Revenant: Black Rose Files Book 2 (The Black Rose Files)

by Ira Robinson

  The rope Odessa wanted was in the shed. She was sure there would be enough there to fulfill whatever the old woman had in mind.

  The biggest problem was finding something that would be associated with the being haunting her.

  A bug? Maybe one left out on the lawn dead and rotting would do the trick. But that did not feel quite right to Sam. Sure, the bugs had come when the man in the hat did, but not each time. While the experience was horrifying and painful, and she still had the scrapes and bites on her skin to prove it, they were almost secondary to the thing. Merely weapons to be used by him and disposed.

  One of the paintings she had made of the creature might be the answer, but Bart had taken them with him when he left, and she did not know what he had done with them. After her last encounter with him, she did not want to try to press the issue of asking for them back. The already difficult blood between them would just get worse. It would not be worth the risk.

  Finding them away from him would also be something of a waste of time. She had no idea where he had taken them and he may have even destroyed them by then.

  She could try to create another painting, but she was loathe to attempt it.

  What else was there, though? What else could she make use of that would be associated with the beast?

  She went to her living room and looked around, her mind at a loss as to what she could do. The chair creaked as she sat on the edge of it and put her chin on her hands, her fingers twirling through the lengths of hair that fell across her face.

  Her eyes wandered the room, coming to rest on the lamp glowing softly across from her.

  A lurch pierced through her stomach as realization hit her. She jumped up from the chair and went to her front door.

  She unlocked it and swung it open. The sounds of midnight slipped into her senses, as frogs and night birds sung out to their mates. Dampness wafted across her skin, sending tiny hairs on edge as the cool of it ran counter to the warmth inside of her home.

  She stepped through the doorway and looked around, wary of anything that might be waiting for her, but nothing suspicious met her vision as it adjusted to the shift in light.

  Still, she walked slowly into the gloom, her instincts as hard pressed as she could make them. She glanced to the street lamp across from her house and saw no one there.

  Good.

  Sam hurried her steps, the slap of her soles across the grass wet with the dew already falling to the ground. She pulled open the back of her car and grabbed a plastic bag, discarded from the last time she went to the diner for some takeout. She tossed the excess trash inside to the floorboard and shut the door.

  Despite the gentleness she used, the commotion was loud and disturbed the creatures nearby. She winced at the sound and whirled around, seeking out any indication a horror show was coming down on her head, but there was no more than a breeze kissing her skin.

  Sam flew across the street, her feet carrying her unconsciously while she stared at every shadow, expecting anything but seeing only the normalcy of night.

  When she got to the area below the light, she ducked down on the balls of her heels and began digging at the turf. She tossed aside the clumps pried up. Wet grass and dirt smells passed through her nose, overwhelming the acrid odor of stress and worry wafting from her own body.

  The creatures of night resumed their original cadence, mixing with the plucking of grass roots as she jerked one handful after another. Hunks landed everywhere, with some bits of dirt getting into her hair. She ignored it all as she reached the richer earth below.

  She pulled more away, creating a small hole, and shoved piles of it into the baggie she brought from the car.

  How much should she grab? What would be enough for Odessa to use?

  She added a few more chunks and stood, closing the bag as she did, tying the top together in a knot. She nervously glanced around.

  She hoped what she got could do, and that it would even be what was needed to begin with. But this was where she had seen the figure the most, and it had to have taken on something of the thing, right? The evil it exuded, the way it acted, it had to have tainted the ground where it stood.

  She went back into the house and slammed the door shut behind her, breathing a sigh of relief there was no sign of it. The bag slipped from her hand and plopped to the floor.

  She kicked it aside, moving it from the frame and walked away, satisfied she had done right.

  By the time she flicked the dirt from her hair and brushed her teeth, the exhaustion nearly brought her to her knees. The bed was welcoming and warm when she laid her head gratefully against her pillow, falling asleep before she even closed her eyes.

  When they opened, she winced away from the light next to her bed, still ignited from before she went to sleep.

  It came anew, a strange scratching sound from the other side of the room. She stared that way blearily, craning her neck to try to clear her mind of disrupted sleep.

  The small curtain barely covered the window, where it seemed to be emanating from. She stood and crossed the room, her hand itching the back of her head, fluffing the waves of hair that went everywhere.

  Sam pulled the curtain aside slightly, expecting a branch from the tree to be the cause of the sound.

  Her eyes widened and the scream caught in her throat silently as the figure with the hat scraped its claw-like fingers against the pane of glass. Hollowed sockets were locked on her while the rictus grin, lip-less and skeletal, met her own gape.

  She stumbled backward. The curtain flew away from her hand as she did, but as it swung back and forth, the image on the other side of the window faded from view, leaving only the darkness of night.

  Samantha clutched her fist to her chest and fell onto the bed, the beating of her heart overcome by the sound of deep laughter.

  Chapter 14

  Samantha gave the cat another stroke, running her fingers through the thick fur slowly.

  He, in turn, turned his head toward her face and tightened his lids together, then bumped her leg before walking away.

  She smiled at Odessa, who returned it, but a bit more wan than Sam would have expected. Raising her brows quizzically, she sat on one of the chairs next to the kitchen table.

  "You doing okay?" she asked as she accepted the mug Odessa handed to her.

  "As good as can be." Odessa took the chair across from her own and sighed as the weight was taken off of her legs. She winced slightly as she did. "It was a rough night."

  "What happened?" Sam sipped from her cup.

  "I had a visitation," she replied, her face turning serious. A frown crossed her lips. "Some might claim it was only a dream, but I know better."

  "What was it?" Sam asked as she put the cup back on the table.

  "I can't say what woke me," she started, "but when I did, there were shadows all about my room. There was a presence to it, undeniable. They were moving, and I could see dogs, people, all sorts of things."

  Odessa shuddered as the memories of the night came out.

  "They were crawling all over. The walls were covered in them, changing, shifting around. I've seen a lot in my life, but that scared the hell out of me." Odessa laid her hand atop the other, quelling some of the shaking as the memory of what she saw renewed her dread. After a moment, she signed and said, "I was able to cast a protection spell, then a dismissal, and they went away."

  "What were they? Do you know?" Sam was still not sure if she entirely believed in the magic this woman claimed to have, but her experiences over the past few days pressured her to change her mind. What kind of normal thing would explain the things she had seen and dealt with?

  "They were not real." Sam's eyes sprung open at the words, but Odessa quickly continued. "It doesn't mean they were not there. But they were more like projections. I think they were illusions created by that creature in order to scare me. Maybe to intimidate me away from what I plan on doing."

  "Then is that all he is?" Sam offered, a spark of hope igniting
inside her. "Can he really hurt me?"

  Her heart collapsed as Odessa replied, "Oh, he can definitely do harm, if that's what it takes to give him something to feed on." Odessa reached out her hand and touched Sam's own. "And the more he feeds, the stronger and more 'real' he will become."

  Sam bit her lip, her stomach twisting once more in anger and doubt. She wanted it all to end so badly, to be done with the anguish this thing was putting her through.

  When she left her house, she had so many hopes that this day would be the last she would have to worry about the creature in the hat. The morning was bright, with no clouds in the sky, and though the air was cool as it so often was at this time of the year, it all combined to give her a sense of security.

  She called the department and told Noah she would not be in for the day; she feigned sickness and said she would just hang out at home and rest. Noah was, of course, concerned, but she managed to get off of the phone before he could press the issue.

  She was sure, after the last conversation between them, that Bart would understand and have no problem with it. He was, after all, insisting she take some time off, anyhow. Now that the festival was over and all that was left was the cleanup, the need for her to be there was diminished.

  She hoped it would only have to be for the day, and that anything she needed to do to get herself free from this thing that had been tormenting her would be quickly said and done.

  But, sitting in the kitchen with Odessa and the crushing weight of so many unknown factors forcing their way into her thoughts, most of that hope she started with diminished considerably.

  Even her mind betrayed her, trying to argue that what she was thinking about doing made no sense and that she should just give it all up and go home. Everything that happened to her was imagination and nothing more.

  Percy wandered back into the kitchen again, interrupting Sam's train of thoughts. He jumped on the table between the two women and sniffed the liquid in Sam's cup. She could not help but smile a little as he then turned his gaze on her and dipped his ears forward. She bent toward him and he tapped at her nose for a moment with his before turning sideways and rubbing his fur against it.

  "Percy, get out of her face," Odessa said, shooing him aside. Sam heard his purr increase as his reply, but, though he moved slightly away from her, he remained steadfastly rooted between the two of them.

  Sam giggled. "It's okay. He's a fun guy."

  "He's ornery, is what he is," Odessa replied, but sat back in her chair a little with a smile on her own face. "He knows when people are upset, and does his best to change things. He's smarter than he seems."

  "I don't doubt that a bit," Sam said, reaching out to stroke his fur once more. "He's been the finest part of my day, I think."

  "Don't tell him that." The older woman barked out a laugh. "You'll give him a big head."

  They sat for a few minutes longer, before Odessa finally stood, "Well, we should get started. Let's see what you have."

  Sam pulled the plastic bag, long sniffed by Percy when she brought it in, and placed it on the table. The crinkling attracted the cat's attention once more, but Odessa scooted him off when she reached out for it.

  She took it and opened the top. She stared into it for a moment and then looked at Sam. "Dirt?"

  "It's from the place I saw the man the most." Sam hoped it would be enough.

  Odessa thought a while before responding. "If it's what he's most associated with, it will work. What else did you bring? What about you?"

  Sam pulled the necklace with the rose pendant on it from her pocket and slid it across the table. "This means more to me than anything. It was my mom's, before she died."

  The twinge of sadness she always felt when she looked at the thing threatened to come forth, but she suppressed it. She took her hand off of it and waited for Odessa to speak.

  Odessa cupped her hands around it but did not touch it. She said, "It's definitely powerful," as a puzzled look came to her face. She leaned forward, staring at it as it glittered in the morning light streaming through the kitchen window.

  Finally, she shrugged and sat back again. "It should be right."

  Sam hoped so. It was the only thing she could think of that would best represent her. So much of her sense of self was tied to the experiences she had with her mother, and when Heather gave it to her, it had been among her most defining moments. Everything for her altered, bringing one part of her life to an end as another began.

  Odessa drew the strand of rope from the bag near her. "Yes, this will be okay." She put it down, as well; small bits of dirt from inside drifted to the tabletop.

  She then stood and crossed the kitchen to the counter. Odessa pulled a large pair of scissors from the drawer there and came back to the table. She looked everything over and nodded.

  "We're all set, if you're ready to get things started."

  "You really think all of this will work?" Sam asked, still indecisive about the way this was going.

  Odessa patted her shoulder. "If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be doing it." She then walked out of the kitchen into the living room.

  Sam rose from the chair and followed along. Odessa opened one of the cabinets she had lined against the wall. The woman rooted around for a moment before pulling a large bag from it. She held it up, inspecting it, before nodding in satisfaction and closing the door once more.

  "Bring the stuff out back, would you?" She trundled to the front door and swung it wide.

  Sam followed after putting the rope back into the bag she brought with her, then walked through herself, stepping into the early afternoon light.

  The sun was doing a good job of warming things up, fighting against the cold air that embraced her earlier in the morning. A few birds were perched along the roof of the house and one of the wires running from the utility pole above the road. They chattered at her as they saw her walking beneath them, but otherwise left her alone. Other birds in the distance kept up their own songs in the bright of day.

  The tall corn in the fields around her were growing brown. Samantha assumed Odessa had trouble managing the farm on her own and had not been able to get anyone to help her bring in the harvest this year. It might even be too far beyond the season for anything useful to come from the crops this late in the year.

  Odessa was already bending down at a large patch of cleared ground, where nothing grew. The circle was wide enough Sam could have laid her body across it and still not put a finger on any of the edges.

  Odessa touched the earth there, then pulled the top of the burlap bag she carried outside open. She carefully began to pour out a brownish-gray dust from it and walked the edge of the clearing.

  "What is that?" Sam asked, standing behind the woman by a few feet.

  Odessa did not glance her way, keeping her eyes on what she was doing. "Bone powder, mixed with salt."

  Sam stepped a little closer and saw the woman was drawing a thin line across the bare dirt with the substance. Now that she could discern what was going on, she noticed slight traces of older materials on the ground. Perhaps they were leftovers from previous times she had done a ritual?

  Any exposure Sam had to magic was in her younger years, through fantasy books and imagination. As far as she knew, she had never met a witch before, but that was obviously what Odessa was.

  Could she really leave her fate in the hands of this kind of nonsense?

  How much of a laugh would Bart get out of this if he realized what she was about to do?

  She shrugged her shoulders, though Odessa would not be able to see it. "So what's that going to do?" she asked.

  The woman was creating a circle out of the powder and kept silent until she was well over half-way through. "It's for protection, and containing." She lapsed back into silence as she completed the circuit.

  Sam did not interrupt her, but there were more questions in her mind than answers. Even though she desperately needed all of this to work, and had gathered the materials the old woman wanted
, she was still skeptical any of it would serve. It all seemed a bit much and she was not sure she could understand any of it.

  Yet, the evidence that she was haunted was there and she could not deny any of that. Was it so hard to speculate in something like magic when being attacked by thousands - millions - of bugs, all controlled by a being that had a skeletal face and a shadowy nature?

  Was she more, or less, crazy for believing any of that happened to her? She had tried to convince Bart what happened to her was real, and here she was, trying to decide whether taking the next step in faith was worthwhile.