Southern Gothic

by Stuart Jaffe

  “Speak quickly or your pain will begin right here.”

  Tears welled in Max’s eyes. He knew he shouldn’t say anything. To give Tucker Hull access to powerful magic was unthinkable. No better than handing an automatic handgun to a sadistic ten-year-old. Worse than that — Tucker would feel no remorse afterwards. The Hulls were masters of self-justification — and they all had learned it from the ancient, screwed-up mind of Tucker.

  But if he didn’t offer up something, he would be tortured — and eventually, he would spill what he thought he knew. The tears dribbled down his cheeks. This wasn’t how they had planned things. Where the hell was —

  “Drummond!”

  The head of his dead friend dropped through the ceiling. As he descended, Tucker looked over and scowled. “You must be the detective that my children have complained about.”

  “Kids love to complain,” Drummond said.

  Rolson spun around. “Who the hell are you talking to? What’s going on?”

  Tucker slapped Rolson hard. “Do what I told you.”

  “They’re going to kill me,” Max said.

  Drummond took one look at Max and said, “No, sir.” He zipped across the room and body-checked Rolson in the back. Drummond shouted at the pain while Rolson shouted in surprise. The gun skittered across the floor.

  Before Tucker could reach the weapon, Drummond moved in on him. Tucker stepped away and backhanded Drummond in the face. Both Max and Drummond stared in shock.

  “You can touch me?” Drummond’s hand brushed his cheek.

  “Oh, you sad little ghost. I’m a soul brought back from the dead. I exist in both the living and dead worlds. I can touch it all. And I can make you hurt.”

  Tucker charged Drummond. As they grappled, Drummond screamed at the pain he suffered from the contact. But that didn’t stop him. He punched Tucker in the jaw, sending the Hull patriarch flailing backward.

  As the fight continued, Max saw Rolson inching toward the gun. “Fuck that,” Max said and jumped on him.

  Rolson had far more experience fighting, but Max had far more to lose. Desperation fueled him as he punched wildly into Rolson’s body. After landing several strong hits, Rolson gave up reaching for the gun and rolled Max off of him.

  Brushing off his shoulders, Rolson got to his feet. Blood dripped from his nose. He put up his fists and circled Max like a trained boxer.

  Drummond and Tucker continued to grapple. They shoved each other against the wall and wrestled to the floor. Max watched as Drummond continued to fight despite the agony he wore on his face.

  Rolson took full advantage of Max’s momentary distraction. He came in at an angle with a haymaker to the head. At the last second, Max brought up his arms — not enough to block the blow, but he deflected a full-on hit to the temple. His head still took a nasty strike, shaking his brain, and causing spots to pop before his eyes.

  While dazed, Rolson came in again. This time he kicked Max. Max fell over and clutched his shins. He felt the cool stone of the wall and realized he had no escape. A second later, Tucker threw Drummond right next to him.

  All four men panted heavily. Tucker crossed his arms and said, “I think I’ll forgo the torture and kill you both right now.”

  “I’m already dead,” Drummond said with a slight groan to his words.

  “Oh, there are plenty of deaths a ghost can go through.”

  Drummond got to his feet and Max followed. He looked down at Max with a questioning raise of his eyebrow.

  Max wanted to smack the ghost himself. “I don’t know. I’ve been down here this whole time. You tell me. Was that enough?”

  Snatching the gun from the floor, Rolson said, “I’m so sick of you. What the hell are you talking about now?”

  Max held onto the wall in order to stay upright. “Neither of you seem to have put it together. And here I thought at least one of you might have some brains.” He gestured toward Drummond. “Didn’t you notice that he’s here? This ghost.”

  Tucker gazed upward. “You got the old Magi witch to break the seal against ghosts. So what?”

  “Oh, she’s doing more than that. She’s up there with my wife, and together they’ve been breaking the seal on the circle itself. From the confused look on your face, I’m guessing Rolson here didn’t bother telling you how he killed Sebastian Freeman.”

  Tucker’s eyes leveled on Rolson.

  “You said you didn’t want evidence.” Rolson squirmed.

  “What did you do?”

  Max tried to straighten more but the pain in his side prevented it — another broken rib. “He thought he summoned the spirit of Cal Baxter. He thought he sealed the spirit in this crazy place. All those magic circles line up like a telescope, each one making the one above stronger. But it didn’t work.”

  “It did, too,” Rolson said. “Baxter came and killed Freeman. You saw the dead body.”

  “Except that wasn’t Baxter. Cal Baxter moved on when he died. Drummond had looked for him but couldn’t find him because he’s gone. You can’t get to him.”

  “But I saw him. I saw him kill Freeman.”

  Tucker slapped Rolson on the back of the head. “Idiot. Cal Baxter designed these circles to be a strong prison to protect the gold from my family.”

  “Starting to see it now?” Max said.

  Rolson looked confused and frightened. “I swear I saw him. He looked like a demon.”

  “That you definitely saw — but that wasn’t Cal Baxter. That was Charlie McShay — the thief who stole the gold in the first place. How else do you think Cal found the gold? It took him a long time to realize that the message sent to him was simply Charlie’s name. Cal had to learn the ways of magic on his own. Took him about three years until he felt confident enough to summon Charlie and force the spirit to help him get the gold. Once he had his riches, Cal built this place and locked Charlie up. That old spirit’s been here for a long time. And he’s angry.”

  “He’s lying,” Rolson said.

  Tucker did not appear to agree. “He’s connected to the spirit. That’s why he could rip open the floor. That’s why he knows all of this.”

  Max added, “We also couldn’t find the ghost of Sebastian Freeman. My best guess is that McShay has kept him locked in this house with him. By now my wife and the witch have broken the seal and both ghost and spirit are going to be mighty angry. I think you ought to run.”

  Rolson pointed his gun at Max’s head. “Bullshit.” He pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  At first, Max thought Drummond had intervened again, but seeing the horned-beast — Charlie McShay — rise behind Rolson explained things. With a roar, McShay thrust a clawed fist into Rolson and lifted the man off the ground.

  Rolson dropped the gun and shrieked. It lasted only a few seconds. He died fast.

  Ignoring the beast, Tucker stomped over to the circle and grabbed the black candle. He muttered words over its light and his left hand began to glow ghostly pale. “You want to hurt my family? Is that what motivates you?”

  McShay spread his muscular arms and bellowed loud enough to frighten a grizzly. Tucker raised his glowing hand and shouted back. The two locked eyes for an instant before charging each other like jousting knights.

  When they smashed together, a blast of energy brightened the room. The air whooshed out through the door. Sebastian Freeman appeared on the ceiling and Drummond dissipated, thrown into the Other — or so Max hoped. It was Max’s last thought before falling unconscious.

  Chapter 28

  Max parked the old, beaten car next to the old, beaten trailer. He sat still, going over in his head how he wanted to handle the upcoming meeting. He couldn’t afford to mess it up. Everything depended on success — possibly even their lives.

  No, not possibly. Certainly.

  When he had woken at the bottom of Baxter House, he found no sign of Tucker Hull. On the wall, however, he saw what remained of McShay — a silhouette of the horned beast burned int
o the stone. No sign of Sebastian Freeman, though.

  Max clambered up the exit path, a winding ramp that took several minutes to reach the top. The door at the end led to the living room off to the side of the foyer. Sandra waited for him, ready to take him home.

  Dawn arrived as they reached the trailer. By the time they had prepared eggs, toast, and coffee, they found a way forward. And they needed a plan. Tucker Hull was out there, livid at Max, and clearly capable of destroying a summoned spirit.

  “This’ll work,” he said to the empty car before getting out.

  Inside, Sandra had begun packing their things into boxes. She looked at Max with urgency. “You got it?”

  He nodded.

  “Good,” she said. “I don’t want to be unpacking this stuff right back into this trailer.”

  “We’ll be fine. You heard from Drummond yet?”

  “No.”

  When they first came home, Drummond had appeared and explained that the force of Tucker and McShay fighting had shoved him into the Other. When he found his way back, the fight had ended and Max lay unconscious on the floor. He flew up to Sandra, told her to wait, and then went back to the Other to heal up after all of the abuse he had endured. He still needed a good week off, but he had enough rest in the few hours away that he could still help them out.

  After he had left for the Other, Sandra helped Sebastian find his way to move on. It was simple — he merely had to go to the Other and call out for Lilla. Together, they drifted away.

  A knock at the door.

  Max frowned. “Drummond’s supposed to be watching Cecily Hull to warn us when she arrived. Where the hell is he?”

  “Maybe that’s not Cecily Hull.”

  Dread gripped Max’s chest as he approached the door. What if Tucker had decided to finish off all the loose ends? Max might open the door and be gunned down by a hired goon. Or perhaps Tucker would do the job himself — far slower and more painful.

  The knock came again.

  Max opened the door a crack and peeked out. Mother Hope looked back at him. Not good. Not with a Hull on the way.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  An arm reached around Mother Hope, and as Max opened the door a bit wider, he saw Leon Moore. “Merely to talk. It’s cold out here. Please let us in.”

  With a gasp, Max opened the door and stepped back. Leon assisted Mother Hope up into the trailer and they settled by the small table.

  “To begin with,” Leon said, “we wanted to thank you for your help in stopping Tucker Hull from acquiring any pieces of the chest. Items imbued with magic are dangerous in any hands, but in a Hull’s hands — especially Tucker Hull — the results are not to be desired.”

  “We didn’t do it for you.”

  “Regardless, thank you.”

  “Is that all?”

  Leon bristled. “I know you might feel a little upset at my part in all this, but I never lied to you. I love research, and I am a librarian. My help was genuine. Now, considering you would be dead if Mother Hope had not aided your wife in breaking those seals, you’re being awfully rude.”

  “I do appreciate what you did, but I don’t think for a second that you did it for me. The only reason we even know your group exists is because we stumbled upon this old lady. And for that matter, you should thank us for saving her.”

  “We had her quite safe. In fact, there is no safer place than the O. Henry Hotel.”

  “Maybe so, but I’m still calling it even between us. You people — you’re no better than the Hulls. You play games with our lives, hiding from us, popping up to mess with us, and I’m sick of it.”

  Mother Hope lowered her head. Leon said, “We are sorry to hear you feel this way. We had come here to invite you to join us.” He looked at Sandra. “You both have great talents that we could use well. But clearly, you are not interested.”

  Sandra crossed her arms. “Clearly.”

  “In that case, we only ask that you do not interfere with us. If you can agree to stay out of our way, I don’t see why we can’t be peaceful towards each other.”

  Max gripped the kitchen counter while forcing a smile. “We’ve never wanted to be in the middle of any of this anyway. We simply want to run our little business, and live a decent life. It’s you and the Hulls that keep dragging us into your mess.”

  Leon stood and tugged his shirt down. “Well, then, it’s all very simple. Don’t deal with the Hulls and all will be fine with us. I might even be able to help you out in the library from time to time.”

  Drummond burst into the trailer. He saw the witch and his ghostly face paled. “What’s she doing here?” He took in the whole scene. “Oh, they’ve come to make a deal.”

  Mother Hope pointed at the ghost and Leon frowned. “Do we have a visitor?”

  “No,” Max said. “We have a partner.”

  Drummond smiled. “Thanks, Max.” Then he leaned close and whispered, “Cecily Hull is almost here. You got five minutes, maybe ten if you’re lucky.”

  Max offered his hand. “Stay out of our business, and we’ll stay out of yours. That’s the deal, right? Shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll stick to the Winston-Salem area, and you stay in Greensboro.”

  Leon looked to Mother Hope before shaking Max’s hand. “You’ll find the cities are closer than you think, but I suspect you understand quite well the trouble you will bring if you go against us. We are not afraid of the Hulls, so we are certainly not afraid of you.”

  Without another word, Leon helped Mother Hope to her feet and escorted her out of the trailer.

  Max watched as they drove off and wondered what they would say if they knew that Cecily Hull would be arriving any moment. He didn’t like the idea of making enemies out of these people, but they were not going to risk much to save Max and Sandra from the Hulls. Cecily, however, would have reasons to do so — at least, Max hoped to convince her that was true.

  Less than a minute later, Cecily Hull arrived. She walked in without a word and took a seat, snapping out a cigarette and lighting up. As she blew out smoke, she looked at Max and waited.

  “Hello to you, too,” Max said. Cecily did not acknowledge his sarcasm. “Okay, then. I guess you’d prefer I be direct.”

  “And succinct. I don’t like to deal with people who’ve turned me down once before. Makes them hard to trust.”

  Sandra and Drummond stood in the kitchen and watched the events unfold. Max would have preferred having Sandra by his side — heck, he would have preferred having Sandra run the whole thing — but Sandra said that Cecily would be more amenable with her appearing less important.

  Max cleared his throat. “I suppose I should be glad you bothered to come at all.”

  “Really, Mr. Porter? You think I don’t know what went on at Baxter House? Do you honestly believe I wouldn’t find out that Tucker failed to get the chest and that you claimed to have located it? That is the only reason I came here. So, do you have it or don’t you? Because unless you possess the chest right now, I have no use for you.”

  “Four hundred thousand dollars — that’s my price.” Max tried not to shake when he said the number, but he heard a tiny tremble anyway.

  “Aren’t you a greedy one?”

  “Not at all. My partners want me to get a full million.”

  Drummond said, “You got that right.”

  Cecily looked over at Sandra, and Max wondered if she could see Drummond. “Why the discount? I doubt you are simply being nice to me.”

  Max said, “Four hundred thousand buys us a new house, a new car, and plenty left over to save so we don’t have to be under a Hull thumb ever again. But we want more than that. We want your word that you will cease all targeting of me, Sandra, and Drummond — and if you succeed in taking over the Hull family, you will continue to make sure that the three of us are not bothered by you or your people.”

  Cecily dragged long on her cigarette before giving Max one curt nod.

  With that, Max stepped outside to
retrieve a sports bag from the trunk of his car. He returned and placed the bag at Cecily’s feet. He unzipped it and showed that it was filled with splintered pieces of wood.

  “And what is this?” she asked, a dark tone growling beneath her calm voice.

  “This is what’s left of the chest. After my breakfast, I went back to Baxter House to get it. When Cal Baxter hid the remaining gold under the floorboards of the bottom-most room, he drew a magic circle on the floor. The boards within that circle were made with wood from the chest. That’s one reason the circle was so darn powerful and did such a good job of holding McShay against his will.”

  “He bound McShay to this wood.”

  “Exactly. And now that Tucker has destroyed McShay, this wood is no longer cursed by a binding spell. But it still holds plenty of magic.”

  Cecily zipped the bag closed and picked it up. “You have my word. You, your wife, and your ghost will be free from the Hulls. You will hear from my people in a few days to arrange the payment of your funds.”

  Drummond flew close in. “Don’t let her leave with that bag. We’ll never get the money.”

  Max blocked the doorway. “I want to be perfectly clear. You are welcome to take the bag today because I have no doubts that you will pay up. If you don’t, the ghost of Marshall Drummond will come after you.”

  Drummond passed through Cecily. The chill within her body registered on her face, and Max knew she got the message.

  “No need for threats,” she said. “You’ll be paid.”

  She motioned to leave, but Max did not move out of her way. “One last thing,” he said.

  “I’m losing my patience.”

  “I need you to promise that you will destroy Tucker Hull. All your money, your word — our deal means nothing if I spend the rest of my life worrying that Tucker is going to exact revenge on me at any moment. I’ve given you this chest so that you can do as you said you wanted to do — destroy him and take over the family.”

  Cecily dropped her cigarette on the floor. She stepped on it, pressing it in deep. “That is exactly what I will do.”