by Al Turner
When she awoke, Shelby had to endure countless questions from her. At first, they were of the type he didn’t want to answer. He tried to give her a subtle hint by turning up the radio.
“What was Dad doing?”
Radio turned up.
“What in the world is a preacher going to do with the items we’re collecting?”
Radio turned up louder.
“Why are you not answering me?”
And so on, until Carson ripped off the knob from the radio. Shelby had witnessed the pretty little human morph into a Tasmanian devil right before his eyes. He’d always wondered what a female version of Pops would look like.
Carson needed to vent. “We were supposed to catch up to Uncle Joe and Daniel.”
“That would have been preferable,” Shelby said, regretting he had agreed to this task.
“Why would our dad want us to steal from our grandmother?”
“Steal? No. We’re reclaiming something your dad hid there years ago. It’s probably the last place anyone would look for it. I know I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
“Well, I don’t care to go either,” Carson said with a groan.
Shelby glanced at Tripp, who looked unnerved that his sister was resistant to the idea. She typically didn’t avoid challenging scenarios. Had recent events taken their toll on her?
“Carson mentioned that Grandma Page believes she can speak with the dead,” said Tripp.
“Would that be the ones buried in her backyard?” Shelby quipped.
“You seem apprehensive when it comes to Grandma Page. Did you two have an unpleasant relationship?”
“Thankfully, I’ve never met Stella, but I’ve seen her from a distance more than once. Her reputation alone is a powerful repellent.”
“Dad’s also avoided her over the years. Still, she is family.”
“Tripp, were you dropped on your head as a child?”
Carson spoke up. “When we were in the womb, I probably kicked him a few too many times.”
“Boy, I believe that,” Shelby said.
To change the subject, Shelby went over the plan once they got to their grandmother’s house. It involved Carson distracting her while they searched for the item Jack wanted, supposedly hidden in a compartment behind a china cabinet.
Carson disliked the idea and introduced plan B, which was just the opposite of what Shelby wanted to do. She would find the item while the men provided the distraction. Shelby conceded to the possibility of her plan B but informed her that plan A was still the main objective.
“What exactly is this thing we’re looking for?” Carson asked.
“I don’t remember your dad’s exact description, but for some reason I imagined a soccer ball made of crystal, but not much bigger than a golf ball.”
After a pause, Tripp said, “It sounds like a polyhedron.”
“Polly who?” asked Shelby.
“A polyhedron. Think of it as a sphere made up of hexagons and polygons.”
“Sure, let’s just go with that.”
“I wonder what this particular object is for,” said Tripp.
“Well, young professor, if we actually find it and take it away with us, you can analyze it all you want,”
Carson mouthed the word “nerd,” then closed her eyes to take another nap. They drove for a while longer until the phone’s GPS indicated they were almost there.
Shelby checked the sky to see if any vultures were circling near their destination. He didn’t spot any, though he told himself that might change if things didn’t go well.
Carson started to say something almost as soon as her eyes opened, but Shelby made it clear his ears were still on break. With a grunt, Carson turned her attention to the world they passed through.
At least the drive through that part of the state was lovely. The surrounding trees, lake, streams, and hills took some of the gloom out of where they were headed. Broken Bow, a quaint town in Southeastern Oklahoma of just over four thousand residents, was a popular spot for campers and kayakers.
It was hard for Shelby to understand why Pops’s former wife had chosen such a pleasant place to reside. He imagined her living in a gingerbread house in some dark, shadowy forest. “There it is, kiddos,” he said as they turned off the road and headed up the heavily graveled drive.
Tripp stopped what he was doing, and he and Carson looked at the small home on the hill in front of them. The yellow house wasn’t much to look at, though it sat on a nice plot of land.
“Don’t let the appearance of this place fool you,” Shelby said. “The woman who resides in that humble abode is loaded.“
“Maybe she enjoys the simpler things in life,” Tripp said.
“Trust me, there’s nothing simple about that woman.”
Carson took a deep breath and exhaled in preparation for the encounter. “Okay, I need to put on my game face. I can handle a few minutes of crazy to get what we need.”
“Remember, lil’ darlin’, we’re here to obtain an item for your old man, not grill Broom-Hilda about family history.”
“We’ll just call that that plan C.”
“I’m definitely gonna need a drink,” Shelby mumbled as he parked the van and looked around.
The place wasn’t exactly a shanty, but it could have used a fresh coat of paint. It sat on roughly two acres of land, with smaller trees dotting the homestead area. The rest of the property disappeared into the woods behind it. The front yard seemed well kept, with a little fish pond and various statues of pixies and angels frozen in a dance around a garden.
“You kiddos ready for this?”
“As ready as we’re going to be,” Carson replied.
They exited the van and noted that the backyard, mostly hidden by a weathered privacy fence, was less inviting. The gate was open, allowing a narrow view of it. Junked appliances were stacked beside a shed and a sinister gargoyle statue was partially hidden by a shrub. Traveling along the side yard and attached to a steel rod in the ground was a chain. It wound through the gate and vanished around the house.
“Chains like that usually mean one thing,” Carson said, just as a mean pit bull came racing around the corner.
Instinctively, they all took several steps backward. The dog almost choked itself when the chain ran out, mere feet from them.
“Whoa there, big fella.” Shelby reached into his pocket to retrieve some beef jerky and tossed it to the dog. “Never leave home without it.”
The snarling dog paused long enough to sniff it but seemed determined to tear some flesh off his new guests. The barking and growling continued.
Carson drew closer and squatted, then held out her hand and spoke softly to the animal. He seemed curious at first but lunged for her. Shelby snickered as she fell backward. Tripp helped his sister to her feet.
“Go lie down, King David!” came the raspy voice from the raised front porch. Following the voice, they saw the thin frame of a gray-haired woman in a dark purple dress. Her hair was windblown and her bleached skin blotched with age. It was her emerald eyes, however, that were her most noticeable feature. They seemed to glow as they focused on everyone.
King David ceased his lunging and withdrew to the backyard. The woman studied them one by one. Tripp seemed as hesitant as Shelby to approach the old woman.
Carson decided to greet her first. “Hi, Grandma, it’s me, your granddaughter.”
“I know who you are,” the woman said. “What do you want?”
“I thought you’d like a visit,” Carson said, attempting to be convincing. “It’s been too long.”
Her grandmother seemed troubled by her words at first but regained her composure. After she further scrutinized Carson, her frown transformed into a strange, uneasy smile. “Yes, it has, dearie. I’ve missed you. Won’t you come in?”
Carson glanced back at the others as the crazy-haired woman went inside. She gave the thumbs-up gesture and trotted after her. Tripp and Shelby looked to one another for support and followed gin
gerly.
Inside, the elder Page woman was already in the kitchen preparing something for her guests to drink, her hospitality embedded in Southern traditions. They could hear the clinking of glasses as Tripp and Shelby sat at the round wooden table in the dining room.
Carson, always the explorer, wandered around the living room and examined everything she could find. The house was neat but cluttered. Three china cabinets were full of antique cups, saucers, and other items. Two large baker’s racks were stacked with various pots and pans. Then there were the gnomes. Big and small, wooden and porcelain, they were everywhere throughout the house. Some were happy little critters, while others were unsightly monsters.
“You sure collect a lot of stuff, Grandma,” Carson said.
“Oh yes, dearie,” came the woman’s voice from the kitchen. “I do love my little treasures.”
Shelby leaned over to Tripp and whispered in his ear. “Only bona fide witches use that lingo.”
Tripp’s brow wrinkled and he turned his attention to his grandmother. “Grandma,” he called, “do you have a bathroom?”
Hesitating, she directed him to go down the hall and to the right. As he headed that way, she called out again, “Don’t go anywhere else.”
Walking into the dining room, she set a tray down with four glasses of sweet iced tea. Carson joined them and took a drink. She grimaced as the sweetness overwhelmed her.
“Too sweet, dearie?” asked Grandma Page as she handed Shelby his drink.
“It’s fine, Grandma.” Carson forced a polite smile.
“None for me, ma’am,” said Shelby, holding up a hand. “My diabetes won’t allow it.”
“Who’s your friend, dearie?” she asked Carson, not addressing Shelby directly.
“Folks just call me Shelby, Ms. Page,” he said, ignoring her indirect approach.
“And folks know not to use the name ‘Page’ around me,” the woman shot back, her green eyes practically burning a hole through him. She observed Carson’s concerned look and smiled uneasily. “You may call me Stella.”
“As you wish, Stella,” Shelby said. He was tempted to check his torso to ensure there were no new holes in it.
“Shelby,” Stella said as she took a seat near Carson. “I once knew of someone by that name. Is your family from Arkansas?”
“Louisiana, ma’am,” Shelby said, concerned where the questioning would lead. “Shelby is actually my surname, but everyone just calls me that.” Usually, he’d create an elaborate story, but he feared the woman could somehow read his mind.
“I’m sure,” Stella said, no longer interested. She turned back to Carson. “Did you know that the name ‘Stella’ means star?”
“I didn’t,” admitted Carson, apparently fascinated by the fact. “It’s a very pretty name.”
“Thank you,” Stella said. Her smile revealed her small yellowing teeth for the first time. “I’m curious, though, why your father gave you a boy’s name.”
Carson looked unsure about how to answer that one. She took another drink of the overly sweet liquid and thought for a while. “I suppose he somehow knew I’d grow up to be tough.”
“My Bradley would never have chosen such a name,” Stella said, sipping her tea. “Did you need a straw, dearie?”
“No, I’m fine,” Carson said. Her grandma clearly thought her mother had come up with the name. “Dad prefers to be called Jack.”
Stella ignored her last comment. “Where’s your brother?” she asked, looking around.
“I’ll get him.” Shelby abruptly stood up. “I need to use the pisser anyway.” He tipped his hat and started walking.
***
Stella Page watched Shelby suspiciously as he disappeared down the hall. “What a queer person he is. How did you meet him?”
“Oh, he’s one of Dad’s old friends,” Carson said, waving her hand to minimize his importance. “We broke down in Texas, so he gave us a ride.”
“Texas? Were you visiting your other grandparents? I’m sure those Germans miss their daughter and grandkids. I can certainly relate to that.” Stella leaned back and glared.
“No, we broke down in Denton,” Carson said.
“Denton? The devil’s den,” she blurted out. “So I hear.”
Carson hesitated in her response. “Why would you say that, Grandma?”
“Oh, that’s where your grandfather was seduced by dark magic. He had orgies there, you know. Many a woman lost her virtue to that pirate. He fathered at least one bastard that I know of.”
“Okay,” said Carson, not sure what else to say. She desperately wanted to change the subject and hoped to get some information in the process. “Can I ask you some questions about Dad?”
Stella looked down as if sad. “Of course, dearie, though I barely remember what he looks like.”
“He stays quite busy with church work, Grandma. He says he misses you.” She hoped the fib would make the old woman feel better.
Stella took a moment to consider Carson’s words. Her forced smile returned. “I miss all of you,” she finally said. “What’s your question, dearie?”
“I hope it’s okay to ask this,” Carson said. “How did Uncle Conner really die? I mean, was Dad there when it happened?”
Stella looked straight at Carson and cackled loudly. It sent chills down Carson’s spine and seemed to shake the windows. When she was done, she gazed at a wall and took a sip of sweet tea. “My dearie is so confused. My Conner isn’t dead.”
“He’s not? Well, wait, Grandma. Everyone says he died long ago in a car accident, but Tripp and I found something that suggested he was involved in some super-secret stuff. And these guys, out of nowhere, started chasing us. It’s been a crazy week so far.” Carson paused to gauge her grandmother’s reaction. She hadn’t meant to pour it all out at once, but there it was. “Also, Dad won’t talk about it.”
Stella rose a bit and leaned across the table. As she spoke in a low, raspy voice, Carson was hopeful she was about to get some answers. “My Conner occasionally talks to me, you know, but I don’t see him. He’s not quite himself anymore.”
“That’s weird!” Carson then remembered she was trying not to offend the woman. Their mission required more self-control than she was used to.
A lower, softer laugh came from the older woman. She sat up straight, as if composing herself. “I know. Life can be so strange, cruel even to the righteous. I didn’t lose just one son that day.” She took another sip of tea. “Let me ask you something, dearie.”
“Sure, Grandma.” Carson tried to smooth the fine, thin hairs that stood up on her arms.
“Which brother do you think Kate loved more?”
“Kate? My mother?” Carson asked in surprise. “I would hope my dad. Why?”
“You would think,” Stella said as she leaned in. “But you never know what one brother would do for the woman he loves. My Bradley loved Kate so much, but his little brother was a thief of hearts. You know how boys can be.”
I knew it, Carson thought, but she didn’t want to reveal her suspicions and decided to play ignorant. “Why, Grandma, what are you saying?”
The old woman seemed to study her every word. “Fret not, dearie. It’s just an old woman’s blather.” She scooted her chair closer to Carson’s and whispered in her ear. “I hope you take more after your father and not that harlot who spit you out of her loins.”
Gaping in shock, Carson leaned away. She bit her tongue at first. She and her mother had their problems, but to hear her grandmother speak as if she were some slut burned at her. If anyone was going to accuse her mother of such things, it would be Carson herself. “Grandma!” she finally said.
Stella seemed to take delight in the reaction. Her stare pierced through Carson. “You have such beautiful eyes, my dear. Just like my Conner.” Stella looked around the room and suddenly realized both men were still missing. “Where’s your brother and that ugly man?”
***
In the hallway, Shelby paced. Tripp
had been exploring the next room. He came out of the dimly lit space and softly closed the door so as not to be heard.
“That is one bizarre place,” Tripp said.
Shelby had been trying to listen to the conversation in the other room, shuddering every time the old lady cackled. “The witch just said you were ugly,” he lied. “She should be in here soon. Looks like it’s plan B after all. What did you find?”
“I don’t really know,” Tripp said, confused. “It appears to be some sort of shrine. I took some pictures.”
Shelby felt a shiver. “Let’s hope it’s not dedicated to us,” he said as he felt the woman approach behind him.
“What are you two up to?” Stella demanded.
“Oh, just guy talk,” Shelby said. Something dropped in the dining room. “So how’s the girl talk?”
“We wanted to give you ladies some time to yourselves,” Tripp said. He glanced at Shelby who nodded, affirming it was a good lie.
Stella said nothing but turned to go back into the dining room. As she did, Shelby motioned for Tripp to do something to stall her.
“Uh, Grandma?”
Stella’s face was stony as she pivoted around.
“What’s in the room behind us?” Tripp asked, pointing.
“That’s my meditation room,” she said. “Don’t go in there.”
“Okay,” Tripp said.
They both watched Stella disappear around the corner, her long dress dusting the floor. A few seconds later, she called out to them. “Get in here, boys.”
“That has got to be the worst attempt at a distraction I’ve ever seen,” Shelby whispered.
“Sorry,” Tripp said sheepishly. He headed back to where the women were.
As they entered the dining room, Carson was still in the same place they had left her. Stella had gone into the kitchen for something.
Tripp started to sit down but stopped when he heard a car door. “I believe Grandma has company.”
Shelby was already at the window and the twins joined him. A dark blue sedan was parked behind their van. Two men in black shirts and pants had already gotten out. A third man— black, bald, and wearing a suit threaded with silver— exited and then leaned back into the vehicle to retrieve something. As they approached the steps, Shelby hoped it wasn’t a really big gun.