fall and landed hard on the iced sidewalk. Because her arms were extended to try to break the fall, she instantly heard the crack in her right wrist.

  “Damn it!” she screamed as the sharp pain radiated up her arm. Not only did she hurt her wrist, she knew she messed up her ankle as well. Her right ankle twisted as she was on her way down. Taking deep breaths to ignore the pain, and to calm her nerves, Kelsey tried to move her ankle. She moaned in pain when she realized it was useless.

  When she was able to finally think somewhat rationally, she knew she couldn’t just sit on this remote street in the middle of the night. She needed to call for help. Kelsey bit her lower lip in frustration when she remembered she had left her cell phone back in her apartment. She had a death wish, and she purposefully made reckless choices like these without even realizing.

  Freezing by then, Kelsey decided that she had no option but try to limp the last two blocks home, pain or not. Maybe she could just hop on one foot. Taking a deep breath and bracing herself for the pain, Kelsey pushed up with all her might to stand on her good leg. Immediately, she felt light-headed from the anticipation of knowing she’d need to put the other foot down. Kelsey already knew her wrist was broken, but she couldn’t worry about that right now. She just needed to get home, and then get some help.

  Clenching her jaw, Kelsey stepped forward with her right leg. As soon as it touched the ground, the intensity of the pain resulted in her collapsing back down the icy, cement ground.

  “Stupid, stupid Kelsey!” she moaned to herself. What was she going to
do now? There were no houses around since she always used the back alleys to get to and from work. “Now you’ll finally get your wish and freeze to death out here. You’ll die a slow painful death!” Kelsey continued to scold herself, lost as to what her next step should be. If she wasn’t so cold and desperate, she’d probably be able to laugh at her situation.

  “Do you need help?” The masculine voice right next to her startled Kelsey into screaming. She flung her head up to see a dark-haired man with brown eyes staring down at her.

  “Are you hurt, miss? Why are you on the ground? Can I help you?”

  The man’s voice was strong, yet soothing. He was wearing a dark trench coat and was towering over her. His eyes immediately held her captive, and a shudder ran down her spine. Kelsey wasn’t so sure if it was from the cold or this stranger who was glaring down on her. Although he looked concerned, she felt the warning signals. Her instincts told her to run, yet she couldn’t even look away. It was as if a spell had been casted on her, and she was frozen.

  “Miss, can I call somebody to help you? I’m beginning to worry about you.”

  The spell broke, and Kelsey shook her head to bring herself back to reality.

  “Um, I think I hurt myself. I sort of slipped…” Kelsey quickly turned away because his eyes continued to penetrate her soul.

  “Where are you hurt? Shall I call for an ambulance?” the stranger squatted down next to her. Should she be scared of him? He certainly looked intimidating with his tall frame and his broad, muscular build.

  “My ankle and my wrist, I think,” Kelsey mumbled.

  “Not really sure what you’re doing out here at this time of the night anyway. There are some terrible people who can hurt more than your ankle and your wrist.” Suddenly his voice wasn’t soothing anymore. It was downright dangerous.

  “Look, Mister. I don’t need your help, okay?” Kelsey put on a brave front and made sure her voice sounded strong.

 

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