The max porter box set, p.57
The Max Porter Box Set, page 57
“I do. But I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”
With a wink, Leon continued, “You’re knife-edged sharp today. Well, yes, I’ll tell you — the reason is greed. That’s where all the corruption comes from. Greed for money or power or both. It ruins everything. Even if I were a dictator, greed would undermine my control over others. There would always be somebody willing to sell me out if the money offered was high enough. But even on a smaller level — not running a country or a state but simply attempting to protect the witches and supernatural from discovery — well, that’s the ideal and the reality is always hampered by greed.”
“You got that right. Only this time, it’s your greed.”
“Mine?”
“You’ve been sitting at Mother Hope’s side for a while now. You’ve seen the different groups attempt to take over control. And as she’s fought each attack off, she’s gained more power — to the point that she can curse me without fear of repercussions. She’s becoming judge, jury, and executioner. I think you started to see that Mother Hope had succumbed to the greed for power. She’s strayed from the ideal you wanted to help her achieve. Especially when it came to the Mobley Coven.”
“Is that what you think?”
“No point in denying it. I know you bribed Grant Felder into reforming the Goodman hunters. You hired muscle and then cursed them all so you could control them — perhaps your own greed for power really kicked in then. Must have felt good to hold all their lives in your hands. You then used them as a front to hide the fact that you wanted to destroy the Mobley Coven.”
Drummond reappeared. “All is going well. You wouldn’t believe the sight, though. They got an empty attic and a huge casting circle drawn on the floor. Took them a bit to get Grandma Mobley up there, but now the whole coven is around that circle and they’ve started the spell. Hang in there. It’ll be ready pretty soon.”
“Is that all?” Leon said. “Nothing more to say?”
“Only that I know you’ve been playing with witchcraft. Must be hard to stay away from the stuff when Mother Hope has all the best books sitting around in front of you just asking to be read. But the kinds of spells you’re casting — things dealing with Grandma Mobley’s spirit — that’s dangerous. You’re a child playing with a high voltage wire.”
Drummond did a fast survey of the area. “Still tough to see anybody that might be working with him. I’m sure they’re here, though. You need anything?”
Max coughed twice.
“Then I’m going back to the coven. Sandra said that once they complete the casting, you’ll only have a few minutes at most to succeed. The second they’re ready, I’ll let you know. Until then, keep stalling.”
Max coughed once and watched as the ghost vanished. Behind the spot where Drummond had been, a bus hissed and pulled away, and behind the bus, standing in the glow of the morning sun, Max saw a man dressed in black jeans and a black, short-sleeve shirt. The man had a tattoo on his forearm — a flaming cross.
Leon stood and stepped in front of Max. “Over the years since we first met, I’ve had the opportunity to watch you in action numerous times. You may dismiss this as an old black man’s opinion, but I’m going to tell you something here — you ain’t as smart as you think you are. I’m not saying you’re dumb. But you’re luckier than you’d like to admit.”
“I’m a firm believer in the adage that the harder you work, the luckier you get.” Though Max felt decidedly unlucky at the moment. From either side, he noticed men dressed all in black approaching. Though he dared not take the time to inspect closer, he had no doubt both men sported flaming cross tattoos. “So, this is how you all work? I speak the truth and you’re going to beat me up.”
“We’re not going to beat you up. And your conclusions are speculation, not the truth.”
“Then tell me the truth. I’m here because you failed in what you attempted, and clearly you don’t want Mother Hope finding out about it. Let’s talk. I’m sure we can come to some kind of solution for all involved.”
Leon tucked his newspaper back under his arm. “Oh, don’t worry about that. We’re going to talk. But I think it’s time to move this to a more private setting.”
Max tried to rise, but the men on his sides pushed him back into the seat. He tried to look past Leon, tried to find Drummond, but the ghost had not returned yet. If Max left with Leon and the Goodman hunters, Sandra’s plan would fall apart. They wouldn’t know how to find Max, and as he understood it, the coven needed to know his location in order for the spell to be effective.
“Wait,” he said as the men closed tighter around him. “I came here in good faith to talk with you. If you do this, if you take me against my will, you betray everything you stand for.”
“Did you think that up on the spot?” Leon glanced around the bus terminal. “I’m impressed. It almost sounds logical. If I were dumb, I might have fallen for that — or at least paused long enough to ponder it. But I’m not dumb.”
Something caught Leon’s attention, something behind Max.
“Let’s discuss this. If you —”
“Take him,” Leon said. A black cloth hood went over Max’s head. Strong hands locked down his arms and yanked him to his feet. Though he could see nothing and could only hear his heavy breathing underneath the hood, he tried to keep moving with them. He imagined the Goodman hunters surrounded him and blocked him from view.
Nobody standing around would see anything but a group of tough-looking, similarly dressed men walking in a pack. People would assume they were a gang and would want nothing to do with them.
Max heard the sliding door of a van. A hand pressed his head down while another shoved him in. Before the door had fully slid shut, the engine revved and they were driving away.
Chapter 30
THE DRIVE SEEMED TO GO ON FOREVER. Max attempted the trick he had seen in spy movies many times — keeping his senses alert for every possible clue as to where they headed. He heard car radios and trucks. He felt the van accelerate to highway speeds. He smelled foods and exhaust. But it proved far more difficult to take that information and form a coherent travel path.
Besides, what did it matter? If Drummond somehow found him, there would be no need to say where he was being held. And if Drummond didn’t find him — Max did not want to think about that.
At length, the van stopped. They led Max out and escorted him along a pebble-strewn path. A fresh pine aroma and the lacking sounds of civilization told Max they were in a forest. They climbed a few wooden steps and entered a building. Two hands thrust Max down into a chair and then bound his hands to the chair arms.
When they pulled off his hood, Max had to squint until his eyes adjusted. They had taken him to a hunting cabin. Like most cabins, this one consisted of a large main room with kitchenette attached and a small hall leading to a bathroom and bedrooms. Deer heads had been mounted on the wooden walls. An old stone fireplace, heavy with soot, stood off to the right. A loft with enough room for a twin bed hung over the kitchenette.
As Max noted the sound of a van driving away, he counted three men plus Leon. Two of them sat on one of three couches lining the walls. Another man worked at a small desk near a back door leading outside. The ceiling opened all the way to the roof, complete with exposed beams and cross braces. And in the center of the room, dragging a simple wood chair over, casual yet full of tension in his tight grip — Leon.
Summoning a calm, cool, and in control persona — one that Max did not think he would find within — he sighed and said, “Do you really need to tie me up? I met you willingly. I’m here to talk.”
Leon sat. He made no effort to appear relaxed, no effort to fake friendship. “You met me in High Point to talk. You did not come here willingly, so let’s knock off the bull.”
“However you want to handle this. Though I’d prefer the no torture version.”
“Nobody wants to harm you.”
“My current situation is not inspiring a lot of confidence in what you’re saying.”
“You wanted the truth, the answers, the full story of what’s going on here. Well, I’m going to tell you. Because you’re wrong about a lot.”
“Maybe I don’t need to know. I’m starting to get the feeling that knowing too much might be like seeing the face of a kidnapper. Not that you’re a kidnapper—I’m not a kid, for one thing, and I already know what you look like. But the full story, I don’t really need that. I could be fine—”
Leon put his heavy grip on Max’s knees. “Be quiet.”
Max stopped babbling.
“I’m sure you have spent plenty of time with the Mobley Coven to have heard their fiction about all of this. Let me tell you what really happened. Early in her life, Mother Hope became well-known amongst witches. She was powerful and moral — two traits not often associated together. She wanted to use witchcraft to help people, not control them. From early on, she recognized the threat that the Hulls brought to North Carolina, and she wanted to stop them. Of course, that would take nearly a century to accomplish, but I want you to see that from the start, she thought about doing good, doing right with her gifts.”
“What about all that greed talk?”
“Eunice Mobley. She had a lot of greed within her bones. It metastasized in her soul, rotting her bones and spoiling her mind. She knew about Mother Hope, of course, and had reached out on several occasions. But Mother Hope showed no interest.”
“Until the deal was struck. When Eunice Mobley began her coven.” Max hated to admit it, but even this little bit cast the coven’s story into a new light.
“Yes. That was the point that Mother Hope decided to befriend Eunice in an attempt to guide the rising witch along a better path. But Eunice had been trying for years to form a coven. It never lasted.”
Max thought of the photos he had seen — Eunice standing with a group of girls.
“I see it on your face,” Leon said. “You know about those covens.”
“I didn’t know they were covens.”
“Technically, they weren’t. Merely attempts to start such a thing. But she was too young to rally girls who would be serious about it. Those that gravitated towards her were looking for thrills or being silly or trying to make a fool out of the strange Eunice Mobley.”
Another thought sent shockwaves through Max. “The girl with the eyes.”
“Eunice thought she had a real disciple with that girl. Even after she formed a successful coven, the girl with the eyes seemed to follow along. But it didn’t last. Mother Hope convinced the girl to leave the coven. Too late, I’m afraid. Eunice murdered her. There’s never been a body recovered or enough evidence to arrest her.
“But we’re off the main story. Eunice cut her deal and formed her coven, and she wanted Mother Hope to join, as a way to increase the strength of the coven as well as its notoriety. That’s what destroyed any possible alliance between them. Eunice Mobley’s thirst for power consumes her. She is blind to all else. I’ve seen covens before. They tend to behave much like a true sorority — a group of women bonding into sisterhood, working together, helping each other, but always living their own lives, growing through life on their own. The Mobley Coven is more of a cult. Those women live and die for Eunice Mobley. She is everything to them.”
Max couldn’t deny Leon’s words. They sounded more truthful than most anything he had heard regarding this case. A thought struck Max. “You’ve been keeping a watch on them. For decades, probably.”
“Only an idiot allows his enemies to go about unchecked. Especially on home turf.”
“But why keep all of this secret from Mother Hope? Why not tell her and use all the resources of the Magi?”
Leon looked around at the Goodman hunters, then angled in even closer. In a soft voice, he said, “I am protecting her. Just like the President, I’m giving her plausible deniability.”
“Protecting her from who?”
“Until now, she has made sure that Eunice and her cult remained quiet, unnoticed. They gained power, but we kept a close eye on them. If Mother Hope found out what the Mobley Coven was up to, that they were making a play for her power, she would have been forced to destroy them. That would send a terrible message to all the other covens and witches. It might even push Mother Hope over a mental cliff. I told you before that things were unstable at the moment. Well, this kind of thing can turn a good, moral woman like her into a monster like the Hulls.”
Max put more pieces together. “If it all looks like it’s the doing of the Goodman hunters, then she can remain on the right side of the moral equation.”
“Now, you see.”
“I do.” Max winced as he said, “But I have to ask you — why are you doing this to me? All that you’ve done protects Mother Hope except this. I’m on retainer for her — both financially and as a result of the curse. Why not just tell me all of this at the bus terminal?”
“You know why. You stole the last brick.”
Max figured as much. “So, now what? You think you can use me as a bargaining chip?”
“Not with the coven. Sandra would trade the brick for you in a second, but the coven will never give up that brick. Even after we grab one of their witches and destroy her along with the brick we have, they won’t ever give up that last brick. Doing so means killing Eunice, and they’re too brainwashed to let that happen.”
“Then what?”
Leon sat back and rubbed his face. “That’s what I have to figure out. You might as well get comfortable. You’re not going anywhere.”
Chapter 31
FOR SEVERAL HOURS, Max remained bound in his chair. Leon left, taking all but Grant Felder with him, and Grant had worked quietly at his desk the entire time since. Max had tried to sleep — a better choice than panic — but his wrists chaffed at the ropes and the burns kept him awake.
“I need to use the bathroom,” he said, startling Grant from a laptop. Though he mostly wanted to get up and move around, Max did need the bathroom, too — it had been at least three hours since they abducted him, and possibly longer.
“Hold it,” Grant said.
“Then you better get my mind off of it, or there’ll be a mess to clean up.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Talk with me, then. Distract me. Tell me how you got involved with all of this. Frankly, what you’re doing doesn’t make much sense — I mean, you specifically.”
That caught his attention. “What’re you talking about?”
“You working with Leon. I completely understand why you would want to reform the Goodman hunters. When I first learned about witches, that they were real and all, I felt the same way. It’s scary knowing there are people who can wield such power. That’s dangerous. So, I get it. Plus, you’ve got a family legacy backing you, both with money and the knowledge of what you’re doing. But Leon — he works directly for Mother Hope. Why would you align yourself with a guy who works for a witch? Look at that tattoo on your arm. I know what it can do. Why would you let him do that to you and others? That’s witchcraft. Not to mention the way you’re killing these witches — using spells to find them and spells to destroy them. Doesn’t that seem wrong?”
“We’re fighting fire with fire.”
“I’m not so sure that makes sense with witchcraft.”
“It’s better than letting the witches take over the world.”
“Ah, I get it. You’re the unsung heroes, the real deal, not looking for glory or fortune. You just want to save humanity. Is that it?”
“Shut up,” Grant said, returning to his laptop.
“If you’re not going to talk with me, then you better get me to a bathroom.”
“Keep your mouth and your bladder shut. This cabin’s been in the Felder family for four generations. You ruin that floor and I’ll ruin you.”
“You’d better help me out, then. Urine stink is not something you’ll get out of wood once it’s stuck in there.”
Grumbling, Grant pulled a .38 revolver from the desk drawer and walked over. He put the gun to Max’s head before he untied the ropes. “Don’t try anything.”
Gingerly rubbing his wrists, Max went down the hall. Grant followed him, the gun always aimed and ready, and pointed to the bathroom door. After Max relieved himself — and it turned out to be a great relief, far more needed than he had realized — he went back to his chair. The entire time, he searched for an escape.
“You don’t really need to tie me up again. Where am I going to go? I don’t even know what part of the state I’m in. For that matter, we could be in Virginia for all I know.”
“Could be. Could be we’re in South Carolina. Or Tennessee. Or maybe we drove you around in circles and we’re only blocks away from the High Point terminal.”
Grant paused and frowned. Max opened his mouth to ask what was the problem, but before he spoke, he understood — it had been easy for Grant to untie Max. He had a gun and Max was tied to a chair. But getting Max tied up again would be a different matter.
They locked eyes. In that fraction of a second, Max recalled what Bill Corte had said about Grant Felder — a mediocre card shark who wanted to sit in the back and let the rest of the hunters do the ugly work. Max noticed Grant’s limp hold on the .38, and how the man’s top lip beaded with sweat.
Calculated risk or hunch — Max didn’t care about the label. As the next second ticked by, he acted. Lurching forward, he knocked Grant’s gun hand aside and sent an elbow upward. A satisfying grunt followed as he smashed Grant’s chin.
The gun clunked on the floor, but Max had no time to scrabble for it. He kept his focus on his enemy. While his technique would draw a frown and a headshake from his instructors, his muscles remembered all the lessons the black belts had taught him. It didn’t matter how pretty or precise his form looked. Not at that moment. All that mattered was landing blow upon blow, overwhelming Grant with a non-stop flurry of fists that drove that man backwards.
