Blackwater Lights

by Michael M. Hughes

  “Yes,” Ray said.

  “Then you know. You’ve been touched by the fire of His Holy Spirit.” Micah’s voice was musical, almost hypnotic in its singsong rhythm. “And that’s what brought you here, isn’t it? The spirit of the Lord driving you to the Truth?”

  “Yes, I suppose.” The preacher had a vibe similar to Crawford’s—there was a power in his presence, despite his outward physical frailty. And he had sensed that power even from a distance, the first time he’d seen Micah in the parade.

  “I can see that you are looking for something, Ray Simon: the Truth. And I believe we can help you find the answers you seek.”

  Ray stood, slowly. Blood rushed to his head. This was all too much. Had coming here been a mistake? Had he given himself away? He wasn’t sure. But he knew if he stayed Micah would draw the truth out of him. And he wasn’t ready for that, especially if Micah had been involved with the camp. “Thank you, Micah. I’ll come see you again.”

  The old man stood and nodded. “We’d love to have you join us. Next Sunday. Eight A.M. sharp. We might be small in number, but our voices carry high and loud.”

  Ray shook his hand. The old man held on. He brought his left hand and cupped it over Ray’s.

  “Remember, Ray, we are all drawn to the Truth—every last soul. Follow that Truth and you’ll open doors that once were locked. They’ll open wide for you.”

  Ray drove away, wondering if maybe some doors were meant to stay shut.

  Chapter Nine

  Lily wasn’t in the Purple Burro or Frank’s, so he headed back to Sara’s Book and Candle Shop. Sara sat behind the counter reading a book about Kabbalah. Another subject as arcane to him as flower arrangement or playing the cello.

  “Hello again,” Sara said. She had a friendly face.

  Ray nodded.

  “Half-price Tarot readings today,” she said. “If you’re interested.”

  “No, thanks,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. He’d had enough backwoods voodoo for the time being. Although he didn’t believe in telling fortunes with cards, it still made him uneasy. What if the Death card came up, as it surely must, just like the ace of spades, by the laws of probability? Would he drop dead days later, like when a witch doctor pointed a skeleton finger at someone and they died just from the belief that it really would kill them? He’d pass.

  She smiled. “How about a cup of tea?”

  Ray hesitated. He was dreadfully thirsty. “Sure.”

  The old woman turned toward a hot water dispenser, put some loose tea into a tiny silver tea ball, and dropped the tea ball in a mug. Ray smiled at the neon blue running shoes poking from beneath her batik hippie dress.

  She handed him the cup. Her fingers were bony and age-spotted. “Sit down,” she said, pointing to a chair next to a table covered in black velvet.

  He stared, perplexed. But she stood, unwavering, one hand holding a mug and another beckoning toward a plastic folding chair.

  He sat. The old woman grabbed a wooden box off a shelf on the wall and sat down across from him. She opened up the box and pulled out a rectangular black silk bundle and unwrapped it reverently. Her cards. She dropped the yellowed stack on the table. “Shuffle them.”

  She looked so friendly and earnest that he couldn’t say no. He picked the cards up and shuffled. The cards were bigger than playing cards, worn, and stained. He awkwardly put the stack down when he was done.

  “Are you left- or right-handed?” she asked.

  “Right,” Ray said.

  She pointed to his left hand. “Cut them,” she said.

  He did as she asked. Sara picked up the stack and placed it in front of her. Her eyes closed. She breathed deeply and sighed. “You’re a stranger here.”

  “Yes,” Ray said slowly. As if that weren’t painfully obvious.

  She turned over a card. Death.

  Of course. What else would it be?

  She looked closely at him. “It’s not what you think.”

  Ray snickered. “Well, I’ll bet it doesn’t mean I’m going to win the lottery.”

  Her knobby middle finger tapped the card. “Death is not physical death—death of the body. Look at the picture.” She sipped her tea.

  A skeleton in black armor rode on a white horse. Below the rider, trampled underfoot, was a king, his crown upside down in the dirt. In front of the rider stood a priest in yellow robes and a large hat, reaching out in supplication, as if begging Death to pass him by. A woman fainted in front of the skeletal horseman, while a dark-haired child holding flowers gazed expressionless at the rider’s bony visage.

  “It looks deadly to me,” Ray said. He sipped his tea. It tasted odd, like an accumulation of all the smells in the store.

  “Relax,” she said. “Look closer. Everything must die to be born again—change is inevitable. See the child looking on? All the priest’s holiness will not stop Death. The woman faints away at the sight, unable to face her mortality. Only the child is not afraid. The child goes innocently into death. We must be like the child and not be afraid of the changes in our lives when they come, but seek to accept and understand them. That makes sense to you, doesn’t it?”

  He shrugged.

  She flipped over the next card. The Fool. A gaily dressed man walked toward the edge of a precipice. A little white dog yapped at his heels. But the Fool looked skyward, unaware, poised to step off the cliff.

  “You have started a new life,” the woman said. She ran a fingernail from the Death card to the Fool. “Your old life is gone. Utterly. The future lies before you, uncertain. There is great potential and great risk for you. Circumstances are pushing you along, and you must stay in motion and pay attention. Do you understand?”

  Ray nodded. He’d play along.

  She turned over another card, placing it next to Death. The Empress, a golden-haired woman on a pillow-covered bench. She held a scepter and wore a crown of stars. But the card was upside down.

  “This woman touches you,” she said. “She is new to you, maybe someone you are romantically drawn to. But circumstances do not favor your coming together. There are forces that may keep you apart, forces that neither of you yet understands.”

  He nodded.

  She placed another card directly below The Empress. The High Priestess, sitting between two pillars, one black and one white, holding a scroll. She wore a strange hat and had piercing dark eyes.

  “Another woman.” Sara looked directly into Ray’s eyes. Her eyes were bright, almost aquamarine blue. “This woman—the High Priestess—is wise. And she holds secrets. I think you are drawn to her, too, and she to you. The energy is powerful, sexual and mysterious. But it’s ambivalent. There’s something I’m not picking up on.”

  The room seemed to be breathing, the walls swelling inward and outward with his breath. Had she put something in his tea? Or was it just an aftereffect of the drugs from Crawford’s party? Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “Just one more,” she said. She pulled the last card, and Ray caught his breath. The Devil.

  “All trump cards,” she said. “Very interesting. When a reading is only trumps, with no minor arcana, it means this is a crucial point in your life. The things you are experiencing now are very important. You must pay close attention to everything that happens and remain cautious and alert.” She looked up. “Ray, tell me what you see. In this card. Go ahead. Pick it up.”

  “It’s the Devil,” he said. “Horns, wings, the whole works.”

  “And who stands in front of him?”

  “A woman. And a man. Naked.”

  She smiled. “And they are connected how?”

  “By chains,” he said. “Around their necks.”

  “Yes. But the chains are loose. Do you know why?”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t know.”

  “The chains don’t really hold them, Ray. They willfully yoke themselves to the beast. They can escape, but their desires keep them enslaved. Desire can lead us to make very bad dec
isions. Does that make sense to you?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I guess.” The urge to flee was overpowering. He took a small sip of his tea. “How much do I owe you?” he asked, digging for his wallet.

  “You don’t owe me anything. I only want you to remember what I said. You will remember? You are at a point in your life where much hangs in the balance. The decisions you make must not be made without careful consideration.”

  He nodded, standing up. He bumped the table and some of his tea splashed onto the black tablecloth.

  “Light a white candle when you need strength,” she said.

  Sara’s cat stared at him. It watched him as he walked to the front door. The coppery bells jangled as the door closed behind him.

  He drove around for a half hour, looking for Lily’s Jeep. He stopped by the library, but it was closed. His brain was still out of whack, and twice on the drive he thought he saw someone or something moving in his peripheral vision on the side of the road.

  The orange cat waited for him by Kevin’s front door. Still no sign of Kevin’s car. Dammit. Was Ellen right? Did Kevin know Crawford and Lily?

  No. Not Kevin. But he had been scared. And maybe it was the two of them he’d been afraid of.

  Ray scratched under the cat’s chin, and it rubbed against his leg. He slid the key into the keyhole and opened the door.

  The phone was ringing.

  He put down his bags and picked up the phone, checking the caller ID. Unknown caller.

  Kevin—it had to be. Finally. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Ray,” Lily said.

  His breath caught in his chest. “I was hoping you’d call.”

  She laughed. “I’m assuming you’re okay, then. I was really worried about you the other night. You were in rough shape.” Her voice was soft.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I was.” Thanks to that shit you gave me.

  “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I’m sorry if I pushed you to do things. I was pretty far gone myself when you got there.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I apologize. And I’d like to make it up to you. By buying you dinner. My treat. What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  His brain seized up. This wasn’t going according to his plan. She was taking control again. And if he was going to see her, to find out what she knew and what had happened, he needed to stay in control.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just want to make up for my bad behavior. Just dinner and a couple glasses of wine. I promise.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m really not sure what happened that night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t remember much after we took the Ecs—the stuff. I remember going for a swim, then the rest is a blank. I don’t know how I acted. Or what I did.”

  “Oh, Ray, you were fine,” she said. “Stop being so hard on yourself. We both fell asleep after we went swimming—passed out is more like it. I woke up, and then Crawford helped me get you into your car. You were out cold and snoring. I drove you home, and he followed me. We carried you in and put you to bed.”

  He sighed. He’d blacked out, pure and simple. Of course, it might not have been that simple at all. But he’d have to see her to find out.

  “So what do you say? Dinner? Tomorrow night?”

  He paused. “Yeah, sure.”

  “I’ll pick you up at eight. Gotta run—I’m late for an appointment. Bye, Ray.” He said goodbye and hung up the phone.

  He sat in silence. Had he really just agreed to go to dinner with her? She was awfully good at taking charge.

  “It’s just dinner,” he said. “Nothing more.”

  Chapter Ten

  Lily pulled up in her Jeep. Ray watched her from the living room window. When she slid out of her seat, her short, straight black dress opened at the slit. She adjusted her neckline and bent over to tug at the strap of her sandal. Her hair fell over her shoulders. It was curlier than before—she’d really done herself up. Ray was glad he’d shaved and thrown on one of Kevin’s good polo shirts, and he hoped his khakis weren’t too wrinkled. He opened the door and met her on the porch.

  “Hi, Ray.” Her lipstick glistened. She was wearing the same heady perfume as when he’d met her in the bookstore. “I’m sorry about the party.”

  “No worries. Don’t—”

  “Just listen. I want to get it out of the way before we go. So we can talk about other things.”

  He nodded. “Okay, apology accepted. My apologies for losing my marbles.”

  She touched his arm. “Apology also accepted. It’s happened to the best of us. Are you hungry?”

  “If you saw the inside of that refrigerator, you’d understand.”

  She laughed. “Let’s go, then. I’ll drive. I haven’t eaten anything all day.”

  He followed her, watching the dress shift as she walked. She made him anxious, afraid to look too hard and also afraid to avoid looking.

  They drove a little less than an hour, not talking much because of the wind. She pulled up to a restaurant perched over a slow-moving river—the Otter Creek Inn. It was nicer than Ray had expected, with a write-up from the Washingtonian and a Zagat sticker on the front window. The hostess seated them at an outside table overlooking the river. Moonlight flashed off the surface of the water, and for a moment Ray felt nauseated and dizzy. He breathed deeply and the queasiness passed. A busboy poured their water, and he drank half his glass.

  “You okay?” Lily asked.

  “I’m great,” he said, picking up the menu. “Nice place.”

  “Nicest around. It’s the only nice place around, really.” She ordered a bottle of cabernet while Ray looked over his menu. “The wine list leaves a lot to be desired. But the veal is terrific.”

  He wiped his watery eyes and the words came into focus. His stomach was unsettled, probably just from nerves.

  “Are you a vegetarian?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, no. No. I love a good steak.”

  “Me too. I can’t imagine how people survive without a big, juicy hunk of beef once in a while. I’d be anemic in a week.” The wine arrived, and Lily tasted it. She nodded her approval, and the waitress poured it into their glasses. “Crawford’s wine cellar puts this place to shame,” she said. “I wish you could have spent more time with him. I really think you’d like him if you got to know him. I know you two would get along.”

  “I’m sure we would.” Liar. “Maybe soon.”

  Her eyes glittered in the candlelight. “Let’s talk about you. How long are you staying in town?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe another few days. I have to get ready for my summer classes. It’s not much—summer school is basically babysitting.”

  “I wish you would stay longer. Do you like it here?”

  He paused. “I suppose. It’s been a little weird so far.”

  Lily rubbed her finger across the lip of her wineglass. “You’ve come to a very powerful place.”

  “How so?”

  “The mound makers understood the energy of the land. They built huge mounds all over the region, all through West Virginia, Ohio … and here. In the valley. The Blackwater cemetery is built right on top of one of them. The mounds are like acupuncture needles in the earth’s skin, tapping into and concentrating the energy.”

  Ray watched her lips. Wet with the wine, so red against her teeth and her white skin. “I’m still not sure I understand what this energy is.”

  “It manifests in many ways. It’s elemental, so it shapes everything—the people, the animals, the plants. If you’re particularly sensitive—and I know you are, Ray—you can feel it. In the air. It’s like bright things are brighter, and dark things darker, and colors are more intense. Everything is heightened. I know you’ve felt it.” Her leg brushed against his.

  I feel that. He nodded. Naked women, lights in the sky, a redheaded goddess brushing her oh-so-smooth leg against his below the table …

  Lily st
ared out the window, her eyes catching a reflection off the slow-moving river below. “You were meant to be here, Ray. I knew it when I first saw you.”

  Now he was getting the druggy feeling again. His mouth dried up and his stomach dropped.

  Her face moved closer. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

  “No,” he lied.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little ashen.”

  “I’m fine.” He sipped his water. “Excuse me for a second.” He stood and walked unsteadily to the bathroom. Once inside, he yanked open the stall door and vomited into the toilet. He stood, head bowed, and breathed deeply for several minutes. Much better. He rinsed his face with cold water and swished the taste out of his mouth the best he could. When he got back to the table, Lily stood up.

  “Do we need to leave?” she asked.

  “No, not at all. I’m just a little off-kilter. Since the party, I’ve been sorta messed up. I’m okay now. Sit down, sit down.”

  “Sounds like phenethylamines don’t agree with you,” she said.

  “I guess not.” Miss Big Words. “Please, sit.”

  “I’m sorry I gave you the 2C-B. That was overkill. I got carried away and I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Really—it’s okay. I’m over it.” Purging the contents of his stomach had rid him of the druggy nausea. He felt strangely invigorated and awake. And the wine was suddenly appealing, if only to cleanse his mouth of the sour aftertaste. He touched her bare arm. “I feel better now. In fact, I could use some more wine.”

  Dinner and another bottle of wine worked magic. She talked about herself, finally opening up—she’d been an only child and had lived in Rome, Buenos Aires, and Geneva and had gotten her master’s in art history at Yale. “But what do you do?” he asked. “For a living?”

  She seemed offended, then laughed gently. “I do many things for living, but only a few for money. Let’s just say money has never been a problem in my family.”