Dark Corner

by Brandon Massey

As the pastor had advised, the search would have to begin in this house.

  A recent black-and-white photograph of his father stood on the coffee table. His father leaned against the vine covered column of a large, antebellum-style house. He wore a gray sport coat and a white shirt. His arms were folded across his chest, and his famous cigar jutted from his fingers.

  David thought that his dad's confident, the-world-is-myoyster smile held a hint of mystery.

  He looked into his father's piercing eyes, as though he could communicate telepathically with him, wherever he was in the world.

  Where are you, Dad? Why have you done this?

  He traced his finger across the picture frame.

  Maybe he shouldn't try to find his father. Maybe his father did not want to be found by anyone, including his son. His father, who had been photographed publicly for decades, would have needed to alter his appearance in order to live his new life in anonymity. What if he acted like a different man, too?

  Concentrating on the photo, David felt a realization stirring. He walked through the house, gripping the picture in his hands.

  He climbed the stairs to the second floor. He walked into the office and stopped beside the window.

  He raised the blinds.

  In the distance, Jubilee loomed, as ominous as ever.

  David studied the photograph, looked out the window again.

  It looked like his dad had taken the photo in front of the Mason house.

  For Sunday dinner, Nia prepared a fresh salad, lasagna, garlic bread, and for dessert, peach cobbler.

  Nia worried about how her mother would receive David. When she returned home after her meeting with a client in Memphis, Mama talked about how, at church, David had stood when visitors had been asked to rise. "You could see that the boy was eating up the attention, glorifying in it," Mama said. "Just like his father." She was determined to find fault in David, and Nia was beginning to think that her mother's dislike for David had nothing to do with Davidand everything to do with a troubled relationship her mother must have had with David's father.

  David arrived at three o'clock. He was casually dressed in tan slacks and a white, button-down shirt. He looked handsome.

  He presented her with a bouquet of fresh tulips and lilies. "This is for the ladies of the house"

  "Ooh, thank you. That's so sweet of you. Come on, I'll introduce you to my mother." She took him by the hand.

  Mama sat in the recliner, a crossword puzzle on her lap. She peered over the edge of her glasses.

  "Mama, I'd like you to meet David."

  David stepped forward to shake her mother's hand.

  "Hmph," Mama said, allowing her hand to be held briefly. "I saw you at church this morning."

  "Did you? I enjoyed the service."

  "Were you paying attention?"

  Oh, Lord, Nia thought. Here we go.

  "I was" David's smile had frozen.

  Mama twisted her lips. "I hope so. Because I sure was. I have a few things I want to learn the truth about. Know what I mean?"

  "Uh, sure" David's eyes shifted around the room.

  Nia broke in. "Hey, dinner's ready. Let's eat"

  Dinner was equally strained. David tried valiantly to engage her mother in conversation, asking about their family, sharing details about his own family and background, commenting on things he had seen and people he had met in town, and touching on current events, but Mama would not be charmed. She gave him curt responses and narrow, distrustful looks.

  Nia was embarrassed. She rarely brought men home to meet her mother, but her mother had never behaved like this.

  When Nia began to serve the peach cobbler for dessert, Mama got up.

  "All right, being civil has worn me out," Mama said. "Nia, I'm going to take a nap. Make sure you clean up what you messed up. David, take care of yourself."

  Stunned, holding the spatula in her hand, Nia watched Mama leave.

  "Well," David said. "Looks like I blew it."

  "I'm so sorry, David. Mama doesn't usually act like that."

  "I don't get it. What did I do wrong?"

  "Nothing, you were a sweetheart," she said. "I don't think the way Mama acted has anything to do with you. She hasn't told me so, but I think she's bitter about something related to your dad"

  "That explains it, I guess. Doesn't help me much, though. I can't change my bloodlines."

  "Don't worry, she'll get over it." Nia put down the spatula. "I need to get out of this house for a while. Want to take a walk? We can have the peach cobbler later."

  Outdoors, they strolled along the sidewalk, hand-in-hand, following the same path they had taken last night. It was a warm, gorgeous summer afternoon. The earth was vibrant, bursting with life and possibilities.

  They walked into the park, where they had settled on a bench the night before. They followed a hiking trail that curved through the woods. The cool shade was a welcome respite from the heat.

  "I spoke to Reverend Brown this morning," David said.

  "Did he tell you anything interesting about your father?"

  The way David looked at her made her stop in her tracks. Then he smiled, as if to reassure her, but it was a strained expression.

  "He did," David said. He seemed about to say something else, then appeared to change his mind.

  "What's wrong?"

  "It's nothing," he said.

  He wasn't being open with her. She could tell that he was deeply worried about something. But she wouldn't push him. She'd let him reveal his thoughts at his own pace.

  "Have you ever heard of a woman in town named Pearl?" David said. "She's supposed to be psychic, from what I hear."

  "Has Pearl called you?"

  "Huh? No"

  "Good," Nia said. "I've heard of Pearl. I've talked to her. She called me."

  "When? Why?"

  "She called me a couple of years ago," she said. "I was living in Houston at the time, but I was home for the holidays. She called me and warned me to be careful dealing with my colleagues."

  This time, it was David who stopped walking. "Are you for real?"

  "Oh, yeah. She was right, you know-Mr. Morgan, the stalker, proves it. My problem was that he was the last one I would've worried about"

  "That's amazing. So this Pearl is the real deal, then"

  "Let me put it like this: if she were to call me, I would listen to her. I think lots of people in town would agree. Some folks thinks she's a phony, but that's probably because she's never called them."

  The trail came to a short wooden bridge that spanned a creek. They stopped near the middle of the bridge and leaned against the sturdy railing.

  David peered into the brownish water below. "That's how Pearl does her thing then, by calling people?"

  "Sometimes. She runs a palm reading and tarot card business out of her house, too, so people usually visit her. She doesn't come into town very often" She looked at him. "Why all these questions about Pearl?"

  "I think my dad talked to her, so I wanted to know more about her. I might talk to her about him."

  "This stuff about your father," Nia said. "It's really bothering you, isn't it?"

  He did not respond immediately. He draped his arm across her shoulder, brought her closer, and kissed her on the lips.

  She massaged his broad back with the palm of her hand. He was such a lean, firm man. She loved the feel of him. She felt safe at his side, protected against the world.

  "You're right, it's bothering me, Nia," he finally said. She detected that his worries went deeper than she could possibly understand, and that there was much about his father he had not told her. She wanted him to tell her everything, if it would help to lighten his burden, but she would not pressure him. In time, he would open up to her. She had the feeling that they would get to share a lot of time together. Whether Mama liked it or not.

  Pearl was afraid.

  She had burst out of sleep last night, snatched out of slumber by a threat that she sensed but coul
d not see, and she had been unable to find peace since.

  She lived in a small clapboard house located on the bluffs at the edge of town, just her and three cats, and though the home was modest, a vast, grassy field lay adjacent to her property.

  Late in the golden afternoon, she walked barefoot through the meadow, her short arms spread, her delicate fingers streaming through the soft weeds and wildflowers.

  She was a pixie of a woman, five feet tall, and she weighed only a hundred pounds. She was twenty-four years old.

  At times like this, when powerful feelings overcame her, she wished for a bigger body, to better contain all of the energy. She wished she were older and wiser, too.

  Great evil stirred in Dark Corner. A malevolent force that had been asleep for years was about to awaken. Life in the town would never be the same.

  She liked to stroll through the field, because it usually relaxed her. She had been born with the gift of clairvoyance. Her mother had possessed the gift, too, as had her grandmother-indeed, the talent spanned several generations. Her elders had taught her that just as it was important to use your gift for the benefit of others, so was it important to learn how to contain your power, to keep it from overwhelming you and driving you mad. She had developed myriad ways to cope: meditation, prayer, soothing herbal teas, gardening, and long walks outdoors.

  A breeze rustled the grass. Sunlight bathed her body. Closing her eyes, she stretched her arms above her and tilted her face to the sky, luxuriating in the refreshing warmth.

  Suddenly, the earth began to quake.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  The ground beneath her shook, flowers swaying.

  A vision, she thought. Its only a vision. There are no earthquakes here.

  Nevertheless, she stepped backward.

  About ten feet in front of her, a chasm exploded open. Bits of dirt and rocks flew out of the gash, as if a subterranean creature were down there, spitting out debris. Then, it fell silent.

  Although dread clutched her heart, she did not run. Running would not solve anything. The haunting images would only follow her. This vision was intended to teach her something. But what?

  Slowly, she walked forward.

  It was a pit, drawn in an almost perfect circle, perhaps five feet in diameter. Perfect darkness yawned in the hole, and waves of chilly air rolled out of its depths.

  Strange, she thought, hugging herself against the coldness. What did this mean?

  She heard movement below. Something dark and enormous surged to the surface, with a rumbling sound that steadily grew louder.

  Involuntarily, she backpedaled.

  A geyser of blood erupted out of the pit. Blood sprayed into the air, like lava from a monstrous volcano.

  She screamed. She dashed back toward her house.

  As she ran, blood rained to the earth, coating her skin and drenching the meadow in crimson.

  She slammed into the house. She grabbed a towel off the kitchen counter and frantically scrubbed her skin.

  But her skin was dry. There was not a drop of blood on her.

  "Dear God," she whispered. She exhaled deeply.

  Warily, she pulled away the curtain above the window and looked outside.

  The field was quiet, and green. No geyser of gore.

  Still shaking, she shooed one of the cats off the counter and set about brewing a pot of tea, to soothe her tangled nerves.

  While water heated in the teakettle, she slumped at the small dinette table. She cradled her head in her hands.

  It was the most lucid and disturbing vision she'd ever received. It left little need for interpretation.

  Violence and bloodshed were imminent.

  Could anyone stop it? Visions such as this were warnings, and she never received warnings without eventually discovering a way to prevent harmful incidents from occurring.

  She had to learn how the evil could be stopped. She could not stop it herself; she was only a guide. She needed to find the special persons who could combat this evil, and offer them direction.

  She prayed that she'd find them before it was too late.

  Early in the evening, David left Nia's house. But he did not go home. He drove to Jubilee.

  He went to the Mason residence in the hope that he would find some evidence about what had really happened to his dad. His father had taken a photograph at the house, and that could be a clue. Or it could be coincidence. Nevertheless, if there was a connection between his dad and Jubilee-he could not imagine what it might be David had to find out.

  The Pathfinder labored up the steep, bumpy road that climbed toward the estate. Trees crowded the way, casting ink-black shadows.

  Cold sweat coated David's palms. Jubilee had given him a chill from the moment he'd seen it, and the stories he'd heard only added to the mansion's fearsome aura. He could hardly believe that he was visiting this place. He was either dedicated to finding the truth-or a little crazy.

  He wished that he'd brought King with him. But it was too late to go back home to get his dog.

  At the crest of the hill, the lane curved to the left. The gate to the property was around the bend, on the right.

  He did not park in front of the gate. He parked along the dusty shoulder of the road, under the boughs of an elm tree.

  He sat there for a minute or two, drawing breaths to compose himself.

  "Okay, man," he mumbled to himself. "You're here. Now get out and do it."

  Climbing out of the truck was like moving through cold water.

  Viewed at close range, the estate was more forbidding than ever. Tall, gnarled trees populated the immense yard, dense shadows gathered beneath their branches. A lonely dirt path led to the house. Tentacles of kudzu coiled around the mansion's thick columns. The front windows, reflecting the orange-crimson rays of the setting sun, were arranged in such a way as to resemble a face.

  A silver Lexus SUV was parked beside the house.

  Who in their right mind would live in this place? David thought.

  He approached the gate. He wished he had brought with him the photograph of his father, but he thought he could pick the spot on the veranda where his father had posed for the picture.

  Nia's tale about her terrifying childhood adventure replayed through his mind. Had his father seen ghosts, too?

  He touched the gate. The iron bars were cold.

  "May I help you?"

  David spun at the sound of the voice behind him.

  A tall, slender black man, clad in black clothes, wearing aviator shades and a black hat, stood on the side of the road. He cocked his head questioningly, long arms clasped behind his back.

  David had not heard him approach. He had been so absorbed in the house that he had temporarily forgotten the outside world.

  But where had the guy come from? Had the man been taking a walk? That had to be the answer.

  David cleared his throat. "Do you live here?"

  "I believe that I put forward the first question," the man said casually. David caught an unplaceable accent. "Do you have business at this residence?"

  "I was only looking around," David said. "Is this your place?"

  "You are persistent" The man smiled briefly. David got a glimpse of his perfect white teeth. "It is my home, for the time. Are you from the town?"

  "I moved here a few days ago"

  "I see, and doubtless, you've heard stories of haunted Jubilee. Decided that you would muster your nerve and lay your eyes upon the house? Determine whether you sensed any negative vibrations?"

  "Something like that, I guess" David edged away from the fence. There was something unusual about this guy, but he could not determine exactly what it was.

  The man whisked past David and pushed open the gate. David noticed that he wore black leather gloves, too.

  Weird. It was much too warm outdoors to wear gloves.

  The man turned. "You impress me as an intelligent, rational young man. I'd advise you to pay no mind to superstitions and tall tales.
The truth is never so ... entertaining." His lips curved in a smile, then he whirled around and strode across the path.

  In seconds, the man had vanished inside the mansion. He moved with fluid, sinuous speed, like a snake.

  Now what was that all about? David thought.

  It hit him what seemed so unusual about the guy. Although, from what little David had seen of his face, the guy appeared to be young, perhaps in his thirties, he had the manner of an old, wise man.

  Strange. But it figured. It would take an unusual person to call this dreadful house a home.

  Still, superficial explanations didn't satisfy David. Why had the man, who was clearly a foreigner, moved into the Mason place? Did it have anything to do with his dad?

  David looked at the house. Jubilee seemed like a huge ancient tomb, full of secrets. Something mysterious was going on in there. David felt it just like he felt the cool breeze on his face.

  He was grasping at straws, but until he learned otherwise, he would assume that everything was connected, somehow. A puzzle had been presented to him, pieces scattered randomly. He would not rest until he had put it together.

  Deep in thought, he got in his truck.

  Standing near the window, Kyle watched the inquisitive young man depart.

  Ordinarily, Kyle would have dispatched Mamu to handle visitors. Since last night, however, Kyle had been restlessand he was feeling protective, as well. He did not dare to allow anyone to disrupt what he had begun.

  He had used his ability to travel with extreme speed to appear behind the man. The man, if he had glimpsed Kyle coming across the yard at all, would have seen only a flicker of a shadow. Kyle had leapt over the fence as though it were no taller than a footstool.

  Although the human claimed to be innocently looking around, Kyle detected a definite purpose to his visit. The man had almost certainly lied to him.

  He wondered if the two laborers who had worked for him yesterday had begun telling others what they had seen. If so, that would be an unpleasant development. He did not relish the prospect of nosy townsfolk poking around the property, seeking a mass grave or some such thing.

  Upon arriving in Mason's Corner, Kyle had assumed that he would have several weeks to locate his father, awaken him, and aid his adjustment to contemporary life. He had been mistaken: the people in town would begin to meddle. The visit by the young man was only the beginning. Mother had trained him how to identify patterns in human behavior.