“Barb wasn’t the kind of girl who took crap from anyone,” said Janet. “The last thing she said to me…she told me to tell our parents that she was sorry and that she loved them, said she loved me, and…” A sob came out next. Janet covered her eyes. “And that she would make him pay.”
He came closer and knelt down before her, patting her hand. “Janet, look at me.”
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Luther’s demonic, crimson eyes pulsated with otherworldly power. Janet was transfixed by them, quickly falling into a trance state.
“You’re going to forget I was here. And you’re going to stop torturing yourself over Barbara’s death. Do you understand me?” Janet gave a slow nod. He smiled and stood, placing his sunglasses on. “Thank you for seeing me.”
Luther could piece together the rest. Janet’s story filled in every gap he had. It wasn’t a car accident—Barbara Kern didn’t lose control, she intentionally crashed that car and killed the both of them. And her rage or guilt at what she’d done was still so great that her spirit continued to haunt the area.
Now he knew what he needed to do in order to set Barbara’s spirit free.
* * *
Night had already fallen by the time Luther returned to White Cemetery and the gates were closed for the evening. Luther stopped in front of the entrance and left the car running, approaching the gate and holding his hand over the lock.
“Aperio.”
With that Latin word, Luther was able to use his magic abilities to unlock the gate. It swung open for him and he returned to his car, then drove inside the cemetery. Luther found a decent spot to begin his work and parked, turning off the car and its headlights.
He stepped out of the car and walked up the small hill, taking a bag with him. Despite being almost pitch-black, one of the benefits of his demonic heritage was the ability to see perfectly fine in the dark.
Luther opened the bag and removed five large candles, arranging them in a circle. Next he took a bag of salt and laid a trail of it around the candles. He sat in the center of the circle and closed his eyes, laying his palms on his knees.
“Ignitus.”
The candles all lit instantaneously at his command. He began mumbling under his breath, reciting the words of an old spell, one which would allow him to pierce the veil to the other world and summon a spirit from there.
The spirits that occupied White Cemetery circled around him, but all were unable to approach. The salt acted as a barrier for them, keeping them from coming closer to him. The temperature dropped and Luther opened his eyes.
All the other spirits moved from the area, save for one—the one Luther had summoned. The occultist stood in his circle and stared into the face of a man who had died over sixty years ago. He was dressed in an expensive suit and fedora, with a thin mustache above his lips and a scowl on his face.
“David McLaren,” said Luther.
“The hell you want?” asked McLaren.
“I’m here to—” Luther heard the sound of a gun and grunted. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He turned his head and saw Turner walking up the hill. Turner had his gun aimed at Luther. “Good thing I decided to keep an eye on this place. Thought it would be some stupid kids trying to break in tonight. Never imagined you’d be stupid enough to try something like this, Cross.”
Turner looked at McLaren. Luther could tell the officer was confused, maybe even a little frightened. But Luther knew the man was already trying to rationalize away what he saw.
“So, what is this anyway? You get your buddy here to dress up like a ghost and together, the two of you are going to try and scam some other people? Maybe you got a camera set up somewhere, something to show the Graebers that you took care of the ghost that got their daughter?”
“Turner, get the hell out of here now!” barked Luther. “You don’t know what you’re doing, you idiot!”
McLaren reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gun. Turner spotted the movement and he fired first. The bullets passed harmlessly through the ghost of the mobster. McLaren looked down at himself and laughed. He raised his gun.
“Goddammit…” Luther ran from the circle and pounced. He grabbed Turner and pulled them both to the ground as McLaren’s gun went off.
“I…I shot him…” muttered Turner, his eyes wide with fear. “I know I did…”
“Yeah, and a gun like that isn’t gonna do jack.” Luther drew his revolver from beneath his jacket. “But this one will.”
Luther stood and returned fire, the special rounds causing the spirit to dissipate temporarily. He offered his hand to Turner and the cop reluctantly accepted it and allowed the investigator to pull him to his feet.
“We have to get out of here. I summoned McLaren, so he’ll be drawn to me until I banish him,” said Luther. “But it’s the other spirits I’m worried about.”
“Other spi—?” Turner cut himself off when looking up and seeing the glowing orbs that hovered all over the cemetery. His jaw fell open and Luther pulled him away.
“Come on!”
The two men ran with Luther firing back at the ghosts and hitting a few of them. Luther drew his dagger just in case it proved necessary in the situation. He stopped and turned, slicing through the ghostly neck of one of the spirits.
“Get to my car!”
“Your car? Why—?”
“Stop asking questions and just do what I tell you!” shouted Luther, firing the last of his rounds into their pursuers. He sprinted for the Camaro, spilling out the empty shells onto the grass as he ran. Luther’s hand went to his pocket and he took out a spring-loader with additional bullets and pumped them into the chamber.
Once Luther reached the car, he turned and fired off more shots. Turner was already inside and after Luther managed to get a few of them off their tail, he got into the driver’s seat.
“They’re coming!” said Turner.
The ghosts were indeed flying at them, but once they reached the car, they suddenly screeched and swerved, completely avoiding it. Turner watched this all happen with shock, whereas Luther didn’t seem the least bit surprised.
“This car’s got some special after-market modifications,” he said. “Iron elements mixed in with the metal, sigils to ward off the supernatural painted under the hood and trunk, things like that.”
Luther started the car and drove out onto Cuba Road. Once there, he stopped the car next to Turner’s squad car. Luther glared at the officer with his glowing eyes. “Now get out of here before you screw things up even more than you already have.”
“But what about those…things?” asked Turner, pointing at the cemetery where he could still see the lights floating over the graves.
“Those spirits are bound to the cemetery, they can’t cross the barrier,” said Luther. “But they’re not what you should be worried about.”
“And what is?”
They heard the sound of a car engine revving. Luther and Turner both looked over their shoulders and through the rear window, they saw a 1950s roadster racing toward them.
“Her,” said Luther.
The car raced toward them, driving in the opposite lane. Turner watched in amazement and terror as the ghostly car drove right through his squad car. He blinked a few times to make sure that he really saw what he thought he saw.
Ahead of them, the ghostly vehicle took a sudden U-turn and then stopped. Luther could see the ghost of Barbara Kern sitting behind the wheel. He saw the tears in her eyes and he watched her lips move, mouthing the words, “How could you?”
“You wanna play, honey?” Luther revved the Camaro’s engine. “We’ll play.”
“Cross, what the hell are you doing?” screamed Turner.
Luther shifted and slammed on the gas. Barbara’s car sped toward them and they were set for a head-on collision. Turner screamed in the passenger seat, covering his eyes. But just as they were about to connect, Barbara lost control of her car and it swerved, barely missing them.
The Camaro skidded to a stop, swerving as it did. Luther activated the parking brake and gave Turner a sly smile. “Enchantments, remember?” The humor instantly drained from Luther’s face and his eyes flashed. “Now stay here this time and don’t do anything stupid.”
Luther opened the driver-side door and stepped out, holding his gun at the ready. He approached Barbara Kern, who got out of her own car. She screamed at him, shouting those three words over and over again. Luther shot into the air and his eyes flashed at her.
“That’s enough,” he said. “I’m not the one you want.”
He lowered the gun and with his free hand, pointed past Barbara. She slowly turned around and then she saw him standing there. David McLaren’s ghost looked at her, the rage gone from his face and now replaced with fear. Barbara screamed.
“You! You promised me! Promised me I was the only one!”
“Doll, I-I didn’t mean to lead you o—”
“Liar!”
Barbara charged at McLaren and when their ghostly forms connected, they both evaporated into nothing, but their twin screams echoed in the night. Luther looked at White Cemetery and saw that the spirits had calmed, now fading from the area. He holstered the gun and returned to the Camaro. Luther opened the passenger side door and looked into Turner’s eyes.
“You can get out now.”
Turner suddenly found himself able to leave the vehicle. He climbed out and moved cautiously past Luther, looking him up and down. He then looked at the cemetery and then to the middle of the road where he saw Barbara and McLaren vanish.
“What the hell was that?”
Luther scoffed. “Two of the ghosts you say don’t exist.”
* * *
Sean sipped his coffee in the diner as he read the newspaper. A shadow fell over him and an envelope was dropped onto his paper, obscuring the article he’d been focused on. The reporter looked up and saw Luther standing over him, looking down at him through sunglasses.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Five percent.” Luther sat down across from him. “As agreed upon.”
Sean picked up the envelope and peeked inside, counting the bills. He took another sip of his coffee. “Thought we agreed on ten.”
“And I thought I told you to quit dreaming.”
Sean snickered. “So it’s all taken care of then?”
Luther nodded. “With Kern and McLaren gone, the spirits on Cuba Road should calm down for now. The Graebers were satisfied when I told them the story and provided them with the research we did on the case.”
“How come she didn’t pop up before now?” asked Sean. “I mean, they died over sixty years ago. Why just now?”
Luther shrugged. “Spirits build up power over time. At first, they’re just echoes. But then as the years pass, if they haven’t moved on, their pain only gets worse. And it increases their power.”
“Think we’ll have to do something like this again in the future?” asked Sean.
“If not us, then someone. That road is a spiritual hot spot. The other ghosts in there will one day have enough power to do some damage.”
Sean took the envelope and folded it, placing it in his pocket. “Hey, mind if I ask you something, Cross?”
“Go right ahead.”
“Say you went out to that cemetery and you found there wasn’t any ghost. That Jenny Graeber really did just die of heart failure like everyone said.”
“There a point you’re getting to anytime soon, Powell?”
“Would you have lied about it?” asked Sean. “Told the Graebers that there was a ghost and you exorcised it? Maybe whipped up some kind of magic trick or used those funky eyes of yours on them?”
Luther shrugged and stood. He reached into his jacket and took out the cigarette case. Before he placed one of the cigarettes between his lips, he flashed Sean a grin. “Guess we’ll never know.”
Sean scoffed. “Yeah, guess we won’t. See you around, Cross.”
The occult investigator left the diner and climbed into his car. He started up the Camaro and drove off, heading back toward Chicago.
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DEVIL’S TAUNT AND OTHER STORIES
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
“Devil’s Taunt” © 2017 Percival Constantine
“The Reckoning” © 2014 Percival Constantine, originally published by Pro Se Press
“Ties That Bind” © 2015 Percival Constantine, originally published by Pro Se Press
“Bloodlust” © 2015 Percival Constantine, originally published by Pro Se Press
“Haunted Road” © 2017 Percival Constantine, originally published by Pro Se Press
Cover by Midnight Whimsy Designs
Published by Percival Constantine
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Devil's Taunt and Other Stories Page 19
