Southern Curses (Max Porter Mysteries Book 6) Page 7

  From down the hall, Max heard a commotion break out. Jammer J let out a loud whoop as two security guards and a few nurses yelled at him. Thundering boots stomped by the door as either PB or J sprinted by, security in close pursuit.

  Drummond returned. “Those boys love it when we tell them to cause a distraction.”

  “What about Dr. Fremont?”

  “Jammer J snatched files right from her hands. She’s chasing him harder than security. And she’s in high heels, too.”

  With a nod, Sandra turned away and tapped a few times on her cell phone. “Maria? We’re ready.”

  Minutes later, Maria Cortez-Kane entered the room. She wore robes in various blues and greens like a flowing river, and a headband that matched both in color and flow. She looked like a musical version of a gypsy. Max had only seen her once before at the party she hosted — the same one that ended with him in a coma.

  “Her?” Max said, unable to stop himself.

  “She’s a real witch,” Sandra said. “And she’s been showing me all about that world. Unless you know of another witch that we can call upon, Maria’s our best shot.”

  Maria waved a hand over Max’s body. “I take it the ghost is a bit unsure of me.”

  “Don’t worry about him. He likes to complain. Especially when things are out of his hands.”

  “Men. Even when they’re ghosts, they act the same.”

  Max smacked his forehead. “I’m right here.”

  “Ladies,” Drummond said, “you don’t have a whole lot of time.”

  Sandra picked up the salt container. “The other ghost wanted to remind us that we are short on time.”

  “We’ll be fine. Let me look over the spell once more.”

  Sandra handed over Dr. Connor’s paper and poured a line of salt across the entranceway. Maria checked over the list, counted candles, inspected Sandra’s work on the flattened box, and nodded. She picked up a piece of white chalk and drew a large isosceles triangle that connected the three candles with the two blues at the base and the black candle at the apex.

  “Shouldn’t that be a circle?” Max said.

  Sandra’s eyes bulged and her teeth ground tight. Raising his hands, he said, “Okay, I’ll shut up. I’ve just never seen a spell done with a triangle before.”

  Drummond said, “That’s because this isn’t a typical spell. Those gals are dealing with a darker level of magic. Circles are used to represent unity and the oneness of the universe and the connection of everything, but triangles are sharp, direct spells. It’s the sturdiest geometric shape there is, so it is used to lend power and stability to a difficult spell.”

  “Look at you. When did you learn so much?”

  “Did you already forget our case with the witch coven?”

  “Right,” Max said, not wanting to dwell on the time Sandra had been possessed by Drummond’s ex-girlfriend. “I try to forget that as much as possible.”

  “Well, you pick up a few things from a relationship like that.”

  Maria lifted the small mixing bowl that Sandra had brought and carefully walked it over to the side of the bed. “We need to draw his blood.”

  Drummond smirked. “Told ya. Magic that uses blood and triangles — this is serious stuff.”

  Despite the growing urge to yell his frustration, Max kept quiet. His experiences with magic told him that this was more than serious — it was deadly. He could urge Sandra not to risk her life, but he knew it would be waste of their time and energy. She was determined to follow through. After all, that was how they had survived this long. Since he knew he would never convince her to change, the best he could do was stay quiet so that these brave women could focus.

  With the sure motions of a trained nurse, Maria pulled the distal port from the IV in Max’s arm and placed it in the bowl at his side. She then opened the port, and instead of collecting Max’s blood with a syringe, she let it dribble into the bowl. Over her shoulder, she asked Sandra for sterile gauze from the cabinet with all the basic supplies. Once the bottom of the bowl had been painted in a thin layer of thick crimson, Maria wiped the port clean with the gauze and reset Max’s IV as if nothing had happened.

  “This is it,” she said.

  Sandra turned to Drummond. “You need to leave.”

  “Not on your life,” Drummond said. “I know I give Max a hard time, but there’s no way I’m going to ditch him now.”

  “I appreciate that. We all do. But Maria has made it clear to me that this spell is unwieldy. I’m not sure how specific we can be in grabbing a ghost. I don’t want it grabbing you and putting you into Max’s body by accident.”

  “Ah. That’s why you salted the door. Don’t want any other ghosts coming in.”

  “Exactly. So, be the sweet, wonderful ghost I know you are, and please leave. Go help PB and J. I’m sure a few well-timed obstacles will extend their diversion by the few minutes we still need.”

  “You got it.”

  “You know where to meet up?”

  “Of course. Don’t you worry. I’ll keep those boys safe.” Drummond put his hand out towards Max. “I want to say something. Just in case.”

  Max smirked. “No need. If something goes wrong, you’ll be stuck with me as a ghost forever.”

  “No. You’ll move on. Even if I have to kick you ahead. So, shake my hand.” Drummond waited until they shook. Then, he removed his hat and picked at the smooth interior. “You’re a good man. You’ve done right by me more than once. There’s no other I’d want at my side when trouble comes.” A smile rose on his lips. “Except maybe your wife.”

  Max tapped Drummond’s arm with a fist. “Don’t worry. I’m in good hands. Go help the boys.”

  Placing his hat gently on his head, Drummond dropped through the floor. Sandra returned to Maria. “All clear.”

  “Turn off the lights,” Maria said.

  As Sandra hit the wall switch, Maria took a match to the three candles. The flickering wicks created strange shadows that crept out from under the bed and stretched up the walls. Maria directed Sandra to the right side while she stood on the left.

  “Have your husband float above his body.”

  Max did as instructed. “I love you,” he whispered to Sandra.

  She lifted her head. “No good-byes. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Maria launched into a chant of moans and odd phrases in odder languages. She read straight from Dr. Connor’s page, holding it close due to the dim lighting. As she chanted, she handed the bowl of blood to Sandra and indicated for Sandra to hold it between Max’s body and his ghost.

  The chanting continued, shifting into a steady four-note pattern. Maria took Dr. Connor’s paper and held it over a candle. Then she placed the burning page into the bowl. With both hands, she held the bowl, as did Sandra, and together they lifted it higher into the air. Sandra joined Maria in the four-note chant.

  Max stared at the small flame in the bowl. It burned steady and clear. Even when the paper had become ash and all that remained was blood, the fire burned. The blood rippled underneath the flame like tiny pebbles being tossed in at odd intervals. Each time, Max felt his skin contract with an involuntary muscle spasm.

  His stomach gurgled. He smelled the burning blood. It was sharp and acrid and — Max’s eyes widened. He could smell the burning.

  As if a giant vacuum cleaner had suddenly been switched on, Max heard a loud whine and felt his head pull towards the bowl. The chanting grew louder. Max’s skin tightened even as it stretched downwards. He tried to move with the pull. He tried to go against it. Anything. But his ghost body no longer responded.

  The small flame ignited into a blaze. It blinded Max with a bright flash turning everything white and gold.

  All faded into darkness.

  Max’s eyes snapped open. Sandra’s bright face floated above him. A tear dropped from her eye onto his cheek. He took a breath and felt air rushing through his nose into his lungs. He forgot how a simple breath could feel so refreshin
g.

  “You did it,” he whispered.

  Sandra dropped down, snaking her arms around him, and kissed him hard. “Don’t ever do that again to me. Understand? No dying.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  He heard a short sniffle. Maria stood nearby, dabbing at her eyes with one of her flowing sleeves. “And people say witchcraft is a bad thing. We brought you back together. For love.”

  Sandra rolled her eyes as she got up. “You’re such a softy.”

  After blowing her nose, Maria said, “Enough reunion. I don’t mind things being mushy, but I do mind getting caught here. Let’s go. You’re welcome to come back to my house. Norman’s out of town on business. I’ve got plenty of room.”

  Sandra rolled off of Max, putting him and his bed between her and Maria. “I am so sorry. I thought you understood.”

  With an odd squint, Maria said, “Understood what?”

  “You can’t go back home. Not yet.”

  She pulled the flattened box from under the bed and reassembled it. “Oh, please. I hardly think your little boys’ escapade is going to cause me any trouble. I mean, it’s been fun and all sneaking around, but hardly necessary. My husband has given donations to many medical charities. The hospital would never really do much to me.”

  Max sat up, surprised that his head didn’t ache. “It’s not the hospital you have to worry about.”

  Sandra brought his clothes over. “The people who did this to him are going to be furious when they find out. What did you think happened here?”

  “I really didn’t consider it,” Maria said, still forcing a plastic, hopeful smile as if all of this was a misunderstanding that a few proper phone calls should clear up. “You’re a friend, and you asked me to help with a difficult spell. Frankly, I thought it was a fun challenge. I didn’t even know if it would work.”

  “We don’t have time for debate. Come with us. We’ll explain everything.”

  “I can’t. I have to go home.”

  As Max slipped on his pants, Sandra walked over and cupped Maria’s face. “The people who did this will kill you. Or worse.”

  Maria’s smile faltered.

  Chapter 9

  Because his actual injuries from the car accident were minor and the source of his coma had been the curse, Max discovered his body felt pretty good — weak from lack of motion for too many days, but good. He had little trouble dressing, and as long as Sandra stood nearby, he thought he could manage a sturdy enough walk that they would avoid notice when leaving the hospital.

  Maria no longer spoke more than a few words. Once they were ready to go, she disconnected all of the equipment hooked up to Max and turned it off. At best, nobody would notice for a short time. At worst, alarms would buzz and they would have to improvise a fast escape. The Sandwich Boys saved them.

  As Sandra assisted Max out of the room, the alarms at the nurses’ station were beeping. However, PB and J’s antics (which included toppling several vending machines and turning up the volume on every television they had passed) had caused enough commotion that for a few moments, nobody was paying attention. By the time the nurses rushed into Max’s room, Sandra was belting him into the passenger seat of her car.

  From Forsyth Medical, they only had a short drive into the city. The night’s traffic was light — Max later learned that it was Wednesday night — and they reached Trade Street quickly. Instead of turning towards their office, however, Sandra drove east for a few blocks and parked near an empty lot.

  She checked some notes on her cell phone. “PB said to go down this hill to the fence.”

  With Maria’s assistance, Max exited the car, and they all walked across the lot. Tall grass and thorny weeds brushed against them. Max enjoyed each tiny scratch. Simply being able to feel the real world around him and smell the stale beer cans littering the empty lot curved his mouth upward.

  Sandra flicked on a flashlight and led them toward a chain-link fence with barbed wire running along the top. A small section had been cut and bent from repeated use. She held the cut fence back to allow Max and Maria in.

  Max turned around and held the other end of fence for Sandra. Then he gazed across the wide expanse leading to an old RJ Reynolds tobacco warehouse. Weeds broke through the faded pavement. Graffiti marred the walls and concrete posts. Many of the windows had been shattered. Two brick smokestacks loomed long shadows over the lot.

  Sandra headed toward the nearest building which had an enormous door on one side with train tracks leading up to it. “PB said security rarely bothers with this area. They sweep for vagrants now and then, but he said we’ll be fine to hide out here for a few days.”

  “Days?” Maria said. “I can’t be gone for days.”

  “You’d rather be dead?”

  “What about Norman? He’ll file a missing person’s report. What about that?”

  They neared a green door. Max looked up at the huge brick building. “You said he was out of town. If we’re still here by the time he gets back, we’ll get word to your husband,” he said, and he felt Sandra’s hand grip his tight. A team again.

  Playing the flashlight on the door, Sandra saw a hole that had been carved beneath the lock. She reached in and seconds later the door clicked open. “Come on,” she said, waving them inside. As Max walked in, she added, “We should give PB a raise.”

  They all stood at the entrance and took in the massive sight — a warehouse large enough for a locomotive to pass through. An enormous empty space that reminded Max of airport hangers for jumbo jets. Sandra walked ahead, her footsteps echoing like tiny pebbles rattling on a gymnasium floor.

  Plywood walls to the left formed a small office. Phallic graffiti decorated the outside. The large window pane used for a foreman to observe his workers had been shattered long ago, but a metal desk and a fan from the 1970s remained.

  Making a rusty screech, Sandra spun an office chair around. “Have a seat.”

  Max settled in, and his muscles immediately thanked him. I might not be as unharmed as I thought.

  “Now, we wait a little,” Sandra said. “The boys and Drummond should meet us here soon.”

  Soon turned out to be two hours. Time mostly filled with Maria sitting on the floor sobbing and Sandra assuring her that this was all temporary and that her life would return to normal fast. Max watched the woman’s repeated breakdowns and build-ups and wondered what she had expected dealing with witchcraft. The history of witches was not one filled with Utopian bliss.

  When the Sandwich Boys arrived, Sandra gave them each a motherly hug. Jammer J squeezed out of his, but PB simply endured. Max thought he caught PB closing his eyes and hugging back, but it only lasted an instant.

  Max shook the boys’ hands. “Thank you for helping us. I owe you both.”

  “Big time,” PB said.

  Sandra stood behind Max and put her hands on his shoulders. “We won’t ever forget.”

  “I get the feeling they won’t ever let us forget,” Max said. “I am curious about something, though. How’d you two get back here?”

  PB shrugged. “We walked.”

  “No, I mean how did you escape the hospital? You both were causing enough mayhem to bring in the police.”

  The boys shared a look. Jammer J said, “Magicians don’t give up their secrets.” Glancing over at Maria, he added, “She going to be okay?”

  Sandra said, “This has been more than she expected. We’ll get her back to her life soon, though.”

  Drummond floated into the office with a loud clap of his hands. “Those two boys are amazing. I got to hand it to them. They had those security guards tied up in a tizzy. I mean they never really needed my help anyway.” Drummond froze as his eyes fell upon Max. “It’s damn good to see you alive again.”

  “Thanks, partner,” Max said.

  PB shook his head. “You’re doing it again. Talking to ghosts, right?”

  With a shake he tried to hide, Jammer J said, “Man, that’s screwed up. You were t
alkin’ to the wall.”

  As PB and J imitated Max for each other’s amusement, Max kissed Sandra’s hand and said, “I think it’s time for us to get working.”

  “You’re too weak.” She kissed his cheek before stepping in front of the group. “Let’s all get some rest. We could use a recharge. Then we can —”

  “Stop,” Max said. All eyes turned onto him. “I know you’re tired, and I sure know what I’ve been through. But getting me back was only a first step. Tucker Hull and Mother Hope have been at war with each other for decades. Maybe even longer. All that time, they’ve let their war simmer with small strikes against each other. But it’s reached a boiling point.”

  “All the more reason for us to rest and be ready.”

  “I wish we could. This war is a big chess game. Right now, we’re only a few pieces but we’re important, valuable pieces — as long as we keep making moves. If we stop and rest, our enemies will have more time to study the board, and chances are, we’ll become pawns again.”

  Maria stood. Dark mascara stained her cheeks, but her eyes were dry. “The sooner we end this, the sooner I go home, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Until then, I’m in danger. We all are. Right?”

  “Life-threatening.”

  “Then I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

  Sandra placed an arm around Maria, and the two women gently touched their heads together. When they looked at Max, he knew the time had come to lay out his plan. Except he didn’t have one.

  “Well,” he said, “what have we got to deal with? Some heavy-duty curses and an underground war that’s about to go public.”

  “And that code from Cecily Hull,” Sandra said.

  “Okay, then. We attack the same way we always do. We research the crap out of this until we find an angle that gives us the advantage. Except this time around, our work has to be done quietly. No personal computers, no phones, nothing traceable. We have to assume that both the Hull family and the Magi Group are using all of their resources. It’s an all-out war for them. No time to hold back.”