The max porter box set, p.48
The Max Porter Box Set, page 48
The bricks.
That was an odd bit in this case. Odder than the usual level of odd for their cases. Spells, casting circles, secret rooms, and murder — Max had experienced these things before. But the bricks — that was new.
Assuming the word black truly held importance and that it had some connection to the spell, then perhaps he needed to add the bricks into his thought process. Sitting forward, he returned to the search bar and typed: brick spells and black. Nothing.
Max scrolled through links to many of the sites he had visited before. He saw reference to many of the same conspiracy theories and New Age hypotheses, none of which would help him out. But three pages into the results, he read something that made him stop — a link to George Black, North Carolina Master of Brick Making.
All of Max’s researching neurons fired off. His skin tingled. His pulse picked up and he could not hold back a satisfied smile. George Black. This was what he had been looking for. It had to be.
But before he could click on the link and begin his exploration, a firm hand rested on his shoulder. An older gentleman lowered his strong-featured, dark-skinned face and read the name on the screen. Max didn’t have to look. He knew exactly who stood next to him. Leon Moore — right hand of Mother Hope.
“Max, I hope you’ll trust me when I say that it is best you leave this alone.”
Chapter 14
LEON PULLED BACK A CHAIR AT THE TABLE, gestured to it, and raised his eyebrows. Max nodded and Leon sat. Not that his nod mattered. Leon would have sat anyway. But the moment of polite manners brought a sense of civility to the situation — one which Max thought far from civil.
“Let me state this in clear terms,” Leon said. “I don’t want there to be any confusion or mistakes.” Working for the leader of the Magi had given Leon access to a lot of power, and in one way, he always took advantage — despite being an elderly man with a bad back, Leon looked to be in his early-sixties, strong and vibrant. Even some of his hair had grown back and it had returned a lush black instead of dirty gray.
Max closed his notebook and shut down his laptop. “My arrangement with Mother Hope allows me to take on cases outside of the Magi group. You shouldn’t be here telling me I can’t investigate a case.”
“Not all cases are the same. You’ve stumbled into a mess that I hope to get you out of, but in order to do that, I need you to stop looking into these things.”
“What things? I don’t even know what I’ve been looking into.”
“You know enough to recognize that your arrangement with Mother Hope goes only so far. That the cases you take on mustn’t interfere or conflict with Mother Hope’s interests.”
“And this one does?”
“It involves witches. What do you think? And another thing — I strongly suggest you dissuade your wife from furthering her knowledge of witchcraft.”
With a scoffing chuckle, Max said, “Isn’t your job to know all about us Porters? Because if you’re seriously asking me to influence Sandra like that, then you don’t know crap about us.” Max put away the last of his things and stood. “You’ve delivered your message. I got it — stay off this case. Go back to your witch and tell her you were a good dog. But don’t expect gratitude or graciousness from us. The only reason I still do anything for Mother Hope is because she has me cursed, and I don’t want to ever see the full extent of what that thing can do.” Thinking about the curse caused the mark on his chest to heat up. “Anything else?”
With a sharp crack to his voice, Leon said, “Sit down.”
Max did not move.
Like a parent fed up trying to rein in his temper with a disobedient toddler, Leon said, “I have a few things more to say. Please, have a seat.”
Nothing good would come from pissing the man off further. Max had made his point. He sat.
“Thank you,” Leon said. He paused and set his elbows on the table as he hunched forward. “I know your hostility towards myself and Mother Hope has some justification.”
“Some?”
“Right now, the thing I’m asking of you, this is for your own protection. I’m trying to look out for you and your wife.”
“Yet I felt much safer before you started talking to me.”
Cracking his knuckles, Leon said, “If you’ll stop with the jokes, I’ve got something important to tell you. Something that might change the way this whole town runs. See here — I know from the outside it looks like all is settled and strong for us. But it ain’t so. Mother Hope learned real fast that it’s one thing to complain about those in charge, but it’s much harder to actually be one of those in charge. It’s easy to find fault with how things are run, but when you’ve got to make all the decisions, running things ain’t so easy.”
“Mother Hope’s having a little buyer’s remorse now that she got rid of the Hulls. That it?”
“I think the pressure of being the sole decision-maker is becoming a burden to her.” Leon scowled. “No. That’s not right. I can’t sugar-coat this. More and more, her reactions to the daily problems that need solving — well, they’re not always rational.”
“I’m not making a joke with this, but when has she ever been rational? She’s a witch. I know you all like to play the card that you’re the good guys, that you want to hold all the power to make sure people don’t abuse magic. That sounds noble and all, but since you’re apparently having a bout of honesty at the moment, let me be honest. No matter the intentions, your group is trying to take the throne that the Hulls were kicked off.”
“I’d say we already took it.”
“If so, you’re being awful quiet about it. Plenty of witches out there doing what they want, free of any of the restrictions they once worried about.”
“You didn’t really expect us to run things in the same ham-fisted way the Hulls did.”
“No, but for all Mother Hope’s talk of keeping the peace and protecting people from witchcraft, well, I expected to see a drop in my witch-related caseload. That hasn’t really happened.”
“You’re side-tracking me. The thing I want you to focus on, the point here, is that our leader may no longer be able to make good decisions. In fact, I think she’s starting to make dangerous decisions.”
Max absently rubbed his chest. “How long has this been going on?”
“Long. Probably started a few months after the Devil’s Tramping Ground.”
“Are you serious?” It was at the Devil’s Tramping Ground that all the major players faced off. It was there that the Hulls met their fate and the path for Mother Hope to gain control opened up. For corruption to set in so fast left Max wondering if anybody could hold that position and stay sane.
Leon glanced around before speaking again. “I want to be very clear. I am not betraying Mother Hope. I am not telling you that she’s unstable or in trouble.”
“You sure? Because it sounds like that’s exactly what you’re telling me.”
“I still believe in the Magi’s mission, and I still believe that Mother Hope is the witch we need to be in charge. Transitioning to such a level of power, especially when the previous rulers left nothing behind to guide the way, is bound to cause lapses in judgment and other conflicts. In the long run, I know Mother Hope will pull through, and she will bring us to an era of peaceful existence with the rest of the world.” Before Max could toss in another comment, Leon leveled a chilling glare. “Despite our past — yours and mine — despite what you may think of me, I do care about you and your lovely wife. I don’t want to see harm come to you. That’s why I came here. I’m warning you to stay off this case. Mother Hope is not well right now, and I can’t promise she won’t do something drastic if she finds out what you’re up to.”
Max threw his hands up. “I don’t even know what I’m up to. Why don’t you tell me, so I know what to avoid? That’d be some real help.”
Leon stood. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, so much the better. Walk away from it all right now and you’ll never have to be bothered with finding out.”
“Really? You think that’s the way to turn me away? At least give me a hint of something.”
“I’ve done what I dare.” Ignoring Max’s further attempts to grab a little information, Leon walked away.
Max did not bother getting up. He knew Leon would say nothing more. Most of his protest, begging, and joking served only to entertain himself. After all, how could Leon expect Max to listen to anything coming from the people who cursed him?
On the other hand, the fact that Leon felt it necessary to warn Max off the case served as confirmation that the Porters were getting closer to a real answer. All of which suggested that they needed to go back to the original source and ask some tough questions. Especially about ...
Max’s face brightened. He grabbed his cellphone and called Sandra. After quickly telling her about Leon, he said, “Meet me at the Mobley house. And bring Drummond.”
“Sure. What exactly are we up to?”
“We’ve been turning over every rock we could to find out what’s going on here. It’s time to turn over the biggest rock of all. We’re going to find out what’s behind that door they’ve got warded off.”
Chapter 15
WHILE MAX AND SANDRA sat on the couch in the living room of the Mobley house and Lena Mobley sat in the high-backed chair opposite them, Drummond hovered against the wall with his hat low and mood lower. “I’m going on the record here saying this is a bad idea. Maybe even stupid.”
Max grinned as he pushed the yammering voice from his head so that he could focus on the matters in front of him — namely, Lena Mobley. “Thank you for seeing us again.”
“I take it this concerns Candace,” Lena said.
The death of Laverne had clearly hit her hard. Max worried what their current news would bring. Drummond had said as much on the drive over, pointing out that breaking into a room the witches obviously wanted kept private would have been a bad idea under any circumstances, but doing so while the witches in question suffered losses screamed of a death wish.
“Especially,” Drummond had said, “when I can’t help you because I’m the very thing they got that door warded against.”
Lena pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say the words. I know she’s dead. I knew it the moment it happened.”
“You did?” Sandra sounded more amazed than alarmed.
“We sisters have a bond stronger than most can comprehend. It stretches beyond the corporeal world. We can feel and hear and sense much about each other. It’s one of the many gifts that comes when you join a coven.”
Max didn’t know if he believed any of what she said, but he could see that Sandra wanted to believe it all. He coughed to break the gaze between the two women. “We’re sorry we failed again. That’s not how we do things. But it would have helped if you had been upfront with us.”
“I told you all I could.”
“You didn’t mention the name Black.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know anybody by that name.”
“I’m sure. Here’s the problem. We don’t believe this is going to end. Your coven has been targeted by an old witch hunting group. They will come again unless you help us with the information we need to stop this.”
Drummond paced the air above. “It’s not too late. Conduct this like a normal interview, try to get a solid lead, and get out of here.”
Lena pulled her lips in tight. “We didn’t hire you to play vigilante. We wanted Laverne found, and you did that. We wanted Candace found, and you did that. Let us consider your efforts successful within the confines of what we paid for. We won’t be needing you anymore.”
“Until the next one of you goes missing. Maybe it’ll be you. Or that young gal — what was her name? Jessica?”
“I think you better go.”
Sandra put out a placating hand. Max felt a twinge of pride — even with the two of them fighting, she could still come through for him. She said, “Please, Ms. Lena, this has been a difficult case for us. Not difficult to fulfill, but difficult to witness the harm that came to your sweet sisters. We don’t want that to happen again, and frankly, I doubt you want it to happen, either. My husband’s blunt words are merely a reflection of the urgency we feel in your case.”
“I see.” Lena scooted her back straighter against her chair. “In that case, thank you for your concern.”
“Perhaps if we all had some tea or coffee and discussed the case, maybe we can find a way to satisfy everybody involved. Surely we can manage to protect you and your sisters, put a stop to this danger, without encroaching on your inner-world. Especially now that we know who we are dealing with.”
“Perhaps.” Lena thought for a few seconds. “Is coffee okay?”
“That’d be perfect.”
Once Lena left the room, Drummond dropped by the kitchen door. “I’m participating because you two are my partners, but don’t think for a second that I approve.”
As Max and Sandra headed for the stairs, Max said, “You only disapprove because you can’t jump into the room and help us.”
“I don’t approve because these witches are being much too nice to you. There’s something ugly going on here and I don’t think you should dig into it too much. Besides, I like to have fun, too. Why should you two get to do all the sneaking around on this one?”
Max led the way upstairs, trusting that Drummond would do his part despite his complaints. At the top, Max spied a hall with several doors. Nothing surprising there. The first door on the right opened into a bathroom. The opposite door was locked.
As Sandra approached, Max said, “No way is it this one. Let’s move on.”
Sandra eyed the door, shrugged, and followed Max. The rest of the doors opened into bedrooms and a closet. “Strange,” Sandra said. “Seemed like it had to be one of these.”
“Let’s try that locked door.”
“Of course. We should have done that first.”
They hurried to the locked door and Max tried the knob. “Nope. Won’t open. Maybe we’re wrong and there’s nothing to do up here.”
“Maybe,” Sandra said, but she frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Something seems off.”
“Let’s go back downstairs and check on Drummond. It’s going to hurt him if he has to hold that kitchen door closed and maybe he can clue us into whatever he saw up here that bothered him so much.”
“Good idea.”
Halfway down the stairs, they stopped. “What are we doing?” Max said.
Sandra gazed up and smacked her forehead. “We’ve been hitting a ward against people. Makes us unable to see the door as our goal.”
“Warded against ghosts and people?”
“More than one ward. Probably a few others, too.”
Lena walked to the stairs. “Most definitely.” She did not look pleased. “Your ghost has been sent to the Other. I don’t think he’ll be returning anytime soon. As for you two, the Mobley Coven did not gain all its power to be subverted by a couple of weak amateurs.”
“Sticks and stones, lady,” Max said, though he did not feel as defiant as he fronted.
Lena’s glower sent shivers through Max’s bones. “I’m surprised that you tried what you did. We paid you well — even after you botched both jobs — and all we wanted was for you to turn away from it now. Instead, you betrayed us.”
“I’m sure you do see it that way. From our side, I see it that you did pay us well but you neglected to tell us most of the truth. We failed because of that. You let that sink in. Your two sisters would be alive if you had simply told us the truth.”
“Not so simple.”
“That’s what most liars say.” He clasped his hands behind his back to hide their shaking. “Now, it’s obvious that you don’t want us around. Seems like nobody does. So, if you’ll step aside, we’ll leave and won’t bother you again. At least, not until your neglect crashes into the rest of what we deal with. But then, you won’t care about that, will you?” He hadn’t meant to throw that last verbal jab and regretted it the second the words shot from his mouth.
Lena’s eyes fired up. “You —”
But she didn’t get any further. A loud click echoed throughout the house. Lena’s eyes snapped upward. The long creak of a rusty door followed. Max and Sandra pivoted to view the landing at the top of the stairs. Nobody stood there, but Lena gazed upon that empty space with fear.
“Lena, dear,” a voice crackled like brittle bones. “It’s okay. I want to talk with them.”
Bowing, Lena said, “Yes, ma’am.” She climbed the stairs until she stood above Max and Sandra. Without looking back, she said, “Follow me.”
Leading the way, Lena headed to the bedroom at the end of the hall. She opened a bureau drawer and removed a journal. With a disgusted huff, she ripped a page from the book — one on which Max snatched a peek of archaic symbols. When she turned back, she looked Max up and down. “You better be worth this.”
Sandra whispered to Max, “That ward must have taken hours to cast.”
Lena brushed by and escorted them to the locked door. It now stood ajar. As they stepped in, Max realized that the powerful ward had prevented him from even looking inside when they had passed by only moments ago.
The room they entered spoke to an age long gone. Heavy maroon curtains blocked most of the outside. A large fireplace burned two logs, stifling the room with a wall of heat. Two chairs, a four-poster bed, and two end tables — all dark mahogany. Oversized oil paintings weighed down the walls. And in the center of it all, propped up against four enormous pillows with dark casings, Max saw the hollowed out eyes of a witch.
His stomach turned.
Her sunken face and mottled skin looked horrid. One eye had clouded a milky white. The witch’s stark hair, as white as her eye, dribbled across the pillows. She could not have weighed more than ninety pounds, and Max found it difficult to discern the outline of her body amongst the wrinkles of the bedding. If he had not seen the other afflicted witches already, he would have assumed she suffered from anorexia or some related condition. A sour odor lifted from her withered form that could not be masked by the three sticks of burning incense.
