Dark Redemption

by Angie Sandro

  I’m not sure how I know, but it feels right.

  Gaston flickers into existence and crouches beside me. “Mala…”

  I rock forward. My hands pass through his body and drop onto my lap. “Uncle Gaston, it was horrible.” Tears trickle down my cheeks, and I try to breathe through my clogged nose. “I was so scared. Vines grabbed me and tied me up. I couldn’t get away. Did you save me?”

  “Who are you talking to?” George asks, pulling me back against his chest. “Is it the kids again?”

  “No, my uncle came. He saved me.”

  Gaston rocks back on his heels. His hands flutter like he wishes he could touch me too, and his eyes have a wildness to them that I’ve never seen before. “No, it was a team effort. Ferdinand and Sophia came up with the spell, but Landry went in to grab you.”

  “Landry was there?” Yes, I remember now. I thought he was a hallucination. A part of the nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. The tree trapped my spirit. It sucked at my energy, draining me inch by inch. Any longer and I would’ve been a goner. With my spirit sucked dry, my body would’ve died soon after. Poor Georgie would’ve been stuck holding a lifeless body. And Landry wouldn’t have known why this happened.

  “Tell me everything,” I beg. “Is Landry okay?”

  “Not now. The spell has been broken. The boys’ spirits have been set free. We’ll deal with the rest later.” Gaston fades before I can try to weasel out more information.

  My gaze travels back to the tree, and I swallow hard. Time to get it together. Business first. “George, the tree is burning. We’ll lose all the evidence if we don’t act fast. Call it in to Dixie.”

  He pauses a moment, then nods. He’s handling this better than I expected—better than me—but then he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t believe me after he came up with this crazy plan. He radios the sheriff’s office and explains the situation. The dispatcher says she’ll notify the local Forest Protection branch to dispatch a wildland fire crew. The crime-scene techs have a thirty-minute ETA.

  George and I follow the smoke through the woods to the edge of the pond. It looks just as scummy in real life as it did on the other side. The oak burns. The bark crackles. Shrieks like nails on a chalkboard send the willies down my spine, and I cringe, clenching my jaw. A mix of decomposition, swamp rot, burning flesh, and acrid smoke makes my stomach roll. George, with his sensitive stomach, gags, and I pat him on the back as he hacks up a gob of phlegm and hawks it into the bushes.

  “Are those black lumps the bodies?” He wipes his upper lip with the back of a trembling hand. “Who would do something like this? It’s sick.”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” I meet his gaze with determination. Whoever killed and displayed the kids like this is twisted. And powerful. Not the normal, everyday variety psychopath, but one who knows how to manipulate the natural world. Dark magic taints the air. I don’t know what this guy needed so much power for, but it can’t be good.

  We head back to the main road to wait. Sheriff Keyes and Detective Bessie Caine arrive in the sheriff’s fancy gray Buick. Andy with his K-9 partner, Rex, and Deputy Hale park right behind them. George leaves my side to run over to the sheriff and Bessie and quickly briefs them on the situation. They give me nods of greeting, but smiles don’t crack their lips. They’re not happy. Not that they should be in this situation, but it’s more. They’re wearing their pissed-off expressions.

  I hover in the background and try to go unnoticed as we wait for Dr. Michelle Montague, the new parish coroner, and her assistants, along with the crime-scene techs to unload their van. Bessie likes her. Says she actually cares more for the job than holding the position to take bribes. Watching them unload their gear reminds me of the day I found Lainey’s body. That business led to a lot of crap falling on me. I hope this time won’t be the same.

  The full force of the storm hits. Cold rain pounds us hard enough to sting. By the time we reach the edge of the pond, the fire has burned out. The flames never reached the bodies tied to the lower branches. While George advises dispatch to cancel the forestry crew, the techs start inflating a rubber raft. The rest of us stand on the bank and stare.

  Bessie shivers, wiping her face. “What a miserable place. How in the world did the two of you stumble across this? And why didn’t Rex sniff it out earlier?”

  “Hey, LT,” Andy protests, laying a hand on his dog’s head. “We covered this whole area. I never saw this place.”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” Bessie says. “It reeks of death. How could you miss a tree strung with decaying corpses?”

  My mouth opens to explain about the area being warded with a spell to keep intruders from finding it, but I shut up. Gah, almost babbling like a lunatic about supernatural forces. Mother Mary, that’s a whole can of worms I’ll never be comfortable opening. At least not while I still dream of having a normal life.

  Andy shrugs, but unease narrows his eyes. “Rex and I will take a turn around the area. See if we missed anything else.” He and his K-9 walk off, leaving me alone with Bessie and Chief Keyes.

  Bessie shifts her glare in my direction. “And what are you doing here, Mala Jean? Did you wrap George around your little finger and convince him to bring you to the crime scene?”

  I gasp. “Bessie, I’d never—”

  “Cher, don’t forget I helped raise your little ass. I know exactly what you’re capable of.”

  My cheeks heat. “Well, I didn’t. I was at home minding my own business when my brother showed up. I didn’t know anything about that professor finding body parts. So how could I even think of finagling an invite to a crime scene that, for all intents, had already been processed by the time we came out here?”

  Sheriff Keyes zones in on me. “Then why are you here, Mala?”

  “George asked me to go for a hike. Do some sibling bonding. Why? Is there a crime in going for a walk and experiencing nature at its finest?”

  Thunder cracks and lightning flashes across the sky. I flinch, ready to be struck dead. Saying that George and I went hiking, well, it’s partly true. Same with the sibling bonding. I can’t lie to Sheriff Keyes. It would be like lying to my own father. Well, not my bio-dad. The sheriff has been more of a father to me than Dubois Sr.

  I avoid his eyes by glaring at the rock beside my boot. It slides an inch, and I gasp and then swallow hard. Holy telekinesis! Stop before someone notices.

  Sheriff Keyes traces his thumb and index finger down his handlebar mustache. “Why do I sense I won’t get the whole story from you?” At my shrug, he shakes his salt-and-pepper head. “Deputy Dubois, get over here and explain why you brought a civilian to the crime scene.”

  George darts a frantic look in my direction. Obviously he doesn’t want to lie to Sheriff Keyes either. I surreptitiously swipe my hand across my throat in a knifing motion and widen my eyes as I silently threaten him with beheading. If he doesn’t keep his big fat mouth shut about my business, I will go King Joffrey on his ass.

  “Son,” Sheriff Keyes says, folding his hands over his rotund belly and looking more like Santa Claus than the head of the local law enforcement agency, “tell me the truth.”

  My older, but not so wiser, brother’s shoulders slump and his mouth opens. “I brought Mala to find the bodies. She can talk to ghosts,” he blurts out, thus sealing my doom.

  All eyes turn in my direction. Kill me now.

  “Is this some kind of joke, Deputy Dubois?” Bessie’s voice snaps him upright. His cheeks flush bright red, and he rubs his hand over his wet head. He looks at me with a pleading expression, but I’ll be damned if I help him out. Hell, I’m already damned. Bad enough they thought I was crazy after being locked in the mental ward. Now he’s confirming the crazy and adding a whole new level to the madness.

  What was I thinking? I never should’ve told him my secret. Never should’ve agreed to coming out here with him. Should’ve known he wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. I forgot what a double-dipping, two-timing sna
ke my brother can be when he wants something. I’m seriously gonna rip out his guts and eat them like chitlins.

  “Mala, please?” he begs.

  Please? Ha. Let’s see how he feels being locked up in the psycho ward. Maybe then he won’t make arbitrary decisions about other people’s lives. He took my choice away. If I never shared my secret, so what? What business is it of his if this giant lie has been eating me up inside. Or that I’m sick of hiding a part of who I am from those I love.

  I stare at the faces of people who have known me my entire life. People I respect. What’s the point in denying the truth now? It’s out. Might as well face it head-on or I’ll be trapped in a forever loop of lying to cover up my true nature. “Fine! He’s telling the truth. Sheriff, you’ve got your very own Ghost Whisperer. Use me at will. I don’t care anymore.”

  “What are you saying?” The shock in Bessie’s eyes almost breaks me.

  I swallow around the lump in my throat. “I’m admitting to being able to communicate with the spirits of the dead. It’s sort of an inherited family gift. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” I wipe my eyes with the back of hand. “I didn’t want anyone to know. Hell, it took me almost dying to figure out what was happening to me. You all saw how that turned out. Lainey possessed me in the hospital, and I got locked up.”

  I wrap my arms around myself, shivering from the cold. I search their faces, but see nothing but skepticism reflected back. “Oh, come on. Don’t just stare at me like I’ve lost my mind. Please.”

  George comes over to wrap his arm around my shoulder. “I didn’t believe her when she first told me about Lainey Prince haunting her. But since then I’ve seen proof.” He points toward the island. “Now so have you. What more do you need to believe us?”

  Sheriff Keyes clears his throat. “How exactly did you find the bodies, Mala?”

  I shift from one foot to another. “Well, the thing I’ve learned about spirits is that they have a strong sense of justice. Those boys wanted to be found. And they want their murderer captured.” My nostrils flare. Anger simmers below the surface and builds with each word. “This guy’s a psycho. Full of arrogance and smug in the belief that he’s smarter than everyone else. He thinks he won’t get caught, and up until now, he was right. Hell, Georgie said nobody even realized the kids were missing.”

  I stab them accusingly with my gaze, then shift my glare across the pond to the smoking tree and the blackened bodies of the children in its branches. The rage inside dampens my embarrassment. I won’t be selfish anymore. Whether they hate or fear me now doesn’t matter, as long as they believe I’m telling the truth. Finding the murderer and stopping him from killing another kid is all I care about. “A serial killer has been building his very own trophy island in Paradise Pointe. He came to our town in a white car. Picked up our kids from the side of the road. Once he got them inside, he knocked them unconscious and brought them to the island. That’s where he dismembered them and set them up for display.”

  “And you know all of this how?” Sheriff Keyes asks.

  “Those kids told me.” My cell phone vibrates, and I sigh in relief. Saved by the buzz.

  I slide the phone from my pocket. I read several alerts for missed messages from Landry. Gaston said he’d tell him that I’m okay so I’ll check in with him later. What gets my heart racing are the three missed calls from the attendance clerk at the high school.

  I look back at Bessie and Chief Keyes. “This news is probably a shock. I need to make an important phone call. Why don’t you listen while George tells you about his experience, then discuss this among yourselves? I’ll answer your questions when I’m done.”

  “Mala, this is pretty important,” Bessie says, rubbing her arms. “If what you’re saying is true then…Hell, I don’t even know what to think.”

  “I know.” My lips twist from the sour taste in my mouth as I say, “I’d ask you to just trust me, but that’s ridiculous. What I’m saying is pretty hard to believe, even with proof of the supernatural. I won’t hate you if you can’t wrap your mind around the fact that the information I got came from ghosts. As long as you don’t ignore it. Right now, it’s your only lead.”

  I walk toward the trees, leaving Sheriff Keyes and Bessie in George’s hands. “Mala told me she could see spirits after Dena was kidnapped by Redford Delahoussaye…” he says, his voice fading the farther away I get.

  Part of me wants to start running toward the main road and never come back. But the other part is hopeful to the point where it physically hurts. George is the only one who gets how much I want to become a detective. He understands how my desire to right a wrong and bring justice to the victims makes me forget common sense and jump into situations feet first without thinking about the consequences, because he’s the same way. I’d forgotten how much I love the feeling of being at a crime scene. I’m glad George recognized this and brought me here. Even if he had to spill my deepest, darkest secret to justify my presence.

  I take a few minutes to get my emotions under control. As keyed up as I feel, it would be a shame to take it out on the attendance clerk even if she deserves it. Gladys Huxton has a disagreeable stick-shoved-up-her-ass personality, and she treated me like dung stuck to her shoe all through high school. After becoming the twins’ guardian, I learned nothing’s changed since I graduated.

  The attendance clerk picks up on the fourth ring. “Paradise Pointe High, Mrs. Huxton speaking.”

  “Hi, this is Mala LaCroix. I had a message?”

  “Yes, thank you for finally returning my call. Are you aware that Carl didn’t come to school today?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, breathing hard. “No, ma’am, that’s not possible. He got on the bus this morning. He should be there.” Footsteps crackle through the ground cover. I turn to see George walking in my direction and wave him over.

  “They’re ready for you,” he says when he reaches my side.

  I shake my head, covering the receiver and whispering, “They’ll have to wait. The school says Carl never made it to class. You saw him get on the bus, right?”

  He scrubs his fingers through his hair and shrugs. “Uh, no, I dropped them off at the bus stop and came back.”

  I let out a low hiss.

  “What about Daryl, Mrs. Huxton? Did he make it to any of his classes? Has he seen his brother?”

  “He’s showing to be present. The problem is Carl—”

  I cut her off, my voice rising with growing panic. “But what did Daryl say? Did Carl get on the bus this morning?” Where do I even start to look for him? The house? Town?

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? If Daryl’s there, then ask him. I need a place to start searching. What if something happened to him?” What if the killer snatched him? My voice cracks as I say, “Carl’s my responsibility.”

  Her gusty sigh forces me to pull the phone away from my ear. “Exactly, Ms. LaCroix. Carl is your responsibility, not mine. Unless he’s on school grounds. And he’s not, which is the reason for my call. He has more absences this semester than days present. The principal and guidance counselor want to meet with you and Carl. When is a good time?”

  “I don’t know.” It’s almost noon now. How long will it take to track the kid down? “I’ll have to call back later.”

  The line goes quiet.

  “I’m not trying to make light of this situation. I know it’s important, but I need to find Carl before I can bring him in to meet with the principal.”

  “Call back by the end of the school day.”

  The line disconnects. My heart feels like it’s about to be ripped from my chest.

  “Little shit tricked me,” George says. “He probably doubled back after I dropped him off and is at home playing video games with Landry.”

  “Right, yeah.” I settle for the easiest conclusion. The other is too scary to worry about.

  “Landry feels so bad about Dena that he overcompensates by spoiling the kids ro
tten. Stupid Xbox is frying their brain cells.” I punch in Landry’s phone number. “I keep telling him that the boys need consistency and routine.” The line connects on the third ring.

  “Mala, thank God. It’s Sophia,” she says, her voice warbling. “Why did it take so long to call?”

  Panic spurts. “Why are you answering Landry’s phone?”

  “We have a bit of a problem. The situation is contained for the moment, but you need to get here as soon as possible.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “Only minor injuries. That’s why I said a bit of a problem. I’ll fill you in when you arrive.” Her last words are muffled like she puts her hand over the phone to drown out the distant shouts.

  “What the hell’s going on, Sophia?”

  I hear a muted yell. “He’s breaking free. Pin him down.”

  “Mala, just get to the Acker farm. Quick. Before it’s too late.”

  Chapter 8

  Landry

  Butterfly Shit

  I wake with a shout. Ice cold water drips down my face, and I wipe my eyes. Ferdinand, Carl, and Sophia, who’s holding a canteen, stand over me. Worry etches deep frowns on their foreheads. “What the hell?”

  “We thought you died.” Carl rubs his hands together like he’s cold. “But you only passed out. What happened?”

  My head throbs, and I touch the lumps on the back of my skull. “Hit my head on a rock again.”

  “Nobody cares about your hard head. I mean with Mala.” He grabs my arm and helps me stand. “You said you got her before you passed out, but you didn’t tell us how. What did you see?”

  A chill runs down my back at the memory. “Something I hope to never see again.” I squint at the empty circle. The ancestral spirits are gone. Hopefully they’re still with Mala, protecting her. “I can’t even…Death. Corpses strung up in a bleeding tree. Carnivorous butterflies. What the hell is going on, Sophia?”

  She casts a sideways grimace toward Carl, who looks between us with bugged-out eyes. “We’ll talk about this later.”