Southern graves, p.12
Southern Graves, page 12
“A lot of the symbols we used on these spells were new to me,” Sandra said as she tried to connect the pictures with her memory, then with her favored online witchcraft resources. “A few of them looked like combinations of older, basic symbols every witch uses, but I think that Madame Ti may have been building her own.”
J perked up. “Custom symbols? I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Making them is easy. Even I can make a new symbol by bastardizing a few old ones. But making ones that actually harness power, that actually work — that’s high-level stuff. In fact, I can’t think of single witch we’ve known that ever did it.”
“That’s just great,” Max said, rubbing his eyes with his palms. “Madame Ti is turning out to be far worse than we realized. I wonder if Cecily Hull has any idea the Pandora’s Box she’s opened by teaming with this woman.”
Headlights flashed along the walls as Irene Beck pulled into the driveway. Max opened the side door and welcomed her through the kitchen. When she entered the living room still wearing a nightgown and wrapped in a housecoat, Irene’s focus turned straight to J.
“Why hello there,” she said, her thick North Carolina accent filling the room as much as her presence. Max always marveled that such a small lady commanded such a powerful stature.
Adjusting her glasses, she scooted onto the couch — her feet clad in fuzzy slippers dangled over the edge — and offered her hand to J. “Do you remember me? I once drove you and your brother off the road. Well, more precisely, you boys were being kidnapped, and I drove the perpetrators off the road.”
J shook her hand. “I remember, ma’am.”
“Good manners. I like that.”
Drummond appeared in the doorway. “I told you he’s a great kid. I’ve been teaching him how to be a proper gentleman.”
This was news to Max, but before he could press Drummond on the subject, Irene said, “Seems like y’all are doing a wonderful job raising young J here. But J, you know you’re already smart and full of strength, don’t you? Why I recall how brave you were that night I helped you, and from what your Uncle Drummond tells me, you were equally brave this night. You are to be commended.”
“Thanks. I don’t think I was so brave, though. More scared than anything.”
“Bravery is all about doing what needs doing despite being scared. You think your pal, Drummond, never gets scared?”
“He’s a ghost. He does the scaring.”
Irene tittered. “Oh, you are a pickle. Better watch this one, Sandra. He’s going to have the ladies lining up for a block-and-a-half.”
Sandra said, “He’s already starting to date.”
“Is he now? Well, Mr. J, you may not know this, but I run a small shop specializing in materials of the occult and witchcraft. You come visit me sometime, and I’ll see that you receive a special gift.” Pushing off the couch, Irene went on, “But for now, we have to discuss more pressing matters. Ain’t that right, Max?”
Gesturing with his mug, Max said, “You want coffee, there’s a mostly fresh pot in the kitchen. Otherwise, yeah, we need to get talking.”
With a firm tug on her belt, she said, “My dear Drummond was kind enough to fill me in on the basic situation. Seems you’ve had yourselves another encounter with an inhuman spirit.”
Sandra said, “Four, actually.”
“Four? Do tell.”
She spent the next several minutes detailing all that had happened from the moment J introduced them to Private Miller. As Sandra spoke, as the picture became clearer, lines furrowed along Irene’s forehead and her mouth shrank to a small dot. When Sandra finished, Irene asked to look over the pictures.
“Well?” Max finally said. “How do we handle four inhuman spirits?”
“I have no idea.” She stepped into the center of the room. “Lucky for you, this is only one.”
“No, we distinctly saw four.”
“You saw four spheres of energy all tied together by tethers of energy, correct?”
Sandra nodded. “You’re saying they’re all one being split into four?”
“Exactly. One inhuman spirit ripped apart into four unique pieces. And as I understand it, you already know the name of this spirit.”
“Wardarit. Madame Ti called it by name several times.”
Drummond said, “If there’s only one and we know its name, can’t we perform the same spell as last time?”
“No, dear. That spell was designed not only to banish the spirit away from our plane of existence, but more importantly, we used that spell to call you back. Thankfully, you’re right here. Quite safe. But even if we could tailor that old spell, it would not work. You see, an inhuman spirit gives itself away by its behavior. At Reynolda House, y’all experienced a spirit that reveled in your anguish. One that attacked you repeatedly. One that explicitly told you it sought a body and a soul to possess. From what you’ve said, none of those things apply to Wardarit.”
Sandra said, “It never tried to possess us, but it did destroy the boat. It tried to stop us from leaving.”
“Yet it did not pursue you.”
“Because of Madame Ti. She controls it.”
With a disappointed sigh, Irene said, “Have you not learned yet? Nobody truly controls an inhuman spirit.”
Max said, “If Wardarit isn’t trying to possess us, then it’s not trying to live in our world.”
“Now you’re thinking again. I believe you are absolutely correct.”
“Then what does it want?”
“My best guess — it wants to go home. And all y’all need to help it.”
Max narrowed his eyes at Irene as if she had suddenly become blurry. “You want us to help a psychotic ball of energy that, for the moment, wants to go home but could easily change its mind and slaughter all of us in seconds — is that right? We’ll need to drive several hours back to Graveyard Island, assuming it’s still there, figure out exactly what’s going on with it, what kind of spell brought it here, design a new spell to send it back where it came from, risk our lives performing the spell, and all the time, avoid Madame Ti and Ruby from stopping us. Oh, and we’ll have to do it before morning, which is about four hours away, or things will really turn ugly.”
“You’re certainly in a mood tonight.” Settling next to J once again, she said, “Don’t worry, it’s not all as bad as you say. From what Sandra and Drummond have told me, it is quite clear that time is not a factor to be concerned with. That spirit has been split apart and attached to four very old ghosts. If it were like the other one, if it sought freedom in our world, then you would have known it by now. Seems to me that this spirit is caged, in a manner of speaking — locked into these ghosts and summoned by a witch who hopes to gain control of them for their power.”
“Then we still have to worry about Madame Ti.”
“You should always worry about her. In this case, she is more dangerous than usual. Right now, she’s probably straining to assert her dominance over the spirit. She’s like a lion tamer, and she’s got one seriously pissed off lion.”
With a startling clap, Drummond said, “Sounds like we need to get the spirit on its way home before Madame Ti takes control of it. How do we do that?”
“Something is keeping it attached to those ghosts. That’s the cage it finds itself within.”
“Madame Ti’s spell?” J asked.
“She’s strong, but not that strong. After all, if she could summon and imprison an inhuman spirit whenever she wanted, she would already have done it. She’d have control of all the witches in all of the world.”
Sandra said, “It was summoned here somehow, though.”
“Probably the spell required an object to latch the spirit into this world.”
“Something related to these ghosts.”
“That is exactly right. You find that object and you destroy it, and with any luck, the spirit will be on its way. Much like I must be now.”
“Hold on, doll,” Drummond said, swishing in front of her. “We need you.”
“I doubt that. I’m still not fully recovered from the first time we faced a spirit, and quite frankly, one time was enough. I like excitement in my life, but y’all are crazy as far as I’m concerned. Now, I’m happy to help you when I can, but I won’t be facing off with an inhuman spirit anytime soon. Hopefully, never again.”
Sandra said, “But I needed you to pull off that spell.”
“And you have lived almost another year since then. Learned nearly a year’s worth more of life. I suspect you’ll be able to apply those lessons to your current predicament.”
Max wanted to stand and shout and bully her into staying, but he remained seated. No good ever came from such behavior. “Thank you for coming out so late at night, and thank you for pointing us in the right direction.”
“You’re very welcome. I do understand the serious nature of these events, so if there is any way in which I can provide assistance that doesn’t require my physical presence in front of the spirit, I will gladly help. I’m only a phone call away.” She made sure to nod at each member of the team, finishing with J. “Good luck to you.”
Adjusting her robe, she walked out of the house. Max only then noticed she still wore slippers.
“Well,” Sandra said, “I guess we’re on our own.”
Chapter 20
NOBODY COULD SLEEP. Not only from the constant adrenaline jolts they had received all night, but also from downing several pots of coffee. On top of it all, Irene Beck had backed out of any further involvement, leaving the heavy lifting to the Porter Agency. Max couldn’t blame her — she had already been more involved in their cases than she ever wanted — but he hated her timing.
“I guess we’re back to the starting line on this one,” he said, after Irene’s car drove away.
“Not exactly.” Sandra stood by the front door and observed the late-night street. “We know a lot more than we did before, and that means we won’t be throwing darts in the dark.”
“Very true. But we still have to rebuild the groundwork.”
After a short discussion, they decided that Sandra would use the photos of Madame Ti’s casting circle to research what kind of spell had been created. Even if Madame Ti had concocted the whole thing on her own, it had to be based on other spells. From those, Sandra might be able to discern how parts of the newer spell operated. Max, on the other hand, had more direct research to do. Since this spirit had been locked into four specific ghosts, he wanted to know all he could find on them. It wouldn’t be easy, but if the other soldiers had a connection to Miller, there would be a chance. As for J, they gave him the choice. He picked Sandra.
Max tried not to feel jealous, and for the most part, he succeeded. It had been a long night, and he had behaved poorly. If given the choice, he would have picked Sandra, too.
Left on his own, he gathered his things and headed out to the Z. Smith Reynolds Library. Of course, the place was closed at 2:45am, but he needed a change of scenery to concentrate, and by the time the library did open, he wanted to be first to get in. While he believed Irene when she said they weren’t under a time constraint, he also had enough encounters with the paranormal world to make him wary. Besides, even if the spirit was in no hurry, they lacked the same assurances regarding Madame Ti.
The faster they resolved this case, the better.
He parked in the biology department lot at Wake Forest University. The library sat a short walk away, and he didn’t expect many students to be bothering him early on a Sunday morning. As long as campus security left him alone, he could work in the car, catch a little sleep, and be ready to follow up any queries once he got inside the building.
With a roll of his neck and a quick crack of the knuckles, he launched into Private Miller’s life. Digging around census information and school records, he tried to locate anything that would be useful. After a half hour, he realized his mistake — probably would have picked up on it sooner, but his brain had been through a lot of turmoil that night — and he redirected his efforts to surround the years in the Confederacy. After all, that was the time he would have had the most contact with these other soldiers.
Since they were all buried in the small towns flooded for Badin Lake, and their bodies were all relocated to Graveyard Island, Max returned to the Civil War registry to cross reference soldiers from those towns who also served with Miller. He managed to whittle down the possible names to eleven young men.
Max halted his work as instinct sent warnings through his body. He craned around the seat to view through each of the car windows. Nothing. Nobody. Wanting to dismiss the feeling, he turned back to his research, but that itch on his neck kept saying that somebody watched him.
With a shiver, he resumed working on the list of names. One by one, he delved into them and soon discarded four. Two died right after the war ended — one in California and the other in Texas. A third lived in Whitney for at least a decade but died on a fishing boat and his body was never recovered. The fourth man died during the construction of the dam that would create Badin Lake and therefore never was buried in a grave that required being moved. That left seven names. Four too many.
Another idea struck Max, and after several searches, he discovered Miller’s nuptial announcement in the archives of the Watchman and Old North State — an area newspaper than ran from 1830 - 1929. The Heron family of Whitney is pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter, Maybelle Rose, to the gentleman, Private Alexander Miller, also of Whitney this June, 1868. In the article, two of the names from Max’s list were mentioned — Brody Denver and Michael Shoemaker. Brody was to be Miller’s best man and Michael would serve in the wedding party. Which left Max with five names and one open spot. He suspected that when he dug into the lives of Miller’s friends, he had a good chance of stumbling upon one of the names in his final list. He hoped.
“Good morning, partner,” Drummond said, lowering through the car roof.
“Not morning yet. Sun’s got a bit of waiting to do.” Max saved his work and closed the laptop. He knew the old ghost well enough — Drummond planned to talk. “What did you want?”
“Thought I’d check in. See how everybody is doing.”
“I’m fine. Just trying to work in peace. You should check on Sandra and J. They rattle more than I do.”
Drummond raised his eyebrows as he lowered his head. “Do I really need to point out the fallacy of that statement?”
“Okay. Maybe I’ve been more rattled this time.”
“This time? When hasn’t Sandra been the rock of your relationship?”
Max sliced his hand through the air, accidently nicking part of Drummond and feeling the numb chill rush up his fingers. “Did you come here with information or are you simply trying to annoy me? You’re doing great at the latter, by the way.”
“This case has really wound you up.”
“No kidding. What baffles me is how calm you are about it all. I get that on other cases, the threat to you is minimal. Your concern usually is for the safety of Sandra, the Sandwich Boys, or even me. But this — last time we faced an inhuman spirit, you nearly were lost forever. How can you not be wound up over facing another one?”
Crossing his arms, Drummond looked ahead as if they were driving instead of sitting in a parking lot. “Don’t mistake my being calm for not being concerned. I take this case very seriously. Maybe more than any case we’ve ever had because this time J is directly involved. And I like that kid.”
“That’s exactly it. Without J being involved, I’d still be uptight — the threat to all of us, including you, is too high with these spirits — but at least I know that we’ve defeated one before. Even then, people died. If J comes to harm because of this —”
“It won’t be your fault. You forget, J has the touch, the gift, the whatever-you-want-to-call-it. He can see ghosts. Without you and Sandra, he’d be stuck trying to figure out all that on his own. If you had never come into the boys’ lives, they would have found a way to survive and maybe even thrive. J’s very smart. He could’ve done it. And he still has to. Yeah, you gave him a roof and some stability, but like everybody in this world, J has to stand on his own at some point. I think he’s taking a few of those tentative steps right now.”
Reclining his seat back a little, Max massaged his stiff neck. “It certainly seems that way, though I wouldn’t call him tentative. Dating and wanting to help a ghost and now wanting to work a case in-depth — he’s not shy about jumping into the deep end.”
Drummond chuckled. “I guess not.”
Max joined in. “Not at all.”
Both men paused for a breath. Then they broke out into hearty laughter. It only lasted a few seconds, but it flushed Max’s body and relaxed his muscles.
Opening his laptop, he said, “I’ve found names on two of Miller’s three ghost pals. I’d say you should go to the Other and see if you can find them, but I doubt they can leave this world any more than Miller can. And now that they’re all locked down with this spirit, I doubt they can leave Graveyard Island at all.”
Drummond listened as he tapped his chin. “That’s it?”
“I’ve plucked out two names from over a century ago with nothing to go on but that they were in the same army as Miller. That isn’t enough?”
“Don’t get huffy. I only meant that I don’t hear anything about witchcraft. No mention of the Brotherhood of the Rising. How are these men all caught up with an inhuman spirit? What stupid thing did they do that traces all the way to today?”
“I have no idea. It doesn’t make any sense. You think about all the witches we’ve dealt with — they aren’t very subtle. Not once you know about them, about what to look for. When you know the signs to read, you can see witchcraft everywhere it’s been used. But these guys — nothing.”
“You forget, though, that when I tried to find out about Miller in the Other, every ghost clammed up. Even if Miller’s friends are just average joes, Miller’s something else.”
“You think he’s the ringleader? Maybe he tried to summon an inhuman spirit and it all went wrong?”
