by Sonya Clark
Well, y’all, I got me a humdinger of an investigation going on right now. Tired of digging into the past, I decided to take a look at hauntings related to recent incidents. I found a big one, just down the highway from Nashville in Blythe. My BFF, who for purposes of this case I will refer to as Hoodoo Woman, is from these parts and knows some of the folks involved, so she came with me to help me out. Seems a recent death has led to a haunting and it’s starting to look like the death wasn’t so accidental. It’s looking like murder, y’all.
A murder victim haunting an entire town. I could not have asked for a juicer story.
Why didn’t he just wave a red flag around? Of course that’s exactly what his post was meant to do. Not to mention paint a target on me. I couldn’t be mad though. It was a good idea and it worked. Now all I had to do was figure out who sent the diary pages and see if they’d share more. I didn’t need more sad motivation to solve Britney’s murder. I needed cold hard leads.
With that in mind I got ready for the séance. Supplies packed and ready, dressed in warm clothes for the uncertain spring weather at night, I spent the last bit of daylight sitting cross-legged on the front porch. Meditation had never been my thing but I’d found my own way to get myself in the right head space for heavy magic. Music came out of tiny earbuds, traveling straight to the deepest parts of myself where my magic lived and breathed and hummed. I left my glasses inside so I could see energy gathering around me in circles of indigo and violet. A not unpleasant scent of tobacco tickled my nose as the taste of whiskey burned fire in the back of my throat.
“Hello, Stack.”
He answered with a tug of wind through my hair.
“You nervous about meeting Daniel and Ray?”
A slow exhale released more of the smoke smell. No, he wasn’t nervous at all.
“This is the real deal, Stack. No faking this time. We need to speak to a dead girl so we can help her.”
Static cut into the music. A tinny, faraway voice rode over the top of the song. “This whole town reeks of her. Tastes like rage.”
“I know. Can you help me talk to her? If I can figure out who killed her, I think it will help her rest.”
The music cut out completely, leaving Stack’s voice loud and clear. “I’ll be there when you call, hoodoo woman.”
Everywhere I turned somebody wanted to call me that. It was better than witch bitch so I guess I couldn’t complain.
* * *
The woods and wetlands around the lake held all manner of hidden treasures and secrets. One of them was the old Lawrence place. The house was gray and falling in when I was a kid. I had no idea how old it was or who the Lawrence family was or who owned the property now. All I knew for sure was that it was home to a restless spirit who liked to spook anybody who crossed the property line looking for a thrill. Well, I knew a little more than that but I’d gotten so used to keeping things to myself in Blythe that I had to mull it over for a few minutes whether to tell Daniel and Ray.
We stood at the edge of the property boundary. Darkness and woods hid the remains of the house from view. Daniel said, “What’s making the hair on the back of my neck stand up?” Being supernatural creatures themselves, vampires were more sensitive than the average mortal to energy from the spirit plane.
“There’s a ghost here,” I said. “I don’t know anything about him but I know it’s a kid.”
Ray said, “A child?” The upset tone of his voice was one reason I’d never shared my impressions of the spirit who haunted this land.
“Yeah. He likes to play. He thinks it’s funny to scare folks but he’s not out to hurt anyone. I think he was about five or six. I’ve never seen him very clearly.”
Ray rubbed his jaw then took a step forward. “I know how to deal with unruly children. They need to know who the boss is, then they settle right down.” He made his way through the woods to the house, the arc of light from his flashlight cutting into the dark.
Daniel and I followed at a slower pace. Daniel said, “So. He knows how to show unruly children who’s boss.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.”
The sound of something hitting Ray, possibly a clump of dirt, reached us, followed by him swearing.
“Come on, just admit it. You two played Naughty Schoolgirl and Arresting Officer every weekend. You don’t have to keep secrets from me, Roxie, I won’t judge.”
A branch snapped. The air whistled with movement. Once again, Ray swore.
I said, “You’re wrong.”
A child’s laughter echoed in the trees. A loud thump came from ahead. The swearing was really creative this time, including a mention of unnatural acts with goats.
“Wednesdays and Sundays,” I said.
Daniel laughed. “Church days. I like it. Yeah, I get why you left.”
I stopped, ignoring the sounds of more distress in the distance. “You said something like that before. Care to share your big theory?”
Daniel composed his features into fake seriousness. “Not at this time. Come on, let’s get the deputy out of trouble.”
We found Ray huddled with his arms over his head attempting to protect himself from a hail of dirt clumps, rocks, branches, and anything else the laughing ghost child could throw at him. I snapped my fingers, sending a burst of power through the air that rippled like a stone skipping across water. The laughter stopped. Ray straightened only to be pelted with another dirt clod.
“That’s enough, little buddy,” I said. “You go play in the woods. We’ve got things to do here.” I pulled a handful of jacks and a small rubber ball from my pocket and tossed them as far into the trees as I could. “Go on now.”
Ray was incensed. “You’re giving the little brat jacks to play with? He could take out an eye with those things.”
“He’s dead, Ray. He can’t hurt himself.”
“I’m talking about my eye!”
Daniel snickered as he opened a flask. I cut him a quelling look and said, “It’ll be fine.”
I swept my flashlight over him to inspect for damage. Except for being dirty he looked good. Sinfully good in snug jeans, a dark blue Henley under a black leather jacket, brows drawn together and mouth in a tight line. I stepped forward and with my free hand brushed away some of the grime from his jacket. “Besides, you look fine. Just a little dirty.”
Awareness sizzled between us, made of more than just old memories. Guilt followed closely on its heels, slamming into me with a force that brought instant shame. I moved away, swinging the light to search the dark for the house. Ray was my ex, the only other man I’d ever loved besides Blake. Surely feeling something for him even after all these years was natural. Didn’t mean I had to act on it.
The house, or what little was left of it, was just beyond the next line of trees. Pushing my personal business to the back of my mind, I scoped out the sight. One brick wall still stood. The roof was gone and so was most of the interior framework. Debris both natural and manmade littered the floor. One section of foundation was mostly clear.
I used the flashlight as a pointer. “That’s where I’ll set up. We need to clean off the space. If you guys can get that tree, I can get the rest.” I gave Daniel a look I hoped he could read in the dark and his increasingly drunken state.
“Sure thing,” Ray said as he moved into position on the far left end of the half rotted tree trunk that had fallen over.
Daniel took another swig from his flask before stowing it away, then went to the opposite end of the tree. As Ray used both hands and lifted from his legs like someone properly safety conscious, Daniel bent over just enough to grab a limb and flung the tree off the foundation with ease.
Way too much ease. Ray whistled. “Didn’t hurt yourself there, did you? That wasn’t exactly a light load.”
Daniel realized his mistake, looking away so I couldn’t see his face. Or rather so he couldn’t see the censure in mine. He said, “Hell, all that workin’ out’s got to be good for something.” He waved at
the small bits of debris that remained. “Don’t reckon you brought a broom for all this, did you, little witch?”
I walked to the center of the space. “I don’t need a broom.”
After a brief grounding and centering, I held out my open hands at my side, fingers extended. Deep slow breaths to find the wind and call it to me. It responded with a gentle caress against my cheek and a playful tugging at my hair. I thanked it for coming and used my hands to guide it in purpose, the breeze sweeping the foundation clear as I turned in a slow circle.
Daniel grinned. “Show off.”
“I’m just getting started,” I said. Next came the set-up. I carried my bag to a corner of the foundation, passing Ray. There was no fear in his face, no disbelief or confusion. Only respect and the tiny curve of a smile.
Candles, chalk markings on the ground, roots and herbs and incense. These were the tools for the rite I’d devised. Rozella never taught me this sort of thing. After one bad attempt with a method studied out of a book years ago, I developed my own. Speaking to the dead was about forging a connection, after all, not necessarily following rules.
Which was why the last items unpacked were a small boombox and the CD of favorites Daniel found in Britney’s apartment. Once it was put in place it was time to call Stack and make some introductions.
Me, Ray, Daniel, Stack, and a séance - nothing could possibly go wrong, right? I did a quick double check to make sure I’d packed the first aid kit, just in case.
Chapter 22
I stood in the center of a pentagram outlined with candles. Clearing my thoughts, I directed my intention at two things - calling Stack and lighting the candles. The candles came first, bright lights climbing higher than they should have been able to as my will pushed the flames into existence. Next came Stack, a hazy shape in the night accompanied by the scents of smoke and whiskey and a low moan of music in a minor key.
Daniel and Ray stood outside the pentagram, Daniel to the left of me, Ray to the right. Daniel took a step back when Stack appeared. Ray stood his ground but I could see a flare of nervous energy shoot out of his aura from the corner of my eye.
“Good evening, Stack,” I said.
He nodded, the smell of smoke briefly stronger. “Hoodoo woman.”
He took slow steps toward Ray, looking more solid with each one but still incorporeal. A sepia image glowing softly in the dark. Ray’s gun hand twitched at his side but he continued to hold steady. I had to admire him. This was so far out of his league, it wasn’t even in the same zip code of what he was used to, but he met it head on.
Stack came to a halt less than two feet from Ray. Looking the deputy up and down, Stack glanced at me then looked back at Ray. “Lawman.” Stack nodded in greeting.
I followed Stack’s path to Daniel, worried about what he would say that Ray didn’t need to hear. Too late to worry now. Stack stood before Daniel, the two of them sizing each other up.
“Vampire,” Stack said.
Oh shit. I glanced at Ray, who was in full grumpy teddy bear mode but otherwise not reacting. I didn’t know what to make of that.
“Spirit,” Daniel said. He held up his flask, offering it to Stack.
With a chuckle Stack grabbed the flask, his form becoming solid enough I couldn’t see through him, and helped himself to a long drink, then passed it back. As the flask left his grasp his form rippled, returning to a sepia glow. Stack moved to the top of the pentagram, indicating he was ready to go to work now that introductions had been made. From the freight train tempo of the music emanating from him, I could tell he appreciated the courtesy.
I bit my lip and looked at Ray, ready to pull the plug on the whole thing if he wigged out. I couldn’t have him here if he couldn’t handle it. He exhaled slowly, giving me what was probably supposed to be a reassuring nod. I could read him in candlelight as well as broad daylight and right then his eyes were telling me we’d be having quite a conversation later. But he was solid in the moment so I felt safe proceeding.
Opening my senses, I let the music from Stack flow into me. Magic vibrated in the air. “Call the thunder, call the lightning,” I murmured, eyes half-closed. “Call the rain and call the dead.”
The wind rattled the trees. Daniel swore. Ray said in a low voice, “I thought we’d be out here with a Ouija board. Is this how a séance is conducted?”
Daniel said, “I use a baton myself. Some sheet music. A tuba.”
Ray said, “What’s the tuba for?”
“The spirit uses the tuba to communicate,” Daniel said. “While I conduct the séance with my baton.”
I snapped, “Both of you idiots shut up before I decide to conduct electricity through your batons.”
My ancestor who’d celebrated a sesquicentennial pouted like a six-year old. “That’s just not nice.”
Ray said, “Hush! She said we need to be quiet so let’s be quiet and let her do her thing.”
Daniel laughed. “Heh, you’re not gonna get that ass by kissin’ it.”
I stomped my foot, sending energy through the ground right at Daniel. Not enough to hurt, akin to a thump on the shoulder, but when he jumped, swore and then fell silent I knew he got the message.
The burn of whiskey in my throat pulled my attention back to the task at hand. I thanked Stack silently. With the buddy cop movie behind me on pause, I concentrated on raising energy.
There’s a point while working heavy magic when, once crossed, time ceases to have meaning. Time and space and all the normal things that keep one grounded in the mundane world fall away. There’s a liminal space between the mundane and the magical, a river of energy I would need to fall into in order to pull this off. Sometimes the river was wild rapids, other times a lazy stream. Tonight it was somewhere in between, unpredictable, changing without notice. Deciding when to make the jump was an instinctive thing. With no ceremony to guide me, no chanting or order of events or illustrations and rules in a handbook, I’d reached a point where pretty much everything I did was by instinct. There was a wildness to it I loved, a freedom that made my heart want to burst from the pure joy of it. It was natural magic at its most primal, a witch and her spirit familiar and the elements and the dark of night.
I didn’t even realize when I fell into the river. I just opened my eyes and knew, as the magic all around flared and sparked in the auric field of my vision.
“Call the thunder, call the lightning. Call the rain and call the dead.”
I stomped my foot again, this time sending a shot of energy into the stereo. A crackle of distortion erupted from the speakers as thunder sounded in the distance.
“Britney Parker! Come talk to me.” I clapped my hands together to start the CD. Britney’s favorites mix blasted forth. “Come on, girlfriend. Come tell me your secrets.”
The first song on the CD was a dance number, relentlessly rhythmic. My feet kept time with it, then my hands with more clapping. Riding pure instinct now, not sure what would attract her ghost but in life she’d loved to dance, loved to party, loved this music, so why not?
“Come out and play, Britney.”
The music swelled and with it the magic, Stack and I sending out a pulse of energy. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. We were attracting things, all right, but only Britney was invited inside the pentagram with me. The line I’d set up around the foundation would keep Daniel and Ray safe. I glanced at the vampire. He could tell there were things slithering out there in the dark, looking to join the party. I just hoped he could keep his fangs inside his mouth and not scare the hell out of Ray.
The trees moaned and swayed as spirits responded to my call. Every lonely shade in the county pressed against the barrier, their anger growing at not being on the guest list. Everyone but the one I wanted.
The CD moved on to the next track. With a quick push of will I turned it back to the previous song. It had a rhythm I could use to keep the level of magical energy I needed going strong and it seemed like a good one to get Britney’s attent
ion.
“Britney Parker. Come talk to me!”
Ray said, “What can we do to help?”
“Clap along to the music. Think about her. She came to you first, asked you for help. Think about that. Focus on it.”
He nodded, dark concentration on his face. Ray and Daniel both clapped with the song. There wasn’t much else Daniel could do to help. Vampires weren’t capable of magic as they are not living creatures. He was backup and with all the spirits out there just behind the light of the candles I was glad to have him.
Those spirits started to test the boundaries of the wards. A few in one corner, then a few more in another. Their dank, cold energy pressed against my head like the sinus headache from a weather system. I sent another tendril of will into the stereo to raise the volume. The attempted intrusions stopped, hopefully for at least a few minutes.
“Come on, Britney! Tell me your secrets.”
“Tell me yours first.” It happened so quickly I nearly cried out. Stack shimmered in front of me, with Britney shining through him like a superimposed image. Her voice came from far away and through him, distorted, with an echo. Like I was hearing both of them speak as she borrowed his voice.
“Britney, my name is Roxanne. I want to help you.”
“I know who you are.”
I had to turn down the stereo to hear her, which made the spirits outside the wards press harder against them.
“Then you know I can help. But I need to know what happened that night. Who killed you?”
She looked past me to Ray. He stared, hands frozen in mid-clap. “Talk to her, Britney. Let her help. Tell us what we need to know and I can get the evidence to arrest them, one way or another.”
“You were always good to me, Deputy Travis.” Britney looked at me again. “He never tried to get in my pants like the other cops.” She laughed. “Which is funny because he’s the only one I would have let.”
Half of that came out in Stack’s voice. Disconcerting, to say the least. I shook it off and tried questioning her again. “Do you remember the night you died?”