Southern fury, p.14
Southern Fury, page 14
From his angle, Max noticed two burly gentlemen standing at the front doorway. The sight of her muscle cleared his head. She was no apparition. And she certainly thought herself vulnerable — otherwise she would have no need for hired thugs.
“How’d you get in here?” Sandra asked. “All those people outside would never let you in.”
Madame Ti smirked. “They never saw us. It’s an easy spell to cast when you have skill.”
Ignoring the slight, Sandra kept her focus on Cecily. “What do you get from all of this? You’ve clearly gone to some trouble. You wanted us to look into Wilburn Walker. Why?”
“I should think that is more than obvious,” Cecily said, running a bony finger along her chin. “Then again, you and your husband have proven more often than not that you rely on luck as much as intelligence. Perhaps you lack too much of the latter.”
“We were smart enough to beat your whole family.”
“Yet here I am. Oh, I readily admit that you and your husband had done a good job of ruining my family. We lost nearly everything. But, since I was always considered less than equal to the males in the Hull family structure, I had learned to protect myself long before I ever heard of you.
“I’ve always had special accounts containing enough money to live off of for a few years; I maintained some property — a woman needs a place to live; I always kept my own network of contacts for business affairs. And, of course, I learned to have my own relationships with those in the witch community. Not a lot to get going with, but a start nonetheless.”
Max drifted back towards Sandra. “If she had all that, what took her so long?”
Madame Ti repeated Max’s question for Cecily. She gave a firm nod in the direction Madame Ti pointed. “I’m sorry that I cannot speak with you directly. But I am glad you are here to witness this. As to your question — well, just because I had money and a witch did not mean I had the power to accomplish my goals. Over the ensuing years, the rebuilding began. When you unseated the Hulls, you created a vacuum. Witches were vying for power. After all, that’s what is going on right here. The Magi and the Mobleys are fighting for control of magic in the area.
“If I was to take on all those organized groups in the beginning, they would have destroyed me. I learned a lot of great lessons from my family, and above them all, I learned to have the patience required to truly seize power.
“It also did not help that the economy grew too slowly. My investments provided enough to keep me comfortable, but the extra funds necessary to purchase loyalty were somewhat lacking. It was a rocky existence at best. Like living on a fault line in California. You just never knew when the ground might disappear underneath you.”
“How poetic,” Sandra said, taking the words straight out of Max’s head.
“Things became easier when I met Madame Ti. She won’t tell me where she comes from, but it’s clearly not America. She and I learned that we had common enemies, and that made everything faster, smoother. While others flailed around, playing at magic and not truly understanding the power dynamics of the world we live in, Madame Ti and I recognized that the Magi and the Mobleys were the only two organizations to be concerned about.”
Madame Ti rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “Oh, yes, I’ve come a long way to see those two witches destroyed. We delved deep into the lives of Mother Hope and Grandma Mobley. We became like you, researchers at an extraordinary level.”
Max held back a mocking laugh at their boasts. Seeing both women together, he understood why they had gravitated toward each other. Not only did both crave power through magic, but both held an overinflated view of self, and both were uptight beyond any normal level.
Cecily inclined her head toward Madame Ti. “We spent a long time doing that research. Months upon months of arduous work. But it was worthwhile.”
“It’s how Cecily devised her brilliant strategy.”
Max said, “Wilburn Walker.”
Cecily continued, “When the whole sordid affair came to our attention — the double murders, the rush to trial, and of course the unidentified man — we had a sense that this might be related to our witch friends upstairs.”
Sandra said, “You found out how Mother Hope and Grandma Mobley were connected to William Crutchfield. You knew they hated that man for some reason. So, you had Madame Ti set Max up, had him find the name that would get us rolling on the whole story, right? You didn’t even care what we found out — just that Mother Hope and Grandma Mobley learned what we were doing.”
“Of course they would learn what you were doing. They both watch you very carefully. And, of course, the name William Crutchfield would draw their attention. I didn’t know all the details at the time, but we found out enough. After all, he was a witch hunter.”
“A witch hunter? Then why wasn’t he going after them? Why go after Mary? Hold on. Mary Goins was a witch?”
“No. At least, she didn’t think so. But others thought that Mary had the potential to be a powerful witch. Crutchfield decided to take it upon himself to destroy Mary before she had a chance to make that decision.”
Max saw it all play out in his mind. Wilburn Walker and John Smith were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. Crutchfield saw his chance to use them as a means of attacking Mary Goins. The shootout covered up his real purpose, and with his success, Crutchfield skipped town. Years later, somehow, he discovered the mistake he had made — that, in fact, Mary Goins was never a witch. Merely a sweet lady with a husband and children who did not deserve her fate. His guilt sent him to the police station in California. But after admitting his crime, he realized that if arrested, he would be sent back to North Carolina — home of two very powerful witches. The publicity of a murderer returning to face justice would certainly catch the eye of Mother Hope and Grandma Mobley. They would be waiting for him. He probably would never have made it to a jail cell. Instead, he came back on his own, taking a ship around South America. When he arrived, he had intended to hunt down Mother Hope and Grandma Mobley, to stop those witches from hurting others, but illness took hold of him.
Cecily knew the witch’s hatred of Crutchfield would ignite their hatred of each other. After all, they both wanted to approach Mary Goins, and they both must have felt slighted at her loss. Not to mention the decades of resentment festering between their organizations. Once these witches destroyed each other, Cecily’s group — no matter the size — would be able to clean up the remainder. Cecily Hull would resume power with Madame Ti at her side. Max doubted Cecily had expected her plan to work so well, but he also suspected she couldn’t be happier with the results.
“Why send us after Walker?” Sandra asked. “You obviously knew the name Crutchfield.”
With an impatient huff, Cecily said, “If I sent you straight for Crutchfield, those two gangs outside would not have converged here. Things would not have heated up enough. By making you take your time, it allowed enough paranoia to set in.”
“Sure. Or you just like dicking people around.”
Cecily gazed blankly in Max’s direction — unable to see him — and said, “I did not know for sure if Mother Hope would turn on your curse, but I hoped she would. Partly, because you deserve all the suffering you get. But mostly because I need your help.”
Max laughed. Longer than necessary — a sour note that rattled in his chest. And hearing Madame Ti explain to Cecily of his laughter, only made him laugh harder.
Cecily grinned. At least, Max assumed the creeping movement of her lips intended to be a grin. She said, “I understand your amusement. It is not unexpected. But you will help us. Somewhere on this property is William Crutchfield’s ghost. What I need from you is quite simple. You are to find Crutchfield and get me his finger. Madame Ti requires the appendage to perform a key spell.”
“What makes you think Max would do any of that?” Sandra said.
“For starters, when he retrieves the finger, Madame Ti will be able to conduct a spell that will end the madness brought on by these witches. Bring back some order to this world.”
Madame Ti bowed towards Cecily. “That is correct.”
“And if your husband is still unwilling to help, then we have an alternative method of persuading him.” She snapped her fingers and the two burly men by the front door thumped into the room. They moved fast for such sizable men, and in a swift motion, they shucked Sandra aside and grabbed PB and J. “Either get Crutchfield’s finger or I’ll see that these boys are cursed.”
The boys let loose a wave of swearing. Sandra screamed out and raised her fingers. Max had no idea what kind of spell she could cast on the fly, if any at all, but she never got the chance. Madame Ti had prepared for this moment.
With a swipe of her hand, Madame Ti sent Sandra soaring against the back wall. When Sandra hit the wood, her body jittered as if receiving an electric shock. She slumped to the floor unconscious.
Max watched these things happen, shock keeping him from moving. He saw the men carrying off the boys. Thrown over the man’s shoulder, PB pounded against his back but to no avail. J, however, did not resist. Instead, he stared directly at Max.
Chapter 21
LIKE A METAL PRESS SLOWLY PUSHING DOWN, Max felt his world crush around him. The boys taken, his wife at the mercy of a Hull, and he a cursed half-ghost. Only a short while earlier, it felt as if they were coming together, uniting their strengths, and though he had expected setbacks, deep within him existed a glimmer of hope. That had vanished like a ghost moving on forever.
The muscles in his chest locked in a constant state of constriction. He could only take short breaths. The skin on his face trembled as it tried to hold back his tears.
Then he remembered he had no tears, had no lungs, had no chest muscles. He had been removed from his body and thus, removed from the world around him. Everything had crumbled like an earthquake taking down a skyscraper — fast and merciless.
Madame Ti grabbed Sandra under the arms and dragged her limp form across the kitchen floor. Max swooped in front of her, waving a fist, and said, “Take your hands off my wife.”
Rolling her eyes, Madame Ti said, “Protesting will not get you any closer to ending your torment. Do as Cecily Hull has asked and all will be fine.” She continued dragging Sandra into the next room. She set Sandra across the wooden bench by the fireplace and rolled a jacket under her head.
“You see? I am gentle with her. Nobody needs to be harmed. Just go do as we asked.”
“I’m not leaving until I get my wife and my boys back.”
“I’m tired of you.” Madame Ti closed her eyes and made a short motion with her hands. She muttered words as she lowered to the floor. Though she did not draw a casting circle, she indicated one in the air with her fingers. It only took a few seconds before she flapped both hands out once and yelled, “Be gone.”
As if grabbed by a meat hook, Max hurled out of the room, through the walls, until he finished in the backyard. Sharp pain poked his chest where the hook had taken hold. Only Cecily Hull’s laughter stayed with him — that horrid wheezing squeak.
He did not move.
Floating on his back, he made no effort to pick a direction. He peered up at the night sky and wondered where he had gone wrong, what misstep had he taken — because this was his fault. Sandra and the boys in trouble — that blame rested on his brow.
He wondered if Madame Ti’s spell had done something more to him besides throw him out of the house. He should have soared back in and demanded his boys, put up a real fight, but another part of him whispered that it would have been a futile gesture. So, he floated.
“Come on, enough of this,” Drummond’s distinct voice called out.
Max lifted his head to find his partner in the air next to him. How long had he been drifting around, lost in this maudlin state?
As if reading his mind, Drummond said, “I just got here. What happened? Where’s Sandra and the boys?”
Max felt that stiff grip in his chest once more. In a dazed tone, he said, “They — they took them.”
“Damn. Knew I should’ve come up with her. This is all my fault.”
“None of this would have happened if I had listened to you and gone back to Sandra at the start.”
Drummond turned away from Max, his head leaning back as he gazed up at the pest ghosts pressing against the dome. “That may be true, but after that point, I take the blame. Instead of joining Sandra to get back here, I went off to see Irene — not for anything torrid — went to ask her to drive up here and take the boys off your hands. Figured she could keep them safe at her house while we dealt with the witches. But I’m too late.”
Max blew out a long breath. “It didn’t matter how long you were. We had lost this thing before we even started. We were played.”
Max explained as much as he could stomach recounting. He spoke in a solemn monotone, and when he finished, he sighed with an exhausted breath.
Drummond whirled on him and grabbed his shoulders. “What’s the matter with you? Since when do you give up so easy? I understand you had a bit of a fright. I know you’re worried about the boys and Sandra. That’s why I need you to pull it together. Snap out of this and let’s get to work.”
“Work? The only real conduit we had to the corporeal world was Sandra. And it doesn’t matter anyway. Everybody’s been steps ahead of us throughout this whole thing. What’s the point? They want to kill each other, I say let them. Cecily Hull wants to rule all of North Carolinian magic, have at it. Done. I failed to protect those boys and I failed to protect my wife. And to top it off, I have an eternity living here has a cursed entity.”
Lowering his hat, Drummond took on a menacing stare. “We’ll see about that. I’m going to give those folks a piece of my mind.” Storming off to the house, Drummond adjusted his coat and flexed his fingers before making tight fists. He disappeared through the wall.
Seconds later, he came flying back as if shot out of a cannon, smacked by the same magic that had tossed Max from the house. Rubbing his sternum, he said, “Well, I met Madame Ti and Cecily Hull. Those are two formidable women.”
More than anything, Max wanted to find a quiet place set away from all of this nonsense. A couch or a bed that he could curl up on and close his eyes. Blot out the world around him. After all, what was the point in fighting when he knew the outcome? Drummond had said it right there — formidable. They couldn’t beat a formidable opponent.
Giving his partner a weak pat on the back, Max said, “At least, you tried. Thank you for that.”
Drummond nodded as he removed his hat and held it against his chest. “Looks like they got the best of us. Maybe if — but no, that wouldn’t have worked. Anything we try is doomed to failure. I can see that now.”
“I appreciate all you’ve done for us. It’ll be sad to watch the Agency go, but I don’t see it working well with both of us no longer on the mortal plane.”
Drummond continued to nod for a moment. Then he stopped mid-nod. He shoved Max’s hand aside. Slapping himself in the face, he said, “Don’t listen to that voice in your head. Max, listen to me. It’s a spell. Madame Ti did something to us.”
“Of course it’s a spell. She’s a witch. One spell after another. Any hope we’ve ever had of fighting them meant using Sandra as our de facto witch. But that was never going to work. Look, you’ve been a great partner, and we had a good run.”
“Don’t do this. We’re not saying goodbyes. We are not giving up.”
Max let his focus shift away from the house. He saw the trees surrounding him like a slat wall that would ensure he never left the area. A prison. Reminded him of the clearing at the Devil’s Tramping Ground where he had defeated Cecily Hull and Mother Hope.
“I’m not under any spell. You want to know the real problem? We destroyed the Hulls. We won. But here they are again. What’s the point if we can’t actually win? The Magi, the Mobleys, the Hulls — doesn’t matter what they do to each other because in the end, one of them will win. One of them always does. And if not them, then some other witch or coven or group. But I’ll tell you who never wins — us. Crutchfield was a witch hunter, look what happened to him. Your friend, Leed — an old ghost hunter — look what happened to him. Turned into a glowing glob and eventually killed. There is a long history of people fighting witches. But the witches keep coming back.”
“Son of a —” Drummond chucked his hat into the distance, pulled his fingers into a fist, and coldcocked Max in the jaw. As his hat reappeared on his head, he said, “That witch’s spell is making you say these things.”
Rubbing his jaw, Max said, “Stop doing that.”
With anger warming his pale face, Drummond loomed forward. “You need to get your head right. Those boys are counting on you. You understand? They don’t have time for you to be caught up in this spell. Best thing a parent can do in life is be there, every day, steady as a rock. You want to be a parent for those boys? You’ve got to fight for it. Right now.”
Max’s heart pounded harder when he thought of the dangers the boys faced. Sandra, too. He worried about her terribly. But that voice from the back of his head — the one that did not quite sound like his own — though weaker than before, it still warned him that fighting Madame Ti and Cecily Hull was the definition of futility. He thought about laying his head down and letting it all slip away.
Drummond slapped the side of Max’s head. “Do you want to end up like all the ghosts we’ve met? The soldiers and the thieves, the mistresses and the Madames, the witches and the noble few — if you don’t wake up and pay attention to what’s going on, you’ll end up exactly like them. And if you’re going to become a ghost, you’d be better off following my footsteps. I mean, come on, haven’t you ever wondered why I’m different?”
That perked Max up. “Why is that?”
“There it is. That spark of interest. The part of you that wants to solve a puzzle. That’s why you are a great researcher. You want to dig down and find the truth.”
