Freaky Deaky Tiki

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Galen has already been out here asking about that,” Martin volunteered. “He was out here yesterday, in fact.”

  Uh-oh. I could only hope Martin didn’t call Galen to ask why I was asking questions about his investigation. “We’re trying to track down information about the tiki masks in an effort to help,” I explained. “Galen has a lot on his plate — what with two deaths now — and I’m trying to help in any way possible.”

  “I heard about the masks, but only vaguely.” Martin screwed up his face in concentration as he thought. “Jacob was quiet, kept to himself. He was thrilled about the baby, and instead of staying here for lunch he headed home every day to check on Casey. He loved her more than anything, and they were so excited for that baby. It’s sad that he never got a chance to meet the child he wanted so badly.”

  “It’s terrible,” I agreed, my heart rolling. “I can’t imagine what poor Casey is going through.”

  “She’s strong. She’ll survive because she has to. And she’ll take care of that baby, but it’s not right that Jacob never got to see his own child. It breaks my heart.”

  “It breaks everyone’s heart,” Aisling said. “What about the people who used to own this land, though?” She had limited patience and was the type who pushed hard when she wanted something. “My understanding is that some sort of tribe lived out here and they didn’t want to give up the land.”

  “The Maboli tribe. I don’t think they’re technically a tribe. They created their own ... community, I guess would be the right word ... about eight or ten years ago. It’s hard to pin down. The members aren’t ethnically related.”

  He was trying to explain something without coming right out and saying it. I hated that.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” I hedged.

  “He’s saying it’s a cult,” Aisling surmised, her head clearly busy as she pressed the sweating water bottle to her forehead. “He’s basically saying a group of people came out to the beach, set up a commune, and then melted down when they were asked to move. Am I right?”

  “I think you’re breaking it down into simple terms when it’s a complex issue, but you’re essentially right.”

  Aisling nodded, tapping her bottom lip. “And where was this cult forced to move?”

  “About five miles inland.”

  “Can you show us on a map?”

  “I guess, but ... why? You shouldn’t go out there. They’ve been angry ever since this development was approved. Locals are giving them a wide berth, and for good reason.”

  “Oh, we’re not going to visit them,” Aisling said, her smile firmly affixed. “We just want to know where they are so we can tell Galen.”

  Martin was confused. “I’m sure he knows.”

  “We want to make doubly sure. It’s the baby that really wants the information,” she added, causing me to widen my eyes. “The baby is worried ... which means I’m worried.”

  Even though Martin was clearly dubious, he readily agreed. “Of course. The baby knows best, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  THE GOLF CART needed gas, so I directed Aisling to Wesley’s farm. It was the only location I knew in the area where we could fill up, and I wasn’t surprised to find Wesley sitting on the front porch when we pulled into his driveway.

  “Well, there she is.” He beamed at me as he slowly got to his feet. “Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Aisling Grimlock.” I stretched my muscles as I climbed out of the golf cart. The trip up the driveway had been dusty, and Aisling, being a pedal-to-the-metal girl, kicked up even more dust than was necessary. “She’s a reaper ... and she’s on her honeymoon.”

  Wesley made an exaggerated show of checking the driveway behind us. “Where is her husband?”

  “He’s golfing with Booker.”

  “That doesn’t make sense to me, but I’ll let it go.” Wesley shook his head as he gestured toward the front porch. “I’ll get a pitcher of iced tea. Does anyone need anything else? Aisling?”

  “I’m fine.” Aisling swiped at the dust on her face, leaving a grimy streak as she smiled at my grandfather. “I love your place. I bet you don’t get many visitors out here.”

  “Not many,” Wesley agreed. “That’s the reason I like it.”

  He was back in a few minutes, a pitcher and three glasses perched on a tray. Aisling was already sitting, opting for a spot in front of the box fan he had resting on the ground, and leaning back so she could stretch out her long legs.

  “So, what are you girls doing with your afternoon?” He asked as he poured the iced tea. “Are you showing Aisling the sights?”

  “We stopped by the new hotel construction site,” I said. “We’re looking for Jacob Dorsey.”

  Wesley stopped in mid-pour. “Jacob is dead.”

  “Yes, but his soul is still roaming around. Aisling’s father sent her a ... what did you call it?”

  “Scepter,” Aisling supplied, eagerly taking the glass of iced tea and gulping half of it down before continuing. “It’s to absorb souls. Your reaper is dead and was already dead before Jacob was killed. That means you have at least two souls running around that need to be reaped.”

  “Huh. I never really thought about that.” Wesley was thoughtful as he met my gaze. “You went to the hotel site looking for Jacob? I’m guessing you didn’t have any luck.”

  “He’s not there,” I replied. “Do you know anything about the Maboli tribe? Martin Gullikson mentioned it when we were out there. They sound like potential suspects in Jacob’s death. Martin seemed nervous to talk too much about them, but I’m kind of intrigued. They don’t sound like a tribe.”

  “That’s because they’re not a tribe.” Wesley’s voice took on a certain edge. “They’re something else.”

  “I told you.” Aisling crossed her legs at the ankles and allowed the fan to hit her full-on. “It’s a cult, isn’t it?”

  Wesley sighed. “I don’t know that I would use that word.”

  “What word would you use?”

  “Cult. I don’t want to make them sound interesting, though, because it’s important you stay away from them. There’s a reason they’re segregated from the rest of the population.”

  “And what reason is that?” I asked, my stomach twisting at Wesley’s look of consternation.

  “They’re dangerous. That’s the reason it took so long to get them off the property in the first place. They were making threats against the DDA ... and any surveyors who went up to take a look at the property. They claimed they had divine rights to the property through the spirits ... it was a whole big thing.”

  “They sound like the types who would kill people and leave tiki masks on their bodies,” Aisling noted. “I think they’re exactly who we should be looking for.”

  “And I think you should mind your own business,” Wesley fired back. “You need to behave yourselves and let the professionals handle this one. Galen knows what he’s doing. Let him do his job and stay out of it.”

  Instead of capitulating, Aisling narrowed her eyes. “Have I mentioned that I’m pregnant? The baby doesn’t like it when other people tell me what to do.”

  “Have I mentioned I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck? I’ve dealt with pregnant women before. You can’t pull that one on me.”

  I pressed my lips together, sensing a potential fight. Instead, after a moment’s contemplation, Aisling merely shrugged.

  “Fine. We won’t visit the cult. I don’t suppose your library has any research books we could check out? That’s a way for us to look things up without finding trouble.”

  “Actually, it probably does.” Wesley relaxed a bit, a smile creeping over his features. “I’m the first person who shut you down on the baby thing, aren’t I?”

  Aisling nodded without hesitation. “Don’t worry. I’ll be able to keep using it with my husband, father and brothers. You’re simply an anomaly.”

  He chuckled. “I think I kind of like you, even though you drive like a man
iac. Who taught you to drive a golf cart?”

  “My father.”

  “He should have his license yanked.”

  “You’re not the first person to say that. I’ll make sure to bring it up next time I talk to him. It’s always funny to watch steam come out of his ears.”

  “Yup. I definitely like you.” Wesley’s grin was wide when he glanced at me. “You attract weirdos, Hadley. Your grandmother was the same. You get that from her.”

  I had no idea if that was a good or bad thing, but I thanked him all the same. “Can we get gas before we leave? I need to make sure we make it back to town without incident.”

  “Absolutely. Help yourself. That’s why I bought you the golf cart.”

  “It’s the best gift ever,” Aisling enthused, her smile widening. “I’m going to ask my father for a golf cart when I get home.”

  “Don’t you live in the Motor City?”

  “Yes. That doesn’t mean I can’t have a golf cart.”

  “Fair enough.”

  14

  Fourteen

  Aisling had a unique take on life.

  Basically, it went something like this: Whatever she wanted to do, she did. Whatever she thought came spewing out of her mouth. Rules had no place in her world. Oh, and she was in charge no matter the fact that I’d been on the island longer.

  Once Wesley warned us about visiting the Maboli tribe — or cult — I figured we would take a leisurely ride back to town and get some iced tea ... and maybe some ice cream.

  Aisling had other plans.

  “What are we doing here?” I hissed when she parked in the shade and climbed out of the golf cart.

  “We’re spying on the cult,” she replied without hesitation, swiping the back of her hand over her forehead while grabbing a bottle of water from the cooler Wesley had supplied in an effort to make sure we were comfortable for the return to town. He might’ve found Aisling annoying, but part of her charmed him. I figured that had to be her super power.

  “How do you even know if we’re in the right place?” I asked, bewildered as I glanced around. “Wesley said it was out here, but he didn’t say exactly where.”

  “You weren’t listening,” Aisling chided. “He said there were signs everywhere that the cult was taking over the valley.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “When you were in the bathroom.”

  “But ... what signs are there that this is the spot?”

  Aisling lifted her finger and pointed up, toward a sharp rock face. When I looked up, my mouth fell open as I saw what looked to be some sort of pictograph etched into the wall. It featured several rather crude figures engaged in sexual acts. And they looked to be wearing tiki masks.

  “Huh.” I tilted my head to the side as I regarded the images. “I don’t think that’s anatomically correct.”

  “You’re looking at it the wrong way.” Aisling moved my head to the other side. “See.”

  “Oh.” My cheeks heated. “I don’t think we should be here.”

  “Listen, whinebox, we’re here and there’s no harm looking around.” Aisling was adamant. Her expression changed when something occurred to her. “You were the sort of kid who actually showed up for detention, weren’t you?”

  “I didn’t get detention.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because ... I simply didn’t. Oh, don’t look at me that way.” Now it was my turn to make a face. “You think I was a goody-goody, but that’s not true. My father was busy all the time. I didn’t want to bother him because he didn’t have my mother to help him. That doesn’t make me a goody-goody.”

  Aisling was incredulous. “My parents had five children, and we were all animals, according to my father. We all got arrested. We all fought. Redmond used to grow pot in the basement and Braden accidentally brought a prostitute home when he was sixteen. It’s not your job to make life easier for your father. It’s your job to keep him on his toes.”

  “I think we grew up with very different fathers.”

  “Maybe. It’s still not your job to live for him ... or Galen, for that matter. If you’re worried he’ll get angry, suck it up. It’s clear he’s head over heels for you. He won’t suddenly change his mind because we did a little spying. You need to let worries like that go.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but she was already moving. “Come on.” She gestured for me to follow as she headed for a clump of trees. I’m dying to see if this is a freaky cult or a boring one.”

  “Are there boring cults?” I found I was hopeful as I followed her.

  “I’m sure somewhere out there there’s a cult that worships watermelons or something. I don’t think this is going to turn out to be that sort of cult.”

  I studied the pictograph. “No. I don’t think so either.”

  “HOLY WOW!”

  Aisling seemingly had a nose for trouble. She tracked down the cult in ten minutes. We heard their voices before we saw their faces, and she drew me into a bower of trees before we were spotted.

  “I know, right?” Aisling was as amused as me when she spotted the group. They were dressed in normal clothes, some more raggedy than others, and they all seemed to be wearing different color armbands. “I bet the armbands change color depending how high you make it into the organization.”

  That made sense. “There are more women than men.”

  “I think that’s the standard for cults.” Aisling furrowed her brow as she leaned to the right. “Look over there.” She pointed toward what looked to be a rather ornate chair set apart from everybody else. It was in the shade, and the man who sat in it had long, dark hair that brushed his shoulders. He also had a beard shot through with more gray than black. “I bet he’s king of the cult people.”

  I followed her finger and frowned at the man. Three women kneeled on the ground before him, as if in supplication. “Why do you think they’re doing that?”

  Aisling shrugged. “I think he’s king, and women here are possessions.”

  “We don’t know that,” I stressed.

  “No, but I think we have a good idea. The women outnumber the men at least three to one. I mean ... I guess it’s possible there are more men and we can’t see them because they’re not here — maybe they have jobs or something — but that’s not the feeling I get.

  “Look at the guys,” she continued, inclining her chin. “They’re all more important than the women, but subservient to the big man on the throne. I wonder how he managed to work that. He doesn’t seem to have security around, but the others essentially bow to him.”

  Now that she mentioned it, the chair he occupied did look like something of a throne. “How did you think they survive out here?” I was genuinely curious as I craned my neck to scan the acreage. “Do you see any buildings?”

  “Huts.”

  “What?”

  “Huts,” Aisling repeated, shifting her finger. “They’re hard to see, but if you look between the tree canopy in that direction you’ll see about fifty huts.”

  I had to squint to make out what she was pointing toward, but sure enough, once my eyes adjusted, I saw the huts. “That’s weird, right?”

  “It’s part of the show,” Aisling replied, her eyes back on the leader. “I’m curious what they do out here, what their tenets are.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All cults have underlying tenets. Usually they’re set up by charismatic men. That means women are subservient. It’s not an overnight thing, though. The beliefs of the leader are slowly revealed over time. It’s easier to get people to give an inch than a mile, so the leader nudges them along inch by inch until they accept him as a true leader, a prophet who sees more than anyone else.

  “From the outside looking in, that person would appear crazy to almost everybody,” she continued, licking her lips. “What most people don’t understand is that the cult members have been conditioned for an extended period of time and that they didn’t suddenly turn crazy overnight.”
>
  “So we have to figure out what this cult believes,” I mused, dragging a hand through my hair. “I don’t think they’re simply going to tell us.”

  “No,” Aisling agreed. “I ... .” She broke off, a horrified expression flitting across her face as a new noise filled the air.

  “What is that?” I was alarmed when I shifted, my eyes immediately falling on a struggling pig that was being led from the forest. I had a very bad feeling about what was to become of it. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

  The disgusted look on Aisling’s face told me she felt the same. “I don’t want to know what they’re going to do to that pig.”

  I didn’t either. In fact ... . I stopped myself from fleeing the area at a dead run and focused on the leather leash they had affixed to the pig. They were dragging the poor animal toward the middle of a circle that was created when some of the women started dancing.

  “They’re going to sacrifice it,” Aisling hissed, grabbing my arm. “I can’t see that. It will make me sick ... or angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

  “Okay. I just ... hold on.” I wasn’t an expert at magic by any stretch of the imagination. Still, I had it at my disposal. It was there, and I was desperate to trip over something that would help me aid the pig. I couldn’t stand the idea of it being slaughtered as part of some perverse ritual.

  And, yes, I eat meat, so I’m something of a hypocrite. Seeing it slaughtered is something else entirely.

  I closed my eyes, exhaled heavily, and searched for a wisp of the magic I knew was there. Galen had helped me access it the first time I purposely tried to use it. We created a water spout ... and then I passed out. It was kind of a sensual evening. The few times I’d been able to use my powers since then had been a little different, but I knew the magic was there.