Haunted on the Gulf Coast (Gulf Coast Paranormal Trilogy Book 2)

by M. L. Bullock

  “If you’d like to stay over, I won’t say no. I think I might paint tonight.”

  “Sounds like a slumber party,” Helen said with a smile.

  “Slumber party? What am I missing?” Sierra said as she walked up with the cat in her hand.

  “It’s not really a slumber party,” I replied as she handed me the cat. I instantly fell in love with him even though he was an unfriendly ball of fur. “I plan on painting tonight, and Helen wants to hang out with me.”

  “Oh. Please take Domino with you. Joshua won’t let me take him home.” She cast an unhappy eye in her husband’s direction, but Joshua shook his head no. “He says Bozo might try to chase him around the house, and we have the baby coming soon. You don’t have any pets, do you, Cassidy?” I thought maybe she would cry. I didn’t want to let her down, but what did I know about taking care of a living thing? Except for my goldfish, Thurston. He was still swimming around.

  “Uh, no, but I’ve never owned a cat before, Sierra. I’m not sure I know what to do with one.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Cats are a breeze, except for cleaning up after them. You’ll need to stop by the store for food, a food bowl, a water dish, a litter box and litter. And kittens need toys.” She rubbed his soft head and smiled at me hopefully.

  “You have to be kidding. I can’t take care of a kitten. I barely know my own way around Uncle Derek’s place. I’m sure a cat would get lost.” I tried to hand the kitten back to her, but she wouldn’t take him.

  “Please, Cassidy. I don’t want to take him to the pound. I found him in the attic, and I’m sure he’s been abandoned by his mother. If I could keep him, I would. If you did this, I would consider it a personal favor.”

  I sighed in frustration. Having a full-time pet was not my idea of fun, but if it helped my friend, I couldn’t say no. “Fine, but I make no guarantees about his life expectancy.” The cat nibbled on my finger in appreciation. “Hey! I just saved your life, buddy!”

  True to her spontaneous, loving nature, Sierra hugged me and kissed the top of the mangy cat’s head. With a tear in her eye, she left Helen and me with the yowling animal. He cried and complained, and I wanted to do the same, but I decided the best thing I could do was head to the store.

  This was going to be an interesting night.

  Chapter Four—Marguerite Babineaux

  Chebola Bula carried me as if I were as light as a feather. Never would I have imagined that I would be in his arms. I wept on his shoulder, scarcely able to turn away from the sight of Elizabeth burning in a heap on the ground. The men of the fort would find her soon; in fact, I could see them now, pouring out of the fort toward her. They beat her body with coats, but I knew she would never survive such an inferno. To my surprise, they began shooting at us—at my friend, my rescuer. I screamed and clung to him even tighter as he ran through the field and then the forest faster than any deer. We disappeared deep into the woods, to a place I’d never been. There were no bony pines here, no wide-open meadows. It was a dense forest, so dense that the bright sliver of moon above us could no longer be seen. Yet the men of Fort Dixon would not be dissuaded; there would be no place to hide here. The soldiers would follow us; of that I had no doubt.

  “Qui-yet,” my friend whispered to me as we squatted beneath a scrubby oak tree. Winded and sweating, Chebola Bula held my hand as he looked around us. He must have seen something because we didn’t linger long. He pulled me to my feet, and I muffled a cry, unable to get the image of Elizabeth out of my mind. We traveled a little farther until we came to a stop at a tall stone wall. I’d never ventured this deep into the woods and had never seen such a monument before. I rubbed my hand over the cold surface. The gray stone felt cool to the touch, though much of it was covered with deep green vines.

  “What are we doing? We can’t stay here; the men will come for us. And the lights…what if they find us?” I tried to be brave like my friend, but the fear of being burned alive or shot to death was very real to me. He agreed with a nod and pointed to the top of the rock. I couldn’t imagine scaling the stone wall and told him as much. “Just leave me, or they will shoot you too.” I grabbed his arms and made him look at me. “Please, leave me. I’ll be all right.”

  Chebola Bula kissed me.

  I had never been kissed before, and it surprised me. Afterward, he stepped back and gazed down at me, his dark hair falling into his face. Apparently, he wanted to know what I thought about his sudden display of affection. He smelled of smoke and herbs, as he always did, and it was an intoxicating mixture. This was a moment I could not let slip away unacknowledged—it might be my last! I reasoned with myself. I kissed him back, and he held me close before releasing me.

  “What do we do?” I asked. Before I knew it, he was pushing me up the first boulder, guiding my feet into the first of a series of hidden footholds. He scrambled up behind me and with patience helped me navigate the rocks. My long nightgown got in the way several times, but I managed to scale the stone wall, fear and the hand of Chebola Bula driving me upward and onward. In the moonlight, high above the thick forest, I could see a large, dark cave yawning before us. We ran toward the entrance as voices below began calling my name with some urgency. I heard a voice I knew—the voice of Edward Bosarge.

  “Marguerite Babineaux, come out!”

  They called my name many times, but I had no desire to answer them. We ran into the cave, huddled in the shadows, and I silently prayed that the searchers would not find us. In Chebola Bula’s arms, I felt warmth and comfort, and neither of us spoke for a long while. Finally, after some time, the voices faded. They must not have seen the vine-covered stones, or they did not believe I could climb that steep wall. Before I could thank my friend for his help, an eerie blue light whizzed past us. Chebola Bula’s hand went to my mouth again as I felt a scream rising up from my stomach. Terrified, I kicked my feet, wanting nothing more than to run away, but to where?

  Despite his hand, a whimper escaped my mouth and the light returned, flying in front of us, hovering in the nothingness and illuminating the gray walls of the cave. There were paintings on the walls around us, but my attention was on the demon in front of me, for I was sure that was what the light was. I no longer wanted to touch it or be near it. How could I have been so foolish? With wide eyes, I stared into the depths of the blue light and saw what looked like a face. The eyes—I would never forget the eyes—were like two bottomless pits that stared into my soul. The face bent forward toward me.

  “Chebola!” I screamed into his hand.

  Suddenly, he pushed me to the side, flinging me to the ground. He put his body between the light and me; his arms were behind his back covering me. He kept his eyes averted, not looking at the light even though it was only a few inches from his face. In a loud voice, his chest heaving with fear, Chebola Bula spoke to the light, “Pasa, loa.” The light drew back, bounced once and moved to his left side a few inches as if it wanted to find a way around him to me. I tried not to look at it, but I could not resist.

  “Pasa, loa!” he said again, not angrily but firmly, his dark eyes still averted.

  It hovered still, dipping low to the ground, but Chebola continued his plea, “Pasa, loa. Notta!”

  The blue light bounced away once, hovered in midair, clicking, whispering, and then it moved at lightning speed out of the cave. We sat in complete darkness now. Chebola Bula held me, and I realized I was shaking uncontrollably; I couldn’t stop, and I couldn’t speak. I could not thank him for once again saving me. All I could do was allow the convulsions to happen. Chebola Bula spoke to me, but I could not hear his words and still could not speak.

  And then everything went dark.

  Chapter Five—Cassidy

  I woke up to a confusing but pleasant combination of Domino’s playful pawing and Helen’s delicious-smelling breakfast. I slid off the couch, my red hair a mass of tangles, and took a moment to give the kitten the attention he demanded. He reared up on his back feet and swung at
me before darting off behind my suede couch. After a quick pit stop in my bedroom for a desperate hair-brushing session, I followed my nose to the kitchen.

  “You’re going to spoil me, my friend,” I said as I poured a cup of coffee. “Hey, wait a second. Where did all this come from? I haven’t bought groceries since I got here, except for some yogurt and a few frozen dinners.” About that time, Bruce strolled into the kitchen. My eyebrows rose at the sight of him in my uncle’s breakfast nook. “Good morning,” I said as I tucked a wisp of hair behind my ears. Thankfully, I wasn’t sitting around in my pajamas; that was one benefit of falling asleep in my clothes. I had to wonder if Mr. Bruce Goddard had spent the night here. I would never tell Helen what to do, but I’d like to know who was sleeping in my uncle’s house. It was weird that I kept thinking of this place as my uncle’s house—it was mine now, all two thousand square feet of it. In the past several weeks, I’d gotten quite fond of the adobe-style ranch house, but I hadn’t gotten everything out of boxes yet. A family of four could live here comfortably, although I had no plans to start a family anytime soon. Why was I thinking about this right now?

  “Good morning, Cassidy. I’m not staying. Just dropping these groceries off, and now I’ve got to go to school. I have a class this morning.”

  “Thank you, Bruce. You’re a love for picking this up for us gals. See you for dinner?” Helen kissed his cheek sweetly.

  “You got it. See you tonight.” He was out the back door with a friendly wave, and I dug into the ham and cheese omelet in front of me…all the while pretending that I didn’t see an overnight bag in his hand.

  Helen sat down opposite me and dug into her plate. “How did the painting go?”

  “Pretty good, actually. Thanks for helping me create a makeshift studio. It was a tad bit chilly and the lighting leaves something to be desired, but it worked fine.”

  “I’m dying to see what you painted. Did it have anything to do with our case?” she asked as she sipped her orange juice.

  “Yes, but you won’t believe what I saw—I saw the blue light. The girl, Marguerite, she was in a cave with a friend, an Alibamu named Chebola Bula. They were hiding from the light and the men from the fort. The light wanted to get to her, but Chebola protected her. He said some words, gosh, why can’t I remember them? It was the word Aaron said yesterday, or kind of like that and some other words. Dang.”

  “Wow! Come again?” I repeated what I saw, and she shook her head. “That is quite a bit of information you received. We better write it down…don’t want to forget anything.” Helen retrieved a small notepad from somewhere in my kitchen and jotted down a few notes. “Did you remember to clear the room after you painted, or were you too tired to try?”

  I took another bite of the cheesy, egg-y goodness and nodded. “Yes, I remembered, but I have no idea what I’m doing. Visualizing is pretty easy for me—that’s how I summon up those images from my visions—but I’m not sure it’s the same thing. However, I feel okay this morning, and I don’t sense anything lingering around.”

  “Me either. I slept like a baby.”

  “I bet.” I smiled as I stabbed another bite of egg. Helen blushed but didn’t offer up a confession—or a denial. “Oh, I better call Midas. I’d like to go to Wagarville with him if he hasn’t left yet. Be right back.”

  I jetted off down the hall to my bedroom to grab my phone when I heard a door close. I walked back out into the hallway and called, “Helen?”

  “Yeah?” she called back from the kitchen. Okay, clearly that wasn’t Helen walking around. I heard another bump and remembered that I did own a cat now.

  “Never mind,” I called back and went in search of Domino. “Domino? Kitty?”

  The only door closed on this hallway was to Uncle Derek’s room. It was the largest bedroom in the house, but it was still full of his things. I hadn’t packed up his clothing yet, though I didn’t know what I was waiting on. I opened the door, and as I did, I heard a fumbling sound, as if someone were closing several dresser drawers. As I stepped inside, the hair on my arms stood up. I called again, “Domino? Are you in here snooping around?”

  I didn’t see him anywhere, but the drawers of the dresser were open, all four of them. Was this what I just heard? “Domino? Bad kitty!” I didn’t see the cat anywhere, but I sure wanted the noise to be him.

  Feeling like a snoop, I peeked in the top drawer. I saw nothing but neat arrangements of socks, boxers and undershirts. I closed the drawer. The second drawer held similar stacks of neatly folded shorts and pajama pants. I moved them around a bit, just in case my cat was hiding under something. He wasn’t, so I closed that drawer and stared into the open third one. The face of my mother stared back from a picture frame. It was a black and white picture, one I’d never seen before. It was just her, nothing else, and her hair was blowing in the wind. I’d forgotten how beautiful she had been, especially when she was smiling. I removed the frame and put it up on the dresser before digging back in.

  “Hey! What’s in here?” Helen said, scaring the heck out of me.

  “I found these drawers open, and there were photos I’ve never seen before. This is my mother. I wonder why Uncle Derek would keep it in a drawer.”

  “Wow, Cassidy. You look so much like her. What lovely women you have in your family.” Helen was holding feisty little Domino in her hands, so I was pretty sure it hadn’t been him in here plundering around.

  “Thanks. It looks like there’s more stuff in here.”

  “Did you call Midas?”

  I sighed. How had I let myself get sidetracked so easily? “No, but I need to. What are your plans for today?”

  “I think I’m going back home, to Dixie House. I’d like to say hello to the guests, offer attraction suggestions, that sort of thing. Let me know what goes on up at Forrest Field. I’m down for a road trip if Midas gives us the green light. If not, how about I pick up a Christmas tree for you? This place could do with some Christmas cheer, and I think it would be good for you too. I have plenty of leftover decorations—you should see Dixie House. My daughter has so many lights flashing, I’m surprised anyone can sleep.”

  I hadn’t even thought about a Christmas tree, and the truth was I hadn’t had one since Kylie disappeared. It just seemed wrong to celebrate without her being home. But now that I knew the truth about her disappearance, or the likely truth, maybe now was the right time.

  “If we don’t investigate tonight, I’d like that. A small one, though.”

  “Great. I cleaned up the kitchen, and I’m heading out. What do I do with this little guy?”

  I smiled. “Give him to me. I can rummage through this stuff later.” I closed the drawers with my leg and grabbed the silver frame with my mother’s picture in it. “Come on, tough guy. Let’s go call Midas.”

  Thirty minutes later, Helen had left and I was alone in the house waiting for Midas to roll up in his SUV. I put Domino in the laundry room, along with his toys, litter box and food and water. He complained loudly about it, but I wasn’t letting him run wild in the house while I was away. “Sorry, little guy. You can’t come with me on this one.”

  He continued to wax vocal about his incarceration, but I didn’t stick around to listen. I walked out to take pictures of my latest portrait. I unlocked the garage and went inside. Even though I’d been the one to paint it, the image held my imagination. I thought I did a pretty good job of capturing the fear on Marguerite’s face, the strength of Chebola Bula’s arms, the darkness surrounding them as they huddled in the cave and the approaching blue light. I snapped a few photos with my phone with the door open.

  Midas pulled up; I’d left the gate open for him. He’d picked up Sierra and Joshua on the way, as well as Aaron DeSearcy. The SUV doors opened, and the GCP team walked up the gravel path to see what I’d worked up. And that’s when I noticed what I hadn’t noticed before. Aaron saw it too—I could see it on his face. As we gathered around the painting, he shook his head. “Wow. He looks quite a bit li
ke me. Did you use me for inspiration?”

  “No, not consciously. I painted what I saw, Aaron. I saw this girl,” I said, pointing to the portrait. “Her name is Marguerite, and her friend is Chebola Bula. They hid in a cave near Forrest Field. They were hiding from the lights and from the men in the fort.”

  “Chebola Bula? Laughing Boy?” Aaron stepped closer to the image.

  “I’m not sure what the name means, but that’s what she called him,” I answered.

  “Is he…dead?”

  “The time period appeared to be around the time we’re thinking, the 1780s, 1790s, so I think it’s safe to say he’s dead.” I tried joking, but the seriousness on Aaron’s face worried me. I added, “Not in the moment there, no. He was very much alive.”

  Midas took a photo of the portrait. “We better get on the road, guys. I told Dr. Lundquist we would be there around eleven. Cassidy, you can tell us all about the painting on the way there.”

  “All right,” I said as we walked out and I closed the door. For a split second, as I pulled the garage door down, I thought I saw a flash of light. Only it wasn’t coming from any light fixture or even the outside window. It glittered from the painting.

  I held my breath, looked over my shoulder once and practically ran to the SUV.

  Chapter Six—Midas Demopolis

  “You must be Midas. I have heard so much about you. I’m Dr. Sharon Lundquist, and this is my assistant, Jada. Welcome to Forrest Field. Pardon our progress.” We stepped out of the vehicle and took in the scene around us. Dr. Lundquist’s archaeological dig was basically a series of dirt pits, canopies and collection centers, which were mostly folding tables and rudimentary sifting equipment. She appeared to be the no-nonsense type: her arms were crossed, and there wasn’t a hint of a smile on her face.

  “Thanks, Dr. Lundquist, Jada. This is my team, or most of it. This is Cassidy, Sierra, Josh and Aaron. We’re here to help you figure out what’s happening out here.”