The lebo coven, p.14
The Lebo Coven, page 14
“More than you might think,” Barry said softly. “I’ve had a certain few experiences here myself. Just came from one, as a matter of fact.”
“I see we have a lot to talk about.”
“Where do you suggest we go?”
“I’m not prepared to be seen by anyone else just now. I was hoping for you not to see me, either. But since you have, you’re in it big time.” He looked out the window again—expectantly, Barry thought. “You know how to shoot that weapon of yours?”
“Well enough. Will I need it?”
“I hope not. What about you, Jennifer? Know how to use a firearm?”
“I’ve shot a handgun before. I prefer not to.”
“We should be all right for the time being. Let’s a take a walk.”
Matt led the way out the back door, through the yard and into the woods behind the house, all the while looking around furtively … apprehensively. Now that they were outside, Barry could feel an alleviation of that strange pressure, like eyes boring into the back of his head, that he had been only subliminally, yet persistently, aware of while he was inside. In the house, as he had conversed with his brother, that same onerous atmosphere he had felt on and off since his arrival had deliberately and insidiously crept in to beset them; a fact that he might have been more sensitive to had his attention not been focused on his brother. But out here, away from its influence, Barry felt a distinct and welcome sense of relief, so profound it bordered on elation. Most surprising of all, he found he had to fight down a childish excitement at having discovered Matt alive and reasonably well.
Back in their junior high school days, when dirt biking had been all the rage, Barry and his friends had cut this trail to ride on. Even after so many years, though undergrowth choked the way, the path among the towering trees remained clearly visible, and Barry found that negotiating it was still second nature. Several hundred yards ahead lay a clearing that, when he was ten, had served as the staging area for all Girl Haters’ Club activities, and then, a few short years later, as a place to make out with some of the same young women he had once professed to hate. Matt led them straight to it, and to his surprise, Barry found that his brother, by all the signs, must have also frequented this spot since taking up occupancy in their parents’ old house.
A circle of large stones, filled with the ashes of countless fires, occupied the center of the clearing, and around it several thick logs stood on end, obviously meant to serve as seats. A few cooking utensils were stacked next to the fireplace, and a rolled sleeping bag lay against a tall pine at the clearing’s edge. A short distance away, Barry saw a large pile of cut firewood, atop which rested a chipped, well-used hatchet. The faint, agreeable scent of wood smoke lingered in the air, though no fire was burning at the moment.
“You haven’t been holed up here, have you?” Barry asked. “It’s too close to the house. What with the sheriff’s men and God knows who else looking for you …”
“No. I came back to this spot last night. I’ve been … elsewhere.”
Barry sat down on one of the logs and motioned for Jennifer to sit beside him. Again, Matt remained standing and shortly began pacing nervously back and forth about the clearing, switching his shotgun from shoulder to shoulder, almost as if practicing for a drill. Barry gave him several minutes to settle down before saying, “You want to start talking now? In case you’re not aware, all hell’s broken loose …”
“I know! I know it has,” Matt snapped, scowling. “It’s hard to figure out how to explain this mess in terms you’d understand. What I’ve discovered … what I’ve dealt with … I still don’t understand it all myself.”
“Why don’t you start by telling me where you’ve been?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Then tell me about Ren.”
Matt glanced up sharply. “So. You know about him. Then I guess you know how he came to rent your old room from me, and what he started doing.”
“I know a little. Fill me in on the rest of it.”
At last, Matt took a seat facing him. He heaved a sigh, trying to compose himself. Then he began to tell his story.
“Ren came into town several months back, looking for a place to stay. Somebody told him I had plenty of space, I guess, and I needed the money. So I rented him your old room. It took a while for me to catch on that he’d come to me deliberately. He apparently had designs on this place from way back, and it was more than just good fortune that he came along when I needed a tenant.
“Anyway, he moved in, made friends with a few local people, seemed to have plenty of funds, even though he didn’t work. Always paid me cash for the rent. I gathered he was living on old money, since he didn’t seem to be dealing drugs or anything like that. Later, I found out he sometimes had people running moonshine. Not such a big deal; you know how that goes in this town. Anyway, I partied with him from time to time, and he seemed pretty cool. He’d been in the Marines—served in Saudi during the first Gulf War, and saw some action close up. Dropped bombs on a few Iraqis, so he told me, and was quite proud of it.
“But the next thing I knew, he’d made himself an altar of some sort in the bedroom, with all kinds of mystical paraphernalia—lots of strange-smelling herbs, crystals, odd figurines, religious ornaments, that kind of thing. And he started these weird ‘rituals’ behind closed doors. At first, I didn’t think too much of it; he seemed like a harmless eccentric, and I thought it was all rather fascinating. I’d never met anybody into that kind of shit before, and he was quite sociable most of the time.”
“So he really was into Satanism?” Barry asked.
“Well, not in the sense you’d probably think. He was definitely a student of demonology and spiritism, and had a lot of strange ideas about good and evil. I’m not even sure he believed in the commonly accepted versions of God and the devil. But he claimed he could talk to demons, if you want to call them that. That much I know firsthand. At first he kept his practices mostly to himself, but gradually, he began bringing me in on what he was doing. Again, I figured it was just some silly horseshit that he did to get his rocks off, until I saw the end result of one of his ceremonies. That time, I ordered him out of the house. But he became very ingratiating and talked me out of it. He swore he wouldn’t do anything like that again, that he had just been trying out something new and different. Seemed like it even scared him, too, so I backed down.
“But he was back at it right away, and then he changed. I tried to get rid of him, but he wouldn’t go. Threatened me with great harm if I did anything against him, and he used one of his ‘rituals’ to convince me.
“Needless to say, it worked. For a while, at least.”
“What did he do?”
“I’ll get into that in a minute. Anyway, he started going out quite frequently, and every time he did, I’d feel that there was someone—or something—in the house with me. It started getting worse and worse. Then I found out that he was going to this graveyard up on the mountain, and he was opening up graves—or one in particular, anyway—and stealing portions of the corpse’s remains. He was using them as a part of some summoning process—stirring up something in our house to ‘keep me in line.’”
“Let me guess. The grave you’re talking about. It belongs to ‘Lebo,’ does it not?”
Matt nodded. “Ren was obsessed with this character, this LeBeau; a sorcerer who lived here in the nineteenth century. A black magus, I should say.” He seemed to direct the statement to Jennifer. “It’s no coincidence that LeBeau’s grave is not far from here. That’s what brought Ren here in the first place.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Well, Ren learned about LeBeau many years ago, while he was studying the black arts; in Detroit, if I remember right. He communicated with spirits regularly, always hoping to discover new sources of knowledge and any means to increase his own personal power. You know that’s why he joined the Marines? So he could go around the world, learn everything he could from every place he went. Can you figure that? Anyway, he came into contact with this one spirit in particular, and they developed a kind of rapport. He wanted to find out where LeBeau’s remains could be found, so he did a Ouija board reading, and it told him of some place called ‘Aiken.’ So he ended up here, and guess what. He found what he was looking for.”
“But what does he want? What does he hope to accomplish?”
Matt’s lips split into a grotesque smile. “That’s the fun part. Ren intends not only to call up LeBeau’s spirit, but to be a host to it. He wants to be possessed.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“Do I look like I’m making a funny? No, this is for real. And the scariest part of all this, bro, is that LeBeau is for real too. Every damn bit of what Ren has attempted has worked. He’s dangerous enough on his own. Imagine this character actually wanting to be possessed by an evil spirit.”
“Why did he spell it ‘Lebo’?”
“Simple. When Ren first contacted the spirit—by Ouija board—he asked its name, and that’s what it spelled. Spirits don’t have to have a diploma to get through to you.
“But you asked what he did when we went at odds.” Matt seemed to have grown wary again, and his eyes constantly searched the surrounding woods. “Apart from this ‘feeling’ that I mentioned to you, I’ve seen things. I’m sometimes followed by something I can only glimpse at the corner of my eye. If I turn to look, there’s nothing there. But it remains at the periphery of my vision, and it gets closer. Just a vague, dark shadow. But it’s there, and it’s real. For the last few days I was at home, I couldn’t get any sleep, because it would come into my dreams, always getting closer. And the sounds—Jesus! The noises they make! Since leaving the house, I’ve been free of them. But there are other things.”
“But Matt … where the hell did you go? And who wrecked the house? Was it Ren?”
“Okay. In order to be possessed by this spirit, Ren needs others to act as ‘channelers’ to help direct the energy from whatever plane LeBeau exists on. Ren managed to get his own little cult in this town, and he wanted me to be a part of it. I refused. But apparently, it was very important to him because the ground where our house is built just happens to be the exact spot where LeBeau himself lived, a hundred years or so ago.”
A frigid finger raked Barry’s back. “Jesus Christ.”
Matt nodded. “Yep. Well, Ren tried to manipulate me with his spells, but he couldn’t attune me to LeBeau’s spirit against my will. He must have stolen my ring—so that something of mine would be close to the source of the power—to gain influence over me. I’ve been undergoing concentrated psychic attacks for some time now. It’s wearing me out. But I can’t leave town, because he’s done something to me, Barry. If I go beyond a certain distance, I start having heart palpitations. If I go too far, I’ll have cardiac arrest. But I figured out a way to hide from him, and he’s madder than hell. He finally managed to lay some kind of spell that diminishes the distance I can go from the house. That’s why I came back. I had to.”
“Where were you?”
“The old abandoned Asberry house, up on Copper Peak. But I can’t go that far away anymore.”
“And the wrecking of the house?”
“Ren set something loose in there when I disappeared. He, or one of his people, painted the name in blood to act as a gateway for something … from the other side. Whatever tore up the house, I don’t think it was human.”
“Matt,” Jennifer said, “Ren has not been seen here for some time. If he’s doing all this, where is he now?”
Matt shook his head. “I don’t know. He went away somewhere, no doubt because of something he’s involved in. But he is close by. Very close.”
Barry felt Jennifer gazing at him, and he turned to face her. She looked pale and fearful. “What? What is it?” he asked.
“You have been very lucky. Matt has undergone this ordeal because of his connection to LeBeau’s former home. You lived in the same place all your life, so you’re just as vulnerable. Especially since Ren has had trouble with Matt, he may turn his attention to you. He may have already.”
“I have a question. If Ren were to want me for such a purpose, wouldn’t it be to his benefit to come feigning good intentions? If what he’s doing is frightening or harmful, why would anyone be inclined to cooperate with him?”
“It’s too late for that,” Matt said. “That’s exactly how he started with me, if you’ll recall, and whoever else he’s turned to his cause. But at this point, he’s so far into the process that he can only work with raw power. In other words, he’s got a deadline. And he’s too close to the climax for finesse.”
“What do you mean, a ‘deadline’?”
“According to him, for this possession to take place as he desires, he must complete the proper rituals at a prescribed time: the date of LeBeau’s death. That happens to be very soon, I know. But I’m not sure exactly when.”
Barry looked inquiringly at Jennifer. She nodded, “That would make sense. Ritual is very important in dealing with the spirits, and with something as powerful as LeBeau, it must be followed very carefully. Symbols and numbers figure prominently in black magick. It only stands to reason that Ren would set his plans for the anniversary of the sorcerer’s death.”
Matt regarded her with new suspicion. “You seem to be mighty well-versed in the subject.”
“I know a little,” she said. “But only a little, when it comes to black magick.”
“Which brings me to another question,” Barry said. “About the people who are helping him. Do you know who they are?”
“Some of them.” His eyes did not leave Jennifer.
“Delaporte?”
“Yes.”
“What about Keith Cameron? Was he one of them?”
“Yes.”
Barry sighed. So, there was more to that relationship than the running of moonshine. He asked softly, “Did you know that Keith Cameron is dead?”
“I should say so,” Matt said, a cold gleam in his eye. “I killed him.”
Chapter 17
“You!” Barry cried, rising from his seat. “What the …”
“Settle down,” Matt said sharply, his hand tightening visibly on the barrel of his gun. “Just listen to me. Please.”
“Speak.”
“I just told you he joined Ren’s circle. How and why I don’t know. But once I came out of hiding, he went looking for me. It was self-defense, Barry. Strictly self-defense.”
“But here you are, less than a day later,” Jennifer said, her voice edged with steel. “Did you not expose yourself by killing Cameron?”
“You don’t understand. With what Ren laid upon me, I was already exposed. It’s too late for Ren to attenuate me to his purpose. Therefore, he intends to kill me, as a blood sacrifice for the ritual of possession.”
“What?”
“That’s probably true,” Jennifer interjected. “Remember what I told you about the high cost of black magick? ‘As ye sow, so shall ye reap.’ That proverb holds true particularly within the realm of magick. A ritual like he describes would require blood. And Ren would certainly use others to pay the cost for him.”
Matt shrugged. “All I know is that Cameron would have tried to incapacitate me until that time so that I could not interfere with them. I had to stop him.”
“You say Cameron found you,” Barry said. “But I saw his body, Matt. He was killed in cold blood, without a struggle. How do you explain that?”
“Perhaps you didn’t understand,” Matt said in a harsh whisper. “For your information, the element of surprise is the only thing I had in my favor. If I hadn’t done what I did, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Come on, he was a bumbling klutz. You could outfight him in your sleep. How could he have been a threat to you?”
Matt reached into this coat pocket and withdrew a small leather pouch with a drawstring. Opening it, he removed a cloudy, faceted crystal about the size of a golf ball. Holding it up for Barry to inspect, he said, “I took this off Keith’s body. It doesn’t look like much, does it? A hunk of quartz, you’d say. Probably would have barely bruised me even if Keith had thrown it at me with all his strength. But it belongs to Ren. I’ve seen him make things happen with such stones—like causing strange voices to start talking in a completely empty room. One night my stereo came on all by itself, went to top volume, then shut itself off. When I went to Ren’s room, he was chanting over one of these. I knew there was a connection. And he’d taught Cameron how to use it—at least enough to get what he wanted from him.”
Barry shook his head. “You think Cameron could have gotten to you using this?”
“I know so. Before I killed Cameron, he was … talking to it. And I could feel the effect, literally, in my heart.”
“May I see it?” Jennifer asked.
Matt carefully handed it over to her, studying her with unconcealed hostility. “Conjure with it and I’ll shoot you here and now,” he said softly.
She didn’t acknowledge his remark. Instead, she weighed the stone in her hands, held it up to her ear as if listening to its cold, non-living heart. At last, she looked at Barry and said, “He’s right. It’s dangerous. It carries the charge of a very dark spirit.” Handing the stone back to Matt, she finally met his gaze. “I believe you were justified in your actions.”
“Ms. Brand,” Matt said with a sigh, “you obviously know more than I would have given you credit for. Tell me something. How well do you know Ren?”
She did not flinch under his withering stare. “Not at all. I do not pose a threat to you, Matt. My intentions are much more … amiable. Please believe that.”
“It’s true,” Barry said. “She’s helped me. And she’s even defended you to some extent. You should thank her. Don’t cause her any trouble.”
Matt glanced at his brother. “If you say so. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Obviously, from his expression, Matt did not. Barry clenched his fists but held his temper. He said, “So Cameron was going to incapacitate you, or something such. How come you left his body out in plain view? And over on Brynmawr Road?”
