Demon's Tide (Dark Legacy Series Book 3)

by Sara Clancy

  Louis vaguely remembered Marigold mentioning a man named Richard. It was only ever in passing and only when he seemed linked to the story she was telling. Louis had gotten the impression that the only reason Richard had still been in the picture was because being together had become a habit. A safe routine. Now, he was barely an afterthought and he doubted Richard felt any differently. Of course, Louis wasn’t about to tell any of that to Nadia. The reporter was fishing, trying to sound casual and pry new information out of him. Instead, Louis looked out the window and ignored the chatter.

  Nadia huffed and brought the subject back to the point, “Do you think it’s the ghost of one of their victims?”

  “Most likely.”

  Nadia gave a sharp laugh, “I can’t believe that we’re actually discussing ghosts. This is so messed up.”

  “They’re just as natural as anything else in our reality.”

  “Have you really known this stuff since you were a kid?”

  Louis settled against the door and let his heavy eyelids drift close, “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t.”

  Nadia scoffed, “That’s child abuse.”

  “And what would it be to tell a child that what they see and experience is just in their head?”

  “Isn’t it like telling them the boogieman exists?”

  A weary laugh pulled out of Louis’ throat, “I’m pretty sure Maggie would tell you that it does.”

  “Speaking of Maggie–”

  “We’re not speaking of her.” he cut in.

  “You said you would tell me everything.”

  “If you left, which you didn’t.”

  Nadia released a pained sigh. “At least tell me why you are doing all of this for her?”

  “Because she needs me to,” Louis said.

  His spine straightened as the white boxlike structure of the plantation home came into view. All traces of the large fields that the slaves would have worked were gone, leaving only a perfectly manicured garden designed to look like a small orchard. The trees had died, leaving only brittle fingers to reach out in a halo around the trunks. The bayou had crept closer over the years and now stood as a thick rim along the property line.

  Great care had been taken to make the place look pristine and elegant, almost welcoming, but Louis still felt a crushing weight press down on him. The closer they got, the heavier it became, until it felt like he was miles underwater. He shivered and pressed back in his seat.

  “Is it weird for you to be here? What with your family’s history with this place?” Nadia asked.

  Louis flinched at the comment. It wasn’t like her to try and be tactful and her doing it now just hit him as insulting. He would always take a hard truth over a gentle phrase.

  “They were field slaves. Pretending that they weren’t won’t change anything. In all honesty, I should have visited here a long time ago.”

  Nadia pulled up next to the few rental cars that dotted the parking lot. Together, they strode towards the looming structure, the gravel crunching under their feet like brittle bones. He swallowed thickly and balled his hands as he forced himself to keep moving forward. Entering the shadow of the preserved home was like being dunked into Arctic water. It only took a second of exposure to have Louis shivering. He cast his gaze quickly to Nadia. She was already looking at him, her jaw clenched but her eyes revealing her hesitance to keep going. It was remarkable how hesitant people became to set foot on old properties when they knew that ghosts actually could be lurking in the shadows. All things considered, she was taking it rather well.

  They passed a chatting couple as they ascended the stone steps to the main doors. Racks of broachers bracketed each side of the impressive double doors and there was a single sign that asked for them to wait for the next guide. Not knowing what else to do, they lingered by the sign, glancing around at every sound and brush of wind. Louis felt like they had wondered into a minefield. It was just a matter of time before something went horribly wrong.

  Nadia was eyeing the porch swing that had just started to shift when Louis spotted a guide coming from the bowels of the house. He nudged Nadia with his elbowed to get her attention. Her eyebrows shot up when she noticed that the guide was dressed in a period hoop skirt. The woman opened her arms in greeting, her dress swaying with each step.

  “Welcome to Black Bayou Plantation.”

  “Black Bayou?” Nadia asked. “Isn’t this the La Roux property?”

  The woman hesitated, her smile faltering for a moment before returning to her well-polished Southern charm.

  “Black Bayou has seen many owners in its long history.”

  “Not that many.”

  The woman’s mouth twisted up, “But a few.”

  “So you’re trying to step back from the family?” Nadia asked. “Are you sure you want to do that? The La Roux are big news again. You could clean up.”

  Louis glared at her, threw a quick smile at the worker, and pulled Nadia back the few steps to the top of the staircase.

  “Can you wait until we’re inside to start pushing them?”

  “What are they going to do? Kick us out?”

  “They’re running a historical site while completely whitewashing history. Yes, they will kick us out.”

  “Yeah,” Nadia smirked. “They’re insane.”

  “All the more reason not to push them.”

  “Fine.”

  “We need to get in there.”

  “I said fine,” Nadia hissed.

  In unison, they turned back to the woman, identical fake smiles in place.

  “Good evening, ma’am,” Louis said with all the manners his mother had drilled into him over the years. “My name is Louis, this is Nadia, and we’d love to take a tour.”

  The woman folded her hands neatly in front of her and gave them a sweet smile. “Of course. Another tour is scheduled in a few moments. Please, follow me, you can wait in the café.”

  With one final glance at each other, Nadia and Louis took their final step over the threshold and entered onto the La Roux plantation.

  ***

  The windows of the flimsy structure rattled violently in the raging storm. The crimson rain pelted through the gaps between the splintered wood and drizzled down. It looked like the small room itself was bleeding. Marigold pushed herself as far away from the tiny cracked windows as she could. The shards vibrated within the frames, promising to shatter at any moment. Beyond the howling wind and thundering rain, she could still hear something moving outside. It was large, streaking past the window in a colossal ebony blur. The creature circled the tiny cabin at erratic speeds.

  The hound, she corrected herself. Pretending it could be anything else wouldn’t help her. It was coming. It was right there. A layer of bloody muck now covered the barren room. It swelled around her feet and soaked into the floorboards. There wasn’t anything she could use to bare the door or windows. Nothing she could use to defend herself. Pressing herself against the wall, she felt her feet begin to slide. The walls were closing in. The room was shrinking.

  The hound moved faster, drew closer. Its shadow consumed the windows with every pass, making the room flicker between light and tarnished darkness. The effect was only compounded as thick bolts of lightning exploded across the turbulent skies. They cracked, loud enough to make the walls tremble, and hit the earth like a giant’s footstep. She grabbed the wall with each new onslaught. The structure wouldn’t last. Get out! But the thought alone couldn’t help her. The only exit led straight to the waiting beast.

  The water slipped through the ceiling in constant sheets now. The puddles that lined the floor grew to claim her ankles. The floorboards began to warp with the fluids, tripping up her every step. Marigold dropped to her knees and sunk her hands deep into the filth. She clawed at the twisted wood beneath. Each tug forced needle-like splinters deep under her nails but she refused to stop. The ancient nails that held the wood in place began to scream and groan like a thousand whispers. She yanked harde
r. Her fingernails cracked and the shards of wood sunk into her flesh until it seemed like daggers had replaced her bones.

  A howl broke over the increasing storm. Every drop of warmth her body possessed was stripped from her at the sound. Her heartbeat threatened to demolish her ribs as she ravaged the floor with renewed forced. The plank finally broke and she heaved it up. Blood bubbled out from the gap and gushed over her arms. She worked on the next board, barely able to pull it up before the water level had risen to lap at her shoulders. Liquid, her mind offered with a glimmer of hope. Water. Blood. It doesn’t matter. It’s always the door.

  The lonesome wail came again and she risked a glance over her shoulder. The light no longer flickered. Darkness claimed the room. By the time she clutched the second board, her palms were sliced and ravaged. She could feel the bones of her hands grinding against the edges of the wood. The blood burst up in a sudden rush. It splattered across her face, momentarily blinding her, but she felt the grasp. Waterlogged skin oozed against her but the grip was like forged iron. Marigold thrust herself back but the hand from the sludge held her solid.

  The floorboards shattered like kindling as dozens of hands broke through them. They grabbed her shins, her ankles, clawed at her arms and latched onto her hips. Dozens of decomposing hands pulled her down. She swatted and shoved at the hands but each attempt just brought more from the blood. They tangled in her hair, squeezed her throat, hooked into her mouth as she tried to scream. An unstoppable force, they pulled her through the hole they had created. The wet earth crumbled under Marigold’s clawing hands as she wrenched her head free. There was only time for a single scream to escape her before the floor fell out and the hands brought her into their grave.

  ***

  Louis hesitated in the doorway of the small wood building that had once been the slave quarters. It had been renovated, although not all that recently, to resemble the general idea of how a supply shop would have looked. A variety of sweets and trinkets were displayed in barrels with false bottoms. Tables with the images of embroidery printed on them lined the walls. Restless children squealed and tried to find something to entertain themselves with while their parents tried southern iced tea like it was some kind of delicacy. Everything was warm and vibrant. There was no trace of the horrors that would have happened within these walls, not even a hint of unhappiness, but he was sure he had heard it.

  “What is it?” Nadia leant in to whisper.

  He turned to her, his brow furrowed. “You didn’t hear her?”

  “The baby?”

  “Maggie. I swear I just heard her scream.”

  Nadia glanced around, as if expecting to see Marigold hidden in a corner somewhere. A pang of guilt sliced through him. He should have used the time better. The long car ride had been the perfect opportunity to teach her a few things. To tell her a bit more about the aspects of the world she still didn’t know. Right, like you have any better idea what’s going on, a voice laughed within Louis’ head. It was a sharp bitter laugh that reminded him just how far out of his element he was. For all the time he had spent around ghosts, not one of them had ever sent him on a scavenger hunt before, and he had no idea what they would find at the end. He had no idea what he was doing right now and he had panic constantly sparking under his skin. Nothing good could come from telling her any of that. At least not right now.

  “I don’t see her,” Nadia said, stirring him from his thoughts.

  “I might have imagined it,” he dismissed, more for her benefit than because he actually believed it.

  Why would you hear her here? Is that even possible? His mind whirled as it struggled to find some kind of explanation. Would her soul be able to leave her body? Even if it could, was it because of astral projection or was he too late? He pushed that thought aside with all the force he could. Marigold wouldn’t do that. If she was coming to say her final farewells, it wouldn’t be a scream that she left him with. What if she’s haunting you? The question came to the forefront of his head but he couldn’t find an answer for it. A fresh wave of panic burned under his skin and forced him into movement.

  Louis began to pace, constantly checking his watch to see if the five minutes had passed. The wait was going to feel like an eternity. After casting him an annoyed glare, Nadia found a free table and sat down. Louis worked the table into his path across the room. It took about four passes for Nadia to reach out and pull him into the free seat. She grumbled as she reached out and pressed hard on his knee, and held it in place to stop it from jiggling.

  “I don’t see how me asking direct questions is any different from you looking like you’re about to have a fit,” she hissed. “Settle down before you start attracting attention.”

  “I can’t help it,” Louis said in a hushed whisper. “This place makes me nervous.”

  Louis couldn’t quite tell if the look she gave him was supposed to be dismissive or reassuring. “This place is like a Disney ride. The only thing to fear here is tackiness.”

  “Can’t you feel it? They can put up as much pretty wallpaper as they want but they won’t ever be able to cover up the years of despair and fear. It’s sunk into the walls. The floor. Human misery is a stain you can’t get rid of.”

  Like a shark sensing a wounded fish, her attention instantly shifted to him. She leant across the table, eyes studying each inch of his face.

  “Are you one of those psychics? A sensitive or whatever they call it? The kind of person who can pick up on things others can’t?”

  He gave a weary sigh and pulled his hands over his skull, “No. I’m just the same as you.”

  “But you can feel the misery,” she said with an exaggerated tone.

  Louis was pretty sure he didn’t sound like that. “Yes. Just like you can.”

  “I promise you, I have no supernatural abilities.”

  “There’s nothing supernatural about it.”

  “I’ve never seen a ghost before today,” she said.

  Louis rubbed a weary hand over his face and began to jump his leg again, “Maybe you just haven’t been paying attention.”

  The soft wail of a child made them both straighten in their seats. The legs of their chairs scraped over the floor as they twisted and turned, desecration forgotten in their need to spot where the noise had come from.

  “There,” Nadia said, tapping Louis’ shoulder with one hand and pointing with the other.

  He followed her gaze to the far side of the room. Surrounded by a charging mass of children, a man swayed back and forth, trying to sooth the newborn infant in his arms. Louis released his breath and sagged back against his chair. Across the small table, Nadia mirrored his movements. It only struck him later that they shouldn’t be so relieved. They need the child to come back. Nadia was the first to give voice to their mutual realization.

  “This is ridiculous. Black Bayou Plantation,” disgust seeped into her voice as she spoke the politically correct name, “would have thousands of secrets and we need to find the right one? Not to mention that these people seem pretty content to let go of the past. Which is stupid in its own way. Or is that ironic? We need this kid to show up and give us something useful.”

  Louis pulled his glasses from his face. It felt like his eyes had been replaced by sandpaper. He pushed his thumb and index finger against his eyes, relishing in the pressure for a moment before he straightened again. He blinked them open. A face stood an inch from his own, twisted with rage but still too blurry for him to identify more that the gaping holes of the mouth and eyes. He stumbled back as it rushed forward. A force slammed into his chest, strong enough to push him into the air. The chair clattered. A few people shrieked. The back of his head smashed against the floor and he gasped with the pain. He didn’t have time to move before the shadowy mass rushed toward him again. There was a sudden blur, a catch of light, a frozen gust of wind and the shadow was knocked to the side. Louis bolted up just as the table fell with a thunderous bang.

  His fingers trembled as he pushed
his glasses back onto his face. The world solidified around him but he could no longer see any trace of the creature that had attacked him. The people around him chattered loudly but he could barely hear them over his own heartbeat and labored breath. Pressing one hand against his aching ribs, he caught Nadia’s gaze. A tour guide had slipped in during the confusion. People quickly gathered toward him, Louis forgotten. Nadia slipped to Louis’ side as he straightened the table.

  “You just went airborne,” she whispered. “Why are people not more curious of that?”

  “The few people who saw it will be more willing to believe the people telling them I tripped than their own eyes.”

  She laughed, “They’re not willing to see, huh? Wow, this must be frustrating for you.”

  Louis rubbed the back of his head before he loosely gestured to the retreating group. “We better hurry up.”

  “Are you okay?”

  The actual concern in her voice caught him off guard. He held her eyes before offering one quick nod.

  “Was it the kid?”

  “No,” he said. “Someone else.”

  “This place is haunted?”

  “You’re surprised? I think it’s safe to stay that there are a lot of restless spirits around here,” he pressed his fingers to his skull. “And apparently, someone really doesn’t want us to know who the child is.”

  Louis’ skin crawled with the lingering sensation of ice as they joined the group filing out of the room. The echoing screams of a child followed them every step of the way.

  Chapter 9

  Marigold’s screams ripped through the hallways, carrying over the increasing chaos swirling around her. The doctors hadn’t sedated her before they had attempted to remove her. The seal was holding, igniting her skin into a tapestry of blisters and boils. Not knowing the cause, they pushed harder, until Marigold’s once pale skin visually burned like smoldering embers.