Dark Corner (24 page)

"Do you understand?"

"Yes," Jackson said, numbly, not feeling his own lips
move.

There was a popping sound, like fingers snapping.

Jackson blinked.

He stood in front of Jubilee's gates, alone.

Such sudden terror overcame him that he nearly collapsed. It was a wild, senseless fright, like a child's fear of
the darkness. But he could not rationalize it away, could not
argue it into submission. He was convinced that if he stood for another second on this property, the earth would buckle
and erupt open like a hungry, gaping mouth. And swallow.
Him. Whole.

"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus" Babbling, he ran to his patrol car.
He hustled behind the wheel and roared away, spinning up
gravel.

He did not look back.

Concealed in the shadows under a maple tree, the dogs
flanking him, Kyle watched the police chief flee in his vehicle.

Mother frowned upon controlling the minds of men. She
believed in finding peaceful ways to co-exist with humans
and manipulating them through subtle, indirect means. Mind
control was only to be used in the most extreme situations.

Kyle doubted that Mother would approve of what he had
done to the chief, but so be it. His father approved. Father
had encouraged him to confront the police officer and command him to do his bidding.

Kyle loved his growing confidence in exercising his talents. Being in his father's presence was transforming him,
freeing him. He could feel the shackles of Mother's stringent
rules falling away from his spirit, liberating him to become
the powerful vampire that he had the right to be. A vampire
like his father.

You must claim your birthright, my son, Diallo had said. I
am a ping, and you are my prince. Put away childish things
and be my prince.

Kyle knelt in the grass. The hounds pressed close to him,
competing for his attention. They were eager to fulfill his
will. The will of a prince.

Tonight, he would hunt again for his father, and he would
take the dogs.

Late Saturday morning, David went to visit Pearl, the reputed psychic whom he suspected had called him yesterday.
He wanted to find out why she had warned him and what she
could tell him about his father and the bizarre events that
were going on lately.

Nia had given him directions to the woman's house. Pearl
lived on the northern edge of town, in a small, one-story
home that sat at the end of a long, dusty path ranked with
oak and maple trees.

David parked at the end of the drive, beside a white Jeep
Cherokee.

A screened-in porch fronted the house. David climbed
the short flight of steps, to ring the doorbell. He found a note
taped to the door handle.

The message, written in neat cursive handwriting, read:
"I'm waiting for you in the back, David."

His breath caught in his throat. How did she know that he
was coming there?

A cool breeze whispered around him, tinkling the wind
chimes inside the veranda.

Feeling slightly light-headed, he walked around the side
of the house.

He wandered into the rambling backyard, and it was like
walking into a botanical garden. Bright flowers and lush plants
grew everywhere. He saw a small figure moving amongst a
flourishing rose garden, in the far corner of the yard. That
was where he headed.

He was unprepared to see what Pearl looked like. She appeared to be in her early twenties. She was short, perhaps
five feet tall, and petite. Her lustrous black hair was woven
into thin braids that hung to the middle of her back. She had
large, almond-shaped brown eyes. Her smooth skin was the
color of mocha. She wore a green tank top, denim shorts,
and sandals.

She's like a black china doll, David thought. However, her
beauty was not the sort that brought to mind swimsuit mod els or voluptuous women in hip-hop videos. Hers was the
beauty of delicate features that were sculpted in perfect balance.

She looked at him, holding a yellow rose between her
slender fingers. A large monarch butterfly crept along the
petals.

"I'm David Hunter," he said. "You called me yesterday."

She smiled. Her voice was soft and musical.

"Greetings, David Hunter. You arrived just when I thought
you would."

"How did you know I was coming?"

"How did I know the sun would rise this morning? It was
meant to happen"

He frowned. Was this what talking to her would be like?
Sentences full of New Age babble?

Pearl cocked her head and smiled.

She knows what I'm thinking, he thought. She knows that
I'm a skeptic.

"Why did you call me?" he asked.

"Your name was given to me. I had not known that you
had moved into the town, and I dialed the number not knowing whether anyone would answer. But of course, you did."

"What do you mean my name was given to you? By
who?"

"I am a only receiver, David. I receive messages, and it is
my responsibility to pass them to the intended party."

"So you get psychic radio waves or something."

She shrugged. "That's a crude analogy, but yes." She sat
gracefully on the ground, Indian style, a colorful wall of
flowers behind her. "Sit with me, and rest"

He hesitated for a beat, then he sat, too. The scent of roses
enveloped him.

Pearl twirled the yellow rose in her fingers. The butterfly
leapt from the petals and onto her knee, like a trained pet.
She gently stroked its wings.

"You definitely like flowers and plants," he said. "It's like
Calloway Gardens back here"

"It brings me peace," she said. "In life, we have to hold
fast to that which comforts us. What comforts you, David
Hunter?"

"Learning the truth"

"What if the truth is painful?" she said.

"Then I can deal with that. For me, not knowing hurts
more than anything."

"It is your nature to seek the truth, at all costs. It is an admirable quality, but you will suffer much heartache because
of it. Some truths are best left uncovered-like serpents
sleeping beneath rocks"

"Such as?"

She only shook her head. The butterfly crawled into her
palm. She lifted her hand, and the insect fluttered away.

He wanted to get back to a focused line of questioning.
This talk of the agony of learning the truth was not helping
him.

He leaned forward. "On the phone, you said I was responsible, that I have to prepare. What did you mean, exactly?"

"It means what it means. The message is simple, David."

"But what am I responsible for?"

"It is being revealed to you. I cannot reveal it. Because I
don't know."

"I thought you were supposed to be psychic?"

She smiled, but a thread of sadness ran through her expression. "Again, I am only a receiver. Sometimes the messages are quite detailed. At other times, they are vague. The
communication is uniquely tailored for each recipient, based
on what they need to hear."

"Well, mine was very vague. I feel like I've stumbled into
an episode of The Twilight Zone."

"That is actually an apt example," she said. "You will be challenged to believe in that which may appear so impossible you will think you have entered another reality."

"Okay, you've got to explain what you mean by that," he
said. "Please"

"Oh, David." She sighed heavily. "Do you believe that
your moving to Mason's Corner was a coincidence? You
came here seeking to learn about your father. Please do not
ask me how I know your purpose, for to know such things is
my gift. But what if everything that you have learned about
your father since you have come to this town was woven into
a deeper truth that you would be inclined to dismiss as impossible?"

"You've just confused me more," he said. "Listen. I've
seen a ghost of my granddad that basically told me to fulfill
the family legacy. I've found an old Bible with weird drawings. I've talked to people who've told me that my father
faked his death. I've seen a photo my dad took at that supposedly haunted mansion. Then you call me talking about
how I'm responsible for something. Maybe I'm dense, but I
don't see how any of those things are connected at all."

"I'm sorry that is it confusing," she said. "But I cannot
grant you any more insight on the matter. You will have to
discover the meaning on your own"

He blew out a chestful of air. He felt as if he were back in
his college calculus class, in which the professor would have
the answer to the problem but refused to share it no matter
how frustrated the students grew.

"Did my father really fake his death?" he said. "Can you
answer that?"

"I haven't received an answer to that question, David. I
don't know."

"Great," he said. "Then I've pretty much wasted my time
coming to visit you."

"No, I have something I'd like to share with you"

"Another puzzle that will give me a migraine?" He laughed
bitterly. "Do I really want to hear this?"

Her expression was somber. "I was the last person in
town to see your father before he disappeared. He visited
me, seeking to learn the outcome of his fishing trip. He
claimed to have a bad feeling about it and wondered whether
he should cancel it."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him that if he went on his trip, and followed
through on whatever secret mission he was embarking on
as it was clear to me that he had an ulterior motive he
would pass a terrible responsibility on to you. You would be
called to do something for which you had not been properly
prepared"

"Are you serious?"

"Do you know what Richard's response was? `I've spent
my life preparing David for what he might need to do one day.' "

"What?" David said. "That's the craziest thing I've ever
heard. Spent his life preparing me? He was never there for
me!" He had not intended to shout, but the emotion exploded out of him.

Sadness framed Pearl's face.

"That, I think, is how he believes he prepared you," she
said.

Saturday was the biggest lawn-cutting day of the week for
Junior. He'd begun early in the morning and steadily worked
down his list of customers.

So far, he'd cut five lawns and earned sixty dollars. He
loved the feeling of the knot of bills bulging in his pocket.
He couldn't wait to get home and sock the money away in
his secret hiding place.

Maybe he should open an account at the bank. But Mama
had warned him about trusting banks. She said they took her
money, and when she would go to check on it, there was less
in there than she had given them. But that was a long time
ago. Maybe banks were different these days.

Next on Junior's lawn-mowing list was Doc Bennett.
Junior liked the old guy. He was real sharp and full of good
stories.

Junior pushed his mower into the driveway, and knocked
on the front door. Doc Bennett came outside.

"Morning, Junior," he said. "Sure is hot to be cutting
grass"

"It don't bother me," Junior said. "I'm used to it."

"I've said it many times and must repeat it again: you're
the hardest working man in Mississippi. John Henry wouldn't have anything on you"

"Who's John Henry?"

"John Henry was a legendary African-American railroad
worker, renowned for his strength. He once competed in a
contest to see whether he could lay track faster than a newfangled machine, and though he won, he died soon afterward"

"Ain't that something?" Junior said. "Man died racing a
machine. You know they say computers is gonna rule the
world one day."

"So I've heard. Say, you get about town quite a bit. Have
you seen my dog, Malcolm?"

"The mutt that comes around here? No, sir. Ain't seen
him."

Doc Bennett looked sad. "Malcolm hasn't come around
today. I don't know what's become of him. Please let me
know if you see him."

"Sure will, Doc," Junior said. He turned to start up the
lawn mower, but then he looked back at Doc Bennett. The
guy had a thoughtful look on his face and stared at the sky.

I'm gonna tell him what happened at the cave, Junior thought
suddenly. Doc Bennett was the smartest man in town and
would be able to make some sense of what Junior had seen.
Junior could not get his own thoughts around what he had
seen that night while digging with Andre, and Andre was too
scared to talk about it.

The scary guy in black had warned them not to tell anyone what they had seen, but Junior had to tell someone. It
was eating him up inside. He'd never been good at keeping
secrets.

"Say, Doc," Junior said. "I wanna tell you somethin'."

"Certainly." Doc Bennett stuck his hands in the pockets
of his khakis. "Go ahead, my friend."

"It might take a little bit."

Doc Bennett pursed his lips. He opened the front door.

"Then I suggest that you come inside."

Franklin had heard some amazing tales, but nothing compared to the story that Junior Hodges told him.

A nighttime job offered to Junior and his cousin by the
bald black Frenchman who had moved into Jubilee. Junior
and his cousin digging into a cave located on the propertyan earthen tomb filled with skeletons. A mysterious man
dressed in black who, when he discovered Junior and Andre
peeping into the cavern, flung them against the wall with an
invisible force ...