A Haunting in the SWATS (The Savannah Swan Files Book 1)

by Balogun Ojetade

  Lastly, he pulled out his mother’s old brass bell and the worn dish rag used to polish it. He placed the red box back in the chest of drawers then went to work cleaning up the old brass bell, rubbing it vigorously to bring back its lustrous shine.

  Rashad turned the bell to work on a dusty section, and the dish rag slipped through his fingers. He watched it flutter away, fanning out to land flat on the floor. “Stranger coming,” he whispered, reading the sign the rag revealed. “A man.”

  A dot of red appeared in the center of the grimy dish rag, then spread rapidly until the whole cloth was a bloody mess.

  A thunderous bang shook the house on its foundation, jangling the wind chimes on the front porch.

  Carter shouted a warning.

  Lashey yelped with surprise.

  Rashad rubbed his thumb along the necklace. He headed downstairs, tilting his head from side to side to stretch his neck.

  He made his way into the living room, arms hanging loose at his sides. For the first time in years he felt alive, filled with that old energy that made everything sharp and exciting. “I hear you knockin’,” he whispered to whatever was banging on the door. “But you ain’t comin’ in.”

  The house shook a second time. A long crack ran down the glass in the front door.

  “Naw, naw, goddamnit.” Rashad stomped across the living room. He tugged one of the teeth on his necklace as he went. It slipped free of the leather cord. Rashad rolled the tooth between his thumb and forefinger as he reached for the door handle with his other hand. Whatever was banging on the door was about to get a big surprise.

  “The arms of the wicked shall be broken; their sword shall enter into their own heart and the wicked shall perish… as the fat of lambs, into smoke shall they consume away.” Rashad whispered the words, but they echoed through every room in the house. The beeswax seals he had placed on every door and window glistened with amber light for a brief moment as his power filled them.

  He wrenched the door open before another blow could fall upon it. A woman’s laughter, high and raucous, rang through the trees around the house. Despite the midday sun, owls hooted and crows cried in answer to the mad laughter. Rashad stepped onto the porch with his fists clenched. This was his home; his children were with him, and whatever thought it was going to frighten his babies was about to learn a hard lesson.

  Something darted through the forest toward the side of the house. Rashad blinked to focus his eyes and just caught sight of the shadow disappearing around the far corner of the house.

  The front door slammed behind him. The door locked with a sharp click.

  Rashad’s stomach fell.

  “Carter,” he shouted, angry at the way he had let himself be tricked. He should have known better. “Get your sister upstairs!”

  Rashad twisted the doorknob back and forth, but the heavy door would not budge. He ran toward the edge of the porch, slapped one hand on the wooden rail, then leapt over it. Rashad moved swiftly, his bare toes gripping the grass with each long stride, drawing strength from the land as he pursued the shadow.

  Clouds gathered overhead, blowing in on a wind that set the tree branches swaying. The wind chimes jangled behind Rashad. Another peal of lunatic laughter raked at his nerves.

  Rashad ran down the long side of the house, careful not to drop the tooth in his hand as he pumped his arms and legs for all he was worth.

  The dark shadow appeared at the next corner of the house, ahead of Rashad, then ducked out of sight around it.

  Glass shattered. Rashad’s heart leapt into his throat. It was inside the house, despite all the protections he had laid upon it. Whatever was coming for his family knew its business and had blown through his wards like they were not even there. He felt the first twinge of doubt in his heart and wondered if Savannah had been right to ask the family to run.

  He came around the corner of the house at full speed, head down, leaning into the curve. He was close; he still had time to catch the shadow before it got to his babies. All he had to do was follow it through the window.

  Pain erupted in the center of his skull. Rashad’s head rocked backward. His feet shot out in front of him, then he crashed to the ground, limp and senseless.

  “Ya’ woman did this.” A buzzing voice carved the words through the fog in Rashad’s head. Thick fingers wrapped themselves in his shirt then lifted Rashad off the ground.

  The one holding him was a walrus of a man, his face a charred mess and his blond hair burned down to nubs across the top of his head. He stank of smoke and burnt meat. His left eye was a gaping crater rimmed with black ash and weeping burns.

  “An eye for an eye. That’s what the good book says.” He spun Rashad then slammed him into the side of the house so hard he felt himself sliding into the black void of unconsciousness. The big man pressed his thumb under Rashad’s eyeball, and it wobbled in its socket.

  “Daddy!” Lashey screamed from upstairs, her voice shrill with raw panic.

  Rashad struggled against the big man’s hand to no avail. He kicked his feet, driving his heels into the big man’s stomach and thighs, but the man just laughed. “I like you. I think I’m gonna make your punk ass my girlfriend.”

  “Savannah will kill you for this.” Rashad hated using the threat of his wife settling the score. He was the Night Howler’s son. Not so very long ago, he would have killed this turd himself.

  “She already done did it,” the big man snorted. “It didn’t stick, though.”

  Carter roared; an inhuman sound that sent falcons flying from the trees. Lashey screamed, and Rashad hoped she was only startled by her brother’s change.

  “Let’s see about that eye,” his captor whispered. The big man licked his lips and a scab stuck to his tongue. He put his thumb back under Rashad’s eye then pushed. The pressure was slow, inexorable, and Rashad felt his eyeball bulging up over the big man’s thumb.

  His mind raced. The tooth, his only weapon, was gone. It had fallen from his hand when he was hit in the head or slammed into the wall.

  The heavy hand released his shirt, but closed around his neck before he could escape. It squeezed, increasing pressure in sync with the thumb at his eye. The big man’s rotten breath pumped in and out of his lungs, fast and harsh. He leaned into Rashad. Rashad felt something warm mash against his throat.

  He envisioned the necklace, the string of teeth. He still had a chance, even if it might kill him to take it.

  Rashad dug his nails into the inside of the big man’s hand, raking furrows in his wrist down to his thumb. For one, brief instant, the man shifted his grip, and Rashad felt the pressure on his neck ease. He could feel his eyeball starting to droop and he could not see out of that side, but he had the breathing room he needed.

  He spat one word past the loosened grip on his throat, hurled it with the last of the air in his lungs. It was a curse and a plea, his last desperate hope. He had no idea if it would work, or if it would work too well and kill him instead of the man. But he had to try.

  The teeth pulsed as one, then tore free of the black cord around Rashad’s neck. A trio of them blasted through the big man’s hand, separating his thumb from his palm. The big man’s middle and pinkie fingers were torn down to ragged stumps. Another tooth plowed through the big man’s gray coveralls, leaving behind a black burn on the front of his chest and a fist-sized, scorched crater in his back.

  Rashad fell from the man’s grip. He staggered away from the shuddering big man.

  Blood poured from the giant’s wounds, splattering onto the ground like falling rain. Wisps of black smoke curled from his nostrils and his empty eye socket. The big man toppled over, his legs collapsing under him.

  Rashad staggered from the side of the house, desperate to reach his children. He could see the broken window from where he stood. Just a few more steps.

  But his neck felt like it was on fire, and a bone-deep weariness made every step a chore. Rashad wondered what his little trick had cost him.

 
Lashey screamed again. Rashad sagged against the house, next to the window, hands on his knees. He gasped for breath and prayed for strength. He saw the red drops but it took him a long moment to realize it was blood splashing from his throat onto his bare feet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Savannah burst outside then ran for her SUV. She realized she still had Junie’s knife clenched in her hand. She jammed it into her belt so she could unlock the SUV. She heard an engine crank up behind the club.

  Savannah wrenched the door open, then hauled herself into the driver’s seat. She cranked the ignition. The SUV thundered to life. Savannah threw it into reverse then spun away from the club in a cloud of red dirt.

  She followed the rattle of the misfiring vehicle, grateful for the almost-empty streets and lack of traffic. Within a handful of minutes, she could see the smoke-belching Jeep weaving across the road ahead of her, the driver struggling to maintain control.

  The driver wrestled his vehicle around to the left at an intersection but hit the gas too soon. The Jeep’s backend banged through a deep rut then bounced into the air, wheels spewing dirt as they spun.

  Savannah took advantage of her prey’s dilemma, slamming her heavy Ford Flex into the Jeep’s side. The lighter vehicle spun off the road, wheels spinning in the air and engine screaming. Two of the Jeep’s bald tires burst as it crashed back to Earth. Its windshield shattered then ran down the sloped hood in a glittering crystal cascade.

  Savannah leapt out of her SUV, drawing her revolver just before landing. She reached the Jeep just as its driver shoved the door open and fell out onto the street.

  Savannah grabbed the man by the back of his filthy T-shirt, then hauled him to his feet. The skinny man struggled, but Savannah shoved him hard against the Jeep. He sagged onto his knees.

  “They’ll kill me, baby.” The wiry man said.

  Savannah slapped him across the face with the back of her hand. Blood splattered from the man’s nose. “They won’t get a chance if I kill you first.” Savannah threw the man onto his back then stomped a heavy boot onto his chest. Now that she could see his face in the daylight, Savannah remembered the last surviving Porter boy’s first name. “Why were you running, Ray-Ray?”

  “Promethazine VC.” Ray-Ray sniffed and wiped blood from his face. “A gang of it in a cooler. Didn’t want you to take it.”

  “I’m not a cop. I don’t care about you making, or drinking, lean.” Savannah put her weight on her boot.

  Ray-Ray’s face turned red; he screamed in pain.

  “Try again,” Savannah said, pointing her revolver at his forehead. Why were you running?”

  “Baby... you do realize you’re scary as hell, right? Jesus… please point that burner somewhere else.” The junkie’s eyes kept shifting toward the rear of his trashed ride.

  “What else?”

  “Nothin’. Just the VC. I swear.” Ray-Ray’s bloodshot eyes flickered to the knife at Savannah’s belt. “I just make and sell lean and pop mollies. I swear. I got no idea what my idiot brothers was doin’.”

  “Don’t move!” Savannah left the young man on the ground then made her way to the back of the Jeep. Its hatchback was sprung, dangling on one busted hinge. Savannah reached into the rear of the vehicle then yanked a stained blue cooler onto the ground. She kicked the lid off. Coffee grounds spilled out onto the dirt.

  “What the hell is this?”

  Ray-Ray lifted his head so he could see what Savannah was asking about. “Coffee.”

  “I know that, fool. Why?”

  “Dogs, man. I didn’t want any of them cop dogs to smell the sizzurp if I get pulled over.”

  Savannah kicked over the cooler then nudged her boot through the pile of coffee. She discovered several small wooden boxes. Savannah knelt then reached for the nearest one.

  “Hey,” Ray-Ray said, his voice low and shaky. “You don’t wanna touch that.”

  “What is it?”

  The addict’s eyes flicked to the knife on Savannah’s belt, then back to her face.

  “Can’t say.”

  “Then let’s find out.” Savannah plucked a box out of the mess. It was heavy; much heavier than it should have been given its size. It was warm in her palm. “Damn!”

  Savannah dropped the box, but the memory of its touch clung to her flesh. Rolling thunder grumbled from the cloudy sky. Warm globs of rain splattered onto the pavement.

  “Oh, my damn!” Ray-Ray scrambled toward the Jeep like a crab, then hopped to his feet. “You shouldn’ta did that.”

  The clouds thickened overhead. Savannah tucked her chin down to her chest against the rain then began kicking the wooden boxes back into the overturned cooler. Even through the steel toes of her boots, she could feel the stomach-churning presence in each box. She tried not to think too hard about the kinds of people who would actively seek out these abominations. She wondered how Ray-Ray had managed to handle these without losing his mind; or maybe he had.

  Satisfied she had all of the boxes, Savannah kicked the cooler’s lid closed then grabbed its handle. She carried it up to her SUV, then swung it up into the loadspace.

  A grinding squeal sent Savannah sprinting back to the Jeep. Ray-Ray was crouched behind the wheel of his ruined vehicle, cranking the starter again and again. The engine screamed in protest then vomited thin streams of black smoke and oil from under the hood.

  “Out!” Savannah snarled. She dragged Ray-Ray away from the Jeep by his uneven afro.

  Ray-Ray squawked, locking his hands on top of Savannah’s clenched fist, and kicked his heels as Savannah pulled him across the pavement. Savannah swung her arm around in a tight arc, shoving Ray-Ray toward her Flex.

  The junkie’s feet tangled together. He pirouetted then slammed into the side of the Root Woman’s SUV. He flopped back onto his haunches. The air shot out of his lungs with a harsh “Whoof.” Blood ran out of his nose as his mouth hung open, gulping for air.

  Savannah felt it in her gut – a cold fist clenching in her bowels. Something was coming. “Get in the SUV!”

  Ray-Ray nodded then scrambled to the door, hands and feet churning up red dirt.

  Sheet lightning flared across the sky, a blue-white blaze with no thunder behind it.

  Savannah considered leaving the junkie for whatever was coming. She wanted to be long gone when the darkness arrived with its freight of horrors. But she still needed the Porter boy; at least until she had wrung all the information out of his soggy brain. “Your lucky day.”

  The air chilled around the SUV, smudging its windows with condensation. Savannah floored the accelerator. The SUV screeched as it took off, speeding up Abernathy Boulevard.

  The windshield wipers struggled to clear the red rain. Savannah drove on reflex and instinct as much as sight. She could not shake the feeling that time was running out.

  “What the hell were you junkies doing up at your old place?”

  Ray-Ray drummed his fingers on the dash. He squirmed in his seat like a toddler who had to pee. “Can’t say.”

  Savannah’s slapped him in his bleeding nose. The blood flowed faster.

  “Ah! Damn!” Tears filled Ray-Ray’s eyes. He leaned his head back then pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Didn’t I warn you about what would happen if I caught you messing around with that crap the last time I was up at your place? What were you doing?”

  “I’m not telling you—”

  Savannah stomped the brakes.

  Ray-Ray’s head snapped forward then bounced off the dash with a thud.

  Savannah jammed the gas to the floor. The truck sped down the road. “What?”

  “Okay.” Ray-Ray cried. “Okay. Just don’t hit me again.”

  “Talk.” Savannah raised her hand.

  Ray-Ray flinched. “I get it, all right?” Ray-Ray pulled his fingers away from his face then sniffed their bloody tips.

  The stench of ammonia wafted to Savannah’s nose from the junkie’s wound. There was a familiar scratching soun
d; claws on flesh. Savannah took her eyes off the road to get a look at Ray-Ray.

  “They sent me over to MLK; right off 20-West.” Ray-Ray coughed, then took a deep, gasping breath. His words tangled in his throat.

  Savannah saw the lump on Ray-Ray’s neck, a plum-sized knot that squirmed when the junkie spoke.

  “Hurts,” Ray-Ray said as he scraped at his throat. His eyes widened. “I… I can’t—”

  “Just say it.” Savannah brought the SUV to a skidding halt on the side of the road. “Tell me, before it’s too late.”

  “Don’t let it—” Ray-Ray started, then gagged. His mouth hung open. Drool ran from his mouth, then dripped from his chin in thick, bloody strings. The lump shivered under the skin then moved up his neck, following the line of his jaw.

  Ray-Ray dug at his neck, scraping away ribbons of flesh that clung to his ragged nails in tangled coils.

  “Out!” Ray-Ray screamed, blood spraying from between his lips. “Get it out!”

  Savannah drew the knife from her belt then jammed its tip into Ray-Ray’s neck, careful to avoid his carotid artery. She needed what Ray-Ray had to tell her, so she could not let him die. Savannah figured she had to dig that nasty lump out of Ray-Ray’s neck, or he would soon be beyond help.