The Mayhem Children (A Project Specter Mystery Book 1)

by Paul Seiple

  “Not trophies, Detective Strode. These are reminders—warnings, if you will—to let people know the bogeyman is very real. Would you like a tour?”

  “Actually, we need to ask you a few questions if that’s all right,” Kim said.

  “By all means, let’s go to my office,” Don said.

  Kim pulled Terrence away from a display case that encased an old rotary phone that supposedly rang when it was disconnected. The plaque claimed it was a portal to the dead.

  “The day just keeps getting weirder,” Terrence whispered.

  “Can I offer you hot tea?” Don asked.

  “I’m good,” Terrence said, reading newspaper clippings of strange occurrences that served as wallpaper in Don’s office.

  Kim shook her head. “Are you aware of The Silent Six case in the seventies?”

  Don poured a cup of tea and blew on it. “Anyone who’s been in the area for any period of time has at least heard of that tragedy.” Don brought the cup to his lips and then pulled it back. “Strode? Are you kin to Sam Strode?”

  “He’s my father.” Kim pulled the journal from his blazer. “These are his notes on The Silent Six.”

  Don sat his mug on a coaster with a skull imprinted on it and flipped through the pages. “Fascinating.”

  “Yesterday, one of the fathers of the murdered children killed the rest of his family,” Kim said.

  Don took his eyes away from the journal. A genuine look of concern shadowed his face. “How can I help?”

  Kim sat beside Don and turned the journal to the section on Elvin Hayes. She pointed to the death spell he chanted at Tommy Lloyd. “My father said Hayes repeated this after Lloyd punched him in the face. It’s a spell to cause a tragedy to repeat itself.”

  “A revenge spell,” Don said, studying the chant. “So what do you want to know, detective?”

  Holding her breath, Kim fought for the right words. She didn’t want to seem like a kook. This was all too much like a movie.

  In the awkward silence, Terrence stopped reading the walls. “Is there any chance that the spell Hayes chanted caused Lloyd to kill his family?” Terrence asked.

  Don took a sip of tea. “There are such things as revenge curses.” He cleared his throat. “But this one is full of inconsistencies. Hayes mixed up the words. There is no way this cursed anyone.” Don sipped the tea again. “There is no room for error when casting a spell. It has to be perfect to work.”

  Relief filled Kim’s lungs. She could breathe again.

  “That’s not to say Mr. Lloyd wasn’t cursed. Just not by this gibberish,” Don said.

  Kim seized up again.

  “Lloyd claims his son came to him and convinced him to kill his family. Said he even played catch with the boy,” Terrence said.

  “But Lloyd suffers from PTSD,” Kim said, hoping Don would accept that as the cause.

  “He actually interacted with the boy?” Don asked.

  Terrence nodded. “Said he tossed the ball with him.”

  “That’s alarming,” Don said. “Interaction like that suggests demonic infestation.”

  “Possessed?” Terrence asked.

  “Typically, ghosts do not have the power to create such an interaction. Demons gravitate towards people who are emotionally vulnerable. Did Mr. Lloyd say anything else?” Don asked.

  “Does the word ‘Mayhem’ mean anything to you?” Kim asked.

  “Where did you see that?” Don asked.

  Terrence ran a few swipes across his phone and handed it Don. “This was taken a few hours ago.”

  Don scratched his goatee and brought the phone closer.

  “That’s a little girl whose family just moved into the house Jessica Challis was abducted from in 1974,” Kim said.

  Don took off his glasses, sat them on a book named The Devil Beside You, and rubbed his eyes. “There is a spell called The Mayhem, but it’s incredibly rare and can only be performed by a high level black witch. In fact, I only know of one recorded instance where the spell worked.” Don rummaged through a stack of books on his desk. “Here.” He pointed to chapter in one of his books called True Witchcraft. “In 1965, two families from Santa Fe, New Mexico disappeared. Homes were left vacant. Cars in the driveways. The people just disappeared. Weeks later, witnesses reported smoke behind the elementary school. The smoke came from a pile of bodies burning. Both families.” Don paused to take a sip of tea. “When the fire department arrived, they found a woman standing by the fire flanked by six tall, dark figures. She called them her widow makers.”

  “That seems too crazy to be real,” Terrence said.

  “Black magic is very real, detective.”

  “What happened to her?” Kim asked.

  “She was consumed by her widow makers. That’s the thing with black magic. It oftentimes harms the person who creates the spell.”

  “Why did she do it?” Kim asked.

  “Her husband was the leader of a motorcycle gang. He was convicted of murdering a rival and sentenced to life in prison. The woman invoked her revenge by summoning six demons called Legion.”

  Terrence took a seat next to Kim. “You mean like Legion from the Bible? ‘My name is Legion: for we are many,’ that Legion?”

  “Yes. Her widow makers were a group of demons,” Don said.

  “So why did she want revenge on those families?” Kim asked.

  “Both mothers were on the jury,” Don said.

  “She killed that many people over two jury members?” Terrence asked.

  “Revenge can be the scariest demon of all, detective. But she didn’t kill the people. The demons made them kill themselves. Her plan was to exact revenge on the rest of the jury members’ families as well, but like I said, sometimes the magic backfires.”

  “How come this was never on the news?” Terrence asked. His tone was accented by doubt.

  Don picked up the witchcraft book and pointed to a set of words on the bottom of the cover.

  “A Project Specter Classified Document,” Terrence said.

  “That’s why you haven’t heard of it,” Don said. “Project Specter is an organization that protects the public from the supernatural.”

  “Just how many...never mind...I don’t want to know.” Terrence put his elbows on his knees and lowered his head. “Unbelievable.”

  Kim placed her hand on Terrence’s back. “Yesterday, you were the believer.”

  Terrence chuckled. “Yesterday, I didn’t know the government had a secret organization hiding demons from us.”

  “Not just demons, detective.” Don took another sip of tea as if this was casual dinner conversation. “There are many bad things out there. And worry not, the government has no affiliation with Project Specter.”

  “Is it possible that Hayes conjured this Mayhem spell?” Kim asked.

  “Impossible,” Don said. “If someone invoked The Mayhem, they must have advanced knowledge of the black arts. At best, Hayes was a dabbler.” He sat the empty mug on his desk. “The Mayhem is so rare, though. The child probably heard the word on television or somewhere. As far as Mr. Lloyd, there are many factors that could have caused him to become violent.”

  “I saw Jessica Challis when I was talking to the little girl,” Kim said, unsure that she should be sharing the information. “Well, I think it was her. When I asked the little girl why she wrote ‘Mayhem is coming’ on the sidewalk, she pointed to a window. I saw a flash, followed by a fog on the window, and a small hand wiped it away.”

  Don scratched his goatee feverishly. “You must take me to that house.”

  “Not a chance,” Terrence said. “That family is already walking on eggshells. The father about had a heart attack over squirrels in the attic. Imagine what demons in the closet would do to him.” Terrence exhaled a sudden burst of nervous laughter. “No way in hell.”

  “There are noises in the attic of the house?” Don asked.

  “I heard shuffling,” Kim said.

  “This family is in grave dange
r,” Don said.

  “We just can’t take you there. How do we explain showing up with an odd man?” Kim asked.

  “Either you find a way or you’ll be investigating another rash of homicides.”

  Kim sighed. “We’ll come up with something.”

  “Soon,” Don said. “And read this.” He grabbed the book under his glasses and handed it to Kim.

  “The Devil Beside You?”

  “It’s written by Derek Gallagher. He’s the only reporter to witness Hayes’s execution,” Don said.

  “That’s where I’ve heard the name. My father hates Gallagher,” Kim said.

  “Read it, and keep an eye on your father,” Don said.

  Six

  “You don’t believe any of that, do you?” Terrence asked, carefully closing the wooden doors behind him.

  “I’m not sure what I believe anymore,” Kim said, lighting a cigarette.

  “I thought you quit six months ago.”

  Kim pulled the cigarette from her lips and watched it burn. She had been trying to quit for years. Five days was the longest Kim went without a smoke until six months ago when she finally decided she hated the taste. But the stress of the Lloyd case brought an unwavering craving. The comfort from nicotine was inviting. Kim smoked close to a pack a day for months after her mother died. It seemed every time something stressful reared its head, nicotine was there to convince Kim things would be all right.

  “It’s just one cigarette,” Kim said, watching ashes fall to the pavement.

  “One today. A pack tomorrow.”

  Kim rolled her eyes at Terrence. He was right. She hated when her partner was right. Kim dropped the cigarette and stomped it out with her heel. “Happy now?”

  “Well, I could cite you for littering if you don’t pick that up.” Terrence smiled and got into the car.

  Kim picked up the butt and tossed it in a trash can. “The part about the secret organization seems a little too much like The X-Files,” she said, getting into the car.

  “I was thinking more like those Bigfoot hunter shows,” Terrence said. “Have you ever noticed everyone on those shows has seen Bigfoot except for the people hunting it?”

  Kim laughed just as the dispatcher’s voice burst through the radio, alerting them of a drowning at Lake Norman.

  “That’s five deaths in two days,” Terrence said.

  News vans, police cars, and rescue vehicles swarmed the peaceful getaway of Lake Norman. Crime scene tape blocked the ramp to one of the boat docks. Two uniformed officers stood beside a white Ford pick-up. Two women huddled in a hug behind the truck while a man talked to another officer.

  “We were having a good time, and then all of a sudden Luke started screaming ‘Jaime’ and dove into the water.”

  “Had Mr. Barton been drinking?” the officer asked.

  “Maybe a beer or two, but he wasn’t drunk.”

  “He said he saw a little boy,” one of the women said, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Did any of you see a child?” the officer asked.

  The women shook their heads and the man said, “No.”

  Terrence was just about to cross the yellow tape when Kim grabbed his arm. He stopped in mid-stride and took a step back.

  “Luke Barton was the younger brother of one of The Silent Six,” Kim said.

  “Are you sure?” Terrence asked.

  “Dad mentioned him in the journal. Jaime Barton was the fourth child to be abducted. He seems to think Luke saw Hayes take Jaime from their bedroom, but he was too young to really help the case.”

  A slight wind crept over Kim’s neck. Not surprising for a summer day at the lake, but then something harder to explain happened. The breeze circled her earlobe as if someone was blowing in her ear. She swatted. The sensation moved to her other ear. A faint voice spoke.

  “Let’s play a game.”

  “Did you hear that?” Kim asked.

  “Hear what?” Terrence looked around, but there was no one else within fifteen feet of them.

  The word “Marco” rang through Kim’s left ear. “Polo” followed in her right. And then a giggle. Kim’s knees trembled and weakened just before everything went dark. Wetness clung to her skin. She felt as though she was falling into a bottomless sea, but it only took a few seconds to realize that wasn’t true when her body slammed onto the ground.

  Kim opened her eyes. She saw things from Luke Barton’s perspective. He was on the dock talking to P.J. about the Panthers’ chances of making the playoffs in the upcoming football season while Lindsey and Sandy discussed lifehacking tips about making weeknight cooking easier and healthier. Something splashed in the water, catching Luke’s eye. It was a boy flailing with his arms swinging wildly above his head.

  “Help me, Luke. I can’t hold on much longer.”

  “Jaime?”

  “I never got the chance to take swimming lessons. Help me?”

  Luke stood up. “Jaime?”

  “Who’s Jaime? You OK, man?” P.J. asked.

  “I’m drowning, Luke. Save me.”

  The boy went under and popped back out of the water a few seconds later, gasping for air. Luke dove from the deck and swam toward the boy.

  “What the hell is he doing?” Lindsey asked.

  “No clue; there’s nothing there,” P.J. said.

  Luke swam to the boy. He reached to grab his brother, but Jaime disappeared. Laughter swirled around Luke’s head, creating a dizzying effect followed by a pressure that made him feel as if his head was caving in.

  “Jaime?”

  “Over here, little brother.”

  The voice came from behind Luke. He turned to see Jaime go under. Just as Luke was about to dive, something grabbed his ankle and pulled him down with such force that water rushed through his nose and mouth. Luke tried to cough, but that opened a clear path for water to flood his body. The temperature around him began to drop. Water froze to his skin, paralyzing him. He fought. The expended energy was useless. The force was too strong.

  As Luke’s eyes closed, his brother’s face broke through the ice. Jaime’s pupils were black; the whites of his eyes were a light shade of purple. His flesh was a sickening gray, the color of spoiled meat. He opened his mouth. Jaime’s teeth were missing, replaced by tiny snakes, coiled, ready to strike.

  “May whatever god you pray to have mercy on your soul, because The Mayhem will not,” Jaime said. It was not the voice of a child any longer.

  The snakes struck Luke in the face, filling him with the venom of pain Jaime succumbed to the night Elvin Hayes stabbed him over and over again. It was the last thing Luke felt before closing his eyes and welcomed death.

  Kim sucked in air and sat straight up as if she had been snatched from sleep by a nightmare.

  “Whoa, take it easy,” Terrence said, reaching for Kim’s shoulders.

  “Where am I?” Kim asked.

  “Carolina Medical.”

  “What happened?”

  “You blacked out.”

  “I have to talk to McDowell,” Kim said, yanking the heart monitor from her finger.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Kim,” Terrence said

  Two nurses ran into the room.

  “She’s fine. Just stubborn,” Terrence said.

  “Miss Strode, please don’t disrupt the equipment. It’s here for your well-being,” one of the nurses said, reattaching the heart monitor.

  “Terry, I have to see McDowell,” Kim said.

  “They want to keep you here overnight. We can see McDowell tomorrow. There’s no use in fighting me on this,” Terrence said.

  Kim lowered herself back onto a pillow. “What did I say before I passed out?”

  “You asked me if I heard anything. Did you hear something?” Terrence poured Kim a cup of water.

  “I watched Luke Barton die,” Kim said, taking the cup.

  “What?”

  “When I passed out, I saw him drown. It wasn’t an accident. He thought he was saving Jaime.�
�

  “His brother?”

  “Something was in the water making him think it was Jaime. He tried to save it and it killed him.”

  Terrence raised his eyebrow.

  “It’s fine if you don’t believe me. But it was real. There’s something going on here that’s well above the law.”

  “I believe you. You’re the sanest person I know.” Terrence took Kim’s hand. “But get some rest. We will deal with this tomorrow.”

  Kim took a sip of water and sat the cup on a table. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m always right. You hate that about me. Remember?” Terrence squeezed Kim’s hand tighter. “It will be fine.”

  “There’s one more thing,” Kim paused. “Whatever it was that killed Barton mentioned The Mayhem.”

  “We can talk about it tomorrow. Get some rest. I’ll stay with you tonight,” Terrence said.

  Kim jerked her hand away from Terrence. “You can’t. What time is it?”

  “A little after six. Why?”

  “Dad. I’m usually home by now with dinner. He’ll burn the house down.”

  Terrence smiled. “I got it.”

  “And he needs someone to stay with him through the night. He’s fine during the day, but sometimes he gets restless at night.”

  “No problem. I’ll keep him company,” Terrence said.

  “Get the hell out of here, you bastard.”

  Terrence dropped the bag of take-out on the floor and took his gun from its shoulder holster.

  “Stop harassing me. You’re not real.”

  “Mr. Strode, you OK?” Terrence said, easing into the house.

  A shattering sound came from the kitchen. Terrence ran into the room with his Colt drawn. Startled, Sam Strode backed up against the sink and tugged at the belt of his robe as if he was reaching for a gun. Terrence held up his arms, palms facing Sam, and took a step back.

  “It’s me, Mr. Strode. Terrence Simms. I’m Kim’s partner. I’m going to holster my gun now.”

  “I know who you are,” Sam said. “Don’t act so nervous. I’m not going to shoot you with the sink sprayer.”

  “Who were you talking to?” Terrence asked, eyeing a broken mug next to the refrigerator.