Dark Rite

by David Wood

  “It is long overdue,” she said after a few mouse clicks. “Let me see. Oh.” Her wrinkled faced reddened. “I'm afraid I can't help you.”

  Grant couldn't believe his shitty luck. “Can you at least tell me who was the last person to check it out?”

  The woman looked him in the eye, seeming to really see him for the first time.

  “Andrew Shipman.”

  Grant wandered out of the library in a half-daze. Here was a solid connection. There had to be something in McKenzie's book that could help him understand what the hell his father had been into. Now, if he could only find the book. Surely it was somewhere in all the boxes he'd packed up.

  He was so deep in thought that he almost walked right into the girl leaning against his car. He looked up in surprise as she greeted him.

  “Hey there. You're the new guy.” She had wavy, brown hair, big hazel eyes, and straight, white teeth-- a rarity in Wallen's Gap. She wore hip-huggers and a tight tee shirt that emphasized her curves. She cocked her hip and he caught a glimpse of flat, tanned abs and a pink thong.

  “I know I am.” He wished he had come up with a smarter retort, but his reply must have tickled her funny bone. She giggled and touched his forearm with the tip of a heavily lacquered fingernail.

  “You're cute. I'm Jazy.”

  “Grant.” He racked his brain for a way to extricate himself from the conversation. The girl was smoking hot, and not just by Wallen's Gap standards, but he wanted to find the book, and maybe find Cassie.

  “I been wanting to catch you since I saw you drive by in this sweet car a couple days ago,” Jazy said. “When I saw it just now, I finally plucked up the courage to stop and say hello. You can probably imagine how dull it gets around here, when you know everyone and there’s nothing new and exciting going on.”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “Are you okay?” Jazy took a step closer and looked up at him in genuine concern.

  “Yeah, sorry, just got a lot on my mind.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?” How could she possibly know what was going on?

  “I lost my daddy too, not so long ago.” Sadness dulled her eyes, but she forced a smile. “You just gotta give it time. Nothing else helps.”

  Grant felt a lump forming in his throat. It wasn't out of sadness over the loss of his dad, but for this bit of simple kindness and concern. He'd experienced precious little of such normal human interactions since arriving in Wallen's Gap. He cleared his throat.

  “Thanks.” Then a thought occurred to him. “Say, do you know Cassie Brunswick?”

  “Why sure.” Jazy smiled. “Of course, everybody knows everybody around here, but me and Cassie are friends. She's sweet.”

  “You wouldn't know where I could find her, would you?” If Jazy and Cassie were friends, maybe the girl knew something.

  Jazy brought her fingers to her lips and stared at him, her eyes gleaming with sympathy. “Oh my God, I didn't even think. Of course it was you.”

  “What was me?” A cold, heavy weight sagged inside of him.

  “She called me late last night, all upset because she thinks she still loves Carl but she also likes some new fellow, and the pressure's getting to her. And apparently all kinds of other things are going on. She wouldn’t tell me who the other guy was, and I figured it was a local boy.” She made a face. “Anyhow, she said she was going to go stay with her cousin or some such, she just couldn’t handle staying in town until her head was straight. She was calling me for advice, and I told her sure, she should go and give herself time and space to think. Oh, don't look like that.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him close. He was keenly aware of her breasts pressing against his chest. “I'm sure she won't be gone too long, and I don't think she'll pick that Carl.”

  Grant stared over her head at the mountains, their peaks hidden by low-hanging rain clouds. So Cassie really had left on her own. It was hard to believe, but there it was in unrequested corroboration. First Suzanne, then Cassie. Whatever. If she actually found it difficult to choose between him and that Carl dipshit, he didn't need her in his life. He would never understand women. At least she was well away from the genetic traffic circle that was Wallen's Gap, and that was the main thing, right? With any luck she would stay away from her mean father and that idiot Carl. .

  “Come on. I know just the thing to cheer you up.” Jazy took him by the hand and led him down the street. He wondered what she had in mind as she took him down a side street. The asphalt gave way to a rutted dirt and gravel road, and weeds grew tall in the cracks in the sidewalk.

  They arrived at a small diner, the name painted on the dirty window proclaiming it The Lyons' Den. As she pushed the door open, the sounds of music and cheerful conversation poured out. He raised an eyebrow at Jazy. This was about as unlike Wallen's Gap as you could get. She grinned and pushed him in ahead of her.

  The diner was dim and filled with the aroma of greasy Southern cooking. The few patrons, every one of them African-American, only spared the new arrivals a passing glance before smiling or nodding at Jazy and returning to their conversations. John Lee Hooker belted out a mournful blues tune from an old-school jukebox in the corner. The atmosphere wrapped around Grant like a comfortable old blanket.

  “You feel better already, don't you?” Jazy still held his hand, and he realized he didn't mind so much. “Welcome to the only place in Wallen's Gap where people actually mean it when they're nice to each other.”

  She introduced him to Amos Lyons, the proprietor, an elderly man with hair as white as his skin was dark. His teeth and eyes were matching shades of very pale yellow, but his smile was friendly. He shook Grant's hand, warned him to “Watch out for Miss Jazy, she's trouble!” in a stage whisper, and handed them each a bottle of Mountain Dew.

  “I'm not a big Mountain Dew guy,” he said as they sat down at a table near the jukebox.

  “Take a drink.” Jazy smiled as he took a gulp and surprise registered on his face. “It's really Budweiser. I ain't twenty-one yet. Of course, he charges six dollars a bottle, but every once in a while it's worth it to sit back, listen to some music, and have a cold one. Don't you think?”

  “Definitely. No offense, but this town is depressing as hell.” He took a long pull of beer, enjoying the flavor as the ice cold brew slaked his thirst.

  “You don't have to tell me. God, I want to get out of here so bad, but I don't know how.” She shrugged and let her head hang.

  “Hey, don't do that.” Grant put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. “You're the only ray of sunshine around here. Don't let this place beat you.”

  “I'm not college material and I don't know anything else to do with myself. I thought about dancing, you know.” She pantomimed a pole dance with such a goofy look on her face that Grant had to laugh. “But that ain't me.”

  “There's always a way. You just have to hang in there until you figure out what it is.” Grant's thoughts turned to Cassie. Was there a way out for her? Did she even want one, or was she going to come back and choose Carl? He kicked himself. Stupid. Cassie had made her choice, and a part of him was happy for her. She was smart enough to get away from everything, for a little while at least, even if that meant getting away from him too. So be it. He turned his attention back to Jazy.

  By the time they'd downed a few beers, a half a rack of ribs, and the crunchiest, greasiest onion rings he'd ever eaten, he had managed to put Cassie out of his mind. Jazy wanted to know everything about him, his life, and the problems with his father. She laughed at all the right places and kept touching his arm in a familiar way. She adored the idea that he was a musician and made him promise to play for her soon. When her hand crept down to his lap, he knew it was time to leave. He left enough cash on the table to cover their check plus a generous tip, and followed her out the door, his eyes only drifting from her hips long enough to see two young men grin and give him the thumbs-up.

  He smiled as he closed the door. Maybe th
ings were finally looking up for him.

  Chapter 13

  “This is it.” Grant ushered Jazy inside the cabin, closed the door behind them, and locked it, vowing that any Stallard who interrupted them would pay in blood.

  “Not bad,” she said, looking around. “I've never been up to this part of the mountain. It's nice and quiet here away from town.” She turned and draped her arms around his neck. “Very romantic.”

  He drew her close and pressed his lips to hers. They fell onto the old couch, arms and legs entwined. He ran his hands up and down her body, half his mind refusing to give up thoughts of Cassie and the other half marveling at Jazy's fine curves. That second half quickly won out and he pulled the t-shirt off over her head. Passion lent them urgency and it was no time before they were both naked and thoughts of any kind beyond the carnal found no further purchase in Grant's beer-buzzed brain. He forced himself to take his time, let all his frustrations and concerns boil away in an unquenched furnace of desire.

  By the end they had migrated to the rug in front of the big fireplace. Grant wanted to get up and light it, but their bodies were still hot and glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, and he was reluctant to remove Jazy's head from his chest, or her leg from where it lay hooked over his. She ran a finger in gentle swirls over his belly, sending pleasant shivers through his body.

  “You wanna take me away for a few days?” she asked dreamily.

  Grant frowned. That seemed like a strange and sudden request. “Take you away?”

  “Sure. You know, go somewhere fun and exciting. I know I have to work my own way out of this shitty town, but maybe you and I could take a few days, you know? We can have some more fun like this, and maybe I'll get some ideas for my escape plan.” She brushed his earlobe with her soft lips, making him shudder with pleasure.

  He tried to ignore the urge that was already stirring again inside of him, and focused on the moment and her request. He wanted to say something along the lines of I hardly know you, why would we go away together? but given what they had just done, that seemed like the wrong way to go. “I dunno, I have a still lot to sort out here,” he said. “Maybe we could, you know, just hang out around here, and maybe go away in a week or so once I've got everything straightened out?”

  She pushed herself up onto one elbow, and stretched, displaying her figure to full effect. Her hazel eyes, suddenly flinty, gazed at him through a curtain of tousled hair. “I got me the wanderlust.” She whispered the last word like an incantation. “I want to be spontaneous. Let's go right now! The cabin will still be here when we get back.”

  He reluctantly tore his gaze away from her amazing breasts. “Right now?”

  “Yeah! Let's get in that hot car of yours and just go somewhere. It don't have to be anywhere fancy. I just want to go.”

  Grant laughed to cover a sudden unease. Guilty thoughts of Cassie flitted through his mind and Jazy's strange insistence on going away raised uncomfortable suspicions. From the corner of his eye he saw his shirt draped over the arm of the sofa and the material of the top pocket shifted and bucked. He winced and pulled Jazy in for a kiss before she could notice. As they moved apart again, he rolled her over to his other side to put her back to the hideous dismembered finger and brushed back her hair. “I'm too beat to drive anywhere right now,” he said. “Why don't we talk about it again in the morning?”

  She pouted, but nodded. “Sure. But what are you gonna do to keep me entertained till morning?” She sat up, straddled his hips and put her palms on his chest. She shifted back and forth, eyes alive with a mischievous gleam.

  Grant refused to give a moment's notice to the thoughts tumbling over each other in his mind and reached up for her again.

  The dawn pushed shadows from the bedroom. They had retreated to the comforts of the bed at some very late hour of the night. Or early morning depending how one measured such things. Grant watched Jazy sleeping, half-covered by the sheets. She was one gorgeous girl, but the cold and sober light of day brought with it troubling concerns.

  He slipped from the bed, careful not to rouse her, and tiptoed out into the front room. He began searching through boxes and it wasn't long before he pulled out a small paperback volume. Ancient Mysticism in Appalachia by Professor Charles McKenzie. His mind buzzed as he imagined his father checking the book out of the library. He thought of the horrible leatherbound volume the Stallards had stolen. The blackened finger they had missed. Coupled with this book, his own concerns and Cassie's nightmares, not to mention McKenzie's violent death, everything about Wallen's Gap took on a darker hue. And something else, something that had been bothering the edges of his conscious mind for a while that he couldn’t ignore. His father's death. He remembered what the waitress in the diner had said just a few days ago, even though it seemed like a lifetime. So young for a heart attack.

  There was no family history of heart disease that Grant knew of and his father had never been a smoker, or a particularly heavy drinker. By the time Grant had arrived in Wallen's Gap, the local doctor had already made the official announcements and the memorial service was for a man already cremated. Grant's hands began to tremble. His father had definitely been a part of this Kaletherex group, but had he perhaps found things he didn't like? Had he learned things he shouldn't have? Had he perhaps not died of a heart attack at all?

  Grant shook his head, rubbed one hand back over his hair. This town had him so confused, so many things made no sense. Or seemed to be far more complicated than they needed to be. Was he losing his mind? His thoughts fell to Cassie again and a burning guilt rose up from his gut. He had been so ready to believe Jazy the day before, but now even that seemed unreal. Was checking the book out of the library one of the last things his father had done?

  He opened it up and began looking through the table of contents. There were chapters on all kinds of Appalachian myths and legends, but towards the end of the book was a chapter entitled, Cults and Secret Societies of Appalachia. Grant swallowed, nerves cooling his spine. He turned to the chapter and began scanning the sub-headings. He got to one that made him gasp, The Banishing of Kaletherex.

  “You okay, sweetie?”

  Grant jumped, dropped the book in his lap. Jazy stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts. With the morning light behind her, she was hotter than ever. “Yeah, fine,” he said, hoping she didn't notice the tremor in his voice.

  “What's that you're reading?”

  “Oh, just going through some of dad's stuff, you know. Trying to decide what to keep, what to throw away or give to charity.”

  “Uh-huh.” She rang her tongue slowly over her lips. “So, what about that idea of you and me going away for a few days?”

  The nerves and unspent energy that were making Grant twitchy didn’t dissipate. “You seem pretty anxious to go away right now.”

  A flash of annoyance darkened her eyes for a moment, then it was gone. She smiled and peeled the t-shirt off, stood before him unashamedly, and amazingly, naked. “We can put the trip off for an hour or two if you want breakfast,” she said.

  Grant stared at her for a long time, trying to ignore his body’s insistent and obvious desires. He tore his eyes away. “I can't, not right now.”

  Her voice was suddenly hard, angry. “Are you serious?”

  He refused to look up at her again, but stood and gathered his discarded clothes from the night before, began pulling them on. “I'm really sorry, Jazy, I'd love to take off with you, but I just have to... You know, I have to...” This was wrong. Everything here was all wrong.

  “Have to what?” Her tone was cold.

  “I have so much stuff to do with my dad's things.” He stuffed the paperback book into the back pocket of his jeans, dragged on his shirt. The finger in the top pocket twitched and writhed momentarily.

  Jazy stalked past him, collected her own clothes from the floor. As she dressed she said, “I can't believe you're turning me down.” Something in her eyes sca
red him. A deep, abiding hatred seemed to have sprung up from nowhere and burned into him relentlessly.

  He felt the need to reassure her, if only to not make any more of an enemy here. “I'm not turning you down, Jazy, really. I just have so many things on my mind. Let me get some stuff sorted out today and we can come back here later and...”

  “Take me back to town, Grant.”

  He reached for her. “Come on, Jazy, don't be...”

  She slapped his hand away. “Take me back to town.”

  A glacier had descended between them and Grant knew it was pointless to try to do anything about it. “Okay.”

  They drove back down to Wallen's Gap in icy silence. The book pressed uncomfortably into Grant's backside, but he didn't want to move it anywhere that Jazy might see it. The finger in his pocket jerked and twitched occasionally. When they reached the main street, he drove slowly, wondering what to do, what to say. He pulled up at a T-junction and Jazy opened the door and got out.

  “Hey!” he called after her, stunned. “Hey, Jazy, come on.”

  She walked away without a word or a backward glance.

  Chapter 14

  Grant walked into the Cup Of Joe diner, feeling thoroughly bemused. He needed coffee and time to think. What exactly had happened this morning? His suspicions grew on each other like mold on old bread, hideous and consuming. More than ever he wanted to get into his car and drive away, far from Wallen's Gap, and never look back. But it seemed that Jazy had been determined to make him do just that and he couldn't help wondering why. Her mood, her disposition toward him, had changed so quickly and so dramatically. Over his confusion, his guilt sat heavier than anything else. He couldn't get thoughts of Cassie from his mind and felt as though he’d let her down. But he didn't know what to do. The finger in his shirt pocket writhed almost constantly and he couldn't bring himself to look at that either. It felt as much a danger as it might be a help, and how the hell could a disembodied finger keep moving around anyway? For some reason, though, it was important to keep it with him, though he had no idea why. Surely he was losing his mind, hallucinating, imagining conspiracies everywhere.