Bad to the Crone

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Bad to the Crone Page 21

by Amanda M. Lee


  His eyes glowed an unearthly color, something of a muddy cross between red and green, and he moaned as he took a lurching step toward me.

  My heart was pounding, my head clouded, and yet one thought managed to make it to the forefront of my brain. I had to run ... and I had to do it now.

  Instinctively I raised the phone in my hand long enough to take a photo of the man before I bolted. I had enough sense not to race up the stairs that led to the vestibule. That wouldn’t go over well if Father Bram and Cecily saw me escaping during the distraction Gunner just happened to serve up.

  I didn’t stop to investigate anything as I blew through the rooms, and I forced myself not to look over my shoulder when I hit the staircase. I heard the man — zombie, ghoul, whatever he was — moaning behind me, but he hadn’t managed to catch up. I didn’t trip climbing the stairs, but that felt like a miracle because my limbs were ungainly thanks to the panic coursing through me.

  Once back in Father Bram’s room, I strode straight for the door to escape, casting one look at the mirror as I passed. Even though I was moving quickly, I swore I saw what looked to be a pair of eyes staring back. I blinked hard and looked again. This time it appeared to be a normal mirror, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d definitely glimpsed something inside, something beyond the glass that wasn’t supposed to be there.

  I didn’t bother checking to make sure the nave was empty before exiting. I was so eager to escape from the building that I ran to the side door. I burst out, exhaling in relief when the sun hit my face, and then headed straight for the street where Gunner had dropped me. He was supposed to pick me up there the second he finished delivering the lumber.

  I could only hope he would be quick about it, because I was terrified to stay in a remote area alone. If I did, I would be forced to ask the obvious questions: Who was that? Where did he come from? How was he moving when he was very clearly dead? Oh, and who reanimated him and why?

  Because I couldn’t answer any of those questions, I assumed a panic attack was incoming. I simply had to get clear of the church before it hit.

  Twenty-Two

  It took Gunner twenty minutes to make it back to our meeting place. I was so antsy, prone to scouring every bush and ditch for signs of movement, that I considered leaving without saying a word. I figured he would eventually find me, and if he didn’t ... well ... it was nice knowing him.

  Gunner was all smiles when he pulled up, offering me a saucy salute. It wasn’t until he got closer that he saw the look on my face, and he was out of the truck and by my side before I could form words.

  “What happened to you?” He tipped back my head so he could stare at my features under the limited light filtering through the treetops. “You look as if you’re going to pass out.”

  I wasn’t far from it. “They have a ... something ... in the basement.”

  “A something? Can you be more specific?”

  “A ... man.”

  “They have a man in the basement? Is he shackled or locked in a room? I mean ... it’s not like The Goonies, is it?”

  The absurd question snapped me out of my haze. “That isn’t funny.”

  He snickered. “It was kind of funny. I love that movie.”

  I loved that movie, too. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce about pirate ships and Baby Ruth candy bars, though. “The basement is odd,” I announced, pulling myself together. “It’s like a chain of rooms. The first one was empty except for some boxes. Then there’s a weird changing room. There’s another room that has boxes of dirt. I mean ... dirt. It’s as if someone went out, dug a big hole, collected the dirt and put it in boxes for some reason.”

  “Dirt?” Gunner’s eyebrow flew up. “Why would they need boxes of dirt?”

  The look I shot him was withering. “I have no idea. Perhaps you should ask them. I know I want to. I thought the dirt was going to be the weirdest thing I saw down there ... and then I went into the last room.”

  To my surprise, Gunner gently raised a hand and slid a strand of hair behind my ear instead of asking the obvious question. He was calm as he waited for me to spit it out. I couldn’t decide if that made me feel better or worse.

  “There was a symbol on the floor.” My hand was steady as I retrieved my phone and flipped to the photos I’d taken. Gunner wordlessly took the phone from me and stared at the symbol, furrowing his brow as he tilted his head left and right to look at it from various angles. “That’s ... weird.”

  “You think?”

  We could both laugh at my reaction now, and it felt good to give in to the mirth for a full twenty seconds. I was starting to feel better until the sound of a snapping twig in the woods behind us caused me to jerk my head in that direction. Instead of an undead man with glazed eyes, I found a squirrel playing around the base of a tree.

  “That’s not all?” Gunner turned serious.

  “That’s not even close to all,” I confirmed, sucking in a breath. “I circled the room to get photos of the symbol at every angle. I didn’t want to miss anything because there’s a lot of fine detail in there and I can’t possibly remember all of it.”

  He nodded to propel me to continue.

  “I was almost back to where I started when I realized there was this recessed area that I hadn’t noticed from the other side,” I explained. “It hid a small alcove.”

  “I take it you went into the alcove.”

  “I really wish I hadn’t,” I admitted, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead. “There was a man inside. I didn’t recognize him, before you ask. He was clearly dead. I mean ... absolutely dead.

  “His skin was hanging and waxy,” I continued. “You know how bodies get when they’ve been dead for a while?”

  He nodded and brushed his hand over my shoulder to sweep my hair from my face.

  “I’ve seen dead bodies before. They never freak me out. I’m not some big baby who can’t handle her job. I don’t want you to think that.”

  “I don’t think that,” he said. “Just tell me what happened. I can’t help unless you tell me.”

  I sucked in a breath. “He started moving when I made a noise. I was surprised. I scuffed my feet. I’m positive that’s what woke him, although I didn’t realize it at the time.”

  “He woke and went after you?” Gunner challenged, surprised. “Did he say anything?”

  “I already told you he was dead. The only dead things doing any talking are ghosts, and he was most definitely not a ghost. Besides, he opened his mouth a few times and I could see inside. I ... could see that his mouth had been sutured shut at some point. They only do that before embalming.”

  “Oh, geez.” Gunner made a face. “You think the body was embalmed.”

  “I do. Bodies don’t last forever despite embalming. It depends on the strength of the solution used and the specific process. He was clearly dead – and rotting.”

  “Thank you for that lovely picture,” Gunner complained, dragging a hand through his hair. “What happened then?”

  “I snapped a photo and took off. I heard him following, but ... I couldn’t make myself look back.”

  “That’s okay.” He shocked me when he pulled me forward for a hug. “Stop beating yourself up over this. Anyone would’ve freaked seeing that.” He rocked back and forth and I felt his free arm moving behind me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, twisting so I could watch him. Then I realized he still had my phone and he was looking for the photo I mentioned. “I have no idea if it’s any good,” I offered. “I just took it and ran. I felt as if I was caught in a nightmare.”

  “You’re fine.” He absently stroked his hand over the back of my hair, causing me to stop swaying and tilt my head so I could look up at him. He was intent on the phone as he searched for the photo. “Here it is. I ... oh, holy water ... no way!”

  I swallowed hard at his reaction. “I take it that means you know him.”

  “Fred Melcher.”

  “Should I know that nam
e?”

  “No. He ... well, he’s my former wrestling coach. He died about six months ago. I don’t understand why he would be in the church basement.”

  “It’s not as if he’s living there,” I volunteered. “Er, well, he is sort of living there. He’s not living, though, so it’s more like he’s un-living there. What? That’s a thing.”

  Despite the serious nature of the situation, Gunner cracked a smile. “It’s totally a thing,” he agreed, giving me an additional squeeze before releasing me. “I can’t believe he’s down there. He was a good man. He understood I had issues with my father and he stood between us a few times. He always tried to protect me, do what’s best for me. There was no stopping my father, but Coach Fred always tried.”

  He looked melancholy as he thought back on his beloved wrestling coach. I felt bad for him. I also had questions. “I can’t believe you wrestled. Did you wear tights? Did you wear one of those tiny little rubber uniforms? Did you like it when you were rolling around on the mats with other guys?”

  Gunner’s lips curved down. “Oh, you’re so funny. I’ll have you know wrestling is a manly sport. There’s a reason it has survived for centuries.”

  “Yes, I’m sure there is.” I poked his side to let him know I was teasing ... mostly. “Your coach is in the basement. Was he a member of the church?”

  “Not that I know of. His wife, who died a good five years ago, she might’ve been a member of the church. Mable will know. We should head over there for lunch.”

  I wasn’t sure I could eat anything, but I was eager to put distance between the church and me. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Let’s get out of here.”

  Gunner chuckled as we moved toward the truck, which was still running and had a door gaping open. “The zombie really frightened you, huh? I would’ve thought you’d seen plenty of zombies during your time as a Spells Angel.”

  I slowed my pace. “He’s not a zombie.”

  “Then ... what is he?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s not a zombie. Zombies aren’t embalmed. They turn quickly after a bite. They never make it to embalming. Your coach was very clearly embalmed.”

  Gunner worked his jaw. “So, what comes back from the dead beside ghosts and zombies?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m guessing the symbol will lead us to an answer. We need to figure out what it is.”

  “Okay. Lunch first. Research after.”

  “You’re so bossy.”

  “I want to talk to Mable.” He was grim. “I can’t remember much about coach’s wife, but Mable will know.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the coach’s wife was Mable’s mother’s best friend.”

  “Oh, well ... .”

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “It’s a small town. You’re going to find we’re all related in one way or other. So far, no one has been born with webbed fingers and toes because of close family lines. That should make you happy.”

  I scowled. “You really know how to put a smiley face on a crap afternoon.”

  “Don’t I, though?”

  MABLE’S COUNTRY TABLE WAS packed. I didn’t think we would find a place to sit until an eager woman started waving from the corner booth. It took me a few seconds to realize she was trying to get Gunner’s attention, and when I did, amusement washed over me fast and hard.

  “Um ... I believe you have a fan.”

  “What?” He knit his eyebrows as he met my gaze. “What are you talking about?”

  “In the corner.” I inclined my chin toward the auburn-haired siren who was practically giving herself a stroke to get Gunner’s attention. “That’s your sister, right?”

  His smile was grim as his hands landed on his hips. “Yup. That’s my sister.”

  He didn’t look happy. “I thought you said she came to town all the time. This shouldn’t be a surprise.”

  “I was under the impression she was leaving this morning,” Gunner replied, waving to Ashley to let her know he saw her and then nodding to indicate we would sit with her. “I don’t see where I can get out of eating with her.”

  “It’s fine.” His reaction amused me. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

  “Yeah, well, you might not say that after she grills you about our relationship.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s determined to get me married before the year is out. She says it’s pathetic for men in their thirties to be single.”

  “I’m almost thirty,” I noted. “Is it pathetic for women, too?”

  “You’ll have to ask her.” He put his hand to the small of my back and prodded me forward. “I’m warning you she’ll try to set us up. She won’t be able to help herself. Don’t take it personally.”

  “I’ll try to refrain from jumping you in excitement,” I said dryly.

  “Oh, well, jumping me is another story.” His lips twitched. He was getting more comfortable with the flirting. “Let’s just get through this meal and we’ll talk about jumping games later.”

  “No problem.” I was thrilled that Ashley was here, because that meant I could forget about my problems for a bit. The more I could put distance between myself and the memory of Gunner’s dead wrestling coach, the better. “This should be fun.”

  “Just remember you said that.”

  ASHLEY STRATTON was a bundle of energy that simply could not be contained. She was bubbly, friendly and a bit overwhelming. While I found her manic nature entertaining, I could see why Gunner seemed drained by her visits.

  “So, how do you know Graham?” she wheedled once the waitress had taken our orders.

  “I’ve only met him briefly,” I replied. “I met him the day I arrived, when your brother and I stumbled over a dead body, and then yesterday when I got in trouble for hurting an abusive father.”

  Ashley stared at me for a long beat, her eyes wide. “What?” she finally squeaked out.

  “She thinks you’re asking about Dad, Ashley,” Gunner volunteered. “You should realize, Scout, that Ashley calls me Graham because she knows it irritates me.”

  “Oh.” Whoops. That question made so much more sense now. “Ignore everything I just said.”

  “Even the part about you and my brother stumbling over a dead body together?” Ashley was indignant as she glared at her brother, who was sharing a booth bench with me. I was starting to think that was by design because he didn’t want to be within swiping distance of her long fingernails.

  “That part is true,” Gunner said, choosing his words carefully. “We found a body together.”

  “And why didn’t you mention that?”

  “Because I didn’t think it was a big deal. I turned the case over to Dad. He’s investigating it.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ashley didn’t look convinced when she shifted her eyes to me. “You’re my brother’s co-worker. That’s how he kept referring to you yesterday when I asked why he was staring at you at the Cauldron.”

  Gunner moved his jaw but didn’t say anything.

  “We work together,” I agreed. “I haven’t been in town very long, so it’s a relatively new relationship.”

  “What can you tell me about your work?”

  Gunner cleared his throat and shot me a warning look. He was clearly used to his sister’s curiosity regarding Spells Angels. Even if we weren’t sworn to secrecy, I knew better than to share information with Ashley. She had “blabber” written all over her.

  “We can’t talk to you about work and you know it, Ashley,” Gunner warned, clearly frustrated. When he said his sister irritated him I thought he was exaggerating. Obviously he was telling the truth. “Let’s talk about something else, huh? Scout has a new kitten she refuses to name. Let’s talk about that.”

  “Kittens are cute,” Ashley said automatically. “Why is your name Scout? Is that your biker handle? I know certain people have biker names — like Gunner.” She rolled her eyes in dramatic fashion, forcing me to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Why did you pick Sco
ut?”

  “Oh, geez.” Gunner leaned back in his seat. “I’m sorry.” The apology was aimed at me, but it was unnecessary.

  “It’s fine.” I waved off his concern. “I’m used to it.”

  Ashley wrinkled her pert little nose. “Used to what?”

  Thankfully, Mable picked that moment to stop at the table and ask how we were doing. Gunner seized on the distraction and focused solely on the restaurant proprietress.

  “Hey, do you remember Dolly Melcher?”

  “Who could forget a woman named Dolly?” Mable asked, making a face. “I remember her. She had blond hair from a bottle and boobs from a surgeon’s office.”

  I choked on the water I was sipping, causing Gunner to smack my back to clear my airway.

  “That’s the woman I’m talking about,” he confirmed with a smile. “She’s been dead a few years, but I was wondering if you remembered when she was alive. Was she a member of All Souls Church?”

  “Dolly? I don’t think so.” Mable squinted as she searched her memory. “Or, you know what? I think she was kind of a member. She got talked into joining by Cecily Duncan — they were friends for a hot minute, although I don’t know how anyone could stand either one of them — but she didn’t last at the church for more than a few months.

  “I remember she was really into everything they had going on there because it made me want to punch her even more than normal,” she continued. “Then she walked away from the church just as fast as she joined. That was about six weeks before her heart attack claimed her.”

  “I forgot she died of a heart attack.” Gunner rubbed his chin as he slid me a sidelong look. “You haven’t heard about anyone at the church doing anything ... weird ... have you?”

  One look at Mable told me she was instantly suspicious.

  “Define weird,” she instructed.

  “Oh, I don’t know ... holding services late at night, threatening people in the town, buying weird things at estate sales. That sort of weird.”

 

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