The Maelstrom of the Leaf Academy
Gulf Coast Paranormal Series
Book Eleven
By M.L. Bullock
Text copyright © 2019 Monica L. Bullock
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Chapter One—Shanafila
Chapter Two—Midas
Chapter Three—Midas
Chapter Four—Cassidy
Chapter Five—Cassidy
Chapter Six—Shanafila
Chapter Seven—Jocelyn
Chapter Eight—Cassidy
Chapter Nine—Cassidy
Chapter Ten—Midas
Chapter Eleven—Shanafila
Chapter Twelve—Cassidy
Chapter Thirteen—Cassidy
Chapter Fourteen—Cassidy
Chapter Fifteen—Midas
Chapter Sixteen—Sierra
Chapter Seventeen—Cassidy
Chapter Eighteen—Jocelyn
Chapter Nineteen—Cassidy
Epilogue—Cassidy
Chapter One—Shanafila
1703
The hot liquid snaked through my body almost as quickly as I gagged it down. It immediately numbed my tongue and throat. As I choked, an immense buzzing noise like many crickets screeching at once filled my brain. My knees buckled beneath me, and I fell to the ground like a dead man. The taste of blood and dirt filled my open mouth as I landed face first in the grassless soil. I struggled to spit out the dirt.
I could no longer see. I could not speak. Could not move. Could do nothing but listen and wait. I could hear everything. Soon the blackness would clear.
Remember what he told you. This is how it is when you spin the Sacred Wheel, when you walk the Invisible Path. Remember why you are here.
Fula Hatak tapped softly on the sacred drum. I listened and waited. Soon, my sight returned to me. First, I could only see the outline of the shaman, but as I waited and watched, I saw more. Yes, I could see him. His shaggy black hair shook as he worked at his magic. He looked very much as his name described, “Crow Man.” The sound and sight of the drum gave me comfort, for by hearing it I knew that a part of me remained tethered to the physical world, my world. And when my task was complete, I would return home to the arms of Yukpa, my Other Half. This is only a brief journey, I reminded myself. A journey that I must make if I hoped to take my place as a leader in my tribe. This momentary sacrifice, this seeing, would make me the leader that I must become.
Oh, but the pain in my body took my breath away. Oh, dear wife. I die for you!
I heard Yukpa’s soft voice in my ear. It was all I needed. Remember why you are here, Shanafila. See what you must see. Learn what you must learn. What does the Sun Father say about the Waliki? Will we live or die?
I watched and waited. I could see nothing and no one except Fula Hatak and his drum. As I lay immovable in the dirt, I recalled my last happy moment. The day we left the village for this deserted dry patch of land. The Medicine Hill was a holy place, no doubt, yet it was also forbidding, or so I perceived it to be. But it should not be so. I should see life! I should see a new day for the Waliki.
Go, Shanafila, my brave husband. Go and see what you can see. I will pray that the Sun Father sends you a strong vision for our people.
I blinked at the memory of Yukpa’s arms, the soft warmth of her breath on my cheek as she kissed me farewell. That had been many days ago. Six of us had hiked to the holy hill, but only three of us remained. The others, two young brothers named Talako and Chufwa, had broken the ritual by speaking to one another. Despite Grandfather Imafo’s warning, they had broken the silence surrounding the customary fasting from food and words. They would return home in shame if they chose to, or they could make their way through the wilderness as outcasts forever. That would not be my fate. I had held my tongue and would journey onward. I had to!
Only Haloka and I were left to catch any glimpse of vision that the Sun Father might bestow upon our tribe. We had been pushed to the edges of our territory. If we ventured to the east or south, the Alibamu would kill us. But what was beyond the river, we did not know. Our numbers had dwindled in recent years; there had been frequent fighting with the growing ranks of the Alibamu, and a strange sweating sickness had killed many of our old people.
Grandfather Imafo chanted softly now, as if he and the drum were two voices, two voices but the same. He sang of soft black skies and shining lights above. He sang of the first Father and Mother and of their love that birthed the first rainbow. I got lost in the music and closed my eyes. Eventually, the pain diminished and I felt still. Very still. Like a watchful bird. I knew I would see something before I saw the first thing.
Yes, I knew I would see a vision.
Footsteps. Small footsteps. I could hear them racing around me. I could not turn my head, but I saw a child’s bare legs and heard him laughing playfully.
Come back, little one. I am a friend.
But no matter how much I pleaded, the boy remained just out of my direct line of sight. I could see him with only my peripheral vision and only one eye as I remained prostrate on the ground, helpless to move an inch or chase after him. I focused all my efforts on working my fingers, but I had little success until I saw my pinky fingers move slightly. Then I could hear the sound of a great tearing as if someone had sliced through fabric with a knife.
And I was standing beside myself, yet I had no worries. Only peace. I felt only peace. Find the boy! He must be the deliverer of the message! Go find him, Shanafila! As I searched for him, I could see him disappearing into the woods just beyond the holy hill. He was a young boy, only a few summers old. Five, maybe six. His laughter drew me to him. Yes, I should follow.
No! Do not leave this sacred place! my mind warned me, but my feet would not obey. I had to see this boy’s face, for he seemed so familiar to me. But surely he was not. I had never seen a boy like that. Although he wore a short tunic, he was not Waliki. He was not even Alibamu. His skin was too pale, his body too frail-looking to be of Waliki blood.
I paused at the edge of the hill but did not tarry there. I would follow wherever he led me. Maybe he needed my help. Pushing the branches away, I pursued him as I walked deeper into the forest. Soon I could not see the sandy hill or hear the drum of Fula Hatak.
I had gone too far. Yes, too far. But I must follow even though I was not in my body. I left my body on the sandy hill. What if I could not get back?
The child’s whispers drew me on. He called my name. Shanafila! I have what you want!
I knew it! I had to pursue him. He would have the token, the evidence that I had indeed journeyed to the Spirit World and seen with my own eyes the future of our tribe. For I had no doubt that we would have a future. I practically laughed aloud as I imagined the Waliki growing, becoming stronger. A tribe large enough to defeat the Alibamu, if peace could not be found. Our people always followed the Way of Peace.
Yes, and look where that has gotten us. We need to fight if we must! Fula Hatak did not agree with me, and so we were here. Here in this strange place looking for a sign, a token. An offering of hope given to us by the hand of our ancestors.
This boy was not my ancestor, not of my tribe, but I had seen no one else and nothing else. Nothing but all these trees. Pines, scrubby oaks, sticker bushes aplenty. How very cruel to see that the Spirit World was no different from the forlorn wilderness where our tribe had been banished. I always believed, for the old ones always told us, that the Spirit World was a much nicer place with lakes full of fish, forests full of deer. Where were all the living things? I s
aw no deer, heard no squirrels scampering across the leaf-covered forest floor. Nothing except my own empty footsteps. The sand and leaves felt cool beneath my toes. My buckskin trousers were cool too. As I traveled deeper and deeper into these unknown woods, I felt unsettled. The boy whispered my name again and again.
“Here I am! Come out, please. I am a friend.”
I continued seeking as five minutes passed, then thirty. Then at least an hour. It was hard to track the time in this place with the sunlight obscured by the canopy. The wilderness felt hostile now. Not friendly, not welcoming. The boy continued to elude me, and hopelessness welled up inside me. Thorns tore into my flesh as I journeyed on, then the sickness that baptized my journey returned. I felt discouraged by all of it and also terrified.
Shanafila, Shanafila! I have what you want.
Then it occurred to me that this may not be a messenger of the Sun Father. This could be Chufki, the Trickster, or one of the Bopholi, little people who hid in the woods. The Bopholi loved nothing more than to steal the souls of anyone fool enough to pursue them.
I should go back. I must go back, but which way?
As I began to panic, I realized I was standing in the center of a tight ring of young saplings. I could see no way forward, no way out, and I could not recall how I got here. I would have remembered entering this ring.
Right before my eyes, the ring got denser. Vines crawled up from the ground and wrapped themselves around the saplings. I barely had enough room to twist my body around, and when I did I was shocked to see that the vines were everywhere. Wrapping, twisting, covering. I reached for my blade, which I always carried on my hip, but it was not there. It was forbidden to bring weapons to the Medicine Hill.
But I had broken that rule. Nobody knew I had the small blade hidden in my sack. I had been careful and had shown it to no one. I thought about it now and wished for it, wished I had it in my hands. I had to get out of here! I had to flee or else I would be twisted into this strange hut that was forming around me. I saw only one opening, a slender one that I might be able to shove myself through, but I could not wait. I could not dally.
As I forced my way through, a few vines tried to wrap around my ankles, but I escaped. Somehow, I escaped. Again I found myself face first in the dirt, but I wasn’t alone. The child’s bare legs were beside me. My journey was ending; I could feel Fula Hatak’s magic fading.
How would I ever get back? What would my people do without me? Without a token from the Sun Father?
Finally, I was at the place of tears. The place no warrior should go. Tears slid down my face. Tears for my wife, my tribe and myself. A shadow passed over my face. It was the boy. I could see him plainly now. Dark hair, even darker eyes. He was holding out his hand to me. And in his hand was a black feather.
At last, a token. The thing I needed more than anything.
For you, Shanafila. For your journey, Brave Warrior of the Waliki.
I felt no joy when I accepted the offering. No peace. No happiness. The boy placed the large, rough feather in my hand, and I closed my fingers around it. Suddenly, I wasn’t in the woods. I was on the Medicine Hill and the drum had ceased.
Fula Hatak stood over me, his weathered face so close to mine. His brown eyes searched my own. He smiled in relief, but his joy was short-lived. I raised my hand to show him the feather, to prove to him that I had received the token. The promise that the Sun Father had a plan for the Waliki.
I watched in horror as Fula Hatak let out an agonizing scream.
Chapter Two—Midas
“Once upon a time, this was a grand place. Or so I’ve been told. I guess I can see that. She has good bones,” Adrian Shanahan mused, staring up at the staircase as if she expected to see someone standing there. “You just don’t see woodwork like this anymore. It’s all prefab stuff now. Believe me, people would pay top dollar for beautiful workmanship like this, but the Leaf Academy has such a horrible reputation. There’s no way I can sell this place or keep it.”
I nodded and looked up and down the long hallway. This place was massive with more than ten thousand square feet. A paranormal investigator’s dream. Or nightmare, depending on which department you worked in. Joshua, my tech guy, was not going to like this square footage, but I didn’t plan on covering the entire property. That would be impossible. There were three floors, an auditorium and various other small buildings. Like most abandoned buildings, this one had its share of rodents, broken glass and empty rooms. But then again, maybe not that empty. I completely believed Jocelyn. This place scared the hell out of her. Yes, there was more here than met the eye. I couldn’t imagine investigating this place by myself like she did. She was fearless, no doubt about it, but she was also a bit of a rogue. And that could get you in hot water if you weren’t careful.
“Shall we?” Adrian asked as she walked through the door on the left. Shoot, this place had a creepy vibe. Who would leave a chair in the hallway? “Honestly, Midas, I don’t know why I am doing this. I really do have every intention of tearing it all down. Board by board, brick by brick. Jocelyn’s report convinced me that there’s no saving this place. What else can I do with it? It would take a fortune—a fortune I don’t have, by the way—to restore it. And even if I did, there would be no guarantee that the repairs would expel the…current residents. I think the best thing I could do is demolish it.”
If she wanted me to convince her otherwise, I wasn’t going to try. I was just grateful to be given a chance to look inside the place and do our investigation before she gave the bulldozers the go-ahead. Maybe it should be torn down. That wasn’t my call, but to hear her make such a threat inside the facility gave me the chills.
Adrian trailed behind me as I went from room to room. I flashed a light in the last empty room. The boarded windows did not allow in a beam of light. Strange that one side of the building would be boarded up and not the other. Hmm…this looked like it could have been office space. There were two large desks and a dilapidated file cabinet jammed together in the corner.
“Thank you for inviting us to check it out first. I don’t know what’s in your best interest, but I can promise you that my team and I will do our very best to get to the bottom of the activity. I guess it would be a difficult call to make, either way. So many rooms. Do you happen to know how many?”
“Thirty-three. That’s what is in the property description, but I haven’t been in every one of them. I don’t want to either. When I was a kid, my grandfather did not want me to come here. But like most teenagers, I didn’t listen. I snuck inside with my girlfriends in high school. Just to have a look around.”
Her confession shocked me; I didn’t peg Adrian Shanahan for a risk taker. Cautious, reasonable, professional, yes. Frightened teenager? I couldn’t imagine that. “Really? Did you experience anything while you were here?” I asked as we walked back to the foyer and then on to the other wing. We still had two other floors to walk.
“Yes, I did. Come to think of it, I am not sure you will see anything at all since it’s January. The activity usually occurs in October. That’s been the tradition. Just ask Jocelyn. She must have told you all about it.”
“She did. Is that when you had your experience, Adrian? Was it October?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “Yes. I confess I didn’t tell Jocelyn about it. I didn’t want to influence her findings, but I guess I should be honest about it. I mean, I can’t go around pretending it didn’t happen. It did happen. I know it did, and I wasn’t the only one who saw them.”
Just mentioning the details of her experience seemed to be enough to make Adrian nervous. I wanted to put her at ease, so I said, “I believe you. I have seen things too. Long before I started the group.”
“It wasn’t my idea to come, but my friends wanted to see the place. It was a stupid dare. My girlfriends didn’t even put it together—they didn’t know that this place belonged to my grandfather. Just that the Leaf Academy has had a reputation as being…occupied for a long time. We
came in this way. I’ll show you.”
We walked in silence together until we reached the end of the hall. Her arms were folded, and she rubbed them as if she were cold. It was damp and chilly inside even though it was quite a warm day for January. Don’t make too much of that, Midas Demopolis. Cold chills aren’t evidence. There was a door here, but it had been boarded up some time ago. I tugged at the wood. It seemed sturdy enough.
“I had this closed up after they chased us out of here. I didn’t want anyone else to see what I saw.”
I clicked on the flashlight and waited for Adrian to continue. When she didn’t pick the conversation up, I decided to nudge her a little. Ever so slightly. “If you had to describe what you saw in one word…”
“Hellish. That would be the word. Listen, I’ll tell you all about it, but I want to finish this tour first. Is that okay? I hate talking about this place when I’m in here. It’s like someone is listening.”
I agreed to her request, but my interest was certainly piqued. Hearing other people’s stories was almost as interesting as conducting an investigation.
“Here’s the auditorium. It’s pretty cluttered, though, and some of the ceiling is coming down. As you can see, it extends out from the rest of the building. Once it had a lovely skylight. That must have seemed magical when it was new and intact. They could watch the stars while they listened to the orchestra. The town held many a concert here, and this was the location for all the school events. The graduation ceremonies were long, but the Leaf Academy attracted many a notable speaker.”
“I can believe that. Do you mind if I walk up to the stage area?”
Adrian shook her head. “Go ahead, but I’ll stay right here if you don’t mind. This is where it happened.”
I hesitated because I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable and then decided to make it a quick trip. I just had to check it out. I’d heard so much about it. I stepped over broken chairs and chunks of the fallen ceiling. Along the perimeter of the fallen room were piles of plaster, evidence that the walls had once been something to see. In my mind, I replayed Jocelyn’s account. I carefully went up the stairs and stood on the stage. The floor didn’t feel spongy, but that wasn’t always a reliable measure of stability. I stepped carefully and used the additional light to make my way to the center of the stage. Jocelyn had been standing here, and the boy…Ollie. He would have been there. I waved my flashlight around at the row of dusty, moldy chairs. It would be easy to see things in here, especially in the dead of night, but Jocelyn wasn’t one to make up stuff.
The Maelstrom of the Leaf Academy (Gulf Coast Paranormal Book 11) Page 1
