Shadows: A Bayou Magic Novel Page 8

“Here we go, Brielle. Now, be a good girl.”

  The work is messy. It’s a good thing he bought the heavy rubber aprons years ago to keep his clothes clean.

  And, of course, he covers his hands, hair, mouth, and eyes so there’s no chance he can contaminate his toys with DNA.

  That wouldn’t do.

  The blood spatters and sprays as he cuts. Piercing screams rend the air. Thrashing ensues.

  And then, her blue eyes focus on his as, little by little, the life slowly drains from her.

  “Ah, that’s a good girl.”

  He’s hard. Killing always leaves his cock pulsing, but he never gives himself the pleasure of release.

  Not for this one.

  Or any of these.

  But soon.

  Chapter Ten

  Brielle

  “It’s bad.” Cash and I are sitting in the backseat of Daphne’s car. He holds my hand tightly. “Like, whatever you consider to be bad, multiply it by about a thousand, and it’s still not bad enough.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” he replies and kisses my hand.

  “No, it’s not fine,” Millie says from the passenger seat. “B’s not lying. In fact, it could be worse than what she’s describing.”

  “It is,” Daphne confirms, and my stomach clenches.

  Maybe they were right. Perhaps bringing Cash to my mom’s house was a bad idea.

  Except, that place is a house of horrors for me, and Cash seems to ground me. Maybe he can steady all three of us. I know that’s asking a lot, but when it comes to this, I’m asking.

  And I’m not sorry.

  Daphne turns off the freeway and points the car deep into the bayou.

  “Did y’all grow up in this house?” Cash asks.

  “Until Daphne was about fourteen,” Millie says. “Then Brielle was old enough to move out, and she took us with her.”

  “Mama didn’t try to stop her,” Daphne adds.

  “Bri saved our lives,” Millie says quietly.

  “That might be a bit of an exaggeration,” I reply, but both of my sisters shake their heads emphatically.

  “You know it’s true.”

  “Are you saying you would have died from neglect?” Cash asks.

  “Psychological and spiritual warfare,” I say calmly.

  “Jesus.”

  “Pretty sure Jesus and the rest of the deities out there helped keep us alive,” Daphne says. “Pastor Cliff spoke with us. Prayed for us, often. I might have gone crazy without him.”

  “Witches who believe in Jesus?” Cash asks, a smile on his face.

  “Don’t overthink it. We’re complicated women,” Millie replies. “I forgot how damn creepy it is out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Live oaks are beautiful and creepy,” Cash agrees, watching the bayou pass by. “And this looks like it belongs in a horror movie.”

  We all go silent as Daphne navigates onto another smaller road, and then it turns to dirt.

  “You just went white as a ghost,” Cash murmurs to me.

  “I’ve never hated a place more.” I take a deep breath. “You ladies know what to do.”

  We’re reinforcing our shields, protecting our minds and our hearts from the horrors we’re about to see. Millie casts a spell of protection around Cash, as well, and I’m grateful for not only that but also the protection potions she put in our coffees this morning.

  We need all the help we can get.

  The lane narrows even more, the path overgrown with low-hanging limbs and Spanish moss. It clearly isn’t traveled often, if at all. With the exception of Daphne visiting the last time she came here.

  “A part of the road washed out during a storm at some point, so it’s going to be extra bumpy here in a minute. Hold on,” Daphne says as she slows down, taking it easy over the ruts. She turns another tight corner, and there it is.

  “Holy shit,” Millie whispers when Daphne stops the car. We all sit in silence for a moment, staring at the house we grew up in.

  It doesn’t look habitable. Actually, it’s not habitable, but Mama lives there anyway.

  It was once a grand, three-story plantation home with a deep, wrap-around porch. Gas lanterns hung from the porch, along with a swing on either side of the red front door.

  It’s no longer grand.

  The porch has separated completely from the main structure and caved in on itself in several places. The space around the front door looks to be intact, but I’ll suggest we go up one at a time when we approach, just in case.

  “Someone lives here?” Cash asks quietly. “Has it always looked like this?”

  “No. Not when we were kids, at least. But this is what the bayou will do to a building if it’s not maintained. It reclaims the land.”

  “Every single window is broken out,” Millie says. “And in the stifling heat of summer. How does she not get heatstroke?”

  “Who cares?” Daphne asks. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “You three are with me, at all times,” Cash says. “I’m armed.”

  “We can’t fight what’s in there with a gun,” I inform him but squeeze his hand gratefully. “But, yes, we’ll stick with you.”

  We climb out of the car and make our way gingerly up the dilapidated front steps.

  I pound on the door.

  There’s no movement for a while. Just the sound of cicadas and frogs and whatever animal is rustling through the bushes.

  I pound again.

  “This was a bad idea,” Millie says and turns to me. “What do you see?”

  “The usual. More shadows than I can count, all staring at us. Walking the grounds, sitting where that old swing used to be over there.”

  “Just standing here gives me the heebie-jeebies,” Daphne says. “I will not touch anything inside. I’m sorry, guys, but even the doorknobs—”

  “Agreed,” I interrupt and then pound on the door again.

  “Go away!” Mama yells from inside.

  “Well, we know she’s alive,” Cash mutters.

  “Mama, it’s us,” I yell back. “We need to talk to you.”

  The door is yanked open, almost coming clean off the hinges.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  I don’t know who this woman is. The tall, beautiful person who raised us is gone. She’s hunched over, her blond hair gray and stringy. Her teeth are missing. Her eyes are cloudy, the pupils dilated as if she sits in the dark all the time.

  From the stench coming through the door, I’d wager that she hasn’t seen a bar of soap in years.

  “We need to ask you some questions,” I reply. “Do you know who we are?”

  “Don’t matter who you are,” she says. “Don’t care.”

  “We’re your daughters,” Daphne reminds her. For a moment, it looks like her eyes might clear and that she’ll remember, but then she just frowns.

  “Don’t got no chillins.”

  “Yes, you do,” Millie says kindly. “We won’t take up too much of your time. We just have some questions.”

  “Don’t know nothin’,” she mutters but moves back away from the door to let us in. All four of us cover our mouths and noses with our shirts, overwhelmed by the smell of filth and death.

  “Mama, are there dead animals in here?” I ask.

  “Hafta eat, don’t I?”

  We look at each other and follow after her as she shuffles through garbage and insects. Where the dining room used to be is a pile of debris from the old bedroom—my bedroom—above it. The ceiling collapsed at some point. My old twin bed, such as it is, lies on the top of the heap.

  The mountains of garbage are horrifying as we move through the old living space toward the kitchen. But it’s the stench that I’ll never forget.

  I’ll have to burn these clothes later.

  I’ll never get the smell out of them.

  “Where do you sleep?” Cash asks, and Mama rounds on him.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “This is my goo
d friend, Cash,” I say. I bet most girls don’t introduce the guy they’re hot after to their mom that way.

  Lucky me.

  “I don’t talk to no mens,” Mom says.

  “It’s a good question,” Millie says. “With the second floor collapsed, where do you sleep, Mama?”

  “Oh, where’d my manners go?” I frown as I watch our mother smile and push back her hair as if she has unexpected company. “I meant to clean up ’fore’n you came by, but I must’ve got busy with the chillins.”

  “Your home looks fine,” Daphne says as if she’s talking to a stranger, and I immediately take her cue. My youngest sister has done her best not to touch anything, but I can see the strain on her face.

  “I agree,” I say. “You keep a lovely home.”

  “Well, thank you kindly,” Mama says with a toothless, satisfied grin. “Hasn’t been easy to keep up with them girls since I done killed their daddy.”

  She winks, to my horror, and gestures for us to follow her to the den off the kitchen.

  I trade glances with the others and follow her, surprised at what we see.

  Where the rest of the house is utterly condemnable, this room isn’t so bad. She keeps the door closed from the rest of the house. She has a simple twin bed made neatly with old blankets that I recognize from my childhood. There’s an oil lamp and a rocking chair in the corner.

  The chair that used to be under the stairs.

  The one where a shadow still sits, rocking back and forth.

  “That thing never stops movin’,” Mom says and shrugs. “Probably uneven boards or somethin’.”

  “Or a ghost,” Daphne whispers, catching Mama’s attention.

  “We don’t talk like that in this house, young ’un,” she says sternly. “There be no ghosts here, y’hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Daphne says quietly.

  “These girls, always carry’n on about ghosts and goblins.” She shakes her head as if it’s all nonsense. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “Mama, do you remember a book that you took away from Millie when she was a teenager?”

  Mom narrows her dull eyes as if she’s thinking.

  “Can’t read,” she says simply, surprising me.

  I didn’t know that.

  “It was a book that I was reading, and you took it away from me,” Millie adds. “I really need it back.”

  “I burn all the books here so I have heat,” Mom replies with another shrug. “Probably burned that up, too.”

  “Do you mind if I look around for it?” Millie asks.

  “You’re plum stupid if you think you should wander around through this house. It’s full of evil spirits,” Mom says, shocking all of us.

  One minute, we don’t talk of ghosts.

  The next, the place is full of evil spirits.

  I mean…she’s not wrong.

  But her mental illness has clearly progressed so much that it’s hard for her to make any sense.

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “Don’t matter to me.” Mom waves her off.

  “Go with Cash,” I say instantly. “None of us goes alone.”

  Cash squeezes my shoulder, then follows Millie out of the room.

  “Y’all can sit,” Mama offers, pointing to the bed as she sits in the rocking chair, right on the shadow. “We’re not too fancy in this house.”

  “I’m fine,” Daphne says immediately but smiles to soften the rejected offer. “How are you doing?”

  “Same as always,” Mama replies. “Ain’t nothin’ change ’round here.”

  Except the number of spirits. I don’t know why, but they seem to have multiplied considerably. Doubled, maybe even tripled. Everywhere I look, another shadow lurks.

  No wonder she’s crazy.

  I would be, too.

  “You know, if you ever want to leave this place, there are people who can help you.”

  Mama narrows her eyes at me. “Tryin’ to run me outta my own house?”

  “No, ma’am,” I say immediately. “It was just an idea.”

  “This place is nice enough. My girls never complain.”

  “Your daughters are all grown,” Daphne reminds her. “We’re your daughters, Mama. Remember? We all grew up and moved away.”

  She frowns as if she’s confused. “But I talk to y’all every day. You visit me here all the time.”

  One of two things is happening here. Either Mom is simply certifiably nuts, or the spirits here are taking our shapes to mess with her.

  At this point, it could be either.

  Or both.

  “I haven’t set foot in this house in more than a decade,” I remind her.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Brielle.”

  “Brielle’s dead. He killed her.”

  My skin prickles. My heart skips a beat.

  “Who killed her?”

  “Killed who?”

  I sigh in frustration. She can’t focus on a conversation long enough to make a logical statement.

  “What do you do here all day with no electricity or running water?” Daphne asks.

  “There’s water out back,” she says, pointing over her shoulder toward the swamp. “I wash my clothes in there.”

  She washes her clothes in swamp water.

  It’s a wonder she hasn’t been eaten by ’gators or died from a bacterial infection.

  “I just talk to my friends, an’ I keep a pretty garden outside. Did you see it?”

  “No, ma’am. There’s a garden?” Daphne asks. Our mother did like to garden when we were kids. We spent a lot of time out there with her.

  “I’ll show you.”

  She pulls herself out of the chair, and we follow her through the house to the back entrance, right next to the door that leads to the storage space under the stairs.

  I spent the majority of my childhood under there.

  I wait for Mom and Daphne to go outside before I open the little door really quick to poke my head in.

  It hasn’t changed since the last time I was in there with my sisters. It’s as if Mama never went in there, but she must have at some point. She pulled the rocking chair out.

  I close the door and join Daphne and Mama outside, just around the corner of the house.

  Mom’s smiling.

  Daphne’s face is white.

  “Can you please tell Brielle what you told me?” Daphne asks her.

  “Oh, is Brielle here?” Mama glances over at me and frowns. “I thought you were dead, Brielle. That’s what he told me.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Don’t remember.” She rubs her nose with the back of her hand. “Anyway, he’s buried right here.”

  “Who?”

  “Your daddy.” She rolls her eyes. “Never liked him. Mean son of a bitch.”

  “He was mean,” I agree with a nod and stare at all the blooming roses. There must be twenty bushes, a riot of beautiful color. “You must spend a lot of time out here, taking care of your roses.”

  “Nah, he just keeps fertilizing them. Mean old man.” She shakes her head. “Told me I was crazy. Can you believe that?”

  “No, ma’am,” Daphne and I reply in unison.

  “Kept callin’ me that over and over again until I showed him just how crazy I could be. Buried him right here.”

  Daphne swallows hard, her hand hovering over a bloom.

  I need to get her out of here.

  “We found it,” Millie says as she and Cash come around the side of the house. “We saw you out here.”

  “You have a beautiful garden,” Cash says.

  “Who are you?” Mama demands, her face immediately scrunching in rage. “I don’t like the mens around here. Git outta here. Y’all leave, now.”

  “Gladly,” Daphne says as we hurry around the house to the car. She starts it, and once we’re all inside, she peels out of the driveway, watching Mama in the rearview. “Brielle.”

  I look back, shocked to find the shadow
s joining Mama, huddling around her. They’re pouring out of the house, coming around the sides, and they cover her, wrapping their arms around her.

  It’s the creepiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “You can see that?” I ask Daphne.

  “We all can,” Millie says and sighs.

  “I can’t,” Cash says.

  “You’re lucky.” I rub my hands over my face. “But at least we have the book. Where was it?”

  “Upstairs, in her old bedroom,” Millie says.

  “It’s still intact?”

  “If you can call it that,” Cash replies. “We looked around the entire house, just to check everything out.”

  “I wrapped us both in my shields,” Millie says. “And it’s a damn good thing I did. Did you guys notice how out of control the activity is there?”

  “It’s like a hotspot for paranormal activity,” I say, thinking it over. “I never considered that before, but that might be the case. Perhaps the house is built on a burial ground, or something so horrible happened there in the past that the ghosts are drawn to.”

  “And because we’re sensitive, it fucked with us as kids,” Daphne says, nodding. “It makes sense.”

  “Now that we’re gone, along with our spells and potions of protection, there’s nothing there to protect Mama from the activity,” Millie says. “You guys, I know she was a bad mother and, honestly, she’s a bad human being. But no one deserves that kind of torment.”

  It doesn’t surprise me when the dreams come. After spending the morning doing my best to deflect the atrocities in my mother’s house, I figured I’d have a difficult time in my dreams.

  “Come on.”

  Now, there are four. When I went to sleep, there were still only two spirits following me, but now there are four.

  “I want to help you. Tell me what to do.”

  “You have to follow us,” one of the girls says, and relief immediately sets in. They can hear me. This one’s new. She has a slit throat, but aside from that, she looks whole. “Come on.”

  The next thing I know, I’m standing in a room. It’s good-sized, sectioned off into different areas. In one corner, there’s what looks like a workbench with shelves above it, lined with tools.

  A chair sits in another corner. It looks like an old-timey electric chair with leather straps on the arms and legs.