“She hears the master run down the stairs… the front door slams. She starts to rouse them, but there’s no time to get them to safety. She doesn’t want to send them into the night to get eaten by an alligator or a bear or worse, found by her master.
“Time! If only she had time! She can hear her master screaming to someone outside ... he would be back soon. She grabs the sheet off their little bodies and begins to make a sack to put them in. She’s going to try to make a run with them... she runs to open the window so that she can run out into the night with them.”
Sadie stood silently for a moment, watching a scene that they could not see. Tears slid down her cheeks and dripped off her chin.
“She can hear him … stomping on the porch. No time. She has no time. She doesn't want them to suffer. She scans the room, looking for a weapon, anything to help. She knows that he’ll be cruel. She has no other choice. He’s in the house, yelling. He bangs at the door... calling her vile names and telling her that it’s going to be an ‘eye for an eye’ tonight. The dresser is trembling in his attempts to shove the door open.”
Sadie was shaking, scared by what she was seeing. She spun around in the room, watching the vision play out.
“She sees a … some kind of a gun … a revolver … sticking out of a holder hanging on the wall beside a pair of her master pants that she was supposed to darn tomorrow.
“She grabs the wooden handle and pulls the pistol out. She knows that she’ll be hanged. She doesn’t care about that … but her babies. They will be killed, too, if he gets to them. She doesn’t have time to send them to safety. Would she be able to kill her master once he busted through the door? She’s holding the gun toward the door, but her hands are shaking so badly. She’s debating with herself. He is so big and fast. She is so little. And if she missed … oh, what would he do to her boys?
“What's that? There are other voices in the hall now. Her master is not alone. There are other men. White men. But how … how had he gotten help so quickly before trailing her? She is crying and panicked. She … she... NO!”
Sadie’s knees buckled and she fell to the floor in tears. Lindsey rushed over to her and wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulders. “What? What happened?”
“She … she knows that there is no other way... she must take the little lives herself to prevent their suffering.”
Eli hissed, Maddie backed up to the wall, and Lindsey cried, “No!”
The psychic slowly got up and headed over to a spot near the sofa. “The bed's here... the babies are sleeping... their little brown faces so peaceful against the white pillows. The moon light is shining in the window on them like a ghastly spot light.”
She turned back to the open room. “The dresser is being budged … the men on the other side are strong … and angry … and ready for a lynching. They blame her for the wife’s death … they think she put a spell on her. They are going to lynch the babies right along with their mama. Tears are streaming down the slave’s face, mucus is dripping out of her nose.
“Her hand shakes as she lifts the heavy gun in the air and walks to the bed. The tears are dripping off of her cheeks... her cocoa lips are trembling … she pulls the trigger. One baby's head pours red across the moon-lit linens. The other baby sits up and screams. There's a heavy cloud of gun smoke hanging in the air. Can you smell it? Can you smell the spent gun powder?
“The men in the hall halt their attack on the door for the tiniest of a second. She cocks the pistol again, aims, and hits the other baby in the forehead before she hits the floor in grief.
“The dresser moves enough to allow the men to enter… there are three of them. She cocks the gun a third time. Despite her grief, she reaches out to hold her dead babies with one hand and tries to lift the gun to her own head … but it just clicks … the ammunition chambers are empty... Two of the men descend on her and haul her out of the room and the third tosses the dead babies over his shoulder like a pair of dead foxes.”
Sadie stood and ran to the door and out into the hallway. The others ran after her, following her to the front door and out of the house. She stopped below the largest live oak in the yard and pointed up.
“They’re tossing the end of a rope up there over that branch. The other two slaves heard the ruckus and are peeking around the side of the big house. They… the men are tying a second rope around the necks of the dead babies. She … the slave woman is crying so bad that she can’t stand up… she’s holding her hands out for her babies… she wants to hug them one last time… but the men laugh at her, taunt her.”
Sadie stopped and vomited all over the ground. When she was done, she stood, wiped the side of her mouth, and said, “They hung her there. They put the two babies in one noose and hung them beside her. She died looking into their mangled, dead faces.”
Sadie shook her head and closed her eyes. She stood there under the tree for several moments before opening her eyes and looking at the three of them standing in front of her.
“Lindsey, you need someone more powerful than just me for this house. I sense the slave woman and her children here, but they are harmless spirits. They might startle you a little with their antics, but I don’t sense that they do it intentionally. They have been here a long time. But the man… I sense him, too. And he definitely wishes you harm. I do not know why... but I feel his malevolent spirit in the home. I also sense that his spirit hasn’t always been here, that he was here at one time but left. He just recently reappeared. I don’t know why nor how – I’ve never heard of such a thing. The spirit of the slave has a renewed fear. It just doesn't make sense.”
They all stood, looking up in the branches of the moon-lit tree. The Spanish moss swayed in the breeze. After a few moments, Sadie turned and spoke to Lindsey.
“You know, when I was kid there were murmurings about the old lady that lived here and that the place was haunted, but it was more of a story used to dare younger kids to knock on her door or walk around the house at night. Now one ever really took it seriously. When she died, the rumors died. A new, younger woman moved in. She revamped the yards and made the house look majestic again. But no amount of gardening or exterior paint could get rid it of what was inside. This house needs to be cleansed and it’ll take more than one person. Do you mind if I call a couple of friends to come and help us out?”
“How soon could you get them here? My mom will be gone for a week starting Monday. She would freak if she found out about this, so I’d rather do it while she’s away.”
“Give me a day or two to talk to them. Maybe we can do some research and investigating while your mom is at work one night so that we can get a better feel for what’s going on here, then do the cleansing while she’s away. But I must ask you this – what are your feelings on witchcraft?”
Lindsey and Eli both took a step backwards. Maddie sighed and said, “No, you silly people! She doesn’t mean that stupid Hollywood, Satan-worshipping crap. Sadie and her friends are Wiccan.”
“Wiccan?” Lindsey asked.
Maddie rolled her eyes at her. “Yes! It’s an ancient earth religion that celebrates and protects life. Wiccans aren’t Satanists.”
“I understand your hesitation. It’s the reason that my dear brother and I don’t talk. He thinks that I dance naked under the full moon and commune with the devil. But Maddie’s right – that’s just Hollywood’s spin on what we do and the view of fear-mongers and Bible-thumpers. In actuality, we are as much against the evil ones as they are.
“Now, I have three friends who live by the ancient rede and would possibly be willing to come to your aide. Let me get them out here to look around. They are also members of the Charleston Area Paranormal Investigators. Maybe they can bring their set-up and try to get some of the activity here on tape. That’ll help us figure out how we can banish it, too. Kill two birds with one stone, if you will. I’m sure we can get it done early next week.”
“So soon? Man! I wish I could help,” Maddie said.
&
nbsp; “Why can’t you?” Lindsey asked.
“We’re going to Asheville to visit my grandparents and then helping Michelle get settled in at Clemson. We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon and won’t be back until next Thursday. I know that we told you!”
“Yeah, I knew she was leaving, I just didn’t know that the whole family was going or that you all were going to be gone for so long. I assumed that she’d just drive herself.” Lindsey knew how silly that sounded now. Her mother wouldn’t have let her drive away to her first semester at college alone. Why had she not figured out that the Robbins’ would escort Michelle, too?
Lindsey then looked at Eli. He stood rigid beside her, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of getting help from witches. She feared he wouldn’t participate if there was a ceremony here. She knew she wouldn’t be able to face the spiritual battle in the house without at least one of them by her side.
“Can we do the paranormal sweep thing, see what we find, and then go from there? I don’t know how I feel about participating in a pagan ceremony just yet, though.”
“I completely understand. I’ll give Sara a call and get the group out here tomorrow night if possible. There’s also a Christian deacon in the group and a Trinitarian Wiccan – a Wiccan that only observes the Christian Pantheon in her workings. Let me talk to them and then I’ll call you. Until then, please be safe. Blessed be.”
Sadie walked slowly toward her car. Halfway there, she turned and looked back. “Oh, that painting that hangs in your living room. Where did you get it?”
“It was a housewarming gift. Our friend Darby bought it over at the Artisans Center. Why?”
“Hmmm. Just curious. It seems to be a sort of sanctuary for the spirits of the slave and her children. The darker entity won’t approach it so they feel safe near it. I wonder why that is?”
Sadie shrugged and drove off into the night.
Sixteen
Dusk was settling over the tree tops when the white van approached the house. Aimee had just left for work; she had probably passed the van on the road only minutes before. The driver was a short, portly man of about 45. Four women poured out of the side door carrying small cases. “C.A.P.I.” was written in large, black, block-lettering along the side of the vehicle. Below it, in red script, said “Charleston Area Paranormal Investigators: Connecting with Lowcountry spirits since 1999.”
Sadie approached Lindsey, who was sitting in a chair on the front porch, but the others stopped at the largest oak tree. One of the women whispered something to the man and pointed up.
“Hello, Lindsey. We won’t be here too awful long, maybe a couple of hours or so. We’re just trying to get a general feel for the spirits and what it might take to banish them all. My friends will set up some digital recorders and thermal cameras around the house while we go through and try to contact spirits. I do ask that you stay outside because I feel that the one spirit is angered by your presence. “Marissa, the one with the long, red hair, wants to talk to you anyway. She did some research on the house and has some things to tell you. While she is with you, the rest of us will be inside. We'll let you know when we're done.”
Lindsey nodded. Eli had gone for his daily reflection walk a little while ago and Lindsey found herself wondering where he’d gone and if he’d be back soon. She didn't feel like going through this without him here.
“Lindsey I want you to meet the members of C.A.P.I. that made the trip out here tonight.” Sadie pointed to each of the people that were now standing at the foot of the stairs. “Marissa Jordan, our historian, Raven Jones, a Trinitarian wiccan, Sara de Zierold, a fellow clairvoyant and psychometrist, and Chris Long, a deacon from St. Francis’ Catholic Church out in Ritter.” Sadie pointed to each of them and they waved as they were introduced.
“Hi,” Lindsey muttered.
Marissa stepped forward, extended her hand and said, “Where would you prefer to go to talk?”
The others walked around them, cases in tow, and through the front door.
Lindsey led her around the house and out to the back porch where they sat down on the top step. For a while, they just sat and watched the reeds in the estuary blow in the wind and the colors of the lowering sun reflect on the rippling water. The only sounds were the twittering, cawing, and buzzing of the various birds and insects that called the water’s edge home. In the distance a deep, baritone bark from a large dog echoed. The smell of a charcoal grill drifted on the air. Marissa dug a bottle of insect repellent out of her bag, applied it to her exposed skin, and passed the can to Lindsey.
“So...” Lindsey began as she sprayed her legs.
“Well, I have been digging around, trying to find out something about the history of this place so that we know who – or what – we’re dealing with. Darby helped me out over at the historical society. We found some interesting stuff. I wasn’t allowed to take the journals, or to even photocopy pages, but I did take some notes.”
Eli strolled out of the woods and approached the porch as Marissa began to go over her findings.
“The house was built in 1851 by Georgetown rice plantation owner Milton Walker. Now Walker wasn’t born rich. He spent much of his life working. When he could afford to buy land, he built his plantation up with his own hands. As the plantation grew in grandeur, so did his status and reputation. He was in his late forties when he finally married. His wife, Abigail Carter, was the middle daughter of an aristocrat from Virginia. She was only 19 when they wed. She quickly grew tired of the summers on the plantation. Several of their society friends had homes in Hickory Valley and she wanted one, too.”
“Hickory Valley? Where's that?”
“Well, right here,” Marissa waved her hands as if displaying a prize on a game show. “Hickory Valley was the original name of this town. It eventually took on the name of Paul and Jacob Walter – two brothers who first settled in the area in the 1780s.”
Lindsey wiped beads of sweat off her forehead. “But why come here for the summer? I can't imagine that the weather is any better here than there. I mean Georgetown isn’t that far away, is it? It’s only a couple of hours or so away, right? It had to be just as sweltering here as there.”
“They weren't escaping the heat. They were escaping the mosquitos that swarmed the plantations in the summer. But I’ll get to that in a bit. Milton and Abigail arrived here in late May 1852 for the first of what they thought would be many summers. Abigail was approximately six months pregnant. They brought four slaves with them as well as a carpenter and a medical doctor. The carpenter was there to finish some minor construction on the baby’s nursery and the doctor was there for the well-being of Mrs. Walker. The slaves were there take care of them all – cleaning the house, maintaining the grounds, hunting, cooking, and such.
“Abigail took one of the slaves as her personal servant. Her name was Olemargaret. It is believed the Walkers intended for her to be the baby’s wet-nurse once it was born. Anyway, Olemargaret had twin sons, Sambo and Tom, age 4. Her husband, Sam, had been sold at auction a few months before.”
Lindsey shuddered and shook her head. Marissa either didn’t notice or ignored it.
“In late July Abigail fell ill. The records say that she had flu-like symptoms – fever, chills, muscle aches, fatigue, vomiting, etc. The doctor, Dr. Amos White, was summoned. He said she was suffering from something called the agues, and that she would most assuredly die without Jesuits Powder. But Milton honestly believed that Olemargaret had cursed his wife out of jealousy, that she had gotten a taste of living in the big house and wanted to be the woman of the house – not the servant. There were even rumors of a sexual encounter between the two of them shortly before Abigail fell ill. With that in mind, he disregarded the doctor’s diagnosis and proposed treatment.”
“What are agues?”
“I had to look that one up, too. According to an online medical dictionary, it’s ‘a febrile condition, especially associated with malaria, characterized by alternating periods of chills, fever, an
d sweating.’ I also looked up Jesuits Powder. It’s just powdered quinine. Jesuit missionaries in Peru back in the 17th century learned about it from the natives. They would give the bark of a local tree to tribe members when they fell ill with the symptoms of the disease that we now know as Malaria. The priests brought the bark, in powder form, back to England and it eventually made its way to the United States. Jesuits Powder is known today as a drug called quinine.”
Lindsey had heard of the disease and that it was still rampant in most third world countries, but she didn’t know exactly what it was. As if on cue, Marissa pulled a tattered copy of a scientific magazine from her bag. There was a bright pink slip of paper sticking out of it to mark her page. She flipped the magazine open and began to read a highlighted passage out loud.
“I was allowed to borrow this, though,” She said of the magazine. “This is from an August 2009 story by Andrew Palich: ‘A mosquito lands on your arm as you sit on your back porch. You watch as it assumes its hunched, tail-over-head posture. You smack it, leaving a smudge of blood on your skin. You think nothing more of it. You go back to your burger, drink, and conversation. But if she was a carrier of the plasmodia parasite, the infection has begun. Your body has no clue that things are about to haywire but the countdown clock is ticking.
“‘Plasmodia – one-celled, worm-like creatures – live in the infected mosquito's salivary glands. Over fifty thousand of them could swim in a droplet of saliva the size of a period. They rush through your bloodstream and take up residence in your liver where they each pick out a liver cell and hunker down for the next week or two. All the while that clock is ticking away to D-day’.
Harbinger in the Mist (Arms of Serendipity) Page 16