“So your father is a vorghost, now?” Roy asked. “Do you still see him?”
“Yes, he’s got a vortex in Arizona,” Maynard replied. “I see him occasionally. He loves being a vorghost – it was what he spent his life wanting to become.”
“Is he the same?” Steven asked. “I mean, the same person? Has he changed?”
“He has changed,” Maynard said. “Their existence is completely different from ours. The fact that I’m his son is something he remembers, but the relationship has changed completely. A lot of his thoughts now are about maintaining power, like an animal who thinks mostly about eating. It’s very strange.”
Steven bounced up and down in the pickup’s cab as they rode back into town, silence settling down upon them. He thought about what it would be like to be a vorghost, and the idea repelled him. Not for me, he thought. Or Dad. I can’t imagine him being one, either.
Chapter Ten
Once they stopped in Aberdeen, Steven offered his phone to Maynard for the purpose of a call to Dixon, but Maynard recoiled at the device. Steven saw Roy smirk a little at Maynard’s reaction.
“Thanks anyway, but I’ll use the phone in my room,” Maynard said, walking into the motel. “Why don’t we meet down here for some lunch in an hour, and we’ll see if Dixon comes through.”
“You like razor clams?” Roy asked.
“Never heard of ’em,” Maynard said, turned, and sped off down the hall toward his room.
“Just when I think I might like the guy,” Roy grumbled, “he says something that reverses my opinion.”
“He’s old,” Steven said. “I wouldn’t take it personally. He probably just needed the bathroom. I don’t think he’s used to coffee. I’m going to stop in on Barbara, see if she’s OK. Give her an update.”
“I’ll come with you,” Roy said, following Steven down the hall toward Barbara’s room.
They knocked on her door, and Barbara opened it, welcoming them in. Georgina and May were playing on a round table near the window.
“Not many places to sit,” Barbara said, motioning to one of the two double beds. “Please.”
Steven and Roy sat on the bed next to each other, and Barbara sat across from them.
“You holding up?” Steven asked.
“Oh, we’re fine,” she replied. “Being out of that house made all the difference. A little cramped, but OK.”
“I think we’ve made some progress,” Steven said. “We think we know where that rod came from.”
The girls became loud, playing behind Barbara. She turned on the bed and faced them. “Girls, please. Hold it down. We’re talking.”
Steven saw the two look over at them, and they smiled bashfully. Then they returned to their playing.
“You know where it came from?” Barbara asked.
“Yes,” Steven said. “There’s an old boarded up house behind you, on the next street back.”
Steven noticed Georgina glance up from her playing. She looked at them for a moment, then returned to her dolls and her sister.
“There’s a… ” Steven paused, searching for the right word, “…a disturbance there. We think the rod came from that house.”
“That old abandoned place on Birch Street?” Barbara asked. “The one with all the plywood covering the windows?”
“That’s the one,” Roy said.
“The neighborhood kids call it the Murder Marie house,” Barbara said. “They all think it’s haunted.”
“They’re right,” Roy said.
“If our theory is correct, the rod somehow moved from there to your place,” Steven said.
“Moved?” Barbara said. “How?”
“We don’t know yet,” Steven replied.
“Can it be removed?” Barbara asked.
“That’s our plan,” Steven continued. “There’s a few things we have to do first, but ultimately that’s what we want – to get it out of your house. I think once it’s gone, your home will be back to normal.”
Barbara’s shoulders sagged and she hunched over a little, letting out a sigh. “Oh, you can’t believe how good that is to hear. I was beginning to think we’d have to sell and move.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Roy jumped in. “We’re not there quite yet.”
“But there’s a chance?” she asked.
“Oh yes, I think there’s a good chance,” Steven said. “We’ve got some help from an expert who’s worked with rods before. He seems to know what he’s doing. It was his idea to check out the abandoned house – and he was right. It’s definitely the source of the problem. Not your house.”
“Well, thank god,” Barbara said, smiling. “Any idea how long before it’s gone? The rod?”
“We’re waiting on some information that will get us started on a solution,” Roy said. “This might take a day, or it might take a week. We don’t know yet. We’ll keep you posted, though. Do you have enough here to get by?”
“If we need anything, I’ll just pick it up at a store here in town,” Barbara said. “I’m not going back into that house until you’re done.”
◊
The information from Dixon had them heading to the seaside town of Moclips to find a relative of the vorghost. The drive up the coast had been mostly silent. Steven and Roy had tried to get more information about Maynard’s past by asking him questions, but he sat in the back seat of Steven’s car, delivering short answers that seemed to make asking follow up questions impolite. Consequently, the drive had been a little awkward.
They reached Moclips after an hour, and Steven slowed his car as they entered the small town. Many of the trees had a strange shape, the tops pointing inland, the result of years of wind from the ocean. He slowly crawled through the town, following the route his phone displayed. He slowed as the phone indicated they had arrived.
“He lives in there?” Roy asked. “What a dump!”
They were parked next to a shack that had a patchwork of metal and wood planks attached to all sides of the house, making it look like it had been formed out of junk. Old glass floats were lined along the front wall of the shack, an attempt at decoration.
“I’ll do the talking,” Maynard said, stepping up to the front door. Roy gave Steven a perturbed look. Steven nodded in agreement.
The man who opened the door looked about Maynard’s age, but taller. He was wearing overalls with a large sweater poking out the top.
“Yes?” the man asked, looking at them suspiciously.
“I’m Maynard, and this is Roy, and his son, Steven. We’re hoping you’ll talk to us about Marie.”
“Marie?” the man repeated, squinting. “My grandmother Marie?”
“Yes,” Maynard replied.
“She’s been gone for years, that’s all I know.” The man started to shut the door, but Maynard stuck his foot out, blocking it.
“She was gifted, like you, am I right?” Maynard asked.
The man began shoving the door into Maynard’s foot. “So what if she was. None of your business.”
“You said that she’s been gone,” Maynard said, holding his foot firm. “I think we may have found her.”
The man stopped trying to push the door closed and looked up at them. “Are you cops? You have to identify yourselves if you are.”
“We’re not cops,” Roy said.
“We’re gifted, just like you,” Maynard said. “We need to know a few things about your grandmother.”
“If you found her, where is she?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Let us in so we can talk to you,” Maynard said. “We’ll tell you what we know.”
The man’s eyes darted back and forth rapidly. “There’s no room for you in here. Go around back, I’ll meet you there.”
Maynard removed his foot from the threshold and the man slammed the door shut.
“Interesting,” Steven said.
“Seemed a little unhinged to me,” Roy said under his breath as they walked around the side of the hou
se. Steven noticed that the few windows they walked past were plastered over from the inside, with newspaper. It had turned bright yellow from exposure to the sun.
“We just need to get the information about his grandmother,” Maynard said. “Nothing more.”
“Can’t imagine it’ll be useful if he’s crazy,” Roy replied.
The back yard had a beautiful view of the ocean from a small cliff. The man emerged from a wooden door at the back of the shack, a cigarette in his hand. He sat in a white wire chair that had dark red rust spots. He ashed the cigarette into an old Rainier beer can that was on the ground next to him. There was nowhere else to sit, so they stood around him. A slight wind blowing, and every now and again Steven could feel mist from the ocean hit his face and neck.
“You’re Amos? Her grandson?” Maynard asked. “Carleton was your father? Her son?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Amos said. “Where is she? I presume you found her body.”
“She’s dead, yes,” Maynard said. “But not silent.”
“A ghost?” Amos asked.
“Yup,” Maynard said. “A highly problematic one.”
“Sounds like her,” Amos said. “She was one whacked out bitch.”
“You knew her?” Maynard asked.
“I met her only once,” Amos said, “just before she disappeared. My father considered her crazy, so he kept us away from her. Most of what I know about her is stories my daddy told me.”
“Was she really crazy?” Roy asked. “Or just eccentric? You know how people can misjudge those with the gift.”
“My daddy thought she was completely batshit,” Amos said, following it up with a long drag from his cigarette, and expelling a large cloud of smoke into the air. “From the stories he told, I’d have to agree. She seemed like a lunatic, especially after she broke up with a rich guy she’d married. She went completely off the deep end.” Amos made a hand motion of someone diving off a cliff, whistling as it dropped.
“What happened to her?” Maynard asked. “What’s the last thing you heard about her?”
“She disappeared, along with my aunt, who was just eight or nine at the time,” Amos answered. “Up and flew the coop. My daddy went to check on them at their house in Hoquiam one day, and no one was home. No notes, no forwarding address. Just gone.”
“Did he report them missing?” Roy asked.
“He did, ’cause he was worried about Christina,” Amos said, taking a long draw from his cigarette.
“And did they find her?” Steven asked.
“No, we never heard another thing,” Amos said. “And I don’t think my daddy cared too much. The most he ever did was to go talk to her ex about it, see if he knew where she was. But for the most part I think he was happy to have her out of his life. She was unpredictable, a whacko. He felt sorry for his sister, though. He always hoped she’d be OK.”
“Do you think the ex had anything to do with it?” Maynard asked.
“I wouldn’t know,” Amos said, tapping the ash of his cigarette into the can. “I was little. And it wouldn’t matter if he did. My daddy said her ex had so much money, even if he’d done something to her and got caught, he could buy his way out of it with lawyers. My daddy said the guy married her because she was pretty, before he realized how crazy she was. Once he got wind of how fucked up she could be, he dropped her like a hot potato. They were only married for a couple of years.”
“Christina was their child?” Roy asked.
“Yes,” Amos replied.
“Do you know the name of the rich ex?” Steven asked.
“I don’t know his name,” Amos said, dropping his spent cigarette into the can. “I didn’t care much since my daddy’s father, Marie’s first husband, was my real grandpa. He moved to Shelton after he divorced Marie, twenty years earlier. She was so crazy no one would touch her with a ten foot pole until she hooked up with the rich guy. By that time my daddy had grown up, moved out and gotten married to my momma.”
Maynard walked up to Amos and stuck out his hand. “Thanks for your time. I appreciate the information.”
Amos shook his hand without standing up. “So Marie’s a ghost now, huh?”
“Yes.”
“She giving you a bit of trouble?” Amos asked, smirking.
“Not for long,” Maynard replied. He turned and walked from the back yard, Steven and Roy in tow.
◊
“Didn’t appreciate his language,” Maynard said from the back seat as they drove back to Aberdeen. “Unnecessary.”
“His language?” Roy asked, baffled. “He was speaking English as far as I could tell.”
“I don’t see any reason to use the f-word like that,” Maynard said, without a hint of indignancy. “It’s the sign of a small mind that has to resort to that kind of language.”
Steven saw his father, sitting in the front passenger seat, roll his eyes and mutter “Jesus Christ!” under his breath.
“Here’s how this is going to work,” Maynard said. “As far as I can tell, there’s no one going to care one whit if Marie is gone, so we’ll attempt to dismantle the vortex.”
“Will that kill her?” Steven asked.
“Eventually,” Maynard replied. “The vortex is what’s keeping her alive – and is, of course, the source of your troubles. If we shut it down, it’ll solve your problem, and I think Marie will just dwindle and eventually disappear.”
“Have you ever shut down a vortex before?” Roy asked.
“A couple of times,” Maynard said. “I have all of the equipment in the car. It’s not dangerous if you follow the rules. You just have to keep your mind focused.”
“What’s the process?” Steven asked, glancing up at Maynard in the rear view mirror. “What happens?”
“We decommission the rods,” Maynard replied. “The coil around each rod has to be removed. It was wrapped around the rod originally by the vorghost, by hand, before they died. It can be spiraled off with the help of a device I brought with me. Once it’s off, that rod stops performing its vortex function.”
“What happens to the rod and the coil after that?” Steven asked.
“I usually sell them,” Maynard said. “Since you two discovered this vortex, I’ll split the proceeds with you. After my expenses.”
“Deal,” Roy said.
“Well, we know where one of the rods is, obviously,” Steven said. “Any idea about the others?”
“There will be at least three,” Maynard said. “You need a minimum of three to form a vortex. More powerful vortices have more rods, but Marie’s feels like a three-rod vortex to me. It’s likely that another one is in the attic somewhere. The third is usually lower, might be in the house on one of the lower floors. They’re often hidden in walls or behind false ceilings in closets. Sometimes they’re outside, but that’s rare. I have an object that helps locate them.”
“Great, so we’re going back into that house,” Steven moaned.
“It wasn’t that bad, once you got used to it,” Roy said.
“Used to it?” Steven replied. “Used to screams and bone cutting, and all that blood?”
“Blood?” Roy asked. “I didn’t see any blood. Or bones.”
“You see what you’re afraid of,” Maynard replied. “It’s different for every person. I just see the dark, pressing in against the light of my flashlight. I can only see the few steps ahead of me. Makes it hard to figure out where you are.”
“What did you see in there?” Steven asked Roy.
“Same as Maynard,” Roy replied. “Darkness, everywhere. So black you couldn’t make out anything that wasn’t illuminated directly by my flashlight.”
“So you’re scared of the dark,” Steven said. “Really?”
“Not anything I would normally admit to,” Roy said sheepishly. “Apparently you’re scared of blood and screams and bone sawing.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Steven said. “It’s horrific.”
“So is the dark!” Roy protested.
“It’s not a pissing match, guys,” Maynard said. “It’s equally intense for each person. That’s why the vortex picks those things, to scare you off with the thing that will work the best. Regardless of what you see, the layout of the house is the same, and the vortex, once you reach it, is the same. You just have to ignore everything else.”
“Damn hard to do when there’s blood pouring down the stairs,” Steven said. “Not dripping, pouring.”
“Oh, buck up and stop complaining,” Roy said.
Steven felt a little hurt by his father’s comment. Probably wants a manly display for Maynard, he thought. Demonstrating his superior parenting skills. He considered responding, but realized instead he was far more concerned about going back into the house than fighting with his father.
When they reached Aberdeen, they transferred to Maynard’s truck and drove around the harbor to reach Barbara’s house. As they passed over the Chehalis River, Steven stared out the window at the thousands of timber logs stacked high at the lumber mill, waiting to be processed into two by fours. They looked like toothpicks, shaved of bark and without points on the ends.
The area had once been prosperous because of the lumber, but that all changed in the ’80s with restrictions on logging. Most of the money had left, leaving Aberdeen and its surroundings, like Cosmopolis and Hoquaim, poor and struggling. The weather didn’t help, unless you liked dark and gloomy. The towns surrounding Grays Harbor reflected the color of that body of water’s name: gray. The sky above them was a sheet of gray clouds, with no openings for a sunbreak.
The atmosphere of the place lowered Steven’s mood as he contemplated walking back into the abandoned house. He yearned to be back in Eximere, where it was sunny during the day and a fresh, pleasant breeze moved through the air – unlike the stench from the mill filling his nostrils now.
The Haunting at Grays Harbor (The River Book 8) Page 11