“Go away, Stenson,” the fat ghost with the hat cried, glaring at the ghost with no shoes. “I found him first.”
“You’re nothing but a greedy pig, Alabaster,” the thin ghost wailed. “You were in life and you are in death.”
“What’s it saying?” Angelo asked.
Nick rubbed the side of his face. “There are two of them now. They’re fighting over shoes and sandwiches.”
“Aren’t you the handsome one?” a woman’s voice said, and Nick turned to find a beautiful lady standing to his left. She was wearing a long, flowing white dress and holding a white umbrella. Like the two men, she also seemed to be made of nothing more substantial than fog.
“I, uh, well…” Nick stammered as the woman dropped her chin and gave him a wink. She reached out to touch Nick’s arm and her fingers went right through him. Tendrils of icy cold pierced his flesh where her hand had gone in.
“What’s happening? What’s happening?” Angelo called, looking around as if he might be able to spot one of the ghosts himself. “Tell me everything you see. I should have brought my EMF meter.”
“If I could just ask for one teensy-weensy favor,” the woman said, twirling a lock of hair around one finger. Nick felt his face getting hot—or at least hotter than normal. “There’s this man in the next cemetery over who—”
The two arguing men, realizing someone had taken their place, turned on the woman. “Leave the boy alone, Veronica, he’s ours!” shouted the one called Alabaster.
“Be quiet, you buffoons,” she snarled.
Other ghosts, noticing the commotion, began drifting toward Nick. Each of them had a request of their own.
“My money.”
“My baby.”
“My prize turkey.”
“Come on,” Nick said, backing away. “We have to get out of here.” He dropped the flannel bag and grabbed his bike.
“But I haven’t finished taking notes,” Angelo said. “If I could just have you ask a few more questions.”
“I’m not asking anything.” The ghosts were all looking at him now and none of them seemed happy that he was thinking of leaving. A low murmuring of disapproval quickly grew to a steady growl. Nick jumped on his bike and Carter climbed on behind him. A lumpy-looking man with a scar across the center of his face raised a ghostly shovel over his head and lunged forward. Nick closed his eyes and rammed his bike straight through him. A sensation like hundreds of icy needles poked at every inch of his exposed skin.
“What was that?” Carter yelled. “It felt like we just went through a cloud.”
Nick shook his head. There was no time to explain. Not daring to look back, he pedaled toward the edge of the cemetery. As soon as he reached the fence, he jumped off his bike and heaved it over the top.
“Give me a boost,” Carter said, clutching the bars.
Nick grabbed Carter’s legs and immediately got an eyeful of bright yellow boxers. “Get your butt out of my face,” he grunted, pushing and turning his head.
Carter giggled and shook his rear. “You’re just lucky I’m too scared to let one rip.”
As Carter leaped down to the other side, Nick risked a glance over his shoulder. There were hundreds of ghosts now, all heading in his direction. He grabbed the metal bars and vaulted himself over the top like a monkey escaping from a cage full of tigers.
“Are they still coming?” Carter yelled as Nick hit the ground and rolled to his feet.
Nick spun around. The ghosts had stopped a hundred feet or so from the fence and were standing in a long line watching him with unhappy expressions on their shimmering faces. He shook his head. “I don’t think they can leave the cemetery.”
A minute later Angelo appeared wearing his backpack and riding his bike. He barreled through the ghosts, but if they could see him at all, they paid no attention.
“I can’t believe you ran away,” Angelo complained as he climbed over the fence. “Do you have any idea how many people have tried to communicate with spirits of the dead? This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”
Nick scowled. “It wasn’t you they were fighting over like a pack of hungry dogs trying to rip the last piece of meat from the bone. When you get turned into a zombie for the rest of your life, you can talk to them all you want.”
Angelo lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He kicked at a pile of grass clippings. “This is my fault. I should have gone to the library sooner.”
“It’s not your fault,” Nick said. “It’s not any of our faults. We did everything we could. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s my aunt Lenore. She must have known the amulet was behind her house and what it could do. Why didn’t she destroy it?”
“Maybe she couldn’t,” Angelo said.
“Hey.” Carter pointed down the street. “There’s the cat that blew out the candle.”
The black cat, standing in the light of a street lamp, looked straight at the three boys, meowed, and turned in a circle.
Carter picked up a rock and drew back his arm. The cat flinched as if getting ready to run. But Nick grabbed Carter’s arm. “Hang on,” he said. “I’ve seen that cat before. It looks just like the cat that led me into the cemetery behind my aunt’s house. The cemetery where I found the amulet.”
“There’s no way a cat came all the way from Louisiana by itself,” Angelo said.
Nick knew he was right. But he was almost sure it was the same cat. The perfectly black fur, the knowing green eyes—even the sound of its meow was familiar.
“Meow, meow,” the cat said. It walked in a circle again, waved a paw in the boys’ direction, then turned and started down the street.
Nick looked from Carter to Angelo. “I think it wants us to follow it.”
Nick, Angelo, and Carter rode their bikes through the night, following the cat who, despite the boys’ best efforts to catch up, managed to stay far enough ahead to lead them without disappearing completely.
“Where do you think it’s going?” Carter asked, his nearly empty Halloween bag swinging back and forth from his handlebars.
Nick had no idea. They’d gone from the residential section of town to an area of small businesses and shops he wasn’t familiar with. “I just hope we get there soon. I didn’t tell my parents I was leaving. If they find out, I’m a goner.”
“My mom’s out of town visiting my sister,” Angelo said. He had the longest legs and easily stayed at the front of the group.
Carter, who was pedaling like crazy to keep up, huffed and puffed. “I…told my parents… I was…spending the night at… Angelo’s house. I think…they were glad…to…see me go…after I…pulled out my…sister’s hair.”
The cat stopped at the corner of a closed bakery, glanced back to make sure the boys were still following, then darted around the brick wall. When they reached the spot they’d last seen the cat, the boys stopped their bikes and peered into a dark alley.
“Where did it go?” Angelo said. With tall buildings on either side blocking the moon and no lights in the alley itself, it was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.
Nick wished he still had his matches, but he’d dropped them in the cemetery along with everything else. “Come on,” he said, getting off his bike and pushing it. “But stay close.”
As he walked deeper into the alleyway, Nick’s eyes began to adjust. He could make out a couple of trash cans, a stack of old newspapers, and several broken bottles. But there was no sign of the cat anywhere.
“It’s like it vanished,” Angelo said.
Carter shuffled along the grungy street, his head swinging left and right with each step. “I do not like this. Maybe we should turn around.”
“Wait,” Nick said. There was something at the end of the alley. When he got close enough, he could see it was a door. A sign on the front read GRANDMA ELISHEBA’S: PALM READING, FORTUNE-TELLING, LOVE POTIONS, AND CHARMS. “Why would the cat bring us here?”
“It’s got to be closed,” Angelo said.
> Nick agreed. But where had the cat gone? “It’s not like it could open the door by itself,” he said.
“I don’t care if it’s closed or not,” Carter said. “I’m not going in there.”
Nick wasn’t sure they had much choice. It was either try the door or turn around and admit defeat. He reached for the tarnished brass knob. Before he could touch it, the door swung open by itself, a square of feeble light shining into the alley. A voice said, “I be waiting for you.”
“It’s a ghost,” Carter said, his hands shaking so badly his entire bicycle rattled.
“Not if you can hear it,” Nick said.
Lying on the floor just inside the doorway was an old broom. Nick remembered seeing a broom lying just the same way at the top of the stairs in his aunt’s house. He reached down to pick it up, but the voice spoke again. “You best not be touching that or trying to cross over—not in your condition.”
“What do you know about my condition?” Nick asked. He couldn’t see much in the room beyond, other than a few flickering candles.
The voice laughed and Nick had the impression of great age. An old woman maybe? “Oh, I know all ’bout your problem,” the voice said. “How you be getting it in the first place. More important, why.”
Nick glanced to his left, where Angelo was rubbing a finger over his lower lip. “Some cultures believe a crossed broom protects against evil spirits and the undead,” Angelo whispered. He leaned down and carefully picked up the broom.
“He be a smart boy, that one.” The voice cackled and Nick imagined a witch waiting for them just inside. Wondering if he was making a big mistake, he stepped through the doorway. Angelo followed him, and Carter came through last, dragging his feet with each step.
Inside, the air was strong with the smell of spices and candle wax. There was another less pleasant smell underneath the spicy aroma that made Nick think of a butcher’s shop. Near the back of the room, a figure sat at a small round table. As Nick moved closer, he could see it was a woman. Her face was lined with wrinkles and her long hair was almost completely white. Her left hand lay flat on the table while her right stroked the back of the cat that had led them there.
Nick squinted into the darkness. “I know you.”
The woman pursed her lips. “Do you now?”
Nick took a step closer. “You were at my aunt’s funeral.”
The woman laughed, her voice dry and dusty-sounding. “You be observant.”
A few things began to add up. If this woman was at the funeral and this was her cat… “You’re the one who left me the note saying to trust the cat. You tricked me into following him into the cemetery.”
“Her,” the old woman said, unaffected by Nick’s accusation. She rubbed her cat under the chin. “This is my Isabelle. And yes, she led you into the cemetery.”
“I don’t care what your cat’s name is!” Nick’s entire body began to shake as anger boiled up inside him. “It’s your fault I found the amulet. It’s your fault I’m…the way I am.”
“A zombie?” The woman continued to comb her hand through her cat’s thick black fur, the rings on her fingers flashing blue, red, and gold in the reflected candlelight. “Perhaps I can help with that.”
“Don’t trust her,” Carter said, pushing forward. “She wants you to stay a zombie. That’s why she had her cat ruin the ceremony.”
The woman’s dark eyes glittered.
“He’s right,” Nick said. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t need you.” He started to turn away, but the woman’s voice pulled him back.
“Oh, but you do,” she said. “I be the only one who knows how the curse be broken.”
“It’s too late for that,” Angelo said.
The old woman waved her hand, sending the candles flickering. “You think that nonsense you were doing in the cemetery tonight be breaking a curse this strong? Much more likely it kill. I probably be saving your life.”
Nick felt something cold and loose inside of him. Could she be telling the truth? Was it possible he’d nearly died tonight? He glanced at his friends. Neither of them looked any surer than he felt. True, they all loved monsters and monster movies, but this kind of thing was way over their heads.
“You can break the curse?” he asked.
The old woman cackled so hard she began to cough. She pressed her hand to her mouth, her body shaking with deep, bone-rattling hacks, as though choking on something wet. When she finally got her voice back, she sounded tired. “’Course not.”
Nick’s disappointment was so strong he could taste it. “If you can’t cure me, then why did you bring us here?”
The woman glared at him. “You listen to Grandma Elisheba. And listen well. No one break that curse o’ yours ’cept the one who created it in the first place. You want it broken, you got to go to the one himself. The Zombie King.”
Nick swallowed so hard everyone in the room could hear it. “The king?”
The woman laughed again. “You hear of him, yes?”
Nick nodded. “My aunt wrote about a king in her journal.”
Grandma Elisheba’s face darkened. “You read her journal?”
Nick nodded. “Most of it was burned, but she said this king was a bokor—that he was trying to get back at her from the grave. She killed him?”
Grandma Elisheba shook her head violently. “The Zombie King not dead. Not that one. Only trapped.” She pointed a trembling finger at Nick. “He wants that amulet of yours bad. He knows you come to your aunt’s funeral. And he knows you be the only one can enter that crypt. If you don’t go on your own, he make you go. You not be surviving that.”
That must have been the treasure his aunt had been writing about. Nick thought for a moment. “So you’re saying my amulet belongs to this Zombie King. And that if I hadn’t gotten it on my own, he would have forced me to get it and killed me?”
The old woman nodded. “That be why I follow you that night. I push you into the crypt to save you from the Zombie King.”
Something about the old woman’s words didn’t completely add up, but Nick couldn’t quite figure it out. “Thanks for saving my life, I guess. If I give it back to him, it will break my curse?”
She nodded again.
It did make a kind of strange sense. Although Nick still wasn’t sure he trusted this woman. Then he remembered something else from the journal. “You’re the E my grandmother wrote about.”
The old woman stared at him, her face unreadable.
“She said that you’d given in. That you wanted the amulet. And something about a girl.”
“I know nothing ’bout that,” Elisheba said. “I want nothing to do with that cursed t’ing. Take my advice or don’t.”
Nick still had a bad feeling. If she’d really been trying to save his life, why hadn’t she told him about the amulet in the first place instead of tricking him into putting it on? Then again, he’d didn’t have any other options left. “You can lead us to this Zombie King?”
Grandma Elisheba burst into startled laughter again, waving both of her hands in his direction. “Don’t you listen, child? You don’t walk to the Zombie King and knock on his door. He be trapped in his own realm—somewhere twixt here and the underworld.”
“Then what’s the point?” Nick slapped his hand to his forehead in frustration and thought he felt another of his fingers loosen. “Why tell us about this Zombie King dude if you can’t take us to him?”
“I cannot,” the woman said with a sly smile. “But I be knowing one who can. You must speak to the lord of the graveyard. The Baron Cemetier.”
“I still don’t trust that crazy old lady,” Carter said.
Nick rocked his bike back and forth, unable to keep still. “I don’t either.”
The three boys were huddled outside the cemetery fence near the spot where Carter had ripped his pants earlier that night. Isabelle, the black cat, circled impatiently around them, but they ignored her.
Nick looked at the ghosts gathered on the ot
her side of the fence. They had appeared shortly after he and his friends arrived, as though drawn by a magnet. “You really think that stuff will keep them away?” he asked, reaching for the small silk bag Grandma Elisheba had given them.
Angelo pulled it out of Nick’s reach. “Don’t forget what she said. The undead aren’t supposed to touch this.” He bounced the bag in his hand. “I’ve read about black salt. It’s made by combining cauldron scrapings with regular salt. It’s supposed to create a protective barrier. There was something else…” He rubbed his forehead as though willing the contents of his brain to come forward. “I can’t remember what.”
The cat stopped and cocked its head almost as if it understood their conversation.
Nick felt extremely nervous about what they were doing and the woman who had sent them there. “This could be dangerous,” he said. “There’s no reason for you guys to take the risk. I’m the only one who needs to see the Zombie King.”
“You think I’d let you go without me?” Angelo said. “This is the chance of a lifetime. If you’re going, I’m going.”
“I’m not gonna lie,” Carter said, rubbing his hands across his mud-stained pants. “I’m so scared I think I might hurl. But I’m not letting you do this alone. We’re the Three Monsterteers.”
Nick knew he had the best friends ever. “Okay,” he said, throwing down his bike. “If we’re going to do this, let’s go.”
Angelo and Nick gripped Carter’s feet, boosting him over the fence. As they lifted him, a smell even more disgusting than Carter’s sweat socks filled the air. Nick wondered if it might be coming from the cemetery itself, until Carter giggled and waved a hand behind his rear. “Uh, sorry about that.”
Angelo grimaced. “That’s just gross, man.”
Nick laughed. Some things would never change. “I can’t believe you’re still hauling around that candy bag,” he said as he and Angelo climbed into the cemetery.
Case File 13 Page 13
