When Boone didn’t return from outside, I went to look for him, to make sure he was okay. I worried over the woman getting to him. Cora. At least some of the pieces were coming together. I knew who the dark woman was. George’s mama—no—Isaiah’s mama. I’d never get used to calling him by his real name. And I didn’t sense him anywhere in the house. Too bad. I didn’t have the whole story, and he would have been the best bet at finding it out.
The fresh air felt good. There was just a bit of a chill this morning. Thick heavy clouds filled the sky. I sucked in a deep breath, wishing I could smell the promise of rain. After what just happened, I needed to clear my head. Frightening temptations and screams continued to linger.
Out in the backyard, Boone was stalking around the oak that’d come alive a couple days ago with some kind of equipment. As I got closer, I recognized an electromagnetic field, or EMF, detector.
“Anything interesting?”
He glanced at me and smiled. “Some residual EMF near this tree. I have to tell ya, Quinn. I don’t get spooked often, but this damn thing freaks me out.”
I laughed softly. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at the yard the same way.”
“It’s a fascinating place.” His voice grew animated as he motioned me over to the carriage house. “This building is humming with electromagnetic energy. There’s no power in here, right?”
Holding the device up, I watched the needle jump clear over to the right, indicating the highest levels.
“No, no electricity. I planned to make it my photography studio.”
“Yeah? Photography?”
I lifted a shoulder. “It’s how I stay sane. The world looks different through a camera lens.”
“It scares me how alike we are.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, have you been inside?”
“Not in years.” I thought about it. “To be honest, as many plans as I have for it, it always slips my mind until I see it the next time. I wonder if it has something to do with the terrible twosome and their curse?”
“Wait, what? What curse?”
I filled him in on what I learned upstairs. “So, Cora, in her dying moments, cast a curse on my family. Whatever that means. He vows to tell me more soon. I’m not holding my breath. His cooperation disturbs me.”
“Well, yeah, don’t trust the bad guy. Horror movie 101.” He inclined his head toward the brick wall of the old building. “How do we get in?”
“Taking a cue from your horror movie tips, never go into an abandoned building alone.”
“I’m not alone.” He grinned. “I have you. And I bet you’re just as interested in what’s in this building as I am.”
Encouraged by his curiosity, I led him to the front, where the large double doors would swing open. A heavy padlock held them shut. The building contained nothing of value, but staring at it now, I contemplated how true that was. Overcome with the sensation something bad would happen if I opened those doors, I lifted my hand, as if to grasp the rusting lock, but did not move it closer.
“You feel it, too?”
I shot Boone a surprised look. “It’s like there’s a...a force field around it.”
“Force field? Nice, you’re a dork.” He studied me appreciatively then, turned back to the doors. “An apt description, though. Which tells me this place is important.”
He sighed then yanked the left side of the door open, but the hinges held it in place.
“I suppose you don’t know where the key is?”
“Nope.” I smirked at him. “I don’t need one.”
I made to walk through the door, but he stopped me. I felt the static charge of his hand passing through my shoulder. When I turned, I saw he was studying me with concern.
“Don’t. You shouldn’t go in there alone.”
“Why not?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure. Just trust me. Something is off about this place. Besides, I have another spot to show you.”
Boone had a point. The energy throbbing off the building felt dirty. There wasn’t really a better way to describe it. Curiosity played with me, a beckoning smile and a crooked finger motioning me forward. I buried it and shivered. Boone was right. I didn’t want to go in there alone.
“Okay. What’s next?”
Relief flooded his features and reaffirmed my decision. I’d come to trust Boone so if something gave him the willies I wanted no part of it. He pivoted and led me deeper into the yard, into the farthest corner. The bushes and trees grew more wild back here, camouflaging the rotting foundation of the old slave’s quarters. Soon we couldn’t even see the house. Crazily enough, this location made me much more uncomfortable than the carriage house.
“This is where Cora comes from...when I see her.”
Boone glanced over his shoulder in surprise. “I guess that explains what I found.”
He knelt in the tall grass, waving his EMF detector over the ground in front of him. It squealed as the needle shot over to the highest reading. Crouching beside him, reached out, using my hand as my instrument.
“It’s colder here.”
“Yeah, I noticed that earlier. Check this out.”
He brushed aside some dead leaves and dirt to reveal a small stone.
“Is that what I think it is?” I gasped.
“Because you’re brilliant, like me, I know you’re already thinking gravestone.”
I leaned forward, examining the marker closer, brushing more debris away. A strong, negative energy emitted from the stone, coating my hand with an icy film. The edges were rounded, as if carved, the entire thing barely bigger than a dinner plate. There were words, or symbols, but time had worn them almost completely away. The longer we lingered here, the more my dread increased.
“It belongs to Cora,” I declared.
“How can you know for sure? I mean, it was my guess too, but it’s impossible to read the inscription.”
I sat back on my haunches, trying to wipe the coldness from my palms. “Both times I’ve seen her out here she comes from this area. The slaves lived here. Either way, I just know.”
“You should not be out here. Are you two asking for trouble?”
Boone and I spun only to find Jackson staring at us as if we were the dumbest people he’d ever met.
Standing, Boone asked, “Who’s buried here?”
Jackson hesitated, so I rose as well, adding my own inquiry. “Tell us what happened. Stop pretending you don’t know.”
“No matter how hard I try to stay out of the matters of your family, it doesn’t seem to be in my destiny.” He sighed deeply. “Can we at least move away from here?”
I nodded, and we followed him closer to the house. A light rain began to fall and Boone huddled as close as he could to the building. Neither Jackson nor I really felt it. I shifted impatiently from foot to foot until Jackson started speaking.
“This was already an old story by the time I became friends with Nathaniel and courted Catherine. Amos Roberts, their grandfather, used the carriage house to have his way with his slaves. I never heard for certain, but apparently he was quite violent with them, and everyone just turned their heads. One night, according to rumor, things went a little too far, and a woman fought back.”
“Cora,” I whispered.
“Yes, the boy’s mother. It was well known she was a priestess of what you now call voodoo. No one knows for certain what really happened, but she and her son died. Other slaves told tales of hearing terrible noises coming from the old stables that night, dark angry voices, too deep to be human. Amos, he was never the same. He lost his mind, always murmuring about shadows and curses. The few times I saw him, he was withered, broken, mad. He found comfort at the plantation, away from this house. Nobody believed it, refused to consider the religions of the slaves were that powerful.”
“A curse or spell done at the moment of death is the strongest magic there is,” Boone said. “That’s why sacrifices are so crucial in so many cultures. It reaches through the veil, or whatever you’d call it, and brings darkness from the other side.”
“So Cora crossed over and brought something back with her?”
“It’d be my guess.”
Jackson considered Boone then added, “I have to agree. I’ve seen enough over the years, as hard as I’ve tried not to, to recognize this is as close to the truth as we can get without confirmation.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “This loa said he came through as a result of whatever spell she did in her dying moments. She brought him here.”
“And things have never been the same since,” Jackson confirmed.
We fell into silence, save for the rhythmic pattering of rain around us. Slowly, the puzzle pieces were beginning to fill in. No wonder there’d been so much tragedy surrounding my house. The woman who’d started it all was buried right under a neglected peach tree. Broken and vengeful, what else did she have but to torment my family?