by Tom Deady
The clearing.
It couldn’t be—there was no smell of fire and no charred branches. Hannah couldn’t see beyond the small circle of light cast by Mama Bayole’s lantern.
“It ain’t the sacred place but it’ll have to do.”
How did she know what I was thinking? Whatever had been used to drug Hannah was wearing off and left just the headache in its wake. She was in a sitting position, hands and feet bound. She struggled to move but discovered she was also lashed to the tree behind her.
The librarian bent and unzipped a backpack at her feet. She pulled out the chalice and knife that Hannah had seen that night in the clearing. Up close, the knife looked huge. Deadly. Despite the terror that threatened to paralyze her, a red-hot fury surged in her gut. She’d been scared enough. She was done.
“Aren’t you going to dress up in your Halloween costumes and prance around?” Hannah spat.
Mama Bayole was unfazed. “No time for that, child, but don’t you worry. Your sacrifice’ll be no less ‘preciated.”
The librarian snorted a laugh. Hannah glared at her but being tied up and helpless ruined her attempt at being intimidating. The woman just smirked and shook her head. It was the smug look of someone that knows they’ve already won.
Mama Bayole’s matter-of-fact tone and the librarian’s knowing sneer popped the balloon of Hannah’s anger. Hot tears spilled from her eyes and her body began to tremble almost convulsively.
The old witch was chanting softly in the same language Hannah remembered from the night in the clearing. Dietrich and the librarian stood on either side of her, heads bowed. The librarian held the chalice, Dietrich held the knife. Mama Bayole’s words were making Hannah’s head hurt worse. They took on an insectile buzz. Like the flies. She struggled against the ropes, but it was futile—she only succeeded in scraping up her back on the rough bark of the tree, sending warm rivulets of blood snaking down her back.
Thunder rumbled, closer than before. Hannah wondered how long she’d been unconscious. Maybe someone had seen what happened and had gone to get help. Fat raindrops splattered around her, as if to drown out any remaining spark of hope she might have. Lightning flashed, followed by thunder, closer still. The wind picked up, whooshing through the lush trees.
There was another flash in the distance, but it wasn’t lightning. Hannah squinted. There was light visible through the trees.
Flashlights. It’s a search party.
She was about to start screaming her head off when she realized it wasn’t flashlights after all. She was seeing the lights at Champlain Park flickering to life, the power restored. A gnawing pain swelled in her gut, knowing help was so close. She struggled harder against the ropes, frantic to escape. Blood dripped down her back mixing with the summer rain.
More lightning followed immediately by the crack of thunder. The downpour intensified. Mama Bayole’s voice rose above the sound of the rain hitting the leaves around them. She finished her chant and Dietrich handed her the knife. She stepped closer. Hannah squirmed futilely against the ropes, a helpless moan escaping her lips.
Another brilliant blaze of lightning, the brightest yet, and in its fading glow Hannah saw a hulking figure looming behind Mama Bayole.
“Ain’t gonna be no more killing, witch!”
Jacob stepped into the light holding a pistol. From where Hannah sat, the gun looked ridiculously huge, like something a gunslinger would wield in an old western movie.
Dietrich reached for his holstered weapon, but Jacob stopped him with just the shake of his head.
“You want to die like that, underling?” Jacob boomed.
Dietrich held his hands out by his sides.
“Well, well, look who’s come home to roost?” Mama Bayole eyed Jacob with amusement. “Couldn’t resist my call, could ya?”
Jacob’s expression remained firm but in the flickering glow of the lantern Hannah saw a hint of something. Doubt? Fear?
“That’s right, son. Mama don’t forget,” she cooed.
Jacob squeezed his eyes shut for a second and shook his head. “You can’t have her, witch. Just like you never had me.”
Mama Bayole’s laugh was a lunatic shriek. “I’ve always had you.”
Rain poured down around them as Hannah watched the standoff, helpless. The thunder and lightning were almost simultaneous. A deafening crack followed the last flash and Hannah knew a tree had been struck close by. Jacob motioned toward Dietrich.
“I’m gonna need you to unbuckle that holster, real slow. Let it drop to the ground, then kick it over to me. I see anything that looks like you want to make a play, you’re gonna feel the wrath of a Ruger Blackhawk. Understand, minion?”
Dietrich stared at Jacob, but he complied.
“Now the knife, witch. Same thing.” Jacob’s voice was even, almost calm. His gaze steely.
Hannah thought about their first meeting. Aces and eights. Wild Bill Hickok.
Mama Bayole stared at him, eyes bright with fury. “You think I need this knife?” She let out a cackle. “Here, take it.”
She moved quicker than Hannah would have believed possible, throwing the knife at Jacob with a snap of her wrist. Hannah watched in horror as the blade found its mark, settling deep in Jacob’s shoulder. Jacob screamed in pain and the gun dipped as he struggled to stay on his feet.
Dietrich lunged, but despite his injury, Jacob was ready. He leveled the gun and fired. The explosion muffled the thunder. Dietrich stumbled backward, his head crashing into the librarian’s with an audible crack, and they both fell to the ground. Jacob then turned the gun on Mama Bayole and chambered another round.
“Go ahead, witch. Make your move.” Despite the knife sticking out of his shoulder, his voice remained steady. Formidable.
Mama Bayole was laughing, her head thrown back in the rain. The thunder and lightning were almost constant, and all Hannah heard was that unholy laughter. “I don’t need to make no move. I’ll just wait for you to bleed out.”
Jacob switched the gun to his bad hand, the one attached to the knifed shoulder, then reached up with his good hand and pulled the knife out. He winced and gritted his teeth, but the gun never wavered.
Hannah watched with detached amazement. If she’d seen it happen in a movie, she would have scoffed, but here she was, watching it in real life.
“You’re right, witch, I’m gonna need some help,” Jacob said, almost amiably. He moved slowly, deliberately, over to where Hannah was tied. He cut through the rope that held her to the tree, then through the ones binding her wrists. He handed her the knife and motioned for her to cut the bonds that held her feet.
When he did, Hannah saw just how weak he was. His eyelids fluttered, like he was about to take a nap, and his hand was not nearly as steady as she’d thought from a distance.
“That’s right, you sho’ gonna need some help,” Bayole said in a singsong voice.
The old woman inched closer as Hannah cut the ropes on her ankles.
“Jacob, watch out!” she screamed.
Hannah leaped to her feet as Mama Bayole lunged at Jacob. Thunder and lightning exploded around them. Jacob’s knees buckled and the gun fell from his hand. Mama Bayole staggered the other way, dropping to her knees.
Hannah ran to Jacob, slipping on the muddy ground and practically falling to his side. His eyes were open, glassy, and she thought for a second he was dead. Then he turned to her.
“Did I get her?” he asked, blinking, trying to see around Hannah.
Hannah turned to make sure Mama Bayole wasn’t coming, then helped Jacob to his feet, picking up the gun as well. Jacob’s shirt was soaked in blood, and she realized he might be dying. She wondered how he could even stand.
A nearby tree had been cleaved in half by the last lightning strike and was burning despite the torrential rain. Smoke billowed around her as she approached the tangle of bodies on the ground.
The librarian was still motionless beneath the dead weight of Dietrich’s body, but Mama B
ayole was nowhere to be seen. Another bolt of lightning lit the woods and Hannah spotted a figure stumble from behind a tree and head for the woods.
“Hannah, there she goes!” Jacob yelled.
Mama Bayole stopped when she heard Jacob’s voice. She turned toward them. The smoke was getting thicker, and Hannah could have sworn that the old woman changed. For a split-second, she saw the beautiful young version of Mama Bayole that Jacob spoke of. The old woman grinned and turned to flee into the woods.
Without thinking, Hannah raised Jacob’s gun in both hands, suddenly aware of its weight. She cocked the gun’s hammer. Everything around her disappeared. It was just her, the oversized gun, and Mama Bayole. She took aim. Mama Bayole turned to escape into the cover of the trees, but to Hannah, she was moving in slow motion. Despite the weight of the gun, Hannah’s hand did not waver. She tracked the old witch, one eye shut tight, squeezing the trigger slowly as Mama Bayole disappeared into the smoke-filled trees.
The recoil nearly knocked her off her feet. Through ringing ears, she heard a shriek in the distance. Then silence.
“You got her, Hannah, you got that old witch,” Jacob said reverently.
Hannah huddled under a blanket between Dad and Ashley in the waiting room of County General Hospital. Susan sat across from her, watching Hannah with a curious expression. The bizarre memory of waking up in the woods and thinking she was watching some old horror movie with Ashley flashed into Hannah’s head. Jacob was in surgery to repair the deep knife wound, and the doctors were concerned that his age and the amount of blood loss were against him.
After she’d taken the shot at Mama Bayole, she’d helped Jacob walk toward Champlain Park while keeping the gun on the librarian. By that time, there had been a full-fledged search going on and they were quickly whisked up by paramedics.
Marcus hadn’t seen what happened to her—he’d just known something was wrong. He’d found Ashley and called Dad. Benson had called in the cavalry immediately, but they had no idea if Hannah had been taken in a car or not. Units had been sent to the clearing while others searched the park and got the lights back on.
The librarian was in custody. Dietrich was dead. They were still searching the woods for Mama Bayole.
The whoosh of automatic doors caused Hannah to look up. A doctor walked toward them. He moved slowly, each step an effort. His face was pale, and he had bags under his eyes. They all stood, and Hannah braced for the worst. Then the doctor’s grave expression broke into a tired smile.
“That guy might outlive us all,” he said in quiet amazement.
Tears spilled from Hannah’s eyes and she fell into a group hug with Ashley, Susan, and Dad. Even though she’d only known him for a few days, Jacob meant a lot to her. Hard times forged strong bonds.
“He’ll be out for a while, but he made me promise I wouldn’t let him wake up alone. It’s completely against the rules, but what the hell?” The doctor smiled again. “You can wait for him to come around once we get him settled in recovery.”
A short time later, the four of them sat around Jacob’s bed, waiting. He looked withered to Hannah, nothing like the hero that had showed up in the woods in a flash of lightning. Susan and Dad were talking in hushed whispers, while Hannah told Ashley what had happened.
“That’s all very exciting, Hannah, but you should have seen Marcus’s face when he couldn’t find you. That boy really likes you.”
Hannah thought about the moment just before the lights went out. He was going to kiss me.
“Hey, what’s that face?” Ashley asked, one eyebrow cocked.
She looked at Ashley and felt her cheeks flush. “Oh, nothing.”
A raspy voice interrupted them. “I must still be alive. I don’t see no angels.”
“Jacob!” they shouted in unison.
Hannah jumped up and went to his side, tears springing to her eyes. She’d cried more in the past few weeks than she had in her entire life, but these were tears of joy.
Dad stood on the other side of the bed. “Jacob, take it easy. The doc said you wanted us here, but I think you need your rest.”
A smile spread across Jacob’s face, transforming him from haggard into something magical. “I’ll get plenty of sleep when I’m dead.” His Sam Elliott impersonation was passable.
“Roadhouse!” Dad, Ashley and Hannah exclaimed, then they all laughed.
Susan was confused, but also something else. A slight grin snuck across her face. She looked different, the haunted look in her eyes fading. Not gone but going.
The doctor came in and checked Jacob’s vitals and bandages. Then, with an attempt at a stern look, he turned to the visitors. “Just a few more minutes, okay?” He winked and slipped out of the room.
Jacob locked on Hannah’s eyes and she knew what was coming. He didn’t have to say it out loud, but he did anyway.
“Is she dead? Is that old witch gone?” His voice was flat, lacking any curiosity.
Hannah looked around the room, not wanting to be the one to answer.
Dad spoke, “They haven’t found her body yet, but they’re still out there with the bloodhounds.”
He didn’t sound any more confident than Hannah felt.
The doctor came back a few minutes later with Officer Benson. He was still in his street clothes, but Hannah noticed he wore his gun belt and a badge.
“The units have all been called back. They found Bayole’s clothes but no body, no trace of her. Dogs can’t hold the scent because of all the rain.”
Jacob looked thoughtful, as if considering Benson’s comment. Hannah expected him to be upset but his face remained bright. “She’s gone, all right. They might not find her body, but she’s gone.” He raised a hand and pointed to his head. “I can’t feel her anymore.”
Hannah took Jacob’s hand and squeezed it. Ashley put an arm across her shoulder.
“Okay, folks, party’s over.”
A nurse had stepped through the door and she did not look pleased to find a crowd in the recovery room.
Benson took her cue. “Brian, girls, go on home. Get some rest. I’ll stay with Jacob and make sure he doesn’t try to bust out or ask any of the nurses to marry him.”
The nurse shook her head but couldn’t hide her grin. They all said their goodbyes and started leaving. Like he’d done the last time he was in the hospital, Jacob called Hannah back. Dad nodded his approval, and she went to Jacob’s side and took his hand.
“You okay, Hannah?” he asked, his concern evident.
“I guess I am,” she whispered after a pause.
He looked at her for a long time before saying anything. His gaze was powerful. She couldn’t look away.
“She’s really gone, Hannah. She’s been in my head, haunting me, almost my whole life. Think of a mosquito buzzing in your ear when you’re trying to sleep, that’s what it was like. Sometimes she was so loud, so strong, I thought I’d go crazy. Now there’s nothing but quiet. For the first time in as long as I can remember, it’s quiet.”
Hannah held his gaze, looking for a sign that he was just trying to placate her, but all she saw in his eyes was truth. “Cut the head off the snake, right?”
Jacob smiled and gave a tired nod.
Hannah leaned over, kissed his forehead and gave his hand a final squeeze, then went to join the others.
The weeks following the events at Champlain Park were a frenzy of interviews and statements at the police station and visits to the hospital to see Jacob. Hannah and Ashley were minor celebrities, a role Ash took with enthusiasm while Hannah felt constant embarrassment.
The police never found a trace of Mama Bayole, dead or alive, beyond the pile of clothes. Hannah imagined her hit by the bullet, aging, and turning to dust, just like in the movies. The librarian had spilled her guts once she was in custody, but she only named a handful of the followers. The police had apprehended the ones she identified, and they were being charged with conspiracy to commit murder and a bunch of other lesser crimes.
Jacob was on his way to a full recovery. He came over for dinner once a week and his presence was helping Dad get back to his old self. Benson was spending a lot time at the house as well, and she was happy for her father. She thought Benson was probably going to be around a lot.
Hannah was happy for Dad. She knew he’d loved Mom in his own way, but this was different. How must Mom have felt when she’d realized Dad couldn’t love her the same way she loved him? It was why she’d left, and while Hannah was glad she had a reason that didn’t involve drugs or another guy, she still had mixed feelings. Hannah missed her but was angry at the same time. In time, she would have a long tearful talk with Dad, she was sure.
Labor Day weekend arrived, signaling the unofficial end of summer. That Sunday, they had a big cookout to say goodbye to summer. Benson, Jacob, Susan, Ashley, and Ashley’s parents all came. Dad bought enough food to keep every belly in Hopeland full for a week.
The afternoon was a spectacular New England late-summer day—blue skies, sunshine, and no humidity. Everyone milled around, talking and laughing, but Hannah hung back, watching the festivities from the edge of the woods with Scout. He whined, looking at her like he knew something was wrong.
Dad was grilling on the deck, talking with Ashley and her parents. They’d come back from vacation smack in the middle of the circus following the adventure at Champlain Park. Despite trying to get home early, they got stranded at the airport. St. Barth’s airport was home to one of the world’s deadliest runways and flights were not allowed during bad weather. Hurricane season had arrived, and they were stuck in a series of storms that kept the planes grounded.
The good news was they were still together. Ashley said they’d been getting along better since the trip. Time would tell, Hannah figured.
Ashley’s folks wandered off the deck to talk with Susan, Benson, and Jacob, who were seated on lawn chairs in the yard. Ashley hung back with Dad, and Hannah watched them talk for a few minutes before Ash bolted into the house. Even from where Hannah was, she saw the excitement on her best friend’s face.
