Mystic Jive: Hand of Fate - Book Four (11 page)

He gave a low whistle. “It really puts Lou’s so-called accident in a whole new light, doesn’t’ it?”

“Yeah, it does. Except for Honey, none of the Penfield Eight are still alive. I don’t think she has many woman friends.” Neither did I, come to think of it. I didn’t hang out with the other parking control officers anymore. Heck, I hadn’t been asked to join the department’s fall bowling league this year, either. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stopped in at the Stick and Stein for beer after work. Honey had been out of the coven for years. We had more in common than I’d originally thought.

“If those women we saw in Growlers are representative of the cult, I can see why.”

Something clicked into place. “Growlers Pub is less than a mile from that old farmhouse house Charlie and I cleared. The realtor told me it had been a foreclosure. Vacant for years. What if it belonged to the Fewkes?”

“Easy enough to check,” said Rhys.

“I banished a named djemon from that house. It was playing poltergeist with the light bulbs, slamming cupboards, and generally scaring off buyers. Maybe it wasn’t just for spite. What if the previous owners knew about the trapped spirits?” The more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me. “What if the house and the Penfield witch cult and the summoning ritual are all connected? What if the will-o-the-wisps we saw tonight really are spirit messengers, trying to warn us?”

“You want to talk to Charlie.”

 “I think it’s about time, don’t you?” I reached for my jacket.

“I like the way you think, lady.”

* * *

We found Charlie at home in his brown and white cabin in the Shore Happy Motor Court, a dismal collection of one-room cottages built decades ago as seasonal employee housing for the amusement park. Most of the buildings had decayed to a somewhat less than seedy state—Charlie’s being a notable exception. A layer of white quartz gravel kept the weeds at bay in the front garden. Black wrought iron trimmed the solid oak front door, and red and white striped curtains graced the windows. Red plastic flowers in the window boxes gave the cottage a dignified look that made the other cabins seem drearier by comparison.

Inside, a colorful orange, red, and yellow wool rug covered polished wood floors with a primitive geometric pattern. The main living and seating area consisted of a worn brown recliner and small sofa. Beneath the front window, a fake fireplace warmed the room with cheery simulated flames. On one wall, a cabinet disguised the pull-down Murphy bed. Opposite the window, a built-in banquette, sink, two-burner hotplate and countertop refrigerator made up his kitchen and dining area.

Annie lay curled up in her sheepskin-lined doggie bed next to Charlie’s recliner, her gaze fixed on her master. I asked Charlie about the will-o-the-wisps. “When it happened to us that first time, you said it was a warning.”

“An omen, if you like.” Charlie answered, nodding.

“Honey Briscoe told me that the Senequois people believe that these lights are spirit messengers. She told me that the message can only be heard by the person who is meant to receive it.”

When he wasn’t wearing his security guard uniform, it was much easier to believe that Charlie was a shaman of the Senequois people. Dressed simply, in a faded pair of old jeans, a button-front red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and an old pair of scuffed moccasins, his voice and bearing proclaimed him still very much a man of his people.

“Do you think the swamp lights we saw that night were the trapped spirits you released from the house?”

“I don’t believe so. Trapped souls ain’t the same as spirit messengers. The People believe they can travel between the worlds of the living and the dead. Will-o-the-wisps tain’t neither nor.”

I sagged against the back of the couch. “So you don’t think that the message I got tonight came from the trapped souls you released.”

Charlie gave me a puzzled look. “I asked you if you could feel them spirits when we walked into the house that day. You said no.”

“I couldn’t. But when the will-o-the-wisps attacked us on the porch, they spoke to me.  It’s happened three times, now, and they said the same thing every time.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, frowning. “Jaysus Mary of Morgantown. You say you heard ‘em speak?”

“Yeah. They said loosa loosa, or something like that. I just assumed you’d heard it too.”

“I didn’t hear it, but I believe she heard something.” Rhys said.

 “Honey thought they might be speaking the language of the Senequois people. That’s why we came over here. Does it mean anything to you?”

“Gimme a minute.” Charlie got up and walked to one of the cupboards in his kitchen and took down a quart-sized canning jar, half-filled with a dark liquid. He unscrewed the lid and the liquid became a smoky mist. It drifted up from within the jar. Charlie closed his eyes, inhaled a lungful of the vapor, then resealed the jar and replaced it in the cabinet. He stood motionless, his eyes closed, his palms held up as if in supplication for a long moment, and gradually exhaled, nodding slightly.

Annie gave a soft chirrup as he returned to his chair. His eyes had an unfocused look.

Rhys and I exchanged a look. This couldn’t be good.

Charlie wiped his mouth and began to speak. His voice sounded faint at first, as if recalling some faraway memory, but gradually grew stronger.

“In the beginning, there was the land. And from the land, the creator fashioned the first People. And the People crawled from the land and lived in the light. And they hunted and gathered food from the bounty of the land, and they raised their children to do the same.

“But there was one who did not like the light. He did not want to live among the People. He was a shape-changer. Sometimes, he took the shape of a night-raven. At other times he was a long narrow man with pointed ears, and glowing red eyes who crawled along his stomach like a snake.

“And it was said that when people allowed dark or depressing thoughts to enter their minds, it crept inside them and consumed their essence, leaving only a ravenous, hungry husk behind. And it was also said that disobedient children were lured into the forest, where it took them for its own. It could bewitch hunters by mimicking the cry of a wounded animal, and when they followed the sound into the woods, it would prick them with a thorn that would enslave them to its terrible bidding. As its strength and appetites grew, stories were told of unhappily married women stolen from their homes by the tall, narrow man, never to be seen again. When the first swamp lights appeared, it was said they were the children of this spirit and the stolen women of the People.

“The People named this creature
Nalusa Falaya
, and it was an immortal evil of great and terrible power.

“And it is said among the People that the Nalusa Falaya claimed the great forests where the Senequois people lived and the banks of the Great Spirit Lake as his own. And it saw the how the water sparkled and the People lived in peace and harmony with the land and it despised such order and harmony. It demanded human sacrifice, and when the People refused it swore to eat the souls of everyone in the tribe. For many years, the tribe was preyed upon by the evil being. By the time the first white settlers arrived, the great Senequois nation had been reduced to a single clan. Eventually the shaman of the clan trapped the spirit, and imprisoned the Nalusa Falaya in a spirit tree, where it remains to this day.”

Charlie shook his head. “I can think of no other meaning for the warning of the swamp lights. That ‘loosa loose’ you heard sounds to me like someone is plannin’ to release the Nalusa Falaya.”

Rhys and I exchanged a silent look.

Charlie pressed his lips together. “I don’t think it’s possible. It makes no sense why anyone would. It’s a powerful, evil thing.”

“I’ve witnessed the containment of a powerful demon only once,” Rhys said. “This was in Europe. The trap required a heavy buildup of concentrated power wrapped around an enticing lure. The king’s sorcerer sacrificed the lives of a dozen prisoners to bait the trap. Once the summoned deity had materialized inside the circle, the power crucible held it secure until it was forced into a prepared containment vessel and sealed.”

Jeeze
. “What kind of vessel?”

“It depends on how dangerous the entity is, and how long it must be imprisoned. In the case of djenie, it could be something as portable and innocuous as a lamp.” Rhys said, with a look of distaste. “For the Merlin, only a crystal-lined cave would work.”

“No,” Charlie said. “There was no cave. An’ no box could contain the Nalusa Falaya. The People trapped the evil creature in a spirit tree. In this instance, every part of the tree is poisonous—the poison saturates the spirit and keeps the creature weak--unable to take shape and escape.”

“Where is this spirit tree?” asked Rhys.

”It has to be that big yew tree,” I said. “Inside the old cemetery. I got a really bad feeling from that tree.”

“That makes sense,” Rhys agreed. “I felt the same way.”

I pulled the coin Lou had given me from my pocket and showed it to Charlie. “Lou says this can detect black magic. I’ll bet that if I touched it to the bark of that tree, we’d know for sure.”

The People believe that any spirit held inside a spirit tree takes on the characteristics of the spirit tree. The tree holding the Nalusa Falaya captive is especially accursed.”

“If we cross that circle, I’m convinced the cult will know,” Rhys said.

“Yeah, but if we chop it down before the ritual, that’ll kill it. The summoning won’t work, right Charlie?”

The old man frowned. “The spirit is immortal. Cuttin’ down a spirit tree won’t destroy the spirit trapped inside. Nor will burnin’ it. It will only kill the tree. Over time, the spirit would eventually gather itself together and escape. No one in their right mind would do such a thing.”

“That explains the double circle,” I said. “The Fewkes must want something from it.”

“No,” Charlie said. “The Nalusa Falaya is an ancient creature. It has nothing to offer but death.”

 “Based on what we’ve heard, I doubt that concerns the Fewkes.” Rhys said. “If this demon could grant them immortality, or power, or wealth, or knowledge, or anything else they believe they must have, chances are the Fewkes plan to negotiate for what they want in exchange for giving it its freedom.”

 “That’s crazy,” I said. “Surely they’re not going to actually set it free.”

Rhys made a face. “I expect they’re confident they can get it back in the tree once it’s given them what they want. Although they’d need the same kind of bait to release it that they used to trap it.” Rhys said. “We’re talking about couple dozen victims here.”

The answer hit me like a punch in the chest. “Charlie, you said it was a soul eater. Couldn’t they use trapped souls?” I could hardly get the words out. “Like the ones trapped in that house. Maybe they were just being stored in the house until they were needed. That’s gotta be it—Charlie, you said they were scared. Terrified. At the time, I didn’t believe you. I mean, what do the dead have to be afraid of? But being consumed by the Nalusa Falaya, that would scare them, wouldn’t it?”

Charlie looked positively ill. “Mebbe. It was Senequois magic used to trap the Nalusa Falaya. One of the People would have to be present during the ceremony. Not many left.”

“What about one of the cult members?” I asked.

Charlie gave a snort. “Ain’t a single drop of Senequois blood in any of ‘em anymore.”

 “Honey and her grandmother are both Senequois. And both of them were members of the Penfield eight.”

“Not many know that,” admitted Charlie.

“She also said that her Grandmother died shortly after she moved in with the Fewkes. She was a full-blooded Senequois. Her spirit could have been trapped in that house for years.”

“Good night,” Rhys said.

“That would do it,” Charlie agreed. “I heard them souls screamin’ from the banister as soon as I walked in. Makes me double glad I released ‘em.”

A shiver crept up my spine. Something he said tickled a memory, but then it was gone.

 “If they plan to put the Nalusa Falaya back in the spirit tree, they’re gonna need a whole lot more souls than they planned to replace all them ones we freed,” Charlie said.

Shit
. “Thanks, Charlie. We gotta go,” I said. Rhys was already moving toward the door.

“Where you goin’?”

“Halloween is tomorrow,” I said. “Gotta see a man about a wolf.”

CHAPTER 15

RHYS AND I arrived home in the pre-dawn hours of Saturday morning, intent on grabbing a few hours of sleep. Rhys stumbled upstairs to bed, while I put Blix to work on the Internet.

Three hours later, we were up. We had a lot to do today, and not much time to get it done. Rhys had already left.

Blix had not been able to find any information on the Internet on how to stop a demon summoning. I guess everyone wants to learn how to summon one, not how to screw one up. And while there was a lot of information online about many different kinds of demons and evil spirits, he’d found next to nothing on the Nalusa Falaya.

Blix still couldn’t speak yet, but his wings had completely sprouted from his shoulders over the past few days; ever since he’d started reading and researching for me. He couldn’t actually fly, but that didn’t stop him from jumping across the room and flapping them at every opportunity. His inability to speak didn’t prevent him from communicating any more. He was so good with my cell phone keypad, I’d gotten him his own phone so he could text me.

Maybe you are over thinking this,
he texted.
Perhaps there is no special way to break up a summoning, other than causing a distraction. Simply crossing the plane of the summoning circle could do it
.

“I hope you’re right, Blix. Keep digging, and text me if you find anything. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Doc had called to let me know that my car was ready. As much as I loved the bike, the streak of summer temperatures we’d been enjoying was at an end. Forecasters were predicting snow within the next few days. As much as I loved riding the Vic, I was looking forward to using the Honda’s heater.