A Strange There After Read online

  Boone had ventured outside, ignoring my arguments, determined to experience something and claiming his internal clock had a different schedule than most people’s because of his hobby. His hope? Find a way to lure the dark entities out of their hiding places. He was confident he’d find a connection between them and unearth how Catherine got her power. Of my three friends, somehow, I had the most faith in him. Totally unexpected.

  Lastly, I ducked through the door into the master bedroom. Pausing near the end of the bed, I envied Catherine as she slept.

  It did feel a little wrong to be standing there, staring at her, but I couldn’t force myself to leave. My gaze bored into her, ignoring the temptation to try and reclaim what was mine. The black hole of anger woke up, a yawning chasm coming to life inside me. I pictured her with scratches down her cheeks, with her mouth sewn shut and every finger broken. The rise and fall of her chest taunted me, each motion representing one more piece of me she’d stolen.

  Startled by the ghastly thoughts, I snapped out of it and retreated, only to notice a presence in my mind.

  “What do you want?” I asked in a low whisper, trying to keep my fright hidden. I would not let this man see how deeply I was afraid of him.

  “Only to give you what you so desperately desire.”

  The voice chilled me, crawling over me like a thousand ants, despite its friendly tone. Logic screamed at me to run. I didn’t. If Catherine wasn’t going to give us answers, maybe I’d find them elsewhere. He’d reached out to me more than once. It was time to discover why.

  “You offered her the same deal, didn’t you?” I whispered.

  Nothing appeared in the room, but I still felt it. Making a complete circle, I searched for a figure, but only found normal shadows.

  “Consider it a mutual agreement, a contract. Nothing comes without a price. Catherine understands it. Soon you will, too. I am not your enemy.”

  I startled. The voice came from right beside me, so close his breath brushed my skin.

  “I’m not her,” I argued, although not with as much fervor as I hoped. “You can’t manipulate me.”

  “No one can exist without darkness inside them. Where there is light, there must also be the absence of it.”

  I hated riddles. “Why are you here?”

  “In a dying slave’s last moments, she cast a curse to summon a loa. I answered the call. And because of it, I am trapped, but I have found ways to entertain myself.”

  “A loa? What is that?”

  “A very powerful spirit dedicated to serving our god. I had no choice once she cast her curse.”

  “And is terrorizing my family part of the curse?”

  A laugh filled the air around me, coming from all sides.

  “For her, yes. For me? A chance to spread my wings in a new place and experiment.”

  “Care to elaborate?” He didn’t, but this time I heard footsteps to my left. “Come on, give me something.”

  “I can give you your life back. You know it’s true. I did it for Catherine. That should be all the proof you need.”

  “She did it by hurting people.”

  “My dear, sweet Quinn. Would you not do anything to succeed? If all that stood between you and being back in your body was to dispose of someone, are you telling me you’d choose to remain in this life?”

  Denials were hot on my tongue, but I hesitated. The longer I stayed like this, the more desperate I became. The entity chuckled, and a piece of my hair moved, as if he touched it gently.

  “It gives you something to think about, does it not?”

  There was a whoosh, and I caught movement from the corner of my eye. In the mirror hanging above Catherine’s dresser, a fleeting image of a dark-skinned man in a top hat flickered then vanished.

  The urge to growl in frustration was hard to ignore. I knew I needed to ask more direct questions. The problem was I didn’t want to give the impression of being desperate. He fed off those feelings.

  Tossing caution aside, I asked, “What would you ask in return for giving me my life back? I mean, it doesn’t seem as if you’re letting Catherine walk away so easily.”

  “A life for a life.”

  The simple power of his answer shocked me. I waited for an expansion that never came. As the meaning sank in, my horror grew. If it meant what I assumed it did, Catherine had blood on her hands. It shouldn’t surprise me, considering her part in my mama’s death.

  “Your mother should not have died. Catherine does not know to go after weak prey. Her actions over the years have displeased me many times. She is too rash, too disobedient, selfish.”

  “Are you saying I am weak?”

  I jumped as an icy fingertip trailed down my arm.

  “Of course not, love. The unfortunate woman named Marietta was weak. The night you attacked us, you opened yourself up. That mistake made you weak. Catherine took advantage of it.”

  “Was her plan always to force me out?” I remembered when she haunted my stepmother Catherine would tell me she coveted my life. I always assumed it meant she wanted me dead. Found out the hard way, didn’t I?

  “No, your actions pushed her in another direction. In the beginning, Marietta had the social standing and money Catherine desired. You took that from her, so she went for the next best thing. In her mind, you were even better because you are near the age she was upon her death. Even with all the terrible atrocities she has done, she clings to her humanity. It is her worst obstacle.”

  He breathed in my ear again, and I stepped away. I recognized the truth in what the presence said. I served myself up, a tempting sacrificial lamb, ripe for the taking. It made me mad, but as that set in, I also realized he intended to test my boundaries. Over the last couple days, I’d come to understand he only managed to weasel his way inside my head when I was overcome with emotion. He used it, forced me to look at the ugly truths in the face.

  “Do you have a name?” Silence. “Then give me the woman’s name. Show me you’re actually willing to cooperate.”

  Taunting him frightened me, using his thirst for me against him. I imagined he had a schedule, that he enjoyed drawing this out, making me guess who or what he was. But I banked on him being cocky enough to flaunt his knowledge.

  “Cora.”

  The way he said the name carried a sinister quality and I shuddered in response. “Okay, thank you for giving me that, at least. Anything else? Did she live here?”

  “Yes, as a slave, as chattel. You know her son. You’ve befriended him over the years.”

  My mind reeled as I struggled to grasp who he meant. Then, it hit me. “George?”

  “Isaiah is his name.”

  This time, the voice came from behind me, and I spun around. I couldn’t stop my question. “What would you ask of me?”

  “All in good time, love. I will offer my assistance three times and three times only. You’ve already denied me once. So I shall ask you again. Will you let me help you? Let me return you to your lover’s arms.”

  I wanted to refuse him, to tell him to screw off, but there was a moment where I considered it. Could I live with myself if I hurt another human being?

  “I, I can’t. No.”

  “So be it. Just remember, time is running out. You have one more chance. One last shot at happily ever after.”

  I nodded absently as a rustling sound caught my attention. Catherine was waking up. Her bleary eyes landed on me and widened.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Let me show you what we can accomplish together. This time the voice flashed through my mind.

  Somehow, without summoning it, anger flared inside, hot and hungry. There wasn’t time to react because almost immediately Catherine clutched her head in her hands and started screaming at the top of her lungs. Her cries were filled with pain, and a small part of me enjoyed it. Shaking my head and backing away, I shoved the satisfaction aside.

  “Stop it!” I called out. “I didn’t ask for this!”

  Soon,
when she has taken everything, you will. And I’ll be here waiting, love.

  Again, I saw his reflection in the mirror. This time, noticing a gold-toothed smile, but he disappeared too quick for me to get any other details. The door beside me slammed open to reveal Jason and a sleepy looking Abby. Instantly, the screaming stopped. My entire body trembled, and I caught the indecision in Jason’s expression. He stared at Catherine, as if torn between wanting to make sure she was okay and letting her suffer alone.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  Catherine raked her mussed hair from her red face, locking her agonized gaze on me.

  “Quinn. She let him hurt me.” Her voice wavered, and she shuddered, directing the next part at me. “Do you think he is a tame little spirit you can simply have a chat with whenever the mood strikes? You’re such a stupid girl.”

  Her remark brought me forward, out into the center of the room. “Well, you’re not giving us the information we need, so why not try a different angle? Don’t blame me for this.”

  “I’ve told you over and over, there are things I cannot and will not talk about, not to you. You should respect that.”

  “Respect?” Jason interrupted. “How can you utter the word without bursting into flames? You stole from Quinn, you hypocrite. How can you ask for a courtesy you’re not willing to give?”

  Catherine didn’t answer. She threw the blankets aside and, weaving a bit, stomped into the adjoining master bath, slamming the door in her wake.

  “She makes Quinn’s stepsisters look like friggin’ angels,” Abby muttered.

  Jason nodded halfheartedly, scanning the room and passing right over me. “This is so far beyond the realm of possibility. I...I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

  Without another word, he fled. Abby watched after him, a frown on her lips.

  “Don’t worry about Jason, Quinn. It’s a lot to adjust to. He’ll come around.”

  I was beginning to wonder if it were true. The further I got into this mess, the further I felt from the girl who’d started falling for him in the first place.

  Chapter Twenty

  When Boone didn’t return from outside, I went to look for him, to make sure he was okay. I worried over the woman getting to him. Cora. At least some of the pieces were coming together. I knew who the dark woman was. George’s mama—no—Isaiah’s mama. I’d never get used to calling him by his real name. And I didn’t sense him anywhere in the house. Too bad. I didn’t have the whole story, and he would have been the best bet at finding it out.

  The fresh air felt good. There was just a bit of a chill this morning. Thick heavy clouds filled the sky. I sucked in a deep breath, wishing I could smell the promise of rain. After what just happened, I needed to clear my head. Frightening temptations and screams continued to linger.

  Out in the backyard, Boone was stalking around the oak that’d come alive a couple days ago with some kind of equipment. As I got closer, I recognized an electromagnetic field, or EMF, detector.

  “Anything interesting?”

  He glanced at me and smiled. “Some residual EMF near this tree. I have to tell ya, Quinn. I don’t get spooked often, but this damn thing freaks me out.”

  I laughed softly. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at the yard the same way.”

  “It’s a fascinating place.” His voice grew animated as he motioned me over to the carriage house. “This building is humming with electromagnetic energy. There’s no power in here, right?”

  Holding the device up, I watched the needle jump clear over to the right, indicating the highest levels.

  “No, no electricity. I planned to make it my photography studio.”

  “Yeah? Photography?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “It’s how I stay sane. The world looks different through a camera lens.”

  “It scares me how alike we are.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, have you been inside?”

  “Not in years.” I thought about it. “To be honest, as many plans as I have for it, it always slips my mind until I see it the next time. I wonder if it has something to do with the terrible twosome and their curse?”

  “Wait, what? What curse?”

  I filled him in on what I learned upstairs. “So, Cora, in her dying moments, cast a curse on my family. Whatever that means. He vows to tell me more soon. I’m not holding my breath. His cooperation disturbs me.”

  “Well, yeah, don’t trust the bad guy. Horror movie 101.” He inclined his head toward the brick wall of the old building. “How do we get in?”

  “Taking a cue from your horror movie tips, never go into an abandoned building alone.”

  “I’m not alone.” He grinned. “I have you. And I bet you’re just as interested in what’s in this building as I am.”

  Encouraged by his curiosity, I led him to the front, where the large double doors would swing open. A heavy padlock held them shut. The building contained nothing of value, but staring at it now, I contemplated how true that was. Overcome with the sensation something bad would happen if I opened those doors, I lifted my hand, as if to grasp the rusting lock, but did not move it closer.

  “You feel it, too?”

  I shot Boone a surprised look. “It’s like there’s a...a force field around it.”

  “Force field? Nice, you’re a dork.” He studied me appreciatively then, turned back to the doors. “An apt description, though. Which tells me this place is important.”

  He sighed then yanked the left side of the door open, but the hinges held it in place.

  “I suppose you don’t know where the key is?”

  “Nope.” I smirked at him. “I don’t need one.”

  I made to walk through the door, but he stopped me. I felt the static charge of his hand passing through my shoulder. When I turned, I saw he was studying me with concern.

  “Don’t. You shouldn’t go in there alone.”

  “Why not?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure. Just trust me. Something is off about this place. Besides, I have another spot to show you.”

  Boone had a point. The energy throbbing off the building felt dirty. There wasn’t really a better way to describe it. Curiosity played with me, a beckoning smile and a crooked finger motioning me forward. I buried it and shivered. Boone was right. I didn’t want to go in there alone.

  “Okay. What’s next?”

  Relief flooded his features and reaffirmed my decision. I’d come to trust Boone so if something gave him the willies I wanted no part of it. He pivoted and led me deeper into the yard, into the farthest corner. The bushes and trees grew more wild back here, camouflaging the rotting foundation of the old slave’s quarters. Soon we couldn’t even see the house. Crazily enough, this location made me much more uncomfortable than the carriage house.

  “This is where Cora comes from...when I see her.”

  Boone glanced over his shoulder in surprise. “I guess that explains what I found.”

  He knelt in the tall grass, waving his EMF detector over the ground in front of him. It squealed as the needle shot over to the highest reading. Crouching beside him, reached out, using my hand as my instrument.

  “It’s colder here.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that earlier. Check this out.”

  He brushed aside some dead leaves and dirt to reveal a small stone.

  “Is that what I think it is?” I gasped.

  “Because you’re brilliant, like me, I know you’re already thinking gravestone.”

  I leaned forward, examining the marker closer, brushing more debris away. A strong, negative energy emitted from the stone, coating my hand with an icy film. The edges were rounded, as if carved, the entire thing barely bigger than a dinner plate. There were words, or symbols, but time had worn them almost completely away. The longer we lingered here, the more my dread increased.

  “It belongs to Cora,” I declared.

  “How can you know for sure? I mean, it was my guess too, but it’s impossible to read
the inscription.”

  I sat back on my haunches, trying to wipe the coldness from my palms. “Both times I’ve seen her out here she comes from this area. The slaves lived here. Either way, I just know.”

  “You should not be out here. Are you two asking for trouble?”

  Boone and I spun only to find Jackson staring at us as if we were the dumbest people he’d ever met.

  Standing, Boone asked, “Who’s buried here?”

  Jackson hesitated, so I rose as well, adding my own inquiry. “Tell us what happened. Stop pretending you don’t know.”

  “No matter how hard I try to stay out of the matters of your family, it doesn’t seem to be in my destiny.” He sighed deeply. “Can we at least move away from here?”

  I nodded, and we followed him closer to the house. A light rain began to fall and Boone huddled as close as he could to the building. Neither Jackson nor I really felt it. I shifted impatiently from foot to foot until Jackson started speaking.

  “This was already an old story by the time I became friends with Nathaniel and courted Catherine. Amos Roberts, their grandfather, used the carriage house to have his way with his slaves. I never heard for certain, but apparently he was quite violent with them, and everyone just turned their heads. One night, according to rumor, things went a little too far, and a woman fought back.”

  “Cora,” I whispered.

  “Yes, the boy’s mother. It was well known she was a priestess of what you now call voodoo. No one knows for certain what really happened, but she and her son died. Other slaves told tales of hearing terrible noises coming from the old stables that night, dark angry voices, too deep to be human. Amos, he was never the same. He lost his mind, always murmuring about shadows and curses. The few times I saw him, he was withered, broken, mad. He found comfort at the plantation, away from this house. Nobody believed it, refused to consider the religions of the slaves were that powerful.”

  “A curse or spell done at the moment of death is the strongest magic there is,” Boone said. “That’s why sacrifices are so crucial in so many cultures. It reaches through the veil, or whatever you’d call it, and brings darkness from the other side.”