Soul Scent: A Zackie Story (The Zackie Stories Book 2)

by Reyna Favis

  # # #

  “No, it’s okay. I stay here.” Lenora waved off Cam’s well wishes for safe travels. We had finished eating the meal she prepared and I was slumped in my seat, contentedly holding my belly to keep it from exploding. I was stuffed with fried bread after setting a new personal record in consumption.

  “Eh? What’s that?” Cam’s face fell and he set down his coffee mug midway to reaching his lips.

  “I had a dream –” Lenora was about to continue when Cam interrupted.

  “What, you’re bloody Martin Luther King Junior now? And you’ve decided to ‘occupy’ my house?” Cam formed air quotes to draw our attention to his double entendre. When no one reacted, he leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table and frowning ferociously.

  Lenora smirked. “Maybe I decide to reclaim my ancestral lands here. How ‘bout that, Kemosabe?” She refilled his coffee from the carafe and then got up to put the kettle on. Returning to her seat, she picked up where she left off. “What I was about to say, I dreamed of my grandfather. He told me don’t leave before helping Maggie.”

  Cam shifted uneasily. “Lenora, I appreciate your willingness to help, but things could go south on this one. It could be dangerous.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Grandfather said to help Maggie, so that’s what we’ll do.” Lenora met Cam’s eye squarely, unmoved by his warning. “I’m a doula – a midwife,” she repeated when she saw the blank looks. “Maggie’s pregnant. Makes sense.”

  Ron shrugged and then crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s settled, then. We stay until Maggie crosses over.”

  Cam sat back and surveilled the remaining people at the table, maybe hoping he could put it to a vote. Lucas raised his mug in salute and mumbled, “Cheers, Cam.” No help there.

  The room was cozy as bursts of wind threw a cold rain against the windows. I was drowsy and half way to a food coma, but I rallied long enough to smile sweetly at Cam as I posed my question. “Do you want me to pick up some more flour, Lenora?”

  “No, it’s okay. I have more in the luggage.”

  Cam eyed us wearily. “Right…Maybe we should discuss logistics.”

  “I think we’re good. She has enough flour.” I slouched down a little lower in my chair and closed my eyes. Under the table, a chuffing sound let Cam know that as long as we were well supplied with fried bread, Zackie was in favor of the living arrangements.

  Cam rubbed his face and expelled an exaggerated sigh. “Not that, you muppet. I’m talking about how we should approach Maggie.”

  I forced my eyes open, sat up and stopped kidding around. It was time to get serious. Reaching for the carafe, I filled a mug with coffee to fuel the thought process. I took a hit and gave it a moment to circulate. “Okay, go ahead. Shoot.”

  Cam took a look around the table. “Let’s start with a review of what we know, since I’m not sure everyone has all the details.” Lucas pulled out a small pad and a pen and prepared to jot down notes. Everyone else looked similarly attentive, but not quite to the level of Lucas’s studious type A personality. “To the best of our knowledge, it started with a car accident that killed Maggie’s husband and left her with a severe head injury.”

  I glanced at Ron and Lenora and added, “It wasn’t that long ago. She was pregnant at the time.”

  Cam folded his hands on the table and continued. “The head injury caused her to hear disembodied voices. She tried to get treatment, but nothing helped.”

  “Maggie told us that she heard a male voice say that he would take the baby. She also said a male voice told her that she gives up too easily, but she said this in Lenape.” I jabbed my index finger at the table surface to emphasize the point. “That made me think that He-Who-Counseled-the-Chief was somehow involved in Maggie’s death.”

  “But that wasn’t true,” Cam continued. “He-Who-Counseled-the-Chief was trying to stop her.”

  “I think we only have his word that this is what happened.” Lucas flipped through his notes and then grunted an affirmation when he found the record. “Can we rely on this?”

  Cam’s eyes drifted as he considered the question. “Yes…yes. I think we can.”

  “I believe him.” Ron raised his eyebrows, daring anyone to contradict him.

  Lenora slapped the table with her palm. “Me too. He was a good man.”

  “What about you, Fia?” Lucas turned his gaze to me.

  I nodded. “I didn’t have a good first impression of him, but I have to admit he won me over. I think we can trust what he said.”

  “Which brings us to the next part of what He-Who-Counseled-the-Chief told us.” A shadow passed over Cam’s eyes and a furrow formed between his brows. “Some sort of dark spirits surrounded Maggie in her last moments, but they scattered when our Lenape friend approached.”

  Lucas consulted his notes. “He said they used to be children, but now they drain the living. And there’s something weird about their eyes.” He looked from me to Cam, serious and concerned. “Do you want to explain to me what the hell that’s all about?”

  “Wow, you almost look like you believe this stuff.” I tried for a joking tone to ease his worry, but it didn’t work.

  Lucas’s mouth turned down at the corners, not appreciating my attempt at humor. “I don’t have to believe these are ghosts in order to attempt an understanding of this phenomenon.” He put his elbows on the table and leaned in. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and I stared at his bare forearms, tracing the taught contours with my eyes and nearly missing what he said next. “Ignorance is never bliss if you’re trying to prepare a defense. So, tell me what you know.”

  I could feel the heat of his skin from across the table and found myself leaning towards him. To keep from crawling over the table to draw closer to him, I wrapped my hands around the coffee mug and concentrated on formulating a reply. “Okay, I get that. I also try to plan ahead when I can.”

  Cam snorted. “What utter rubbish. You are one of the most impulsive people I know.”

  “I said ‘when I can.’” I sat back and glared at him, feeling exposed. “You can’t always plan ahead. Sometimes you just have to act.”

  “You will learn that you don’t always have to act. If you can take a moment to think, do it. You might live a little longer.” Cam was about to say more, but Lucas was determined to bring us back to the main subject.

  “Excellent point, but in the spirit of thinking first, can we get back to planning how we’re going to deal with Maggie?” When we each grumbled our assent, Lucas circled back to me. “You haven’t answered my question. What do you know about the beings the Lenape man described?”

  I stopped trying to come up with a witty retort to Cam’s nagging and focused on what Lucas wanted. “No idea about these things. I’ve never run into anything like them.”

  My comments didn’t seem to allay his fears and his mouth turned down further. “Okay, so Fia has no experience with these black-eyed kids. How about you, Cam? Have you ever dealt with them before?”

  “I have.” Cam became subdued and picked at non-existent crumbs on the tablecloth. The air in the room grew still and close as we waited for Cam to gather his thoughts. A floor board creaked in the hallway as the house settled. The only other sound was the wind buffeting hard against the windows and rattling the door.

  “They’re nothing to be trifled with,” he said at last. His brow lowered and he stared at his hands, grasping the coffee mug. “You can think of them as black holes. If you get too close, everything that you are or might become gets sucked into them. These were children whose lives were cut short and they have a voracious, insatiable hunger for life.”

  “Have you ever succeeded in getting one to move on?” The room had grown chilly and my skin prickled. The many loaves of fried bread sat uneasily in my gut and I shifted to ease the discomfort. The rustle of my movements were loud in the still room and I stopped fidgeting.

  “Not me personally, but I’ve seen it done and it had a very steep cost.” Ca
m glanced up and his eyes flickered with remembered pain. A low howl from the wind sounded from the eaves of the house as we stayed quiet, not pushing him, waiting for Cam to find the words. “I was still a lad and my grandmother was teaching me the sibyl’s craft. Granny was called to Ireland to deal with a rash of deaths of young adolescent boys. The local constabulary thought nothing of it – aside from the tragedy – because, of course, boys will be boys. But a sibyl from the area thought otherwise and notified Granny.”

  “How did these boys die?” Lucas flipped the page on his pad and poised his pen to record the answer.

  “Various ways, each one more foolhardy than the last. That’s why these fatalities never raised a red flag with the authorities. There was no pattern.” Cam grimaced as he ticked off the causes of death. “One died playing at dodging traffic on a busy road. Another raced his bike down an embankment to leap over a fast running stream. A third boy decided to play matador with a farmer’s bull.” He rubbed the back of his neck and grit his teeth. “It was all hijinks and mischief, the sort of things boys might do on a dare.”

  Ron quirked an eyebrow and nodded knowingly. “So, just high-spirited boys who took it one step too far.”

  “Exactly,” Cam agreed.

  Lenora grunted and pointed a gnarled finger at Ron. “Could have been you, boy. Damn near gave me a heart attack with your games.” Cam tensed and gave her a sharp look, but Ron just shrugged.

  I encouraged Cam to go on with his tale. “So, what happened?”

  “My granny figured out that the epicenter of these accidents was an ancient ruin. It had once been a great fortress in the dark ages, but it was largely reduced to a pile of rubble in the present day.” He rubbed his jaw and shook his head slightly. “Although you could still climb the battlements and one of the towers was still intact.

  “And that’s where my granny found me – forty feet up, balanced on a parapet along the battlements. While she was trying to call the spirit to her, I had foolishly wandered off and inadvertently drawn his attention. To him, I was irresistible. Just the right age and powerful enough to give him form.”

  “Who was he?” I was completely drawn in and I sat on the edge of my seat, tunnel vision collapsing on Cam and the story. Shattering the stillness, the tea kettle shrieked and I jerked towards the sound, gasping as I almost fell out of my chair. I scrambled to regain my balance, my heart going into overdrive before I realized the source of this noise. Lenora stood to silence the kettle, while I looked down and shook my head, embarrassed by my over reaction because of the damned PTSD.

  Cam waited to continue until Lenora returned, carrying a fragrant pot of brewing tea and fresh mugs. My heart was still racing when he finally spoke. “Obviously, he was a black-eyed child. He looked to be a boy my age, but his eyes were empty, all black instead of the normal iris and whites of the eyes. In life, he had been the youngest son of a noble family in early medieval Ireland. The family aspired for more lands and more power and the High King at the time was threatened by this naked ambition. He demanded hostages after a minor, testing skirmish between his troops and those of the family.”

  Lucas interrupted. “Don’t you mean the king ‘took’ hostages after the skirmish?”

  Cam shook his head. “No, in those days, hostages were provided to seal the peace after terms were negotiated. If one side reneged on the agreement, it put the hostages at risk and so, more or less enforced good behavior. It was also a way to create a lasting peace, since hostages were frequently the sons and daughters of noble houses. They were well-treated, according to their station, and educated in the traditions and ways of thinking of the captors. So, hostages became a bridge between two peoples and prevented misunderstandings from developing into new conflict.”

  “I would think hostages would have been killed most of the time, given how violent it was in the Middle Ages.” Lucas cocked his head, looking for confirmation.

  Cam shook his head again and took a sip of coffee, making a face when he discovered it was cold. “Quite the opposite.” Reaching for the tea pot, he poured the liquid into a fresh mug and the spicy aroma of bergamot filled the room. “Most people in power were reluctant to take this step, even if the other side had blatantly welched on a deal. This was especially true when the hostage was a child.”

  “So, the black-eyed child had been a hostage?” I asked, trying to draw Cam back to the story.

  “Yes, but his father overplayed his hand, pushing things too far. He rebelled against the High King – repeatedly. On the first occasion the king warned that he was risking his son’s life.” Cam looked down sadly. “On the second occasion, the king simply sent him the boy’s head.”

  “That’s terrible.” Lenora looked aghast. “That poor boy.”

  Cam continued with his eyes downcast, speaking softly. “This boy had lost all trust. First, his own father had placed ambition above the life of his son and then, the king, who he had come to trust as a surrogate father, orders his death for an offense that was not his doing.” Raising his gaze and his voice, Cam described the consequences of this cruelty. “As a spirit, the boy would replay the loss of trust again and again by luring other boys to commit highly dangerous acts and then, at first, saving them at the last minute. He would do this once, twice, but then the third time, allow them to die with the expectation of rescue. While it lasted, it was exhilarating for these boys and it gave the spirit a taste of life at its sweetest.”

  Ron’s eyes were huge as he took in the story. “When your granny found you on the parapet, was that the first death defying feat?”

  “First and last. Granny grabbed me down from the ledge by my belt and then used the full extent of her power to influence the spirit to stay and tell his story. He had his hooks in me and she wasn’t going to give the spirit a second chance after that close call. He very nearly drained her dry in the hours it took to convince him to step through the portal.” Cam stared glassy-eyed into the middle distance. “She stood at his shoulder to make sure he went.”

  “Whoa, seriously? She was right there, up close and personal with the portal?” I shivered. I knew exactly what that entailed, and it only happened to me because I was ignorant and stupid when I did it. She must have gone into this knowing exactly what she would face and she did it anyway. That was raw courage in my book.

  “She was never the same after that. The act blinded her and made her heart weak. She aged suddenly overnight.” Cam swallowed. “And it was my fault. Because I was careless. I forced her hand and she had to rush the process.” He shook his head to clear the memories. “What you all need to understand from this – Granny was the most powerful sibyl that I ever met and laying this black-eyed spirit nearly did her in. We are going to have to proceed with the utmost caution.”

  The blood drained from my face and I nodded meekly. Cam was not one for hyperbole, so I knew what he was saying was dead on. The thought of being drained again terrified me and I was suddenly really glad that Lucas would get me out if things went beyond my pay grade. The stark terror must have shown on my face because he reached across the table and covered my hand with his. Without saying anything, I felt he was making me a promise. Forcing myself to relax, I took a deep, cleansing breath, but my shoulders reflexively shot up around my ears as the scent of ammonia shocked my sinuses. My eyes went wide and I froze.

  “Lucas is true as the tide.” Hannah whispered in my ear and then she was gone as suddenly as she had appeared. The only aroma remaining was a soothing combination of coffee, bergamot and the leftovers from dinner. I looked around, confused and on my guard, waiting for her to reappear. A few thumps from a wagging tail under the table let me know that Zackie had sensed her and Cam raised an eyebrow at me in question. His eyes shifted as he scanned the room for any evidence that Hannah was somewhere nearby, but then lifted a shoulder as he came up empty. I could only shake my head, that I couldn’t feel her presence anymore either.

  “What?” After listening to Cam’s story, Ron sat uneasi
ly, hunched forward, his eyes darting around the room. “Something just happened. What are you not telling us?”

  I shot a quick glance at Lucas, knowing it would not go over well if I said anything about Hannah being around. “I thought I felt something, but there’s nothing here.”

  Cam backed me up. “I don’t feel anything either.” Looking around at the tensely drawn faces, he tried to calm the group. “Look, we’re all feeling a bit edgy right now, knowing what we’re up against. Maybe we should just call it a night and leave it for tomorrow to sort this out.”

  “No,” I said, surprising myself. “Let’s keep going. I’m as freaked out as everyone else about the black-eyed kids, but prolonging this is just going to give me more time to stress about it.”

  “I agree.” Lucas squeezed my hand and glanced at me before continuing. “Being proactive, planning our next move, doing anything but being passive right now will help us feel more in control and less fearful.”

  “Take the bull by the horns,” Lenora chimed in, her jaw set stubbornly.

  Ron assessed the strength of that set jaw and then sighed. “Okay. How do we get to Maggie?”

  “She’s in Worthington State Forest. Off-trail, about a half mile in, overly fairly rough terrain.” I watched Ron’s face fall, so I tried to make him feel better. “We found the best way in and flagged a path.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t carry Uma that far. There’s no other way in?”

  “Nothing closer and nothing easier to walk. Sorry.” I leaned my head on my fist and tried to think of a solution.

  “Are we sure we need a doula?” Lucas ventured. “Even if Maggie’s pregnant, that doesn’t mean she’ll – ” He stopped himself and breathed out heavily through his nose. “Look, I’m having a hard time with this. How does something dead procreate? That’s kind of the definition of life.” He sat back and forced a hand through his hair, making it stand up in an appealing way.