Southern Curses (Max Porter Mysteries Book 6) Page 18

  From her pocket, Cecily pulled out a small container and handed it over. Tucker nodded to Dr. Connor before facing Max.

  “Now, it’s over. You and your wife have put up a noble fight. You thwarted a few of the family heads, and you caused a lot of disruption. But you’ve reached your end.”

  Max searched for something or someone to help him. But Drummond and Sandra were both injured. Mother Hope looked shaken and unsteady. Leon and the other guns were useless.

  Dr. Connor snuggled next to Tucker, kissing his cheek and purring. “Don’t worry, Max. I’m going to make sure you live a long, painful life. What I’ve got in mind will make the curse of Marshall Drummond look like a party trick.”

  Max felt the weight of the canister in his coat. His shaking fingers lingered over his pocket, but he held back. If he tried to pull out the canister and release it, they would attack him long before he could get the top off. He needed to find an opening.

  “No matter what she does to you,” Tucker went on, “I can guarantee this much — you will live to see all that you care about razed to the ground. You will watch the Hull family grow stronger and more powerful. Maybe Cecily will become a Senator, and we’ll take over the entire state. After that, the country will be easy enough.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Why not throw in world domination while you’re at it?”

  “In time. Perhaps. But there’s no need to be greedy.”

  A painful bubbling erupted in Max’s stomach. In the past, when things looked down, he always found a way out. His researcher’s mind always managed to uncover an answer. But this time, everywhere he looked he saw failure. The people had all been beaten. The dead could not help. The spells were poised against him.

  If only he hadn’t smashed Dr. Connor’s skull. Perhaps things would have still gone bad, but at least he wouldn’t have given Tucker what the man needed. Max had hoped lifting Dr. Connor’s curse would have endeared her to him — or at least enticed her to help him against a common enemy — but he should have counted on her loyalty to the Hulls. It was a foolish error, and now it would cost him his life and the life of his love. All because he broke an ancient curse.

  Wait. Max’s synapses fired off like the finale of a July Fourth fireworks celebration.

  Dr. Connor cocked her head to the side. “Max? Are you in there? I fear we may have scared him to the point of insanity.”

  With a loud snort, Max burst into laughter. He stumbled back, and as his laughter continued, he discovered the will to move returning to his limbs.

  Scowling, Dr. Connor said, “Stop that. What’s so funny?”

  “You. Don’t you even want to know who cursed you?”

  “I already know. You did.”

  Dabbing at his eyes while giggling more, Max managed to say, “Not likely. I don’t know any serious spells of that caliber. And my wife has only learned the basics. Saving me was luck and some raw talent, but neither of us even knew about an iron gag curse.”

  “Then who did this to me?” Her skin pulsed dark red.

  “Who do you think? Tucker Hull, of course.”

  Chapter 25

  Max watched Dr. Connor’s face tighten as she narrowed her eyes upon Tucker. A truck rumbled along the road. A dog barked in the distance. The witch shook her head.

  “I don’t believe it,” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter what you believe,” Max said. “It’s the truth. Tucker Hull cursed you with that iron gag.”

  Tucker snickered. “Thank you, Max. Your desperateness only lets my dear witch and I know how close we are to beating you.”

  “Dr. Connor, look at me. Do I seem desperate to you?” Max waited for her to face him, a glimmer of uncertainty crossing her features. “Think about this and tell me which makes more sense — a man who until a few years ago didn’t even know ghosts existed, somehow learned an ancient spell, harnessed the power to cast it, and in doing so, took down the most powerful witch in all of the South, or that Tucker Hull did this to you? After you died, who had access to your corpse? It had to be somebody who knows where you’re buried. That’s not me. How did Cecily Hull get ahold of your skull, if not stealing it from Tucker? And who among us here has the true know-how to pull off this kind of curse?”

  Dr. Connor’s skin pulsed as her lips rose in an ugly snarl. “You are a deceiver. You want to turn me against Tucker. But I know all the wrong you’ve done to me, to us. I’ll see you suffer for it.”

  She charged forward, her hands out like claws, her eyes open wide like her mouth. Max dove to the ground, feeling the cold of the dead rush over him. He rolled to his back.

  As she whirled around for another run, he yelled, “Check the gag. Look at the inside.”

  “You do not make demands.”

  “I saw the inside of the gag when I freed you. I saw the inscription. The glyphs that made up the curse, including a distinctive capital H — like the one for the Hull Corporation.”

  She scrunched her brow and looked over at Tucker. He put his hands in his pockets. “You’re going to start believing him? Please. You know better. What kind of curse would require me to put my initials in it?”

  Dr. Connor squinted at Max. He scooted away from her and said, “No curse — probably. But I have no doubt that the gag itself was the property of the Hulls. Which makes it highly unlikely that anybody else had access to it that could make use of it.”

  In a swift motion, Dr. Connor crossed to the iron gag. Max caught sight of Drummond’s stunned face. He wanted to signal the ghost, tell him to be ready to move, but his partner was too shocked by the loss of Leed and the bizarre situation to notice.

  “Stop,” Tucker said, and Dr. Connor halted less than a foot from the gag.

  She hissed. “You don’t want me to look in there? Something to hide?”

  “I only want you to understand the consequences of such an action. I have taught you and your family many things about magic, made you more powerful than most, but I have not shared everything. You are in a delicate state right now. Surely, you can feel the energy heating inside of you. If you are not careful, you may hurt yourself more than you realize.”

  “I only want to know who is responsible for what happened to me.”

  “You know that answer already. Max Porter.”

  Like a rabid animal, she shot towards Max.

  Max pointed at the gag. “Look for yourself! I’m not afraid of you checking it because it’s not my magic that marks it.”

  She turned back toward the gag. Her skin glowing hotter each time. Max feared that whatever sanity she had left was boiling away.

  Tucker snapped his fingers at her. “I forbid you to look in that gag.”

  This stopped her. She hovered above the cursed iron but her eyes no longer sought it. Her shoulders slumped as she said through gritted teeth, “You forbid me?”

  “You are not ready to know what is written inside there.”

  Max thought he heard her sniffle as she said, “Even after my death, you still find ways to betray me.”

  “And you still find ways to fail me.”

  “My family served you —”

  “You Connor women.” With a disdainful sneer, he spit over his shoulder. “I only ever put up with the lot of you because you handle magic better than most. But I would’ve been better off training a dog. At least that kind of bitch knows how to be loyal.”

  Dr. Connor roared as she appeared to take some of the firelight away. The air around her darkened. She was a ghost pushed too far. She was losing control, falling into the madness that created evil spirits and poltergeists.

  Max felt a tug at his arm. Sandra urged him to move back.

  “Out of the circle,” she whispered. “She’s turning — like what almost happened to Drummond once. Remember?”

  “Not the kind of thing I’m likely to forget.”

  A horrid squeal erupted from the depths of Dr. Connor, and flames burst from her ghostly skin. Leaving a smoking trail behind her, she barreled
her way toward Tucker. He stood his ground. When she reached him, he grabbed hold of her burning hair and swung her down. She smashed right through him and back into the air, leaving him gasping on the charred ground.

  The Pale Man, his hands shaking wildly, shot his gun at her. Dr. Connor swooped over to him and punched a burning fist into his chest. Like a witch at the stake, the Pale Man burst into flames. With his head ablaze, he dashed into the woods.

  The smell of sulfur filled the air. Black and white smoke billowed off of Dr. Connor, creating a thick fog. Max and Sandra covered their noses with their shirts while trying to keep low to the ground and out of sight.

  Tucker’s enraged grimace twisted as he spoke. “You think you can come after me?”

  Dr. Connor took another run at him, but he plucked her out of the air and held her by the throat. Shock and rage fought upon her face. Her legs kicked out and her fingers dug into his arm, but her struggles only urged him to tighten his grip.

  “I have studied magic for centuries. I am the most powerful, the most authoritative, and the most vicious practitioner you’ll ever come across, and you think you have a chance against me? I live in two worlds — the living and the dead — and believe me, I know how to hurt people in both.”

  Fire spewed out of Dr. Connor like eruptions from the sun. They speared forward and burrowed into Tucker. He yelled but did not let go.

  Sandra pointed Max’s attention off to the side. Through breaks in the blowing smoke, Max saw that Mother Hope had entered the Tramping Ground. She had a large stick in her hand. With it, she drew a circle around herself, pushing the lines deep enough into the earth so that it would not be easily broken. Within the circle, she drew a triangle and knelt in the center.

  He could see the determination in her eyes even as she fumbled the stick and had to push her face close to the ground to find it again. She stayed there, bent over the charred earth, as she inscribed the triangle with whatever spell she planned.

  A thick volume of fire poured out of Dr. Connor and crossed the sky, dropping onto Mr. Pescatore. He never made a sound. One moment he lay where Drummond had dropped him, and the next moment, only a burning puddle remained.

  Leon rushed out, hobbling on his injured leg. He tried to pull Mother Hope back, but she smacked him with her stick. “I have to do this. We’ll all die if she’s not stopped.” Mother Hope sat back on her knees, closed her eyes, and mumbled words in a soft voice.

  Drummond zipped behind her and settled next to Max. “This is out of control. You guys better go. I’ll let you know what happened.”

  Max liked the idea, but Sandra shook her head. “It’s too late. If we run now, one of these people will take over everything. We’ll have to keep running. Forever. Someone is going to get all the power tonight, and if we’re ever going to have a life here or anywhere, then we’ve got to be involved with how this all plays out.”

  Dr. Connor’s screech lit up the air as she arched back and fire volcanoed from her mouth. Her eyes burst as her body seized. Tucker howled like a warrior calling upon all his reserve strength. With his bare hands, he shredded Dr. Connor’s ghost body apart as though tearing paper. A bright flash exploded from within her. Max shielded his eyes until the last of her haunting screams dissipated into the night along with all trace of her existence.

  Darkness settled in amongst the smoldering wood. Watching Tucker stride toward Mother Hope, Drummond said, “I don’t think this is playing out all that well for us.”

  Chapter 26

  Like a hulking beast, Tucker moved in. Max half-expected the Hull patriarch to pound his chest and roar. No need to intimidate, though. Mother Hope’s chin vibrated faster than the words pouring out of her mouth. She clenched her hands against her stomach, kept her focus on the words she inscribed on the ground, and kept repeating them. Faster, faster.

  Tucker planted his feet on the edge of her circle. “You have lost. Bow before me and pray for my mercy.”

  Sandra watched with her mouth agape. “We can’t let him win this. We can’t.”

  Drummond said, “Doll, I agree. What do you want to do?”

  She shook her head, her eyes glued to the battle before her.

  “Bow and I shall let you live.” Tucker raised a fist, ready to strike.

  Mother Hope, her mouth still rambling out words, gazed up at him. She shoved her fist into the air, and a pale light shimmered between her fingers. “Leave, Unclean Spirit! Return to the dead! You don’t belong here. You never have. You never will.”

  Tucker covered his eyes and stumbled back. Max’s heart leaped. He wanted to rush out there and cheer on Mother Hope, forgive her for all she had done to him, anything as long as she finished Tucker Hull forever.

  But then Tucker stopped. He looked at his arm. He was not injured. Stomping back towards her, he finally let loose his roar.

  Mother Hope flinched as Tucker grabbed her frock and threw her aside. She tumbled into Leon, knocking them both down. Stepping around her circle, Tucker thundered upon them.

  Leon held Mother Hope against his chest. Blood dribbled from her head as her limbs shivered in his arms. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

  Even from across the Tramping Ground, Max could see Leon’s body returning to its rightful age. With glistening, wrinkled eyes, Leon looked up at Tucker. “Please. Let us go. Let me get her to a hospital. You’ve won. She’s nothing against you now. Just an old lady.”

  Max reached into his pocket and pulled out the canister. His stomach twisted. Facing Sandra, he kissed her hard. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but you’re right — there’s nobody left to do anything but us.”

  Her face paled. “No, Max. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Come on. It’s me.” He winked at her, though he felt no mirth, and dashed for Mother Hope’s circle.

  As he ran, he unscrewed the top of the container. He threw the lid aside and felt liquid slosh out onto his hand. Just a few more feet. He had no clue what to do after that, but getting to the circle was the important first step.

  Leon looked straight at Max and no amount of waving turned him away. Tucker whirled around and made an overhand motion as if throwing a ball. Though Max saw nothing, he felt it. Something hard like a lead weight slammed into his shin and his feet no longer were underneath him.

  As he hit the ground, all he could think was Don’t drop the canister! He succeeded in that much. But with the lid gone, the liquid shot out and along with it, the eyeball that once belonged to the witch, Marlyn Chester.

  The eyeball floated through the air and settled on the edge of Mother Hope’s circle. Max and Tucker locked their gazes. Both launched for the eye, but the invisible weight that had knocked Max down now wrapped around his ankle. He could barely move. Tucker, however, moved like a ravenous animal. Eyes wide and alert. Drool streaming from his mouth.

  With a swift motion, he snatched the eyeball and stabbed it into the air like a champion holding a trophy. Laughing, he strolled around the circle. “I was going to take out Mother Hope’s eyes, but thanks to Max Porter, I’ve got the power I need. And if ever I need more, Mother Hope will still be a useful donor. Thank you, Max, thank you.”

  He shot his arm into the sky again and smiled. He never saw Drummond. The ghost bowled into Tucker, leading with his right shoulder. Tucker gasped as the eye slipped from his grip. Before he struck the ground, Drummond crawled up and threw his own barrage of punches.

  “You hit me hard before,” the ghost said. “Allow me to return the favor.”

  Max pulled on his leg, trying to inch toward the eyeball; however, Sandra darted by him. She scooped up the eye and jumped into Mother Hope’s circle.

  “No,” Max said. “You don’t know what that’ll do to you.”

  “You didn’t know either. At least, I’ve had a little experience here.” She knelt in the center of the triangle and before Max could protest more, she said, “Shut up. I’ve got to read what Mother Hope wrote in the dirt.”

  Drum
mond plunged his elbow into Tucker’s chest. Tucker looked dazed, and Max felt the weight on his ankle release. He hopped to his feet and stormed toward Sandra.

  “She’s doing fine,” Drummond yelled. Tucker had wrestled his way behind Drummond and locked his arms around the ghost’s throat. “I could use a hand, though.”

  Max looked at Drummond and then Sandra. His wife pointed toward the center rocks. “Get the gag!”

  Bounding to the center, Max grabbed the iron gag. Drummond flipped Tucker over and the two rolled in the dirt, throwing punches as they moved.

  “Now what?” Max said, running back to Sandra.

  Ignoring him, she muttered the words Mother Hope had written over and over. The eye sat cupped in her hands as she rocked back and forth. Max heard a painful crunch. He looked over to see Tucker standing while Drummond curled on the ground.

  The head of the Hulls, the father of the entire line, the magic-wielding patriarch bared his teeth at Max. “I had thought to let you live. But no more.”

  He charged like a bull. Max wanted to jump out of the way, but Sandra sat behind him. He heard her reciting the spell. The smell of burnt wood, usually a comforting aroma, turned his stomach. He lowered his body and charged forward.

  The next seconds were a blur, and it was only weeks later that Max fully understood what had happened. He remembered running with his head down, cringing at the expectation of smashing into Tucker Hull and possibly dying. Then the air lit up blindingly bright. Tucker skidded to a halt and stared beyond Max. Max stumbled and looked back.

  Sandra shone like a sun.

  In the sudden confusion, Drummond snapped up and clamped Tucker’s arms behind him. Drummond kicked out the man’s legs and wrenched his arms higher against his back. Tucker yelled, but Drummond yelled louder.

  Like a reverent follower, Max knelt before his wife. He held out the iron gag. With an icy glare, she set the eye into the gag and covered it with her hand. The bright light surrounding her dissolved into her hand and then into the eye. A moment passed, and the gag glowed red before returning to its rusty form.