Sinister Awakenings

by Marianne Spitzer

  “Not without me,” Hannah smiled. “This is a small town. You’re a stranger, and we just had a frightening murder. You’ll need me if people are going to talk to you.” Her big brown eyes sparkled with mischief again and Lance knew she was right, but wasn’t happy about the turn of events. The last thing he wanted to do was put her in any danger.

  “How do you know I’m not the killer, Hannah. You should be wary of strangers.”

  She slapped the top of his hand playfully and giggled. “Of course, you’re not the killer, silly. I like you, and I’m a good judge of character.” She winked and stood to remove his plate and glass. “Come back and visit me again. I usually work nights, but you’re close so you can just peek in the door to see if I’m here.” She smiled and hurried off.

  Lance picked up the bill and smiled. Hannah wrote, “on the house” in bold letters followed by her phone number and a smiley face. He slipped the bill into his pocket and left her a generous tip.

  ~ * ~

  He returned to his motel room and did a search for the Wallace family. He didn’t discover much on-line. The Wallace family either didn’t make the news or were cautious about their lives making headlines. An article about a local tornado causing the loss of power for over a week was the only mention of the Wallace family he could find. It seems they were exactly the type of people Hannah said they were. When the power was out, the family brought freeze dried soup mix to the local park and cooked a meal for those without generators. They did it five days in a row until the power was restored. Families had one hot meal a day to keep them going.

  Decent people, Lance thought. He doubted they were involved in the murder at the lake, but then one never knew about people. It only took one person to cause chaos. The great-grandmother’s reputation as a possible witch was another thing he doubted. Every town had a supposedly haunted house and a witch or some sort of creepy person. Kids love to tell stories. The diary did concern him. Whatever was written in it had conjured up an evil entity. He needed to find out more. Hopefully, Hannah would supply a few answers.

  Perusing the town’s local events brought him to obituaries. He found one for Viola Pearl Wallace, nee: Gordronne. Born in 1911 and passed away in 2005. Ten years ago matched what Hannah told him. Viola was ninety-four when she passed. According to her obituary, she was born at home which wasn’t unusual for the time. Viola married Jarvis Wallace in 1927 at age sixteen. She had seven children; three died as children. She was a grandmother to seventeen and great-grandmother to twenty-two.

  Lance jotted down the information. He’d ask Hannah later which children had the falling out and when. Her children could be in their seventies or eighties. He doubted they would kill a teenage boy regardless of the family feud. His money was still on the evil entity. Maybe a trip to the library would bring a few answers to his questions about local history.

  Lance walked up the library steps hoping he could find information without causing suspicion. Since he was investigating a local family in a small town, he needed to be cautious. He smiled at the librarian and set his computer bag on one of the empty tables. An elderly man sat at another table. Besides the three of them, the library appeared empty. That suited Lance just fine. He didn’t want to draw attention to his research. He walked toward the local resource section and pulled out several books on local history.

  After an hour of looking at the books, he didn’t learn more than he already knew. The next book he pulled off a shelf was one on local folklore. Maybe, if he were lucky, this spirit either appeared before or might be mentioned.

  Not finding any direct mention of the spirit appearing, there was a story of a woman living in the woods long before the area was settled. Supposedly, she’d come north to hide from an abusive husband. The woman known only as Lavinia set up residence in a small cave on the edge of the forest. After hiding for several years, her home was discovered by a trapper who wandered further north looking for additional furs before winter set in. They struck up a friendship. An early winter and unexpected blizzard forced them to share the cave and what food Lavinia set aside for the winter. The legend continued to explain that by spring, Lavinia and the fur trapper had fallen in love. He left and promised to return for her once he sold his furs and had some money. He promised to marry her and keep her safe from her husband. He convinced her it didn’t matter if she was married, she could marry him, too. No one would know, and they could live in the forest and hunt and trap. With a new name, she’d never be found. Lavinia, in love and lonely for continued companionship, agreed. Her trapper left, and Lavinia waited.

  Lance, intrigued by the story, read on. Lavinia’s trapper didn’t return when she expected him. She waited and waited. One day she heard voices near the cave and shrunk back in fear. Three men approached. They stopped at the small stream in front of the cave for a drink and laughed about their luck finding the trapper and stealing his furs. One man mentioned how hard the trapper fought and how he hadn’t been strong enough to fight off all three. Her precious love was dead. When she heard them laugh about the man calling out to “Lavinia” they laughed harder.

  According to the last of the legend, they heard an unearthly scream from inside the cave. Smoke and fire poured from the cave, and a giant creature emerged. Holding a knife in one hand, he killed two of the trappers. He slit their throats while the third ran for cover and hid. The trapper in hiding watched as the creature evaporated into mist and a woman dressed in rags emerged from the cave. He ran and never returned. No one believed his story. Eventually, he stopped telling it in case they decided he was responsible for their deaths.

  Lance searched another book, but he couldn’t find any additional information about Lavinia or the creature. Could this be the same creature that appeared at the lake? Who was Lavinia? Did she conjure it out of her hate or was she a witch the same as people believed about great-grandma Wallace? Perhaps Lavinia became a Wallace. Did she write the diary or was it one she had from her ancestors? What about the spell? Did Lavinia use a spell to bring the creature to life?

  Lance sat and thought about each question while absent-mindedly drawing question marks all over the pad of paper he used for taking notes. He shook his head. “I need more answers,” he murmured. Wondering if he should ask the elderly man at the other table if he knows more about the legend, he decided that he’d draw too much attention to himself. Lance thought his best answer was Hannah. She’d know who to ask. Lance packed up his notes and strolled out of the library.

  Pulling out his phone, he called Hannah before getting into his car. He leaned against the driver’s door and listened to her message before leaving one of his own. “Hi, Hannah. It’s Lance. I found an old legend about a woman named Lavinia and a creature. If you know anything about this, please give me a call.” He hung up, climbed into his car, and headed back to the motel.

  ~ * ~

  Hannah knocked on Lance’s motel room door an hour after listening to his message. “Hi,” she said when he opened the door.

  “Hi,” he replied. “I didn’t expect you to stop by. Do you have any information about Lavinia?”

  “Nah,” but I thought I’d say hi anyway.” She walked past him and plopped down on his bed.

  He closed the door and took a seat on the chair near the small table.

  “Tell me what you learned,” Hannah asked.

  Lance shared what he read about Lavinia. “Have you heard this legend before? Can you add to it?”

  “No, I haven’t. My mom insisted I come home for dinner tonight, and I’ll ask her. Maybe my dad might know. If he’s there for dinner, I’ll ask them both. I’m back to working the late shift tomorrow night. I can ask my customers. Some of the old timers come in late, and they might know.”

  “Thanks,” Lance said.

  “I gotta run, I’ll call you if I learn anything.”

  “Okay.”

  Hannah gave Lance a quick hug and hurried from his room.

  ~ * ~

  Hannah used the exc
use that she had an errand to run before she began her shift to leave her mom’s earlier than she planned. Although dinner with her folks was pleasant, she preferred to talk to Lance. There was something about his blue eyes that turned smoky gray-blue when he was worried or excited. Hannah was excited to share what she knew with Lance.

  “Hello,” Lance answered his cell.

  “Hi, it’s Hannah.”

  “Hey, hi. I didn’t expect you to call so soon. Did you learn anything new?”

  “Yup, my dad had an interesting story he said he heard as a boy.”

  “Okay, do you want to meet or tell me over the phone?”

  “It’s not a long story. I can tell you now. Then I have to get ready for my shift at the diner.”

  “Okay,” Lance said and grabbed a pen and notepad. “Shoot.”

  “I think this goes along with the legend you read about. My dad said there was a settlement not far from here used by fur trappers. One year in late fall, he doesn’t have a date, a young woman dressed in rags and carrying a baby arrived at the settlement. She could barely walk and collapsed into a trapper’s arms when he walked up to greet her.”

  “Interesting. Do they know who she was?” Lance asked.

  “Maybe. The trapper laid her on the ground and took the infant from her arms. He asked her who she was, and she whispered ‘Lavinia, take care of my son, Elias.’ She was burning up with a fever and three days later she drew her last breath.”

  “Sad story.”

  “Yes, it is,” Hannah continued. “But there’s more. They buried Lavinia near the settlement and found a trapper heading back to a town. He took the boy with him. They had no idea who his father was except for a gold pocket watch found in his wrappings with the name Wallace engraved on it. The trapper supposedly reported the death and burial. My dad assumed Lavinia’s name was recorded as a Wallace, but there aren’t any records he’s aware of.”

  “Ah ha,” Lance interjected. “So we can surmise that the man murdered by the trappers was the boy’s father. He was a Wallace and Lavinia was his lover or wife to be. If she had powers or could conjure up spirits, perhaps that’s what killed the man’s attackers. It might be a stretch, but if Lavinia had powers or knew spells, then her son might have them, too.”

  “I agree. My dad said Elias Wallace was the first member of the Wallace family to settle here. History said he was an orphan. He supposedly was also a gambler and made quite a bit of money that way. Then he settled here with some sort of land grant and used his money to improve the land. He married a local girl and the rest is Wallace history.” Hannah sighed. “Does this help?”

  “It helps a lot. The only paranormal link I could find was the supposed attack on the fur trappers. Now we seem to be able to connect that incident with the Wallace family. It might be that the diary held a spell, and the girl conjured up the same spirit.”

  “So what do you do now?” Hannah inquired.

  “I wish I could get a look at the diary and see what words the girl spoke. Besides that, I could try to visit the Wallace family compound. You said they were friendly. From what I’ve heard around town, I don’t think they’d shoot me.” Lance laughed hoping he was correct.

  “I’m sure they won’t, but I think I should go with you. After all, you’re a stranger. I’ll ask around at work tonight to see if anyone else knows anything. Tomorrow I have to go shopping with my mom. It’s been planned for a while, so I can’t get out of it. Maybe the next day. Can you keep busy until then?”

  “Yes. I want to scout around the lake area. If there is a spirit hovering near, I should be able to sense it.”

  “Okay,” Hannah replied. “I’ll call tomorrow evening before work if I have time. Be careful. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “It was a nightmare,” Hannah sighed as she opened her eyes. Staring at the ceiling, her eyes focused on the white tiles. She wasn’t in her room. She tried to get up, but the pain forced her to drop back on the bed. “Oh my God,” said Hannah, “it wasn’t a nightmare. The horror of last night was real.”

  A young nurse with a too bubbly personality popped into the room. “How are we this morning?”

  “I don’t know about you, but I hurt like hell.”

  “Sorry Hannah, let me adjust your medication.”

  In a few minutes, Hannah felt her pain ease.

  “Where am I?”

  “Gibson Memorial. Dr. Wayler will be in to see you in a few minutes. He’ll explain your injuries and what’s being done.”

  “But, but,” Hannah began to cry, “I was attacked. Was I? Was I…,” her voice trailed off.

  “No, dear,” the nurse took her hand. “They checked you when you came in last night. You’ll be okay. A diner patron chased him off before he could hurt you further. A trauma counselor will be in to speak to you this morning.”

  Was this her fault? Hannah wanted to bury her face in shame, but couldn’t move her head far enough. Her look was sufficient to convey her concern to the nurse without words.

  The nurse took her hand and said gently, “It wasn’t your fault hon; you’re the second young woman attacked in less than two weeks. Please don’t blame yourself, no one else does.”

  “I need my mom.”

  “She was here all night and went home a few hours ago to get some sleep. We thought you’d be asleep until at least noon. Would you like me to call her?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Hannah was terrified of what her mother was going to say but more terrified of what happened to her. She’d be blamed for taking the late shift at the coffee shop and walking alone to the parking lot. Her uniform was too short and too tight. She should pull her long hair into a decent ponytail or bun and look presentable. Why did she have to act sexy? She had heard it all before. Her mom would blame her for being a victim and nearly being raped, but she needed her regardless. Was her mom right? Was she to blame for this? The doctor’s arrival broke her thoughts.

  “Good morning, Miss Alexander. How are you feeling?”

  “I seem to hurt everywhere, but my back and shoulders hurt the worst and my right hand.”

  “You were found on the cement in the alley which would account for your back and shoulders hurting. You also put up quite a fight. Good for you. Unfortunately, you also sustained numerous bruises over much of your body, but thankfully no broken bones. Your right hand was bloodied, but the blood was not yours. You also took a few small chunks of skin out of your attacker. You fought hard.”

  “I don’t remember much. I was on my way to the parking lot, something grabbed my hair, threw me down to the ground, and I woke up here.’

  “It’s common to forget traumatic experiences. You may regain the memories, or you may forget them entirely. The police will be back now that you’re awake, and they’ll ask you to remember all you can. Try to help, but don’t upset yourself. They can come back later.”

  “How long will I have to stay here?”

  “We’d like to keep you for at least one more day. You did hit your head, and we want to be sure you don’t have any injury that may show up several hours from now. If one does, the best place for you is here.”

  Hannah nodded and heard the loud, squeaky voice her mom projected when she was nervous. “Thank goodness you’re awake. I was afraid you would die. I knew this would happen when you took that diner job. I told your father that you shouldn’t be allowed to work late. It’s why I insisted you attend college.”

  “Mom, please…”

  Hannah began to cry, and the doctor ordered a sedative. It took effect quickly, and Hannah fell into a deep sleep. She dreamt of pouring coffee for the street cleaner and the off duty cop that came in every night a little after three in the morning. The potbellied street cleaner chewed gum while he drank his coffee. So odd she thought. The cop was cute and only a couple years older than she was. His uniform had Robson embroidered over one pocket, and she found out the guys called him Joey. His brother was a cop,
too and he was little Joey. He preferred Joe. She hoped he would ask her out. A lady of the evening sat at the counter eating breakfast. She hated hearing them call her a hooker. She liked her. Ruby was one of the sweetest women she ever met. She glanced at the clock. Three-thirty, her shift was over. The diner was empty. She said goodnight to Gary the night cook and left. Sandy came in to take her place. She hurried to the parking lot, but something stopped her. What was happening? She was flying through the air. She saw the black sweatshirt and the hood.

  Her scream brought both the nurse and the doctor running. Her mom almost fell off her chair.

  Hannah was staring at them with her brown eyes full and round with fear. “He didn’t have a face. I remember now. He wore a black hoodie and when I looked into the hood after he threw me to the ground, it was empty. He didn’t have a face or head. The hood was empty, but a voice came from the hood telling me not to scream.”

  Another shot of drugs in her IV sent Hannah to a dark place without dreams.

  When Hannah woke, it was dark outside her window. A small light illuminated the empty hospital room. Her mom must have gone home again.

  I suppose they expected me to sleep all night, Hannah thought. The nurse appeared concerned, and the doctor smiled at me before whatever they gave me took effect. I know they were trying to help, but that look on my mom’s face is one I’ll never forget. She looked at great-grandma the same way when she’d tell an old story over and over. A touch of dementia mom called it. Does she think I’m demented the way she decided grandma was before placing her in the nursing home? I know what I saw or didn’t see. I’m not crazy. I guess I’ll have to lie to get out of here. I’ll tell them I remembered a nightmare. I hope it works, but I need help.

  Hannah remembered her mom looking through her purse. She didn’t dare ask her what she was searching for. Maybe drugs, anything that would help her mom decide she had to quit her job. She placed the purse in the drawer next to Hannah’s bed. She reached over and pulled open the drawer. Hannah let out a large sigh of relief when she saw her purse was still there. She reached for it and her phone.