Blind Sight

by Nicole Storey

  Wendy turned the T.V. down, her slow, careful movements revealing how deep in thought she was. “I take it you aren’t asking because you’re taking up a new hobby?”

  “No.” Jordan looked out the picture window. The relentless rain beat down upon the flower blooms in the adjacent garden. She wondered how many would survive come morning.

  “Then why?” Wendy wasn’t going to make this easy. Why me? I could be on a beach somewhere with a cold drink and a good book. “Remember what I told you earlier today about my family – why we came here?”

  Wendy sat down, giving Jordan her full attention, which only served to make her more uncomfortable. She preferred the people she questioned to be preoccupied and only halfway listening. “You said you were ghost hunters or something like that, right?”

  Jordan nodded. “Something like that.” She took the chair adjacent to the one Wendy occupied. “Look, this…thing…we’re after, it prefers dark, secluded places during the day. I’ve looked over the maps, but I can’t find anything. I could really use your help.”

  Wendy took a deep breath. “Were you looking over maps in this general area?”

  “Yes. I’ve scoured the entire campground where the attacks have happened. There are no caves that I’ve been able to find.”

  Wendy jumped up so quickly that Jordan’s defensive instincts kicked in. She scanned the room for signs of trouble but found nothing.

  “Be right back,” her friend called as she dashed from the room. Jordan heard her run up the stairs.

  A few minutes later, she was back with a folded paper in her hand. She spread it out on the coffee table. It was a map Jordan hadn’t seen before.

  “You weren’t looking far enough,” Wendy explained. She traced the map with her hands. “A few years ago, the Army Corp of Engineers bought the land adjacent to Buck’s campground. They turned it into a nature reserve – no hunting allowed, but they do allow people to use the trails.” Wendy tapped a section of the map. “Their land reaches all the way to the neighboring town of Kennesaw, here.” Jordan nodded to show she understood.

  “They stopped printing this particular map a few years ago after the land was purchased. What the new maps don’t show is that on the edge of the land right between the park and Kennesaw, there’s an old coal mine. It’s a wreck of a place, condemned years ago. They stopped putting it on the maps to deter people from trying to explore it. About ten years ago, a bunch of teenagers got trapped inside when one of the ceiling supports broke and caused a section of it to cave in. They got them out safely, but the Corps of Engineers didn’t want a replay of the accident.”

  Jordan’s heart began to pound. This was it! It had to be. The Kongamato couldn’t hide anywhere else during the day.

  “Wendy, how long of a hike is it to the coal mine from Buck’s campground?”

  She thought for a moment. “Um, most of a day, maybe? The Corp’s land is shaped sort of like a rectangle, longer than it is wide. But right here,” she pointed to a dark spot, “the land dips inward and the coal mine sits right in the center.”

  Jordan grabbed her cup, draining the rest of her drink. Wendy said the hike would take most of a day, but she was referring to a normal person, not a supernatural being. The Kongamato could probably cover the ground in an few hours, especially if it used its powerful wings and flew the distance. Even carrying a full grown person, it would still make good time.

  “Wendy, you have no idea how much this helps. Can I keep this map?”

  The girl shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got another one. I use them sometimes to look for old trails when I go hiking.”

  Jordan smiled. “Thank you.” She folded the map, placing it with her signed horse picture so she wouldn’t forget. She needed one more bit of information before she left.

  “Can you do one more favor for me?” she asked Wendy.

  “If it will help stop that thing from killing anyone else, I’ll do anything,” she answered, a hard edge to her voice. She was angry, Jordan knew. The ones who’d been attacked were people she knew and liked. Anger was good sometimes, unless it made you careless.

  “I need directions to Corbett’s house.”

  It was Wendy’s turn to get up and stare out the window. “You really think he has something to do with all this?” It was a question, but Jordan could detect a hint of desperation.

  “Yes, and so do you, Wendy. You tied him to the victims when no one else around here even thought about it. You told me earlier today when we were hiking on your break, remember?”

  Wendy clenched her fists, her eyes wide. “But what if I’m wrong? You can’t go busting in his house and accuse him of murder with no proof!”

  Jordan got up and went to her friend. She placed a hand on her trembling shoulder. “Listen, I would never accuse anyone without proof. That’s why I need to go to his house. I’m only going to check out the shed, that’s all.”

  “Check it out for what? What exactly are you looking for? What’s out there, Jordan?”

  “You know I can’t tell you --“

  “Bullshit!” Wendy knocked Jordan’s hand away. “Bullshit, Jordan. You don’t have to tell me all your little secrets, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you go after Corbett, or even step onto his property, until you explain why.” She lowered her voice. “I know he’s messed up bad and I guess he might have something to do with those attacks, but…he’s still a person and he was once my friend.” She paced to the fireplace and back. “You said you and your family are paranormal investigators. That tells me you’ve seen a lot more than just this thing in the woods. Now, I don’t need or want to know everything, but this hits very close to home. I think I deserve a little information.”

  She was right. Jordan couldn’t expect her to give up information on Corbett without some sort of explanation as to why. She motioned for Wendy to sit down. This could take a while.

  “There are two different types of witchcraft. Some witches get their magick from the earth and its elements. They use this magick mostly to help others. If they use it for personal gain, it’s usually to cure a cold or to bless their gardens, nothing major or anything that would affect others.

  “If a witch uses magick for something bigger, say to get rich or to strike down an enemy, that power comes from somewhere else – a place a lot farther south from where we live.”

  Wendy looked down, as if she could see through the hardwood. “You mean, like from Satan? Corbett’s praying to the devil?”

  If only it were that simple. Jordan looked at the grandmother clock in the corner. It was past midnight. She had to get going, and soon. “Wendy, Corbett may not know where the power he’s using is coming from. For every favor he gets, he owes a price; and trust me, it adds up quickly. The debt will be collected.”

  Wendy looked worried. “Is there any way to talk to him – make Corbett understand all this? Maybe he’ll stop.”

  Jordan shook her head. “Even if I can get him to stop, he still owes payment for what he’s done already. I can’t protect him from that.” She didn’t want to tell Wendy that the boy had sold most – if not all – of his soul to a demon. He’d find out soon enough. She almost felt sorry for him. Being in debt to a demon was a bitch.

  Wendy got up. She crossed over to a small table, pulling a pad and pen from its drawer. She quickly scribbled down the information Jordan asked for and handed the slip of paper to her. She looked resigned, but her eyes smoldered with determination. “I want to come with you.”

  “No, it’s too dangerous.”

  “That’s my point! You need someone to watch your back. I can help.”

  Jordan got up and leaned over Wendy, desperate to make her understand. “Listen, I spoke to Buck. He told me that Corbett took one of his pipes when he came by today--“

  “You’re worried about a damn pipe when he may be the reason people are dying?!”

  “Listen! That’s how Corbett targets his victims. He needs personal items from them in order for that…that thing
to know who to attack.”

  Wendy let out a pent-up breath. The clock in the corner ticked monotonously on, not caring that the world was going to hell in a hand-basket.

  “So, you’re telling me that Buck is going to die?” Her voice shook. Wendy clamped her lips tight to keep them from quivering.

  “He’s not going to die. No one else is going to die. We’ve got this under control.”

  Hysterical laughter escaped from Wendy and ended in dry sobs. “You expect me to stay here when someone I care about – someone who has been like a father to me – may be in danger? Hell, no!”

  Jordan threw her hands up. “Wendy, I can’t do my job if I have to worry about your safety! Please, try to understand. Buck is fine. My brother is at his house right now keeping an eye out. Nothing will get past him. Quinn’s relentless.”

  Wendy sank back in her chair, looking like a lost child. Finally, she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “But will you call and let me know you’re okay as soon as you can? I’ll never get to sleep tonight until I know.”

  “I will. I promise. It’s all gonna be okay.”

  Her new and only friend stood, enveloping her in a hug. Her grip was painfully tight.

  “Please, take care of yourself. Be careful.”

  Jordan gave her a final squeeze and pulled away, smiling to give her some hope.

  “I will. I always do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was as dark as the inside of a cow. “Christ on a unicorn, hasn’t anyone ever heard of streetlights around here?” The merciless rain and the fact that she had to turn her lights off didn’t help. She missed the turn-off to Corbett’s house three times before she finally saw the mailbox with the faded numbers 3216 on the side. Wendy had told her their driveway was very long. Wendy said she should turn into the field on the right as she passed the big oak tree, hide the car there, and walk in the rest of the way. Damned rain! If there were ever a night she needed a full moon and good weather, this was it.

  The car dipped suddenly when she ran over what she hoped was a huge hole in the gravel drive. Every so often, she had to stop and shine a flash light out the window to make sure she was still on course and hadn’t veered off into a field of cows or anything. Her left arm was completely soaked. Thankfully, Nathan had vinyl seat covers, so they should be okay. Why the hell am I worried about Nathan’s seats anyway? She’d texted Quinn and Nathan before she left Wendy’s house. They both answered that there was nothing to report. Quinn said all was quiet at Buck’s house and Nathan told her he and Case were hunkered down in a pup tent until the rain eased off. At least they were safe…for now.

  As glad as she was that Wendy agreed to stay at home, she missed not having her to talk to. No matter what happened, she would stay in touch with her. She wanted to help her friend bring her dream of becoming a professional photographer to fruition, even if she had to do it from Wyoming. They could still visit each other.

  A large object loomed above her like a lumbering giant emerging from the storm. It was a tree – an oak tree. Finally! Jordan slowed as she passed it, creeping at a snail’s pace. As soon as it was in her rear-view mirror, she pulled over into the field and looked for a place to hide the car. After a bit, she found a copse of spindly trees wrapped in honey suckle vines that would do. She pulled into their shelter and shut off the engine.

  Adrenaline pumped through her body like sweet nectar and nerves took over. She risked the overhead light long enough to make sure she had her trusty knife and to stick her Stoeger Cougar Double Action 9mm into a thigh holster. She didn’t plan on shooting anyone, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Bracing herself against the deluge, Jordan got out of the car, locking the door behind her and pocketing the keys. Her hiking boots sunk into the soft ground as she made her way back to the drive. Staying concealed in the shadows (what else was there this night?), she made the trek towards Corbett’s house. She wished she could turn her flashlight on; all she needed was to fall in a hole or trip over a rock and break a leg or something. But, she couldn’t risk it yet.

  Lights appeared in the gloom, reminding her of a ghost ship in the fog. The closer she got, the more details she could make out of the house. Being careful to stay away from the glare of the porch light, she studied the tidy brick Ranch. Black shutters, white columns on the front porch, red door with brass knocker and kick plate – it looked like a house you’d find in any upscale suburban neighborhood. That was out of the norm for an agricultural town like this, but Jordan had done her homework. Corbett’s father was president of the only bank in town. They had money. Too bad it couldn’t keep their son sane. She guessed it was true: money couldn’t buy happiness. She sure would like the chance to find out for certain, though.

  Jordan skipped around to the back of the house by way of the manicured lawn and perfectly-placed Crepe Myrtle trees. Past a ginormous deck, swimming pool shaped like a kidney, and gazebo was a white-washed picket fence; a barrier between real nature and the fake oasis Corbett’s parents had created. Jordan climbed over. Here the grass was craggy and unshorn. Trees and bushes grew unchecked. Jordan hop-skipped to a well-worn path Corbett’s grandfather made with his own two feet walking back and forth to his shed to make rocking chairs. Jordan silently thanked the man. She was tired of walking into unseen puddles; her boots were water-proof but the bottoms of her jeans were not.

  The path seemed to wind on to Oz. Just when Jordan expected to find the Tin Man, she found the shed instead. A thin stream of light escaped from under the door, but the windows were blacked out. Jordan risked her flashlight, shielding it with her hand as she crept around the side of the building. Vines snagged her pants, twisting around her ankles as if trying to stop her from seeing inside. With one swift motion she cut through them with her knife and went on.

  Every window had been painted over in black. Crap. The only way she’d get to see inside would be to walk in the front door. If Corbett was inside that would end about as well as the Titanic did. She’d either sink or swim. Hell, there was enough water out here. All she needed was the icebergs. Wait – no, she didn’t.

  Around the back, she finally got a break. Soft light emanated from a source above her head. She used the flashlight to pan the area for something to stand on. A few feet away, buried in shrubs at the base of a pine tree, a five-gallon bucket lay on its side. Jordan yanked it free from its prison. It scraped the ground, the rusty handle banging on its side. Could you possibly make any more noise, Jordan? Why don’t you just shoot out the window or bust the door wide open and roll inside like Chuck Norris?

  She placed the bucket against the shed and stepped up. The light came from a knothole in one of the ancient boards. She pressed her eye to it and saw a room filled with lit candles of various shapes and sizes. They flickered, causing shadows to dance on the walls and making the runes with which Corbett had decorated them seem more sinister.

  To one side of the room, a make shift altar was set up on a small table. Jordan recognized many of the items that adorned it: a silver goblet to offer wine or blood to whatever god you prayed to; a pentagram, which in this case was probably used to invoke spirits or cast spells; a variety of colored candles, also used in spell work; a gleaming silver dagger, also known as an athame, which was used to help channel energy…or to kill. Many of these items could also be found on any natural witch’s altar, but Jordan was sure Corbett wasn’t making potions to cure sore throats or casting spells to ward off evil spirits. No, he was calling on evil to help him settle scores -- the bastard. She’d seen enough. It was time to act.

  Jordan stepped lightly from the bucket. She needed to find Corbett. He wasn’t inside the shed, but the lit candles were a good indicator that he was around somewhere. She didn’t even have time to draw in a breath of surprise, much less draw a weapon. She heard a whooshing sound, felt exquisite pain for a split second, and then the darkness moved inside her head.

  Her eyes were open but she couldn’t see anything. Bet
ween the pain pounding in her head and the blindness, Jordan thought she’d had another vision. But no, as her memory came back in snippets like excerpts from a horror book, she knew it was nothing that simple.

  She kept her head down, her wet hair hiding most of her face while she thought and tried to eighty-six the demolition crew inside her skull. She heard someone moving around behind her and quickly closed her eyes again. The longer she pretended to be unconscious, the longer she had to make a plan.

  What happened was obvious. Corbett must have heard her outside the workshop, used the sound of the rain to cover his footsteps, and then clubbed her in the head with…something. What, she had no idea, but she planned to shove whatever it was into one of his orifices as soon as she got her hands untied. After that, she planned to take an aspirin or six.

  She slowly opened her eyes again – just a tiny slit. Nothing, just a darkness that she was familiar with, thanks to her visions. If Corbett had injured her enough to take her sight permanently, she would kill him – no gun or knife required.

  “Are you awake, Jordan?” Movement to her right now. So, Corbett knew her name. She obviously wasn’t the only one who’d done research.

  “You may know how to handle a knife, but you need a little practice on minding your own business, Jordan.”

  She kept quiet and her eyes shut, still feigning unconsciousness. He rambled on as if he knew she was faking. Maybe he did.

  “Jooorrrdannn,” he called in a sing-song voice. “Don’t you wanna know how I found out about you and your little slayer family?” He grabbed her by the hair, jerking her head over the back of the chair she was trussed to. “Open your eyes and look at me!”

  She did, and smiled sweetly when she found her eyesight was back, even though everything was hazy, like looking though a bottle of whiskey.

  Corbett looked taken aback by her smile and lack of fear. She wasn’t afraid of him. If she died, she died. She’d always known since she was old enough to understand what the Circle was about that she wasn’t long for this world. She’d made peace with that a long time ago.