Blood Creek Witch Page 5

  “Yes. She lives with her mama down the way, but you’ll find her hanging around here as often as not. Jessabelle’s normally shy, but once she takes a shine to you she won’t stop talking. She’s a year or so younger than you. She’s your Uncle George’s daughter. He was a soldier and died in the Middle East a few years back.”

  “Mom mentioned his name a few times, as well as yours. But she never told me much about either of you. Do we have other family close?”

  “If you go back far enough, most the folks around here are related in some way or another. But close? Jessabelle, you, me, and Jessabelle’s mama, although I hardly see her. Your grandma… Well, she’s been gone about five years.”

  “Gone? How did she die?”

  Hattie hesitated, and a knock at the door saved her from having to answer. She set down her tea and opened the front door and storm door to admit a thin woman dressed in a simple, but somber, dark-blue dress. “Maybelle, it’s good to see you again,” Hattie greeted the woman. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to say hi to you at the service. Can I get you some iced tea?”

  The woman half-smiled, and shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you.” She turned her small eyes on Jenny. “This must be Jennifer.”

  Jenny stood to meet the woman. Hattie introduced them. “This is my niece, Jenny Morgan. Amy’s daughter.”

  The woman nodded, taking Jenny’s offered hand in both of hers. “So sorry to hear about your mother. Amy and I went to school together.”

  Jenny looked from Hattie to Maybelle and back. “Why do you keep calling my mother Amy?”

  Hattie said, “Oh, I keep forgetting. When we were growing up her name was Amelia Rose. She changed it when she married your daddy.”

  Maybelle looked at Hattie curiously, eyes widening at the scrap of gossip. Hattie changed the subject. “Jenny, this is Maybelle Norton. Maybelle, Jenny and I were just talking about family relations. Maybelle’s husband Bob is related somewhere about three generations down the family tree?”

  Maybelle shrugged. “I can’t say. I’m originally from Harper’s Ferry, myself. Hattie, I know you just got in last night and all, but I need charms for my family. I imagine a lot of folks do.”

  Hattie glanced over at Jenny with a “see, I told you so” expression, then nodded to Maybelle. “What kind of charms?”

  “Protection, obviously.”

  Hattie tilted her head back slightly. “What’s so obvious?”

  “Haven’t you heard how Grace died?” The sides of Maybelle’s mouth twitched. For a moment, Jenny imagined the woman salivating.

  “No. Botch only emailed me two days ago to tell me about it. I haven’t had time to ask.”

  Maybelle began wringing her hands together. “They kept the casket closed for a reason. They found her last week, mauled and half-et by an animal between her home and the mailbox.”

  “Oh, no, not ag… not that! That’s terrible. Have they found the animal yet?”

  Jenny listened, half-worried that her aunt had driven her to another world. Ghosts, witches, and animals that ate people on their way to the mailbox? The people who had these kinds of conversations were the attention-gathering sorts her parents taught her to avoid. Was this what they were protecting her from, all this time? Was Hattie the crazy side of the family they never talked about?

  Even if that were the case, Jenny had seen the creepy woman with the strange eyes. Had she really been a ghost? Was Jenny going crazy right along with her aunt?

  Maybelle shook her head. “Not a trace. They tried to keep it quiet, but I reckon everyone knows anyway. The police and forestry service folks think it was big, either a bear or a large hunting cat. They ain’t seen fit to tell nobody. Like they think we’ll be safer if we don’t know?” She inclined her head. “I need a way to protect my family. Darlene’s got two little ones, you know. We’ve got her husband Hank’s rifle, but that might not be enough if it’s a bear.” As she spoke faster, her accent grew thicker. She pronounced “bear” like “bar.”

  Hattie sighed and nodded. “I have nothing prepared right now, but I promise I’ll look into it. You’ll be the first ones on my list. Give me a call tomorrow.”

  Maybelle had a satisfied look on her face. “I’ll do that. I just hope we’ll be able to manage another day. The town is shocked by Grace’s death. I expect there will be others wanting your help.”

  Hattie nodded. “I’m sure there will be. Thank you for coming with the news, Maybelle.”

  Maybelle nodded, still looking satisfied, and turned toward the door. Hattie opened it. Before stepping outside, Maybelle hesitated, and turned back toward Hattie. “You know, it just occurred to me, there might not be as many wanting your help as I might have thought.”

  Hattie’s face froze in a pleasant, temporizing expression that Jenny memorized for future reference.

  “While you been absent, the preacher has said some things about you. He says we shouldn’t come here, and that the prayers of the faithful are all we need.”

  Hattie nodded thoughtfully. “Preacher and I don’t see eye to eye on a few things, it’s true. We’ve had our differences of opinion for a while now, but I’d agree with him that prayers come first. I know I’ll be saying mine tonight, and you should pray over your family too, Maybelle.”

  “Oh, I will. I got them two little babies and Darlene…”

  “Yes, you do. I’ll get started right away. Thank you for coming by, Maybelle.” Hattie ushered her out with a surprising amount of grace and haste. Hattie closed the door firmly, and stood with her back to it for a few moments, looking worried. She closed her eyes and muttered, barely audible over the air conditioner, “Maybelle, I know you like to be at the center of things, but not this time.”

  “What do you think killed that woman?” Jenny asked.

  Hattie broke from her reverie. She shrugged, adopting a neutral expression. “Oh, like she said, probably an animal. It’s a rare thing, but it does happen. The woods aren’t entirely tame around here.”

  Jenny memorized Hattie’s new expression. This would be the face Hattie made when she lied.

  Jack struggled to stand on his tiptoes. It was uncomfortable, but his only chance was to appear as large as possible so the creature might leave in search of easier prey. If that didn’t work, the best he could hope for would be to go down kicking and fighting.

  The feline eyes glowed in reflected twilight. The beast’s body blended seamlessly with the shadows of the brush. By Jack’s best guess, the rest of the creature would be the size and weight of a large dog. Weeds rustled as it crept backwards, the eyes disappearing in the darkness.

  Jack counted his heartbeats, every muscle tense. He strained his ears to hear the beast’s approach. Every rustle of wind could be the big cat circling behind him.

  After several tense seconds of silence, human footsteps approached. Did Sam leave the others and actually come to save him? If so, Sam, or whoever it was might be was in great danger as well. Jack called out, “Look out! There’s a wild animal or something close!”

  A girl stepped out of the brush, close enough he could make out her features in the dim light. She wore a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. Her wavy short hair was a black that looked like it had been dyed, but it had always been that color.

  Jack knew her, of course. Everyone knew everyone in this town. Jessabelle Rose was a strange one, even by Maple Bend standards. But then, so was Jack. She had a simple beauty and never wore makeup. She rarely talked to anyone. Two years younger than Jack, they had never been in the same classes at school. She spoke little, and often stared at other people. She crossed in front of him. “What did you do to get all tied to a tree, Jack?”

  “I ran into Mason,” Jack answered.

  Jessabelle nodded, immediately understanding.

  “Mason was mean and dangerous when I was in elementary school,” she said. “He’s a lot worse now.”

  “He’s an asshole,” Jack agreed. “But I don’t know if he’s that dangerous.�
��

  “He is. Trust me.” Her voice was earnest, suggesting a story Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. “You got a knife?”

  “In my front left pants pocket.”

  She started to reach for his pocket, and then shook her head. Even with a dangerous predator lurking in the darkness, her sense of propriety prevailed. “That won’t do. I’ll see if I can untie you.”

  “It’s too dark.”

  “I can see pretty good.”

  “Hurry. There’s something out here.”

  “I know.”

  “I think it’s a panther.”

  She circled behind him and began working at the cords around his wrists. “No. It ain’t a panther.”

  Jack bore the pain stoically as her tugs and pulls dug into his abused skin. “I’m grateful you came by, but what are you doing out here at night?”

  She gave another cord an extra tight tug, making Jack wince, but the end slipped and pulled out through a loop. “Nothing. What about you, Jack Parsons? Why were you out here? Smoking some of Mason’s stuff?”

  “No. You knew about that?”

  “Yeah. Doesn’t everybody?” With two more movements, the cord loosened, and he pulled his hands free. Jessabelle handed the shoelaces to him. “Are these yours?”

  Jack nodded, rubbing the abrasions on his wrists. He accepted the laces and sat down to lace his shoes. Jessabelle ignored him and scanned the tree-tops.

  “I just try and ignore them,” Jack mumbled. He didn’t really know or care about Mason, and the feeling was mutual. Sam, on the other hand, had been his best friend when they were children. That lasted until first grade. Sam had made other friends, who recognized Jack’s thrift-store clothing, and had heard stories about Jack’s family. “Your daddy’s a drunk!” they gleefully reminded him daily.

  Sam hardly spoke to him again after that.

  Jack brought his mind back to the present. Somewhere nearby, a predator lurked. “Thank you for the rescue, Jessabelle. Um… maybe we should take the southern trail? It’ll take us a little longer to get to the road, but we run less of a chance of running into Mason, Sam, and Alan. I don’t want to give them another chance to tie me up.”

  “There ain’t time, Jack. We need to get back indoors as fast as we can.”

  “Alright, we’ll take the shorter way, then.”

  “Keep your voice down. And stay low.”

  “Stay low? Because of the panther?”

  “I told you, it ain’t a panther.”

  They hurried down the trail in silence. Jessabelle regularly glanced behind them and up at the treetops. Halfway to the road, Jack asked, “So if it ain’t a panther, are you going to tell me what it is?”

  Jessabelle didn’t answer. Jack took that for a “no,” until she spoke up nearly a minute later. “I reckon that depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “Did you really see a giant in the woods when you were a kid?”

  Jack nodded, but realized that she probably couldn’t see him in the darkness. “I thought so. I was twelve, and everything seemed bigger back then, but yeah. I got a pretty good look. Caught a lot of trouble for saying so.”

  “Why didn’t you just lie and tell people you made it up?”

  “Because then I’d be what they all say I am.”

  She hesitated, and then said, “If I saw a giant, I wouldn’t tell nobody about it.”

  Jack didn’t push her further. Five minutes later, they reached the “road.” It was really more of a clearing along a gentle hill slope where tire ruts followed an ancient gravel path, visible from a distance by fewer weeds. Smaller trees grew along the road, where their ancestors had been chopped down for fences and sheds.

  Jessabelle once again searched the sky, swiveling her head around nervously. She seemed to grow more anxious as Jack grew more relaxed. Those glowing eyes in the darkness might not have been those of a panther, but Jack knew they belonged to a wild creature. It was less likely to follow them out here.

  Jessabelle’s intensity disturbed him. Jack tried to lighten the mood. “Giants aren’t that tall, Jessabelle. They won’t swoop down from the sky.”

  “Other things might.”

  He didn’t have an answer to that. Jack felt stupid, but he kept his head low as they made their way down the road. Where the road leveled out in a tight bend near the Castos’ barn, they heard someone else on the road approaching them. The moon hadn’t yet risen over the hills, so it was too dark to see clearly, but Jack thought he could make out a shadowy blob against the dark ground ahead.

  Jessabelle stopped, lowering herself almost onto her hands and knees. Jack looked back at her. “What are you doing?”

  “Shh! Keep your voice down!” she said. She wasn’t looking at the figure in front of them.

  “Jack, is that you?” Sam’s voice called from down the road. A light flashed on, wrecking Jack’s night vision.

  “Yeah,” Jack said, not as loudly. He kept his voice flat. Sam all by himself was unlikely to be any trouble, but not even an hour ago he’d helped tie Jack to a tree while knowing there might be a deadly predator nearby.

  “Hey, I was just coming to get you.” Sam came closer, shining his flashlight first at Jack, and then at Jessabelle, still crouched beside Jack. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t want to tie you up. Mason and Alan made me. I was coming back to let you go. They just didn’t want you following us.”

  Jack nodded, shielding his eyes from the glare. “I ain’t going to say thank you.”

  Sam lowered the light toward the ground. “I know. I’m sorry, man. But you know I was fixing to let you loose. Just remember I came back for you.”

  Jack was about to grudgingly say something else when he felt a powerful rush of air. He instinctively ducked.

  Sam’s flashlight flew up, spinning. The arcing beam of light briefly illuminated Sam, fifteen feet in the air, his face frozen in a look of utter confusion that hadn’t yet given way to terror. By the time he cried out, his voice came from at least fifty feet away and far above them.

  “Run!” Jessabelle screamed.

  “Where’d he go?” Jack yelled back. “We’ve got to save him!”

  “We can’t. We’re dead too if we don’t run!”

  She raced toward the Casto’s barn, and Jack followed behind. The door was latched, not locked, and they barreled in and shut it behind them. The building was almost pitch-black and silent, but for their ragged breathing. Jack heard Jessabelle move deeper into the barn, and he followed until he stumbled into a wooden post. He wanted to call out to her, but he didn’t dare make noise.

  They waited. Terror and guilt tore at Jack, yet his mind refused to accept what he’d just witnessed. He’d nearly brought his heavy breathing under control when something heavy hit the roof. The support posts shuddered and the beams creaked under the strain. A rain of invisible dust fell all around him. The creature shifted and scratched at the shallow-pitched roof with a slow, raking action. The weight shifted again, and more dust rained down on Jack. With the sound of giant wings beating a slow rhythm, the creature took to the sky, and all was silent.

  More minutes passed. Jack was almost too terrified to breathe, but couldn’t help but draw quick, ragged breaths.

  The barn door opened, and the figure in the entrance shone a light on Jack. Jack squinted in the glare. An older man’s voice asked, “Is this your flashlight? I found it on the middle of the road. That’s how I guessed you broke into my barn.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jack said. “It’s Sam Colton’s. Something happened to him. We hid in the barn.”

  “Sam’s in here with you?” The man waved the flashlight around the barn.

  “No, Jessabelle Rose.”

  The old man, wearing a bathrobe over his pajamas, scanned the barn. Jack recognized him as John Casto. At sixty, he still worked the farm with his own hands and cut an imposing figure even in his bathrobe. After a few quick searches, Casto said, “I don’t see her. Now you tell me what you were real
ly doing in my barn?”

  Jack turned to look for Jessabelle as well. Half-empty, the barn provided few places to hide. There was no sign of her, or whatever had been on the roof. Nothing made sense.

  He turned back to Mr. Casto. “I can tell you, sir, but you ain’t gonna believe any of it.”

  Someone pounded on the front door and called Hattie’s name. Jenny awoke confused, taking a few seconds to remember where she was. According to the bright red LED numbers on the old alarm clock, it wasn’t yet midnight. Jennie hadn’t been asleep long.

  The aluminum frame of the house rocked as Hattie stumbled to the front door with only a bathrobe over her nightgown. Jenny threw her own bathrobe over her pajamas and followed, standing between the kitchen and living room as Hattie opened the door.

  The girl on the steps looked to be about Jenny’s age, maybe a little younger, with close-cut black hair, wearing shapeless sweats and a too-large t-shirt. Her hazel eyes reflected the light from the living room strangely, but it may have been the welling tears. “The snallygaster got Sam!” the girl cried.

  “Hold on a sec, there, Jessabelle. What happened?”

  “Ain’t no time!” The girl looked sideways at Jenny, and then at Hattie. “We gotta go now!”

  “I need to grab my shoes and my keys.”

  For a moment, Jenny hesitated. Would she be invited to come along? Were they going to be in danger? Who was this girl?

  Stay with the crowds so you don’t get noticed, her mom had told her. Jenny doubted this was the kind of situation her mother meant, but it justified her curiosity. She grabbed her own sneakers and stepped past the girl outside, slipping her sneakers on as she drew close to Hattie’s truck.

  Hattie rushed out behind her, the girl keeping pace. Hattie glanced at Jenny, and seemed about to say something, but then shook her head. “Get in,” she told the girls.

  They piled into the cab. “Where are we going?” Hattie asked as she started the engine.

  “The Castos,” the girl answered.

  Hattie flicked on the headlights and tore off along the dirt road. “Jenny, this is your cousin, Jessabelle Rose. Jessabelle, Jenny. Now what’s going on? Where’d the snallygaster come from?”