by S A Jacobs
“Yes! Come in and sit down.” He led us to the chairs on the far side of the room.
As we walked over, I saw him peek his head into the hallway and quickly look both ways before shutting the door. He then walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Whoa, you really did inherit that place. I can feel it, man.” He stared at me intently.
“That is what the lawyers tell me anyway,” I replied.
“Right, let’s jump right into it.”
He pulled out a large blue binder, like the ones a kid would use for school. I noticed the word ‘Cloudland’ was scribbled onto the front with a red pen.
“So you did the research?” he asked. “You know, the KGC?”
“Yeah, I read up on it,” I said. “Some Confederate version of a Freemason type society. Right?”
“Well… that is what they want us to believe,” he replied. “Alright bro. Let me tell you what I know about them… So, everything everyone talks about involving the KGC includes two things, well three really if you are looking for treasure, but that isn’t what we are here to talk about. So, we will leave it at two things. Yeah, everyone knows two things about the KGC. They were Confederates, and they were a secret organization. Right?”
“Yeah, that is about what I found out,” I agreed.
“Wrong!” he snapped back. “Well, wrong on one point anyway.”
“Okay?” I was confused.
“See, it’s like this. They were hell-bent on creating a new nation. A better nation. More like a better nation for them only. And that is where everyone gets it wrong. They assume because it happened around the civil war, and because it was about rising against the government, that it was Confederate. It wasn’t Confederate. Sure, there were a lot of castles in the South, but they had some in the North too. Anyway, even the name, the Knights of the Golden Circle… Everything we know about the organization is from the perspective of the knights. Well, a knight isn’t just a rogue force. They take orders. And who do you think gave orders to this army of knights?” He waited for an answer.
“Um, the leaders?” I said reluctantly.
“Yes, the leaders. But they are never mentioned anywhere. They were only referred to sparingly as the Sovereign Lords. Now, these dudes were bad. They put together five of the most powerful people in the country, and they called all the shots for the army of Knights. These five guys specialized in everything they needed for a nation. You had one who controlled oil. One who controlled steel production. One who controlled the cotton trade. There was one who controlled all the rail lines in the country. And finally, one who controlled industrial manufacturing.”
“Hold up,” I said. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with everything. You gotta know this to understand anything else, bro. Here, let me get to the point. So, there are two things you gotta remember about the KGC. First, is that you cannot go join them. It’s a heritage. Membership is passed on from generation to generation. Second, they are alive and well no matter what anyone says. All I’m saying is, stay clear. You go in trying to mess with them, and you are in for some serious trouble.”
“Okay, I got it. I think.” I really didn’t have a clue what he was getting at.
I looked over at Kat who had a smirk on her face and was rolling her eyes. Clearly, this meeting was going nowhere.
“Wait a second,” I said. “Can you tell us exactly what it is you do?”
“Yeah! I am a paranormal investigator who specializes in residual energy.”
“Residual energy?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s kinda like this. Every energy has a ripple effect. Like, if you were to get pissed off, and you punch the wall, the energy of your anger is transferred into the punch. But it doesn’t end there. You mess up your hand, you mess up the wall. Next thing you know, you are paying the doctors to fix your hand, and you are spackling the wall. This is all residual effects of that energy transfer. If you don’t fix your hand or the wall, the effects linger on. Now, understand that you cannot see or feel all energy. Spiritual energy gets released but some of it sticks around and lingers like that hole in the wall. That is the residual energy. It is why you feel a chill when you walk into a morgue. Or why when you step onto an old battlefield you feel that energy. Sometimes there is a lot, and it manifests itself into trapped spirits. Sometimes, it is just a bad feeling from a place or object.”
“Okay, I think I follow,” I said.
“So yeah, I specialize in this residual energy. Ultimately the energy needs to be released and cleansed. The only way to do that right is to understand why it got there in the first place.”
“Got it. Now, what about my estate?” I wanted to get something of value out of this meeting.
“Yeah, the infamous Mansfeld Manor. A few years back I get a call from a client. This rich dude who built this spectacular cabin in the mountains. Anyway, his wife was all into antiquing and shit. She picks up this table to use in the dining room. Then, all of a sudden, shit starts going down. They are fighting. The wife is seeing shit everywhere. Electricians are all up in this house trying to figure out these random electrical problems. I go to check it out, right?” He paused to make sure I was following. I nodded. So he continued. “I get there, and I walk in, and I can feel it. There is some nasty energy in the place. And the table is just kinda weird. It is like this super fancy ornate turn of the century table, but it has this giant white stripe painted down the center of it.”
“Wait a second!” I yelled.
I pulled out my cell phone and started flipping through the photos until I found the one I took in the historical society. I handed David my phone for him to see.
“Is this the table?” I asked, now feeling like we were getting somewhere.
A giant smile appeared on his face as he looked at it.
“For sure! That’s it. That photo was taken down at Cloudland, and that is one of our lords!”
“Our lords?” I asked, showing my confusion.
“Yup, Samuel Freidrich Muller, prince of the railroad and second-generation Sovereign Lord.”
We all sat there in silence for a few moments.
“Man, way to kill my big reveal.” He looked disappointed but continued.
“Alright,” I said, “so the original owner of my house was one of these Lords and even ate at that table you have been cleaning. How does this relate to the house at all?”
“That is what I am telling you!” He was clearly frustrated.
“How about starting with the super dumbed down version?” I asked hopefully. “Then we can start going into the details.”
He just stared at me for a minute with an overwhelmed look on his face. He looked over at Kat and narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Wait, who are you?” he asked.
“This is Kat,” I replied. “She’s helping me with all this.”
“Nope!” he said. “She is connected.” He eyed her suspiciously while he rubbed his chin. “You are very connected Miss. But what I don’t feel is how. What side are you on?”
“Side?” she asked with a look of frustration on her face. “What are you talking about? I just want to help Jim with the house.”
“Hmmmmm,” he said. “Maybe you don’t know. At least not yet.”
“Listen, can you just give us the super dumbed down version,” I said, “and then we can just go from there?”
“Alright, here is the short version. Your man Sam there. Let’s just say he was one evil mother fucker. Like I’m not even talking your run of the mill bad guy. He was straight up evil. So, he works a deal to hook up the Cloudland with a railway line to get people there. That meant the owner owed him. In exchange, Sam gets the run of the place one week every year. It becomes like the clubhouse for the Lords…You with me still?”
“Yeah, I guess so…So there is some hotel somewhere. The owner of my house is some asshole who takes over the hotel with his friends and basically has a frat party?”
/>
“See, you are paying attention,” he remarked back.
“Uh okay, just get on with the story.” I was still confused but needed him to get to the point.
“Great! So, Evil Sam also has a bit of an issue. See, he needs to pass on his seat with the Lords. He needs a son. Problem is, the son he has ain’t his. Seems the missus was having some fun behind his back. Now, he knows he cannot pass on his position to a kid that isn’t his blood. But he is also super well known. So, it isn’t like he can exactly walk out and start fresh. If he were a normal dude, there were a thousand ways this could have ended, but he was Evil Sam. He goes down for his week in the mountains alone with his Lords. They bring in some backwoods warlock and then shit goes down. Long story short, the boy ends up dead.”
“Wait, you are saying first, that their first child was not his?” I asked. “Then, you are saying Samuel, being all-powerful and evil, used a warlock to kill the kid off purely to pass on membership to his club?”
“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds kinda juvenile.” he said.
“Of course it does!” I said. “You’re reading some twisted comic book plot to me, and you expect me to take it seriously?”
“Hey, you came here looking for information about the house,” he shot back. “I drove my ass up here to give it to you. Did you ever stop to think why I would do that? I mean it is not like you are paying me!”
“Okay fine. Why are you here?”
“I’m here because this shit is real,” he explained. “You don’t have a clue what the hell is going on, and it would be way bad karma for me to just watch you walk in without warning you.”
“I’m sorry. Can you please just tell me how this all goes back to the house?”
“I really don’t know. Like I said, I have not really investigated it directly. So, these are all educated guesses. But, what I do know is this. Across my client’s table, Evil Sam and his buds conjured some wicked shit to off this kid. I am talking wicked enough for the residual energy on that table to be stronger than most legit haunted houses. I say that because the brunt end of the energy they conjured goes straight back to your house. So, if you think for a minute that a table, which played a minor role, can become one of the most haunted items I have ever seen and that house of yours, which was ground zero, does not hold some wicked energy, you are dead wrong!”
He took a deep breath and laid down on the bed as if he’d just finished running a race. Kat and I just stared at each other, not sure what to say or do. A moment later, he sat up and looked at me.
“You are connected, I can feel it. You are the light power. That also means you will be the first one under attack.” He was pointing at me again. I wished he’d stop doing that.
While still pointing at me he turned to look at Kat.
“And you… you are just as connected. I cannot feel darkness in you… yet, I cannot feel light either.”
David continued to take us through everything he knew. Most of it was an in depth history lesson which lauded his efforts and findings around that table. Despite his craziness, by the end, I kinda liked him. I still held my reservations about all that he said, but for some reason, it all felt like it fit. David’s lore was off the wall, but the connections he drew fit better than any other explanation I had heard. For the first time since this all started, I was hearing something that felt right. Kat loosened up to him as well. The whole thing was so surreal. Soon, the three of us were talking like old friends.
When he finished talking about what he knew, I suggested that we all go out to get a drink. I knew I needed one. We ended up going to the little sports pub connected to the hotel. The place was quiet except for some truckers on the far side of the bar, playing some variation of a legal slot machine. We sat down in a booth and ordered some beer.
“David, how do you know all of this?” I asked. “I mean, it started with a table for you. Did you see visions or something?”
“Nah man. I am not a clairvoyant. Like I said, I specialize in residual energy. I can feel things. I can’t see them or hear them.”
“That is a lot of detail to learn from feelings,” I said.
“Yeah well, it all kinda starts with the feelings. The feelings direct me, but a lot of what I do is historical research. Of course, when I need to, I work with Linda, a partner of mine. She is a straight up legit clairvoyant. But she needs to focus. She cannot walk in and sit at that table and get the whole picture. I research what I can and then that gives her areas to focus on. In the end, when we combine everything, we typically have a pretty clear story.”
“So what is the history of that table then?” Kat asked.
“Honestly, if it didn’t have the stripe painted on it, I would have been totally lost. When I saw the stripe, I was kinda like, ‘Who would paint that on a table worth more than my car?’ But, then I remembered it. Me and my buds used to hike the Appalachian Trail a lot. Anyway, I remember being up there in the mountains and reading this plaque about a hotel that used to be there. It was built right on top of the Tennessee and North Carolina border. It was kinda this big deal. They painted the state line on the table and the floor in the dining room. Supposedly you could only drink on the Tennessee side and there would be some cop up there waiting for you to cross the line with your drink. Anyway, that was the table.”
He stopped to take a long swallow of beer.
“See, objects are hard to translate once they are outside of their surroundings. I mean, a place is easy for me. I can look up property records, police reports etc. But a table? I got lucky with that one. Had it not been for the stripe, it would have been about a month of researching it before being able to figure where it came from.”
“So, do you want to come out to the estate and feel it for yourself tomorrow?” I offered.
“Does that mean you’re hiring me?” he said with a hopeful look in his eyes.
“Why the hell not?” I replied with a smirk.
10
After leaving the bar, Kat and I decided to head back to my apartment. It was all a little much, and we really needed some time together. As we started driving, I noticed she was unusually quiet. When I glanced over at her, she was absently staring out the window as if in a daze. It had been kinda a crazy day. So, I just looked past it, thinking that if there was something she wanted to talk about, she would.
When we got to my apartment, she immediately curled up on the couch. She still had that same listless look to her, and when I looked at her eyes, it was like the crystal blue clarity was gone. They were clouded over.
“You okay?” I asked.
When I spoke, her head twitched a bit, and she blinked as if I had awoken her from a dream.
“What, yeah. Sorry.”
I sat on the couch and slid my arms around her. I could feel the tension in her body.
“Seriously, what’s bothering you?” I asked.
“It’s nothing…just David,” she admitted.
“Well, yeah. I admit it isn’t like this is conventional, but the pieces he spoke of kinda fit well.”
“Jesus Jim! That isn’t it.” She glared at me.
“What? If you want me to call it all off with him, that’s fine. I just thought it was interesting. He clearly knows more about this house than I do. It was nice hearing some of what he had to say.” I thought that would help smooth everything out.
I looked at Kat and she just continued to glare at me. Now, she looked pissed. I was so confused. On instinct, I decided I should keep talking and try to dig myself out of whatever hole I’d fallen down.
“I get it. You don’t like him. I honestly don’t care about him. If he makes you uncomfortable, then forget it.”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “You really think this is because I didn’t like something about him. I am not that petty!”
“I know you’re not. I didn’t mean it like that. Just tell me what’s bothering you, please!”
“What side do you think I’m on?” she asked, her curt word
s cut through me even more than her icy stare.
This was that point where I realized she had given me one of those questions where it doesn’t matter how you answer.
“Kat, stop. Just because he didn’t feel something doesn’t mean shit. I feel where you are. I know there isn’t even a part of you that would bring harm to me or that estate or anything else.”
“Why? Because you dreamt of me? Or are you just being nice because we slept together?”
“What are you talking about. That has nothing to do with it. Whether we slept together or not, from the moment we met, I felt I needed to be close to you.”
I tried to pull her close to me. I was confused. I was also pissed off and scared. She tore my arms off her and pushed me away from her. I just sat there looking at her, not sure what to do or what to say. Her feet pushed her deep into the corner of the couch. That is when I saw the tear. A single tear slowly running down her cheek as she stared off into the distance. I wanted so badly to wipe it off her cheek. I wanted to be the one to comfort her, but I didn’t know how. So, I just sat there, confused, looking at her. The silence was suffocating. Finally, she stood up and abruptly darted to the door.
“I have to go,” she said as she was walking out the door. “I need space to…”.
I stood up to follow her and got to the open door. She was already about twenty feet away.
“Kat! Please wait!” I yelled.
She continued walking, not even acknowledging my words.
“I drove you here! At least let me give you a ride home!”
“I will call a cab…just stop…let me be!” She never turned to face me.
I sat there for about an hour, in shock. I replayed the night over and over in my head. The words that were spoken. Her pushing herself into the corner of the couch. Her tear. In my mind, her tear sparkled like a diamond, unable to be ignored. I felt like my world had collapsed. Eventually, I got up and made it to the kitchen where I found a dusty bottle of Jim Beam. I poured a large glass and walked outside. I sat there on the patio drinking and staring into the sky.
