Demon Key

by David Brookover

  Inside, the walls and overhead timbers were spotless. No spider webs. No cobwebs. Not even a scrape on the foam dock bumpers.

  Jackson pressed a button on the floating dock, and the boat rose out of the water.

  “Keeps the bottom clean,” Jackson remarked, as he stepped out of the boat onto a narrow ramp that sloped down to a steel door.

  Dex shook his head and grinned. “Wow!”

  The door opened onto a concrete path that split into three directions. Jackson pointed out that one led to his house, another to a storm shelter, and the last one to Zeus’s doghouse. He chose the last one, and Dex and Teddi followed. She had a funny feeling about this trip — ominous and chilling. Death lurked in the muggy, bayou summer air.

  Teddi glanced at Jackson. Maybe she’d been hanging with him too much lately and it was affecting her nerves. Maybe it was intuition. But whatever the reason, she pulled her gun, and Dex followed her lead.

  Hordes of whining mosquitoes descended on the threesome as if they were walking blood banks. Dex and Teddi swatted at the vicious little insects, while Jackson didn’t appear bothered at all. Teddi was tempted to shoot a few.

  After what seemed an eternity, the walkway ended at the riverbank behind Jackson’s house. Teddi stopped and gawked at the ruined doghouse. The broken and splintered boards looked like a steamroller had run over them. Several times.

  They caught up with Jackson, who was intently examining the damage.

  Dex pointed to several dark stains on the sandy riverbank. “Blood.”

  “I saw it,” was all that Jackson replied. He continued his inspection without speaking. Suddenly, he knelt beside the bloodstains and gently placed his open palm over them. He closed his eyes, and that was Teddi and Dex’s clue to clam up. The psychic was doing his thing.

  Most of the mosquitoes finally backed off along the river, and Teddi and Dex only occasionally swiped at the pests. Dex surveyed the meandering river. Several bass swam lazily in the brownish shallows, and a black snake serpentined across the glassy surface. Four black alligators sunned themselves on the opposite bank, and Dex instinctively retreated a step. They were gigantic, and way too close for comfort!

  Unlike his previous psychic encounter, Jackson remained tranquil. There were no histrionics or screams. No perspiration. And strangely enough, the mosquitoes stayed clear of him.

  Finally, Jackson’s eyelids fluttered open. “How long was I out?”

  “Twenty minutes. Why?” Teddi replied.

  “I just need to know how much time we have left.”

  “For what?” Dex inquired.

  “I’ll fill you in later.”

  “What happened here?” Teddi asked apprehensively. Deep inside, she was hesitant to hear what had happened to poor old Zeus. To hear the gruesome details. But once again, she fell victim to her insatiable curiosity.

  “This isn’t Zeus’s blood,” Jackson said, a modest smile curling the corners of his mouth. He grabbed a handful of the blood-soaked sand. “This is chicken blood, not canine blood. And, Zeus wasn’t anywhere near here when the doghouse was destroyed.”

  Teddi frowned. “Then where is he?”

  Jackson tossed the sand into the river current and whistled three times. Nothing. He whistled again. In the distance, they heard the faint rustling and cracking of underbrush. The noise grew louder and was followed by a nearby splashing that roused the four gators across the river. They raised their heads at the racket and slid silently into the river toward the noise like scaly torpedoes.

  The jowl-flapping and ear-slapping sounds of a dog shaking water from its coat preceded a single deep bark. Suddenly, the black and tan Rottweiler bounded around the river bend and collided with his master. It was a cheerful reunion. Jackson hugged the big dog for several long moments, while Zeus tried to lick the skin from his face.

  “Where was he?” Teddi asked, surprised at Jackson’s emotional display. Normally he was as cool as a cucumber.

  “Hiding somewhere in the swamp. He’s had the run of this place for a long time, so I imagine he knows a few good hideouts.”

  After their joyous reunion, Jackson led his guests up the path to his house. After they were seated comfortably in the living room with glasses brimming with grape juice and vodka, Jackson lit one of his slender cigars and leaned back in his recliner.

  Teddi sipped the icy drink. It was better than it sounded.

  Dex sat stiffly upright. His back wounds prevented him from assuming his usual comfortable sprawl.

  Teddi was the first to speak. “Jackson, what did you mean by that crack about how much time we have left? Left for what?”

  Jackson blew a series of perfect smoke rings toward the overhead air handler, which sucked them away as soon as they drifted above his head. He appeared at peace with the world, so his reply was a contradiction.

  He yawned. “I’m pissed. Really pissed.”

  “Well, you don’t behave like any pissed-off man I’ve ever met,” Teddi remarked skeptically.

  “Who you ticked at, Jackson?” Dex prodded.

  More smoke rings. “Myself.”

  Teddi shook her head. Jackson was certainly a perplexing man. “For what?”

  “For allowing us to be suckered into this trip.”

  Dex and Teddi waited for him to explain. More smoke rings. More calm.

  “We’ve been set up. All of us. And now we’re trapped.”

  “Trapped!” Teddi exclaimed. “Then why are you being so damn cool about it?”

  “Because I know something that our gun-toting friends don’t.”

  “They’ve got guns?” Teddi exclaimed, angry at Jackson’s seeming lack of interest in their welfare. “So what is it?”

  More smoke rings. He wagged his finger at her. “I’m not going to spoil the surprise.”

  “Ooh! You’re impossible!” she ranted.

  Dex’s face was granite. “So we’re just gonna wait here like sittin’ ducks. Is that the gist of your plan?”

  He nodded. “That’s about the size of it, Dex.”

  “Interesting. Could I have another one of these grape drinks while we’re waitin’ for your surprise? It’s one helluva tasty painkiller.”

  Jackson grinned. “Absolutely. Have as many as you like.”

  “Men!” Teddi sighed, but then unexpectedly brightened. “Hell, I may as well get drunk, too.”

  Chapter 73

  After mixing more cocktails, Jackson copied the brief history of Demon Key that he’d researched earlier and gave a copy to Teddi and Dex. He asked them to read the document carefully.

  “We gonna have a quiz afterward?” Dex cracked.

  Teddi elbowed him. “This isn’t a joking matter.”

  “Well, sittin’ here all uptight with sphincter cramps ain’t goin’ to do us no good, either,” Dex grumbled, and began studying the two-page history.

  Jackson lit another slender Cuban cigar and quietly puffed away until they were finished. “Well?” he asked, when they glanced at him.

  “Damn strange,” Dex summarized, “and I’m guessin’ that we’re lookin’ at the first recorded history of Demon Key.”

  “I feel so sorry for that family,” Teddi stated sadly.

  “Me, too, but that’s not the point. It appears that when Edward Loggins purchased the key in 1843, he had no idea what he was getting himself into,” Jackson commented.

  “Then he moved out in 1849 without even trying to sell the property and reclaim his investment,” Teddi added.

  “If you’d lost your friggin’ wife and four youngsters, you’d most likely want to skedaddle, too!” Dex disagreed.

  She nodded broodingly.

  “This all you got?” Dex asked, slapping the pages.

  Jackson sipped his drink. “Yes, that’s it, but it leads me to believe that our temple was alive and well back then.”

  “Well, I don’t see any mention of heavy rains during that time,” Dex said.

  “I know, and that had me stumped for
a while. And then I figured that maybe someone slowly murdered the Loggins family to drive them off the key.”

  “Interesting idea,” Teddi said. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Jackson placed his cigar in the ashtray. “That the Swinsons drove them away?”

  “Yep. And the Swinsons moved in three years later and took control of the grotto temple. Convenient.”

  “Sounds more than a coincidence to me,” Dex agreed. “But gettin’ back to the Loggins family for a minute, if they really were killed by gators, people wouldn’t have found them floatin’ around the key like that.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” Jackson said. “Alligators stash their victims for later.”

  “Then what killed them?” Teddi asked, perplexed.

  “We’ll never know for sure, but it certainly wasn’t a mosasaur. As we saw today, they swallow their victims whole,” Jackson answered. “But I believe we’ve just solved one part of our puzzle.”

  “Thank God!” Dex broke in. “And then the 1856 rains came along, and a whole bunch of fat women were kidnapped and never seen again.”

  “Weight-challenged women,” Teddi corrected him.

  Dex scowled at her. “I ain’t politically correct, and never will be!”

  Teddi smiled. “Don’t we know it.”

  “So,” Jackson began, wanting to get them both back on track, “the mosasaur was around back in 1856.”

  “And the local Indians weren’t,” Dex continued. “My late friend, Ike Noonan, told me that after a while, the Indians vamoosed from their villages whenever these heavy rains came. They knew the monster was about to show up and wipe them out.”

  Jackson sat in his recliner without speaking for several moments.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Teddi prompted him.

  “This presents us with another quandary. Jilly said that mosasaurs aren’t very agile on land. Could something else’ve destroyed those villages during the heavy rains?”

  “That’s a humdinger all right,” Teddi agreed.

  “Shit!” Dex rolled his eyes. “We just tackled one answer, and now we’ve got another one runnin’ loose.”

  “The only answer that fits the facts is that there’s another monster,” Jackson offered.

  “But what?” Teddi asked.

  “A creature conjured from the temple.”

  “That’s pretty far-fetched, even for you,” Dex grumbled.

  Jackson grinned. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it had to come from someplace around that area.”

  “Okay, let’s give that idea a rest and wade into something else,” Teddi said. “How did the Swinsons know about the grotto temple in the first place?”

  “Perhaps from Brazilian tribal lore or magic. Their power to foresee events extends to the United States, I can tell you that.” Jackson briefly described Yokie’s simultaneous vision of the predicted deaths at P.F. Chang’s restaurant.

  “Incredible,” Teddi muttered. “That definitely would explain why the Swinsons wanted that key.”

  “I’ll buy that,” Dex agreed.

  “So what gave them their power over the mosasaurs?” Teddi continued. “They somehow knew enough to feed them, but there has to be more to that relationship than that.”

  “Whatever it was, I seem to have inherited it,” Jackson lamented. “Something passed between me and Bo Swinson when he died, but I can’t figure out what makes it work.” He had a pretty good idea, but he wasn’t about to share it with the others until he tested his theory tonight.

  Dex sighed. “Magic.”

  “I think Dex’s right, Jackson,” Teddi said.

  “That’s a scary thought.”

  Teddi stared at him. “Yeah.”

  “Maybe the owners found some magical object on the key that compelled them to feed the mosasaurs and gave them the power over them,” Dex proposed.

  “Or, it’s possible that the grotto temple exerts some kind of force on the owners and the mosasaurs,” Teddi chimed in.

  Jackson nodded. “I think we’re all correct to a point. We just have to connect the dots.”

  “Let’s connect the second one, then. I believe the mosasaurs are somehow involved in the demonic ritual,” Teddi theorized. “They’re interconnected.”

  Jackson slapped his fist into his opposite palm. “But how? We’ve got so much left to learn before more people die around the Everglades.”

  “Like the Indians did?”

  “Exactly.”

  Jackson fixed another round of drinks and brought out cheese and crackers to munch on. He didn’t want anyone getting seriously drunk.

  After finishing his snack, Jackson tapped his fingers on the recliner armrest.

  “What’s eating you now?” Teddi asked.

  “I still don’t believe that the mosasaurs trampled the Indian villages.”

  “So that leaves what? A conjured demon?” Teddi asked.

  “That puts us back to square one,” Dex complained.

  Suddenly, Jackson snapped his fingers and leaped from his recliner. “I’ve got to make a quick phone call. I’ll be right back.” He headed for the kitchen.

  Jackson dialed Jilly Newton’s number on his cell. Zeus groaned from the interruption. He’d been peacefully asleep on the cool tile floor. Jackson bent and scratched the dog’s head while Jilly’s phone rang.

  “This is Jilly,” she greeted him.

  “Hey, it’s Jackson. I’ve got an important question to ask you.”

  “I’m game. Go ahead.”

  “Do mosasaurs have orange eyes?”

  She laughed. “Certainly not.”

  “Thanks. Where are you guys?”

  “Getting wet on John’s dock, that’s where! He getting ready to take me out to those cave drawings in his airboat.”

  Jackson grimaced. The South Florida rain was still falling. It wouldn’t be long before the grotto lake rose and covered the dark temple step. They had to hurry! “Good luck and keep us posted,” he said, and hung up.

  “I will.” As she folded her flip phone, she shook her head with amusement. Orange eyes. What a silly question.

  Jackson related his brief conversation with Jilly, and Teddi and Dex exchanged glances.

  Teddi nodded. “When Swinson kidnapped me, I told you about seeing horrible orange eyes just before I passed out.”

  “Right, and I saw them in my vision back at the motel, too,” Jackson said. He also saw them in Teddi’s mind at the hospital.

  “What’s it all mean?” Dex asked.

  “It means whatever crushed the villages wasn’t the mosasaur.”

  Teddi appeared worried. “It was something awful with orange eyes. I remember that. I just didn’t get a good look at it.” She paused. “But how’s this demon connected to the mosasaurs? If we’re right about all this, they both show up during the rainy seasons. There’s got to be a reason for it.”

  “Damned if I know.” Suddenly, Dex brightened. “You know, I just might have an idea what this other killer was . . . is.”

  Before he could reveal his speculation, a grating alarm sounded overhead.

  “We’ve got visitors.” Jackson leaped up and pressed a wall rocker switch. “Hold that thought, Dex.”

  As the sun reached the western horizon, Jacques Ledee slept beside his water spaniel, Pepper, along the bayou channel leading to Jackson’s property. His cane pole hung over the water, and a wooden bobber floated listlessly ten feet from the riverbank. A loud engine growled in the distance, but his snoring prevented him from noticing. Minutes later, a powerful speedboat roared past, its frothy wake rolling up the bank and over the fisherman and his dog.

  Pepper barked at the reckless boaters, as Jacques spit out a mouthful of foul bracken water and angrily watched his pole and bobber drift downstream.

  “Dammit!” he swore, and searched for the boat, but it had vanished around the next bend. Water poured out of his pant legs, and there was a puddle in each shoe.

  P
epper shook himself dry, spraying an already soaked Jacques.

  “Assholes!” he muttered, and picked up his bait and tackle box. With one angry wave of his fist at the bend, he retreated into the brush to find his anchored johnboat. It was time to row home and change into dry clothes.

  Jacques wished that he’d gotten the boat’s name or identification number so he could report the speeders to the Beaux Bridge police. Oh well. Maybe Jackson LaFevre would have better luck.

  Chapter 74

  John Redfeather coasted toward what passed for an island in the Everglades until the airboat’s bow grated on the sand. He shut off the running lights. He and Jilly were soaked to the skin from the ninety-minute trip through the swamp, but it didn’t matter. They were both excited to test her newfound chemical process on the blackened drawings.

  There was no mantle of leaves covering the trapdoor this time. John zipped open his backpack and handed Jilly a flashlight. He used his own flashlight to locate the rusted steel ring, and then he gave it a tug. The door fell back against a bed of pine needles. She directed her beam down a shaft leading to the limestone cave. She stepped back.

  “Looks spookier at night,” John agreed, “but it’s dark no matter what time we’d go down there.”

  She nodded.

  “Follow me.”

  He led the way down the wet, slick steps. Jilly glanced around before taking the first step. Lightning flickered in the east like a candle flame in a breeze. Spooky wasn’t the word for this. She decided that terrifying best described it.

  When they reached the bottom, John pointed down a narrow tunnel. “It’s that way.”

  Jilly nodded. She didn’t know whether the cool water or absolute fear quivered her bottom lip, but she sloshed after John anyway. One thing she did know. This wasn’t that nice dry dig in France.

  The water level reached her shoulders as they entered a cavern. John flashed his beam around so she could get a feel for the circular chamber’s size.

  “Does the water get any deeper than this?” she asked, fearing the answer.