by Cutter, Leah
“What time is it?” Franklin asked. It still seemed light out—was it only mid-afternoon?
“5:45 AM,” the nurse said cheerfully.
“Have you been up all night?” Franklin asked. “You still look like you’re full of energy.”
“Thank you,” Julie said. “I’m just used to it. I am about to go off shift, though. So let me get you a doctor before he goes off shift, and we’ll see if we can’t get you out of here.”
“Thanks,” Franklin said as Julie left the room.
What had happened to him? Franklin shook his head. He didn’t remember much of anything after the doctors had first numbed his back so they could take the glass out. He should have just been in and out, that’s what they said, outpatient, right? Nothing about having to stay overnight.
Was this some kind of effect of the creature? Was this why Adrianna had gotten more spacy? Was Franklin going off the deep end now? As if his life wasn’t hard enough already.
With a sigh, Franklin turned on the TV, looking for the weather report. More of the recent heat wave was predicted. Of course. He wasn’t going to catch a break.
* * *
Darryl came to get Franklin. He agreed to bring Franklin’s suit, as well, after stopping by the house.
Franklin was ready to be out of there. The new nurse wasn’t as cute or friendly as Julie had been. And the paperwork had been horrible. At least his insurance covered a lot of it—but he was still out a huge chunk of change.
“I’ll help you clean up,” Darryl told Franklin as he handed over the clothes. “That thing did a right good job of messing up everything at your place.”
“It’s kind of poisonous, too,” Franklin said. “Doctor said my cuts was all infected. Every single one of them.” Part of why he was so fuzzy about the night before was because they’d been feeding him high octane antibiotics. The doctors had been afraid it was some sort of staph infection.
Franklin took his clothes into the bathroom to change. It wasn’t easy pulling on his clean white shirt over his bandaged arms. His legs weren’t much better: Though they hadn’t been gouged by the creature, they’d still been scratched up the previous day when he went running through the woods. It was part of why the doctors had been concerned—the infection from his arms and back had spread to his legs as well.
Franklin finally admitted defeat and came back out into the hospital room. Darryl was perched on the bed, flipping through TV channels.
“Can you help?” Franklin asked, holding out his suit coat. He just couldn’t get his arm moved around to catch the sleeve. The drugs were starting to wear off, too, and trying to do even normal stuff just set his back off.
Darryl silently helped Franklin into his jacket. At least Franklin could slip on his shoes, didn’t have to tie them: He wasn’t sure he could reach down to get at the laces.
They got the prescription filled at hospital, and Franklin dry-swallowed two of the pain pills right away. He knew he’d be high as a kite, but his back was already starting to ache.
The drive to Katherinesville was hell. Franklin tried to stay twisted in the seat, just have his shoulder resting against it, as he had in the sheriff’s car, but it didn’t seem to work as well. He felt every bump like a jolt from a cattle prod.
People were already gathered outside the church for the funeral. Franklin was going to have to get his whole suit dry cleaned since he was sweating so much, already, before they stepped into the bright sunshine.
“Come on,” Darryl said, taking Franklin by the arm and steering him away from the front. “Let’s go in the back.”
Franklin gladly followed. He liked people, but he felt vulnerable today, not sure he wanted to see much of anyone except family. Or maybe, just his bed.
From the back entrance they went straight to the fireside room, next to the sanctuary, where the rest of the family was all gathered.
Aunt Jasmine sat on one of the floral couches, crying quietly into her kerchief, Preacher Sinclair in his purple robes sitting beside her. She wore her best red suit, complete with hat and gloves. It broke Franklin’s heart so see such a proud mountain of a woman shaking with such grief.
Franklin was surprised to see Lexine’s father there—after he’d left, he’d had nothing to do with any of the family. He stood, looking uncomfortable in his fancy rose-colored suit, to one side, all alone.
May was at least decently covered in a navy blue dress, and her eyes were clear as she handed her mother another tissue. Jason entertained the kids in another corner, sitting on the floor with them and telling them a story.
Franklin sat down on one of the side chairs, near his aunt. He felt like collapsing with pain and grief, swallowing down the lump in his throat. It was just so unfair that Lexine had passed on.
May left her mother’s side and came to crouch down next to Franklin. “You look like shit,” she said quietly.
“You should see the other guy,” Franklin said, repeating his joke.
“What happened?” May asked. “Darryl just said he had to go pick you up at the hospital. Details. Now. I want the dirt. Who’d you get into a fight with?”
Franklin sighed. “No dirt. No real fight. Just a stupid angry spirit. The same one as killed Lexine.” Even though the police thought it was the businessman, Franklin knew the real killer was the creature. It had damn near killed him. It might have killed Mama, if you could kill a ghost.
“Shit,” May said loudly. Everyone looked at her. “Excuse me, reverend,” May said contritely. “My cousin here’s been attacked by the same thing that killed Lexine.”
Franklin closed his eyes for a moment. Damn it. She shouldn’t have just announced it like that. When he opened his eyes again, everyone was staring at him.
“Is that true?” Aunt Jasmine demanded.
“The thing that left the gouges in Lexine’s face,” Franklin said, trying to at least clarify what he meant. “Yeah. It attacked me. Put me in the hospital last night.”
Aunt Jasmine turned a baleful glare at Preacher Sinclair. “Preacher, what are you gonna do about this thing?”
“Me?” the preacher asked. “I’m not sure why you think I should get involved.” His dark skin couldn’t hide how he paled at the thought.
“Didn’t you say this thing is evil?” Aunt Jasmine said, turning toward Darryl.
“That’s what the tramp said, how he described it. Franklin?” Darryl asked. “What would you say?”
“Its intent is to kill,” Franklin said quietly. “It sees anyone who’s special as competition. It’s a predator. But—it also likes to cause pain.” He shivered, remembering how helpless he’d felt in the face of its fury and hate.
“See?” Aunt Jasmine said. “An evil creature that likes to cause pain, that’s not of this world. Should be right up your alley, preacher.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Preacher Sinclair said. “We’ll talk, after the funeral,” he added, nodding at Franklin.
Great. Another day spent hunting in the woods, searching for a creature Franklin wasn’t sure he wanted to find. Just what he needed.
* * *
Franklin sat back down with relief after finishing the hymn, “There is Power in the Blood.” He couldn’t believe how standing for even a short while left him tired and aching.
Preacher Sinclair started, leaning on his pulpit, in his purple robes and long white scarf. “Lexine was a child of God, called back to him too soon. Maybe he needed her back by his side, or maybe she needed to be carried for a while.”
While Aunt Jasmine was nodding, Franklin shook his head. Lexine had been a strong-willed woman who’d stood on her own two feet for a good long time. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her.
Most everything the preacher said, Franklin disagreed with: She’d never finished high school, but she’d been one of the smartest people Franklin knew; she hadn’t kept a garden because it was simple or uncomplicated, no, but because it was part of the cycle, life and death, growth and harvest.
Aunt Jasmine was too torn up to say anything, so Darryl got up first, and talked about Lexine’s fire and how she’d whooped his ass, more than once. May talked about how Lexine liked to get crazy with her sometimes, and the trouble they’d cause. Jason told about Lexine’s gentle side, a part of her that she didn’t show many folks.
Finally, they all turned to Franklin, and he realized they expected him to get up and say something. He swayed when he stood, and fresh sweat broke out across his shoulders. The painkillers made him woozy, but he still walked tall to the front and stood behind the reading lectern.
“Lexine was special,” Franklin said. “She knew God’s spirit, and offered comfort to those who needed it, shelter until they could move on. She followed God’s will—though maybe not all his commandments.” That brought a chuckle. “She was strong and crazy good and lived such a big life, all the time. I’m gonna miss her, so much.”
That was about all Franklin could say. As he walked back to his pew, a light flared at the back of the church, something warm and welcoming. It wasn’t a spirit or a ghost, though it had that kind of feeling to it.
Maybe it was just Lexine saying thank you.
* * *
After the funeral, everyone gathered in the community room downstairs. The church ladies served punch for the kids, sweet tea and coffee for the adults, along with fresh-baked cookies. The back doors were wide open so the kids could run in and out of the room, despite the heat of the day.
Darryl helped Franklin shed his jacket, though Franklin didn’t roll up his sleeves—he didn’t want anyone getting a better look at his wounds. He felt vulnerable enough as it was. He sat at one of the round tables covered with the good, white-linen tablecloths, sipping his ice tea. He kept his back to the wall, where it’d be protected, and people wouldn’t bang into it by accident.
A pretty white woman with brown hair and hazel eyes came up to him. She wore a bright yellow dress. “Mr. Kanly?” she asked. “That was beautiful, what you said about Lexine. And you’re right. She was very, very special.”
The woman seemed so familiar. “Nurse Julie!” Franklin finally exclaimed.
“That’s right! I wasn’t sure you’d remember me. You were kind of out of it.”
“Of course I’d remember a pretty nurse like you,” Franklin said. “How did you know Lexine?”
“We belonged to the same…group,” Julie said.
“What kind of group?” Franklin asked, curious. What did Lexine have to do with a pretty nurse all the way over on the far side of the county?
“It’s a group who get together to do good works,” Julie said seriously. “Not like a charity, but to pray for the world, sometimes.”
Franklin hadn’t known Lexine was the praying type. “Really?” he asked. “I hadn’t known about it.”
“Lexine wouldn’t have talked about it to anyone in your family. She did say that she might have invited you along, sometime, though.” Julie paused. “I didn’t realize, until I saw you get up at the service, that you were the cousin Franklin that Lexine had talked about.”
“So it’s like a prayer circle?” Franklin asked. He didn’t want to join anything like that: He had enough to deal with already.
“Not exactly,” Julie said. She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening too closely. “We’re a group of pagans.”
* * *
Franklin wasn’t sure how he felt about Lexine being in a pagan group. She’d never been a church-going kind of lady, but Franklin hadn’t had any doubts about her being a good person.
But maybe she’d been getting too close to her spirits if she’d been believing in things beyond her spirits, like other gods and such.
Franklin hadn’t ever had any problems with his faith—it’d always been his duty to help ghosts move on to Heaven, if that’s where they was headed, to get closer to God.
“So you’ll come? To our service for Lexine?” Julie asked. The noise in the community room had died down some, as people were starting to say their goodbyes and final condolences to the family.
“Yes, I’ll come,” Franklin said. They weren’t witches, she’d assured him. But they didn’t believe in the God he did.
“Good!” Julie said. “It’ll be Saturday night. I’ll come and pick you up, because you shouldn’t be driving yourself yet.”
After pocketing Franklin’s address, carefully written out on a napkin, Julie stood up to go. “I think you’ll like our group. Maybe feel at home there. I know Lexine did.”
“I’m sure I will,” Franklin assured Julie, though he wasn’t sure at all. Lexine had sworn the only place she ever felt at home was in her cabin in the woods, far away from everyone, surrounded by nature.
After Julie had gone, Franklin thought about getting another iced tea. He knew he’d be expected to go back to Aunt Jasmine’s house, to be with the family, but really, he just wanted to go take a nap. It was about time for him to take another set of pain pills as well.
Preacher Sinclair came to sit at Franklin’s table just as he was fishing out one of the prescription bottles from his jacket pocket. The preacher had taken off his purple clergy robes and just wore a white dress shirt, with a bright blue and purple striped tie, and light gray slacks.
“I’m sorry to see you in such pain,” the preacher started with. “Both your physical and mental anguish.”
“Thank you, sir,” Franklin replied. “I’ll be all right, though.” He just needed a couple days rest, or so the doctors had assured him.
“So what exactly happened? What attacked you?” Preacher Sinclair asked. “I’d thought it was some kind of wild animal who got Lexine. She did live pretty far out in the woods.”
“It weren’t no animal,” Franklin said. “It was a creature—a spirit.”
“A spirit? Like a devil? Or a demon?”
Franklin shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s not from Hell—it’s just—not human.
“I see,” the preacher said. “And why do you believe that?”
Franklin blinked, trying to come up with something other than the truth, but he was too tired, too doped up on pain killers. “Because I saw it. Gray, like a dust devil, with long black whips, like barbed wire, wrapped around it. It’s evil, reverend. I could feel its intent. It means to kill me, and anyone else like me.”
“Are you sure, son?” Preacher Sinclair asked. “Grief can make people see and do a lot of strange things. I speak from experience, from when I lost my dear wife, years ago. The devil came visiting me every night.”
Franklin doubted it was the devil—just the preacher’s pain. “I’m sure,” he said, then added dryly, “I didn’t give myself these injuries, you know.”
The preacher chuckled. “I’ve heard folks talking about you, too. That you can see things like ghosts.”
“Yes, sir,” Franklin said. “I generally just see ghosts though. Humans who have died and need help passing on.”
“To where?” Preacher Sinclair asked.
“To Heaven. They’ve not been fearful,” Franklin said. “They’ve just needed to settle their business here on earth so they could move forward.”
“Interesting,” the preacher said. “And you think you’ll be able to help this spirit—pass along?”
“God willing,” Franklin said. He had to stop this thing somehow. Rock salt weren’t doing it, but he didn’t know what they could use.
“I see. Well, then, I suppose we’re going to have to spend some time together.” the preacher said. “See if you can show me this spirit.”
“It’s dangerous,” Franklin warned. He had the stitches to prove it.
“I am a man of God,” Preacher Sinclair said. “My faith will protect me.”
And maybe it would—because little else seemed to work against this thing.
Chapter Eight
MAY RODE BACK TO FRANKLIN’S FARM with Darryl, instead of going to Aunt Jasmine’s. “Ma’s got enough support for now,” May said. “She don’t need me until later. I’ll go next week, have dinner with her a couple of nights. Bring the kids, give her something to yell about.”
Franklin nodded, barely awake. The pain meds had helped his back and arms feel better, but now, he could hardly keep his eyes open. Hopefully, Mama would be waiting for him back in the kitchen by the time he got back home.
They bounced across the road and into Franklin’s driveway. The house sat quiet and abandoned, even the fields looking dry in the dusty heat of the day. Sweet Bess wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Had she been trying to warn him off, before? Keep him out of the house while that thing was there?
Franklin’s heart just about hit his shoes as he stepped into the kitchen. It was a right mess. Dishes broken and scattered, glass everywhere, and the shards painted with his blood.
But more importantly, no ghosts was waiting for him.
May peeked over his shoulder, tsked, and said, “Sweet Jesus.” She looked critically at Franklin. “You go lay down before you fall over. Darryl and I can handle this.”
“Are you sure?” Franklin asked. “You don’t need to. You could go home—”
“Henry’ll take care of the kids, and as I said, Ma don’t need me right now. You do. Go to bed.” May looked at Darryl. “Now, I know you’re about as useful as tits on a frog. So you’re gonna do exactly what I say, and we’ll get this place cleaned before you know it.”
Franklin kind of wanted to stay and see that.
“Go,” May ordered, pointing toward the back.
Franklin obeyed, slipping into the quiet sanctuary of his room. He pulled down the shades and lay down on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position to lay in. He finally found one propped up on his side, and he slid into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When Franklin awoke, evening had settled in around the house. Dim light pressed against his drawn shades. He couldn’t hear anything, and wondered if his cousins had left.
He took a deep breath, and regretted it. Damn, that hurt. He was probably way overdue for his pain meds. But he felt refreshed in a way that he hadn’t that morning, and while the pain was sharp, it also slid away cleanly. He knew he was already on the mend.
