Jocelyn stood up and paced as she continued, “I’ve been doing this for five years. That’s not as long as you, for sure, but I’m convinced it is a maelstrom, Midas. This entity knows your weaknesses. It exploits your fears, and it is relentless. It plays for keeps. I can’t say it enough, I can’t stress it enough, don’t take anything from that place. Not a rock, not a button and not a damn feather. I feel bad enough that I removed Moriah Mitchell’s journal. I see you have it there. And then you find a feather at your house?” Midas and I locked eyes at the mention of the feather. Jocelyn didn’t have to guess; she knew what we were thinking. “I couldn’t believe it when you called and told me that. See what I mean? It knows you are coming.”
“You think it wants us to stay away?” I had to ask. I wasn’t sure what to think about all this.
“Oh no. Quite the opposite. It wants you to come. It wants you to accept the gift, but it wants something in return.” A loud noise startled me, and I smothered a yelp of surprise.
“It’s a truck backfiring. That’s all,” Midas said in a comforting voice.
Man, I was on edge. I had to get it together if I was going to make it through this investigation.
“How is Adrian?” Jocelyn asked with some concern.
“Scared and ready to tear the school down. I’m glad we get to go inside before she takes such drastic measures. It is a gorgeous building.”
She sat back down, leaned back in her chair and fiddled with her shoelaces. “Did you see the stone over the door? Do you know what it means?”
“I didn’t pay any attention to it. What does it say?”
“It’s a carving that reads, ‘Non timebo mala.’” She fidgeted nervously and continued, “It means, ‘I will fear no evil.’”
I shook my head in disbelief. I’d never heard of such a thing. “Wow, that is frightening. Why in the world would they put something like that up there? Unless they knew about the history of the place? Unless the builders wanted to protect themselves or the people inside.”
Midas opened the journal and turned to the first page. “From what I gather, from what you are telling me, that stone is not working. Would you mind telling us about your investigation? You’ve shared a little with me, but I want Cassidy to hear too.”
“Sure,” she said as she tapped her fingers on the table. Clearly, this subject made her nervous. As she began sharing her story, I reached for my small sketchpad. I hoped I would receive some impressions while she spoke. For some reason, my mind went back to the handsome young man in Moriah Mitchell’s journal.
“The auditorium is one of the worst, most haunted places on that property. It’s always cold in there, even though part of the roof has caved in. It got so cold once that I could see my breath in front of my face. I know that is typical of paranormal experiences, but this was extremely cold. We’ve seen drops in temperature that have preceded paranormal activity, but nothing this drastic.” As she spoke, I began to absently sketch on my pad. I wasn’t getting anything yet, but I could feel the spiritual “warm-up” happening. “Besides the cold spot is the boy. But he’s not really a boy, Midas. According to Moriah Mitchell, the boy is a face for a very old, very murderous spirit. One that’s been on that land for a long time. Long before the school was there. Hugh McCandlish knew him as Ollie.”
“Fascinating. McCandlish appeared to you, right? Was he a translucent apparition, or did he appear more physical?” Midas took notes on his laptop.
“Yes, he did. He was more solid…I could see the color of his hair and stuff. You know he was murdered there, right? In 1937. He rescued me, Midas. Sounds crazy, huh? At least he’s there. I get the feeling that Ollie can’t control him although he very much wants to. He wants all the souls.” She bit her lip as her thoughts turned inward. Then she remembered where she was in the conversation. “The key…I lost the key. I couldn’t get out without it. The damn thing went missing, but McCandlish brought it back. I’m sure he did. Yeah, he was the only good spirit there. The only one that wasn’t completely enslaved to Ollie.”
I shivered at her description and sketched her face. She squinted at my drawing and flashed her white teeth in a contagious smile. “Hey, that’s me.”
“Tell us about Gary Holloway. You saw him too. Cassidy, he was the previous owner’s brother. He supposedly committed suicide on the property.”
“He jumped off the roof. Can you imagine? He was terrifying.”
In a quiet voice, I asked, “What did he look like, Jocelyn?”
“Gary liked to smoke, and his teeth were stained. He was smoking during our interaction. He wears blue jeans with rolled cuffs, but strangely enough, I don’t remember his shoes. He asked me if I was human and threatened to peel my skin off.”
“Crap,” I said as my stomach lurched.
“I can’t tell you how terrifying that was, how shook that encounter left me. Ollie, the maelstrom of the Leaf Academy, is operating on such a level of manipulation. He is a serious threat to anyone who is weak-minded. That evil—it took my breath away. If you were a non-believer and went inside, you’d leave a believer. It’s truly a horrible place. Amityville has nothing on the Leaf Academy.” Jocelyn’s voice trailed off, and we all got quiet. “I know I have said this once, but I can’t stress this enough. It is vitally important that you don’t pick up anything. Nothing. Tell Joshua and Sierra, too. Don’t let them go in without tattooing it on their brains. Don’t pick up a rock, not a piece of wood. Nothing at all. For whatever reason, this maelstrom thinks that your acceptance of his gifts is an open door. If you accept anything, if you pick anything up, you are making an exchange.”
I swallowed at her description as I thought about the big black feather on my bed. “What kind of exchange?”
“I don’t understand it all, but I got the feeling that if I accepted that feather, any of them, I would lose my soul. Sounds like something from a horror movie, right? Nevertheless, it’s all happening at the Leaf Academy. You know what? I have to go with you guys. If for nothing else but to make sure you remember that. I can’t let you guys go without me. You need me to keep an eye out for you. I’m going, Midas. You can count on me.” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
“If we go on that premise, then Cassidy was offered a gift earlier. A big, black feather. We’ve got to get rid of it without this spirit believing we’ve accepted his gift.”
“Tricky to say the least, but it’s been my experience with this maelstrom that it won’t be there when you get back. I can’t remember seeing those feathers again after I refused them.”
I felt sick to my stomach. The idea of Ollie coming to my house not once but twice was making me physically ill. “Midas, I have to go home. My cat…my house…” I stuffed my sketchbook in my book bag and slung it over my shoulder.
“We’ll all go together, Cassidy.” Grim-faced, Midas closed his laptop and immediately began turning off the lights. He locked the door behind us as the three of us filed out. I was sure this was not how he wanted the night to end. He wanted to do some preliminary research, but my heart was heavy. If anything happened to Domino while I was gone, I would never forgive myself. We all rode in Midas’ SUV in silence. When we got to my house, every light in the house was on. It was lit up like a Christmas tree. A horrible, haunted Christmas tree.
As soon as the car came to a stop, I shot out and raced to the front door.
Chapter Six—Shanafila
After days of fasting from words, it seemed strange to hear them spoken loudly now. Fula Hatak’s voice conveyed anger and fear, and both seemed directed at me. I could not understand him at first. I was caught between worlds as the remnants of the medicine lingered in my brain and dulled my senses. I heard the fear in the shaman’s voice, and the sound did not bring me peace. As Fula Hatak’s screams faded, I realized that I was not dreaming, and the sensation that I had left the Spirit World jarred me. The sensation reminded me of my first memory.
My father and I spinning, the canoe twirli
ng about in the whirlpool, my stomach rolling and churning.
I was glad to be in my own world again, away from that black-eyed spirit that posed as a child. I was glad to be back inside my own body. Relief washed over me as I felt the mortal shell tighten around me. I wiggled my fingers and toes. Yes, I could move, and I had to get up and tell Fula Hatak what I saw. I tried to pick myself up off the ground, but Fula Hatak would not allow me to move. I felt his heavy foot on my back; he was pinning me to the ground as he screamed again. And then the screaming ended and he began to mutter.
“You doomed us all! We will pass into the Land of Darkness, Shanafila. By your hands. By your hands!” With one last shove, he lifted his foot and began waving his arms about like a madman. And then he began his song. This was not a song I recognized, and its words chilled me to the bone. I had failed in my mission. That was clear enough.
“No, Fula Hatak!” I yelled as fear gripped me, but I could say nothing else. The medicine drink still held the power to make me sick. I gagged on vomit and turned my head to retch. It was a relief to get the sickening fluid out of my body, but it left me feeling as weak as an abandoned baby squirrel. Thankfully, Fula Hatak stepped away from me as his song faded. I leaned on my side and struggled to regain my composure.
The old man screamed loudly again and pointed his finger at me. “Nalusa Falaya! You saw him—this is his gift, Shanafila! You have taken his gift, and now we will all die. Young and old, guilty and innocent. Even our dead are cursed because of you!”
I could hardly believe my ears. Was I dreaming still? Where was Haloka? Grandfather Imafo? Was this all a dream? My eyes rolled around, and I struggled to control their movements. I shut them tight and waited for Fula Hatak’s declaration to end. Was I the last man to survive the journey to the Medicine Hill? I could not say, but I had never felt lonelier.
Fula Hatak sang my Death Song as I imagined my wife, my sweet Yukpa, waiting for me with open arms. Would I die now? Would he slice my throat and leave me to bleed in the sand?
Oh, Yukpa. I have failed you, wife.
I imagined the feel of her soft, strong arms. How I wanted to be in her arms again. To hear her whisper my name…Shanafila! I longed to feel the cool breeze on my bare skin as we lay in the green fields near our village with the moon high above us, Yukpa’s welcoming body beneath me. Truly I had lived and loved. These memories were more than I deserved. And now I would never rub her growing belly again or teach my son the ways of our people. Yes, I knew we would have a son. A Waliki boy, a strong brave who would lead our people back to their homelands. We had lost our way after the Time of Wars. Before his untimely death, my father had led us to seek the Way of Peace. But you could have no peace with neighbors who wanted to kill you. We were a defeated people. We had lost our lands. We were too far from the sea, too far from the orchards that nourished us. There had been too many wars with the Alibamu and the Chickasaw. I had come to the Medicine Hill believing that I would see the way forward. I thought I would see a future for the Waliki, but I had seen nothing. Nothing except the boy.
But he was no boy. Even though I had not thought so before, I believed Fula Hatak. I had encountered the Nalusa Falaya, the Soul Eater. I had forgotten the story, like so many of the stories of my fathers. There were no fathers to tell them anymore, except for Fula Hatak and Grandfather Imafo. I should have known the truth, but in my condition, I could not recall the moment when I accepted the feather. I knew deep in my soul that I had not accepted it…but now I wasn’t so sure. No! Yukpa! I wanted to think of her, not the feather or the Soul Eater. The sweet images faded, but I could still see; I saw my home. And I could see a sea of blood. Bodies were everywhere, Waliki bodies. My people—tall and thin, their long dark hair muddied and bloodied. There was no life in any of them.
“No!” I screamed against the vision. This was not what I wanted to see. Not at all. I began to cry out to the old man. “Why, Fula Hatak? I did nothing!” But I remembered the boy with the mesmerizing eyes, eyes like two dark caves. He had given me no choice. I had to accept the feather or die.
This is what you came for, Waliki man. Take it!
“This is the end of us! You have brought death to our people, Shanafila. You will not return with me. You cannot return!” Suddenly, with the strength of the bear, I rose up and threw myself at the old man. He could not stop me from returning home to my Yukpa. I was Waliki! I had done nothing wrong except walk the Sacred Path as I had been asked. I had come to the Medicine Hill at Fula Hatak’s request. Before I knew it, the shaman and I were wrestling in the sandy soil. With as much anger as I could muster in my woozy state, I threw him on the ground and put my knee in his chest. When had I ever been so angry? Never. And I wanted to kill Fula Hatak, kill him with my bare hands.
“Stop, Shanafila! The blood of our people is already on your hands. Will you take my life too?”
I shuddered at his words. Nausea hit me again, and I closed my eyes to steady myself. That was a mistake. At that moment, Fula Hatak struck me with his strong fist. He hit me hard on the side of the head, and the world went black. I did not dream or feel or see anything.
Not until the boy appeared.
My eyes would not open, but I felt the toe of his moccasin poking me in the side. I felt my skin try to climb off my body.
Waliki!
Suddenly, a sharp kick struck my rib cage. I wheezed as I sat up and pushed at the invisible boy. He responded only with an evil laugh; it was not a sound that comforted me or conveyed joy. The boy’s mocking laughter terrified me, and finally, I could see. The sun had set, the air felt warm, and mosquitoes buzzed around my face. I could not see the boy, just the black of night, the sandy hill and a line of trees a few feet away. Yes, this was the line of trees that encircled the Medicine Hill. This was a place for dreams and visions, or so Fula Hatak told us before we came to the sacred spot. I had no reason to disbelieve him.
I spun around and called into the blackness, “Fula Hatak! Forgive me. I was not myself!” Nobody answered. Clearly, Fula Hatak and the other Waliki had departed from the hill and left me behind. He had forbidden me to return home. How could he do that? I had seen the spirit of this place, and hadn’t I been sent to retrieve a vision for our tribe? That’s when my eyes fell on the feather again. It was at my feet, just waiting for me to pick it up.
To claim it. Again.
This is what you came for.
I stepped away. Just as I was making my way into the forest, I heard the boy’s mocking laughter in my ears. It hung in the air and continued. It seemed a horrible, endless thing.
I have to get back to the village! Yukpa needs me!
I ran, awkwardly at first, as if my legs were two blocks of wet sand. But then I picked up speed and began to run as quickly as ever. Slender tree limbs slapped me as I hurried through one thicket and then another. I could feel the blood in my mouth as a branch popped my lip, but I did not let it stop me. Finally, I recognized where I was—I could see the path stretching out before me now.
Feeling even more anxious, I raced faster. My lungs were burning, and my sides hurt. My mouth was sticky and dry. And I was not alone. I could hear them running with me.
Black shadows of men! The Dark Ones!
They raced with me, ran with me. Was I one of them? No! Never!
I had to stop for a moment, to breathe and regain my bearings. It was easy to get lost in the dense part of the forest. This had not been my home. These were strange lands to my people. My shaking hands hugged the tree trunk as my eyes searched for a way forward. But the Dark Ones knew the way, and they did not wait for me but raced on ahead of me. I heard a strange screeching noise, many voices screeching, cackling with delight. I could see the trees moving ahead of me. The branches shook as the Dark Ones vanished deeper into the woods and raced toward my home. I gulped and then screamed at them.
“Stop! No!”
I ran, but I could not make up the distance between us. That’s when I heard the first of the screams.<
br />
The screams of children, and women and men. The cries mingling together were like a horrible song, rising in the sticky night air and lifting to the heavens. In a moment that seemed to last forever, the chorus of shrieks grew louder and louder, and I felt sicker and sicker.
The Dark Ones were murdering my people, and there was nothing I could do to save them. Nothing at all.
And I had led them here.
Chapter Seven—Jocelyn
My arrival at the Leaf Academy was as gut-wrenching as I expected it to be. Who was I kidding? I had never been more scared in my life, and here I was back in the haunted school. Like a complete idiot. I would never forget encountering the spirits of this place—the many entities that called the Leaf Academy home. Those experiences were etched into my brain. It wasn’t likely that I would ever forget the terror I felt during my short stay here. From Gary Holloway to the little boy—Ollie, as some people called him—to the random spirits I saw in the hallway outside and inside the auditorium. Yes, I would never forget their faces, their dead, decomposing faces. And all those feathers. It had all started when I walked up the steps of the school. I’d turned away for one second, then turned back to see the door standing wide open.
Like someone had been waiting for me and wanted me to come inside.
Was the Gulf Coast Paranormal team ready to come up against such an intelligent predator?
Ollie definitely knew we were coming. But why did he show up at Cassidy’s place and not mine? Hmm…I thought about that for a second or two. Clearly, Cassidy’s gift was the difference. She was some sort of medium. I mean, how else could you describe her? She saw the dead and sketched their pictures. I on the other hand occasionally got lucky and captured them with my camera. Fortunately, as I predicted, the feather wasn’t there when we got to her house. Not a trace of the thing. Cassidy packed a bag and grabbed her cat and spent the night with Midas.
I wasn’t backing down on my theory that this entity was nothing less than a maelstrom. An ancient maelstrom whose sole goal was to possess, kill and control as many souls as possible.
The Maelstrom of the Leaf Academy (Gulf Coast Paranormal Book 11) Page 4
