Jenny Pox (The Paranormals, Book 1)

by Bryan, JL

  “Why? It’s true. Isn’t it, Ashleigh? Tell them the truth. Tell them I didn’t do this. Tell them how your friends Cassie and Neesha beat you up so you could frame me.”

  Many outraged voices spoke up in the crowd, and somebody shouted “Get him!”

  “I don’t think the truth is working,” Jenny whispered.

  “How can you just let them stand there?” Ashleigh wailed. She looked to the crowd on her left, the crowd on her right. “Look what they did! Somebody do something!”

  Some of the mob shuffled forward. Everett and two older armed men in hunting jackets got as far as the third courthouse step, with seven steps left to go. They looked at each other, waiting to see who would go first. Nobody volunteered. They were attacking unarmed teenagers, hometown kids.

  “Please!” Ashleigh screamed. “Somebody! Somebody!”

  There was some more shuffling forward, but not as much. Ashleigh turned to face them.

  “Won’t anyone protect me?” she asked. She stepped toward the crowd, extending her hands out, palms up. She seemed befuddled, as if the intense head bashing by Cassie and Neesha had, just possibly, affected her head. “Come on, everybody. Touch me. Touch me!”

  They whispered among each other, not sure what to make of this. Even Cassie and Neesha looked worried and whispered to each other. Ashleigh wasn’t doing it right. Her head was too mixed up.

  “Fuck!” Ashleigh said. Then she screamed it: “Fuck you all!”

  She whirled towards Seth and stalked up the courthouse steps.

  On the fourth step, Ashleigh snatched the pump shotgun from Everett’s hands.

  On the fifth step, she raised it.

  On the sixth step, she pointed it at Seth.

  “Ashleigh,” Seth said. “Put it down. The police are right behind you.”

  Jenny looked. The police were still on the sidewalk, watching, waiting for the mayor to give an order. Cassie gripped her father’s forearm and kept whispering in his ear, distracting him.

  On the seventh step, Ashleigh squinted an eye and took aim at Seth’s gut.

  “Ashleigh,” Seth said. “Don’t.”

  Jenny couldn’t speak, and didn’t even know if she should. The sound of her voice might set Ashleigh off. If she moved fast enough, she could kill Ashleigh. But Ashleigh’s finger was already on the trigger, and Jenny didn’t think she could make it. She’d probably just startle Ashleigh into shooting. Better to let Seth talk her down.

  On the eighth step, almost to the top, Ashleigh stopped. Her eyes locked onto Seth’s.

  “Go to hell, Seth,” she said. “I have a heart, too.”

  Then she pulled the trigger. Seth’s heart and ribs exploded through his back and spattered across the courthouse doors.

  Seth stumbled backward. He slammed against the locked door, then slid down along it. He stopped in a sitting position on the lip of the door sill, and remained there a second, his eyes bulging in surprise. Then he flopped over on his side, and his hand smacked across Jenny’s bare foot. Jenny screamed.

  She sank to her knees beside Seth, laying her hands on him, unable to do anything at all. She checked his pulse at his neck and his wrist, but there was nothing. There wasn’t a heart left to beat.

  Ashleigh approached her, fiddling with the slide on the shotgun.

  “Seth,” Jenny whispered, unable to believe what Ashleigh had done. Her hand passed over Seth’s face. No life remained in his eyes, just a fading echo of the shock in which he’d died. The loss of him seemed too enormous to understand. No more touching. No more love. No hope for the future. The rest of her life would be as lonely as the first eighteen years, but worse, now that she’d glimpsed what could have been. She would never recover from losing him.

  Jenny looked up.

  Ten seconds, she thought. Ten seconds ago, she could have killed Ashleigh and saved Seth. Just ten seconds. Maybe she wasn’t fast enough, but she should have tried.

  Jenny rose unsteadily on her feet. She held out her hands to Ashleigh. Ashleigh was grunting, still trying to work the slide on the old gun. It wasn’t budging.

  “Come,” Jenny said. “Come on. Let me touch you.”

  Ashleigh’s gray eyes looked down at Jenny’s. Ashleigh gave the slide a final useless try, then dropped the gun. She turned and ran away down the courthouse steps, through the wide avenue the crowd had made for her.

  “Stop!” Jenny yelled. “Somebody stop her!”

  But nobody did.

  Jenny looked down at Seth and dropped to her knees again. She touched his head, and a deep, sudden sob tore through her. But she didn’t cry, not yet. There was just the one wrenching sob.

  She pulled him into her lap, holding up his head the way she had done the day he’d almost put too much into the healing. The day he’d brought her father back to life.

  But there was no one she could call to bring Seth back. The only person with the power to do that was gone.

  ***

  Ashleigh jogged on foot through the church, not sure where Cassie and Neesha were now, not really caring. She found Neesha’s car keys. Neesha had driven, since Ashleigh was supposed to be too traumatized. Ashleigh was feeling a little traumatized. The girls had really whacked her with the cooking pans. And the meat tenderizer. And then she’d lain back on the floor while Cassie and Neesha kicked the shit out of her.

  And still she’d screwed it up, even with dedication like that. Her head felt thick. She hadn’t activated the crowd right. She’d never made anyone kill before. Usually she had them give her things, or do stupid little favors for her. Maybe it took a special approach. Maybe she hadn’t dialed it up enough. Maybe she’d been relying too much on the influence she’d pumped out earlier in the day, shaking hands at the church and the Easter egg hunt, and it had faded.

  The plan had seemed so clear earlier, sometime before her multiple head wounds. Neesha and Cassie had resisted the plan at first, but everybody eventually agreed with Ashleigh. She’d had them spread the word about what had supposedly happened, calling everyone they knew. They told everyone that everyone was meeting on the square to deal with it and everyone was bringing a gun just in case.

  She’d meant to trigger an incident, but she’d ruined it. The crowd wasn’t agitated enough. She thought they were on edge, that maybe if she took the first shot, that would do it. But instead she’d broken her first rule, gotten blood on her own hands. And her second rule, in front of witnesses. She’d been impatient. She’d just wanted to see Seth and Jenny die.

  Ashleigh climbed into Neesha’s Acura and cranked it, adjusted the seating to her body. Neesha and Cassie were still back on the square. Oh, well. If they didn’t keep up, they were too slow. Neesha had annoyed Ashleigh, anyway. Ashleigh had wanted a very mixed crowd, because she thought a crowd with lots of black people would be scarier, but it looked like Neesha had called mostly white people. She deserved to lose her car for a while. Ashleigh drove out into the alley and pushed the accelerator.

  But it wasn’t a complete loss. Seth was gone, and that was half the battle. She didn’t know what to do about Jenny. She’d screwed up there, gotten over her head. The gun had jammed or something. She’d ended up standing in front of Jenny Mittens, basically unarmed, with nothing but Jenny’s murdered boyfriend between them. She had to get out of there.

  Ashleigh couldn’t turn her power off, but she could turn it up. She could make someone like her, love her, adore her, worship her, put them in a state of complete bliss. She could instigate all kinds of romantic encounters between anyone, make them lose control. When she turned it up, really let the power flow, she could enchant and ensorcel anyone, even a crowd, if she could touch them.

  She had a feeling Jenny Mittens was about to turn it up. And Ashleigh did not want to be near that. It was time to retreat and let Jenny burn herself out, if that’s what she was going to do. Maybe she would die in the process. There were a lot of armed guys out there, experienced hunters. If they’d been too chicken to shoot for Ashleigh,
maybe they would shoot to save themselves. If they had the chance.

  Ashleigh had her fallback plan ready to go. On her cell phone, she dialed Darcy Metcalf, already waiting at Ashleigh’s house.

  ***

  Jenny held Seth across her lap, rocking back and forth, completely stunned. The crowd was quiet, with only an occasional whisper. Then the whispering became louder and faster. Jenny saw Dr. Maurice Goodling, in his Easter suit with a lily pinned to the pocket. He was climbing into the flatbed of Dave Trenton’s white truck, the one parked slantwise in the middle of the road, the decoy that had drawn Seth into the crowd. People whispered and nudged each other, and he straightened his coat while he sized up the crowd.

  “People,” Dr. Goodling said. “Good people of Fallen Oak. I feel it is my duty, on behalf of the Lord, to speak to you at this time. I feel the presence of the Spirit here today. And I feel the presence of another, fallen spirit here tonight.”

  There were gasps from the crowd, and some heads bowed to pray, eyes closed.

  “There are times, we are told, when we must render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s,” he said. “And times when we must render unto God what is God’s. We know all about rendering unto Caesar—” A few people chuckled, but others cut them off with sharp looks. “—but, now and again, we are called upon to render unto God.”

  Heads nodded as people took this in.

  “We have heard information,” he said. “About illicit activities up at Barrett House. Full moons, mostly. The practice of witchery, also known as witchism. Drugs. Sexualization. Our children. We have seen our town flipped inside out. Our poor high school girls, so many drawn in by this witchdom.

  “I thought y’all were a little off when you started bringing me stories about witchcraft,” he said. “Thought I had to be the cool-headed one. The one that kept everybody else from worrying. But now I realize that sometimes, occult things do happen. Darkness does move upon the earth, and we must strike back against it.”

  More heads nodded, and there were murmurs of agreement.

  “The girls tell me,” Dr. Goodling said. “There was great witchery again today at Barrett House, because of Easter. They have their own kind of Easter ritual, you see.” He turned to look at Cassie and Neesha, evaluating them for a moment. “Cassiopeia,” he said. “Did Ashleigh tell you about seeing any black magic today?”

  Cassie looked around nervously as hundreds of faces turned toward her.

  “Yes,” she said. She cleared her throat. “Um, yes, Dr. Goodling. That’s why they did it, for their Easter ritual. Because, uh, you see, the devil, they celebrate a different Easter. Right? So, they need to...I’m sorry, this is hard to say. They need to sacrifice a virgin.”

  The entire crowd gasped. Even Dr. Goodling looked surprised.

  “Yep, sacrifice a virgin,” Cassie said. “They knew Ashleigh was a virgin, right? So they lured her in. I mean, Ashleigh is a major get for Satan, right? Only she escaped. And she made it all the way to church. And so…here she was, and then. Well, and then…” Cassie glanced at Jenny. “Then Jenny and Seth came to chase her. That’s why they’re here.”

  Then Cassie buried her face in both her hands. She looked like she was sobbing, but Jenny believed she was hiding laughter.

  “Scripture is very clear,” Dr. Goodling’s voice boomed. “‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’ Exodus…well, Exodus.”

  Jenny watched this unfold. Her mind was completely numb. Had Ashleigh really planned everything?

  “However,” Dr. Goodling said. “Did you know that black magic, witchcraft, and devilry are not felonies in South Carolina?”

  The crowd murmured, surprised and mystified by this.

  “It’s not illegal,” Dr. Goodling said. “On account of…it’s freedom of religion.”

  Many an outraged cry went up from the crowd.

  “On the other hand,” Dr. Goodling said. “We have God’s law. We have the Book. And it tells us, ‘thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’ Say it with me, folks.”

  They said it with him.

  “That’s from the Bible, folks,” Dr. Goodling said. “Now, we all know my daughter Ashleigh. She’s about as close to an angel as I can imagine. And to think, what they did, and tried to do. Of course the Lord will give us a sign. Of course the Lord will send an angel to strike the first witch, to show us what to do. The signs are here. This is a test of faith.

  “We are way out beyond human justice,” Dr. Goodling said. “Ain’t that right, Chief Lintner?”

  The police chief looked at Jenny, then at Dr. Goodling, and nodded his head.

  “Tonight, we have to rip the evil from this town, root and branch,” Dr. Goodling said. “Tonight, we’re going back to the Old Testament, and the original law. Tonight, we are gonna see God’s justice.”

  Shouts went up from the crowd.

  “Traditionally,” Dr. Goodling said, “Witches are killed in two ways: by hanging, and by burning. I recommend we start with one and finish with the other. Hang the girl-witch. Burn both bodies and bury them in unmarked graves on unblessed ground. And, uh, cover the graves with salt!”

  Many voices rose in support of this.

  Dr. Goodling walked to the cab of Dave’s truck, leaned against it, and waited.

  Gradually, people came together, a thick nylon rope was found, a lynching party picked out, including Everett Lawson, Deputy Guntley, Larry DuShoun, and a fat guy in a denim jacket named Arbie Blackfield, who owned an old gas station on the south side of town, and had just come from drinking at McCronkin’s. His eight-year-old daughter had allegedly been hurt in the accident with Dave Trenton.

  Jenny watched all of this in disbelief. Then she happened to catch a look between Dr. Goodling and Cassie. Cassie raised her eyebrows, and Dr. Goodling winked at her. Jenny realized this wasn’t all one big, intricate plot arranged by Ashleigh. They were adapting. Dr. Goodling’s carnie-booth con man instincts kept the show going his way, and obviously Cassie had learned a few tricks from the Goodling family.

  They were improvising.

  Jenny needed to improvise, or they were going to kill her. Arbie was twirling up a nylon noose. Why did they want to kill her?

  She blinked, and the meaning of Dr. Goodling’s speech clicked into place. She’d spent a lot of time thinking like Ashleigh, for her own defense. That meant she knew at least a little about how Dr. Goodling worked, too.

  Jenny stood up, and many people quieted, looking at her.

  “Can’t you see what he’s doing?” Jenny asked. “He’s just trying to protect his daughter. Ashleigh Goodling is a murderer. She killed Seth. And now he wants all of you to share her guilt. He wants you to burn our bodies? Think about it. You’ll be part of both crimes.”

  There was angry muttering and some unfriendly shouting.

  “If you do what he says,” Jenny shouted, “You’re all guilty! Don’t you understand? He’s a con artist. Like his daughter.”

  This brought a lot of angry shouting, and the crowd surged toward her. Dr. Goodling stood upright in the pickup bed again.

  “Be mindful of the devil’s deceptions,” Dr. Goodling said. “Is there any here among you who would defy God? Is there any here who would speak on behalf of this girl, who has brought only curses and evil upon us through her witching? Think of all the innocent girls who suffered, all the strange pregnancies. The horror and death we’ve seen today. Who wants it to continue? Who speaks for the child of hell?”

  Jenny looked out on the silent crowd.

  “Please,” Jenny said. “Somebody?”

  There was whispering, and Jenny thought she heard hissing. But nobody spoke up in her defense.

  Dr. Goodling said a special blessing over the four members of the lynching party. They walked up the courthouse steps together, towards where Jenny stood by Seth’s body. Seth’s blood coated her dress, her gloves, her face. It was already starting to cool. She could smell it everywhere.

  Deputy Guntley dangled the noose.

/>   “Y’all hold her,” he said as they approached. He smiled around his buck teeth. “I’ll rope her.”

  Everett seized her left hand and Albie Blackfield grabbed her right, both of them insulated by Jenny’s long gloves. Larry DuShoun got behind Jenny and clapped his hands to the front of her hips, which just seemed unnecessarily perverted to her.

  “You just hold still,” Deputy Guntley said. He raised the noose over head. Jenny watched his fat, jiggling forearm moved into striking distance. “Hold still…”

  Jenny lunged her head forward and sank her teeth deep into the deputy’s arm. Guntley screamed and tried to pull free, but Jenny bit down with all her strength. A dark red rash spread up his arm and into his sleeve. It appeared again on his neck, then spread across his face like kudzu overtaking a tree. His whole body shivered, and ropy saliva sputtered from his mouth.

  Jenny opened her mouth and pulled away, and thick strings of dissolving flesh came with her, clinging to her lips like hot mozzarella. She left a mouth-sized hole in his forearm, open all the way to the bone. Guntley collapsed as seizures racked his body.

  Jenny tried to pull her hands free. Everett was quick and clamped down tight, but Arbie Blackfield was not as quick, and he only managed to catch the fingers of her glove. She pulled her right hand free. She wouldn’t be needing the glove, anyway.

  She clapped her hand onto the back of Arbie’s and pressed down, willing the Jenny pox to spread. Arbie’s hand dried and cracked, weeping blood. The same happened to his bristly, unshaven face, the skin shriveling and breaking to scales and flakes like mud drying in the sun. Arbie hyperventilated, then fell to his knees and puked up blood and bile.

  Jenny slapped her free hand against Everett’s face, and it immediately broke into the flaky scales, with blood leaking out between the cracks. More blood seeped from his nose, his ears, and his eyes. He fell aside, dead by the time he toppled down the steps.

  Larry DuShoun wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his hips. It really felt like he was dry humping her, trying to get one last nut before he died.