Kill him, kill him! Grinold whispered in her ear. The man imposed a wispy hand over hers, his fat white fingers strengthening her grip on the butcher knife. She seemed not to notice, but her eyes grew darker, and she charged at Kennet again. Grinold shadowed, like some conjoined demon.
Kill that fucking imbecile!
Kennet dodged and blocked her strike. In the mirror above the cabinet, he glimpsed a choir of spirits arrayed behind him, glowing brightly. His mother, Helen Streider, Charles and Rhoda Osgood. And Putterman. Putterman held up his hand and pointed his finger like a gun.
Alex’s revolver! Flavia attacked once more, but he shoved her back and fumbled the weapon from the cargo pocket of his shorts. Flavia whirled and sliced at his wrist. He dropped the gun and drew his arm to his chest, squeezing it with his other hand. The blood was hot and slick under his trembling fingers.
She kicked the gun under the cabinet and then went for him again. He wrestled her to the floor, pinning her free hand beneath his knee. He gripped her other wrist, avoiding the gyrating blade glinting in the lamplight, and then reached for the gun, but it was too far away.
She stabbed him in the hollow of his collarbone. He flinched, and she squirmed from underneath him. The blade hadn’t gone deep, but he feared her next blow. His injured arm was weak and his head was swimming.
She clambered on top of him, clamping him between her powerful thighs. Raised the knife with both hands. Grinold matched her moves, leering malevolently at him. You will join me in this hell!
Help me, Kennet prayed.
Surrounding Grinold from behind, Kennet’s angels laid hold of the man and drew him away from Flavia. Ma hovered directly behind Grinold, covering his eyes with one hand and his mouth with the other.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Kennet spotted the brass urn next to his mother’s Bible. He grasped it with his good hand and bludgeoned Flavia in the head. Her eyes glassed and she slackened her grip on the knife for a second, but then raised the weapon once more.
“No, you don’t, you bitch!” He hit her again. And again.
Finally, her black eyes rolled up, and he shoved her off him.
She lay, moaning, with her skirt bunched around her hips and blood streaming down her sweaty face.
He raised the urn. He wanted to crush her head in, smash her brains. But an image of his father flashed through his mind. Enraged and drunk, Sir brandished the shotgun at Ma, who cowered against the wall. Yet as he watched, her face transfigured into a visage of serenity, both eyes like gleaming sapphires.
No, Kennet would not follow in his father’s footsteps. He set down the urn with shaking hands.
“I’ve got a life to live,” he said. “A good one. And I won’t let you take it from me.” With those words, the spirits vanished, leaving him alone with Flavia Costa.
He found the handcuffs in her night table drawer and shackled her to the leg of the cabinet. Then he picked up the phone and dialed 911.
Chapter 41
Kennet straightened the files on his desk in the Good Shepherd Cemetery office. He briefly touched the campfire photo of him and Christy and relished the warm feeling it gave him. He locked the office behind him. Outside, the late afternoon sun streamed through the branches of the tulip tree. He climbed in the cemetery pickup and started it up.
Nathan had taught him how to drive, and last week he’d received his license. He ground the gears and backed out of his parking spot, stepping on the accelerator with his new sneakers.
A mile down the road, he passed the care home. The sign out front had been painted over after Flavia Costa was hauled off to jail. Gladys Wilson and the other residents were moved to other facilities in the area. The doctor had removed his stitches a month ago, and the scars on his arm were healing.
He passed the road leading back to what was Alex Keckler’s property. In the process of their investigation about Flavia, the police had paid Alex a visit and found him shot to death in his bedroom. They hadn’t yet found his assailant.
Mary Grace discovered Cecil Grinold’s body in the janitorial closet when she spotted blood seeping under the door. The funeral director had cut his own throat with a utility knife. There was some discussion about closing the business, but the people who had outbid Grinold on the old Chupa funeral parlor decided to buy the Tenleytown facility also. They asked Kennet to stay on as crematory operator—at a significant increase in pay.
Mary Grace decided she’d had enough of inside business, quit the funeral home, and proposed they start the Greater McKeesport Cremation Society, a club that offered simple cremation to its members at half the price. Kennet took her up on it and was working with the new owners on services and pricing.
He signaled at the light by the Foodland and turned right onto the Tenleytown bridge.
Cecil Grinold was buried in traditional fashion, sparing Kennet the task of cremating him. He would have enjoyed the sweet taste of justice for being tricked into cremating his mother. But he let it go. Wherever he was, Grinold was reaping the harvest of what he’d sown in life.
The media had a heyday with the information and photos they received. “Local Funeral Director, Murder Suspect, Takes Own Life.” This headline was the culmination of Cecil Grinold’s sterling reputation.
Kennet drove the truck into downtown McKeesport, veered onto Fifth Avenue, and then turned in to the McKeesport and Versailles Cemetery. He slowly cruised the roadway among the headstones and stopped the pickup when he arrived at his destination. From the truck bed he retrieved a shovel and the box. He crossed the freshly trimmed lawn and then set the carton atop Albert and Priscilla Putterman’s tombstone.
“Hey, old man. What’s up?”
He cut out the sod and set it aside, then dug a hole deep enough to accept the urn. It wasn’t exactly the kind of burial Putterman wanted, but it was the next best thing.
“It’s the least I can do, old friend,” he said. He hoped Putterman would feel avenged. And that his mother would be proud of him.
The dreams of his mother had stopped—at least for the time being—but the psychic senses in his final vision of her were growing sharper. Perhaps he was simply becoming more attuned to them. At times he tasted the flash of an emotion, the inkling of a story as he passed the weed trimmer around the headstones in the graveyard. If he stopped and beheld the tintype visions, he could see a face, sense a hand reaching out to him, beckoning. But he always moved on, not yet sure what to do with this ability. Until another opportunity presented itself, he was content to wait. In the meantime, he took comfort in the fact that physical death did not end existence. The dead live on forever.
Kennet replaced the sod and tamped it down with his foot. As he leaned on the shovel handle, he felt the familiar tingling presence, and with it, a sense of joy.
“You’re welcome, Putterman. Godspeed.”
He carried the shovel to the truck and headed home.
• • •
Kennet climbed the steps to his new apartment above the Pratts’ garage. When he reached the upstairs porch, he found the door standing open. The smell of cooked chicken drifted through the window screen. Carbon Leaf’s Indian Summer was playing on the stereo. Inside, he toed off his shoes and then stepped into the living room.
Christy set aside a school book, jumped up from his new couch, and then wrapped her arms around his neck. The gold necklace he’d bought her for her eighteenth birthday sparkled in the light from the front window.
“Welcome home, caretaker.”
Kennet returned her kisses. “It’s good to have a home. One of my own.”
“One of our own,” she said, running her fingers through his curls. “At least someday.”
The black dog bounded in from the bedroom, yipped once and licked his hand.
Kennet bent to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Hey, Anubis. I’m glad to see you too.”
The dog barked and wagged its tail wildly. Although the animal was reserved around most folks, Anub
is had immediately taken to Christy, as if he instinctually knew she was good. And she was.
He’d explained nothing in depth to her concerning his supernatural abilities, but she recognized he had gifts that fell outside the ken of rationality. She never asked about them, although he could tell she was curious. Yet she respected him and the distance he cultured concerning the subject. Perhaps that would change. Perhaps it wouldn’t.
Regardless of his gifts, some things he would never know without learning them as everyone else did: through the experience of living one day at a time. And he could deal with that.
“A home of our own,” he said and gathered her in his arms. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“Yes? Tell me more.”
“Now that I’ve got a good job and a place to lay my head,” he said, “I’d like you to share it with me.”
She took a step back. “You looking for a roommate?”
“And a cook.”
She smacked him on the shoulder, but he knew she was kidding.
“Seriously, that chicken smells delicious.”
“Wait till you see what’s for dessert.”
“What, baby?”
She pointed to the bag of Kraft Jet-Puffeds on the kitchen table.
“Awesome! But I’m not looking for just a roommate. I was thinking of something more permanent. And a lot more personal.” He pulled her close again and kissed her softly.
She held his curly head in her hands and gazed into his eyes. “That’s a plan I’m definitely interested in.”
“Really?” he said.
“Of course. I love you.”
He wished his mother were still here to meet Christy and share their happiness. She would have loved the girl. Yet, as Ma said, it was time to start a new adventure, launch out on his own. He determined to do just that, to build a life and a relationship his parents never had. He imagined sailing to a new harbor with Christy at his side. It would be a terrific journey.
“I love you, too,” he said. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
They embraced again. And Kennet believed that, despite his father’s failings, with the new life he’d been granted, he could be a good husband and a great father when the time came.
He led Christy to the kitchen and, as they fixed their dinner together, he told her all about his plans.
THE END
More Dark Fiction from Lee Allen Howard
DESPERATE SPIRITS
In this duo of supernatural thrillers, Calvin Bricker deals with desperate spirits right in his own neighborhood.
In “The Vacant Lot,” a supernatural presence beckons from the empty neighborhood lot. Calvin’s curiosity leads him to an aged portrait painter with a terrible secret about a dead undertaker and his missing wife, who seeks eternal release.
In “How I Was Cured of Naïveté,” a seemingly innocent spirit appears in the foyer of Calvin’s home. When he discovers her fate, he sets her free—only to find that little girls aren’t always made of sugar and spice. Snick, snick!
If you like crime and mystery with a supernatural bent, succumb to the call of Desperate Spirits!
“MAMA SAID”
If Joe Lansdale and Carson McCullers somehow managed to spawn a literary, fictional child, “Mama Said” would probably be it. A damn good read! —Trent Zelazny, author of The Day the Leash Gave Way and Other Stories
On his thirteenth birthday, Buddy gets shipped up north by his religious mother, who can’t cope with his sister’s teenage pregnancy.
Just as he resigns himself to spending the entire summer at Gram’s farm caring for kittens and cows, his bitter sister Brinda arrives, ending his peace and solitude.
When her boyfriend Jackie shows up and turns his attentions to Buddy from his bride-to-be, Buddy must do what Mama said—or take matters into his own hands.
Download “Mama Said” now for the chilling conclusion.
NIGHT MONSTERS
Four Stories to Read with the Lights On
Vampires, beasties, zombies, and ghouls… NIGHT MONSTERS presents four stories to read with the lights on.
Wyatt is looking for a no-strings fling in “Savoir-Faire.” When he meets the beautiful and sexually voracious Natalie, all his fantasies come true… until he discovers that unseen strings are more entangling than he bargained for.
In “The Worst Thing,” Petie’s first sleepover seemed like a good idea in the daylight. But after dark at Nate’s house, he can’t fall asleep. Braving the terrors of the night to make it home, the second-grader finds he must face the worst thing that could happen—and sacrifice what he treasures most to save his parents from a horrible fate.
“Keeping Cool”: After a late night at work helping hospitals cope with the strange flu sweeping Pittsburgh, Terry finds he’s run out of options to get himself home. Searching for a working phone to call his wife, he encounters a deserted diner—and another way to stem the tide of corruption. Chilling!
Justin wants to be cool like Drew, so he tags along to throw corn at cars on Halloween night. When a 1970 GTO Judge stops on the country road and its ghastly occupants pursue them, he wishes he’d gone trick-or-treating instead. Pray the “GTO Judge” passes you by.
If you love things that go bump in the night, download NIGHT MONSTERS—before the sun goes down!
THE SIXTH SEED – a novel
THE SIXTH SEED abducted my imagination and unsettled me with its pitch-perfect blend of science fiction, body horror and domestic terror. What a weird read! —Michael A. Arnzen, Bram Stoker Award-winning author of Proverbs for Monsters
Howard brings alien invasion up close and personal... buckle up for a thrill ride. —Scott Nicholson, author of Liquid Fear
Today’s stories of alien abduction and experimentation include temporary embryonic implantation. THE SIXTH SEED, a dark paranormal fantasy fraught with suburban Pittsburgh horror, takes this scenario one radical step further when the first alien/human hybrid fertilization develops to full term in utero.
Believing a vasectomy will prevent another unplanned pregnancy, 34-year-old Tom Furst—Melanie’s loving husband and the father of their five children—wants more than anything to dig himself out of the fiscal hole he’s mired in and become financially secure.
However, during the procedure, mysterious Dr. Prindar Krakhil secretly implants a worm-like alien seed in Tom’s vas deferens that not only ensures that Melanie gets pregnant, but plants in her womb a child half alien.
Their children are abducted. Melanie becomes gravely ill. When Tom loses his job, their home, and the sixth seed is born, will he be able to accept the child for what it really is—and conquer the temptation to exchange it for the money Krakhil offers?
Get THE SIXTH SEED now.
“STRAY”
Tad has a problem: he ran away from home only to find he has no place to stay in the big city. After selling his abusive father’s comics collection, the sixteen-year-old twink hasn’t near enough money for a bus ticket home.
Two days without food and two nights in an alley force him to do what he swore he wouldn’t: trick for cash. But trick he must—just this once—to get back home, lest he end up living on the streets of Pittsburgh.
At Lucky’s Lounge, the thirty-something with the reptilian tattoos seems to be his ticket home. Bruce is a kind man, a generous man, a spiritual man who takes in strays of all kinds. But Bruce needs a different kind of fix, and Tad is his only way to get it.
What will Tad forfeit for a bus ticket home?
To find out, download the short story “STRAY,” bone-chilling gay horror from Lee Allen Howard.
SEVERED RELATIONS
Lee Allen Howard is an imaginative writer with slick, vivid prose and high octane pacing. He writes like no one else, and I mean this in a very good way. —Trent Zelazny, author of Fractal Despondency
SEVERED RELATIONS is a duo of deadly stories that brings you the best in matrimonial butchery. Everyone has experienced
a choppy relationship. But just wait until you read these two tales of horror...
In “The Butcher’s Reunion,” a cuckolded butcher slaughters his wife and seeks her lover only to find he cannot escape dire prophetic justice. WHAM!
Equally dark and suspenseful, in “Almost Betrothed,” a timid woman unlucky with love finds the courage to break what her daddy thinks is a promising engagement and discovers her boyfriend is Mr. Wrong. Dead wrong.
WARNING: These stories are not for the squeamish! But if you’re into good old pulp horror, you’ll love SEVERED RELATIONS—chock full of blood and cutlery!
THOU SHALT NOT…
Breaking the Commandments Anew
Ever broken one of God’s “Big Ten”? Of course you have. We all have.
Except for murder and adultery, the consequences of which are obvious, what were the results? A little guilt? Did you disappoint yourself or someone else? Or did no one even notice?
THOU SHALT NOT... is a 410-page trade paperback anthology of horror and crime fiction where someone breaks one of the Ten Commandments with dire, deadly, or disastrous results.
1. Worshiping false gods
2. Engaging in idolatry
3. Misusing God’s name
4. Violating the day of rest
5. Dishonoring parents
6. Murdering
7. Committing adultery
8. Stealing
9. Bearing false testimony
10. Coveting what belongs to your neighbor
TWO TABLETS, TEN COMMANDMENTS. THEY’VE ALL BEEN BROKEN. LET’S BREAK THEM AGAIN!
Lee Allen Howard is the editor and a contributor to THOU SHALT NOT.... Other authors include: * Mary Aldrin * Kevin Anderson * Michael A. Arnzen * K. Tempest Bradford * Sarah Brandel * Leslie Brown * Jennifer Busick * Lawrence C. Connolly * Megan Crewe * Marguerite Croft * Cristopher Fisher * John M. Floyd * Lee Forsythe * Eugie Foster * B. M. Freman * Barry Hollander * William Jones * Simcha Laib Kuritzky * Alison J. Littlewood * M. Stephen Lukac * Derwin Mak * Barbara Malenky * Michelle Mellon * Jennifer D. Munro * Derryl Murphy * Marc Paoletti * Dave Raines * Stephen D. Rogers * Lisa Silverthorne * Barbara Stanley * Chris Stout * Mark Tullius * Bev Vincent * Heather Wardell * Jacqueline West
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