

#### The Witches of Drohrback Hollow

Jonas Fieldstein

Copyright © 2012 by Donna Huffer. All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

First Electronic Edition: June 2012

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to Sarah and Beth who encouraged me to put my vivid imagination to good use

### Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Upcoming Books

## Chapter One

"There's a ghoul in every cemetery, but this one has more than its share," the old man explained to Debbie, his miserable, sweating granddaughter. The girl, lips smacking spearmint gum, looked at the seventy-five-year-old man and sighed. The family had its share of lunatics.

"Granddad, there is no such thing as a ghoul. You're just trying to scare me, right?" Nineteen-year-old Debbie Grandoff felt uneasy as she looked around the creepy cemetery her grandfather had dragged her to in order to finish her family history project. The grass was up to her ankles, and she was constantly swatting mosquitoes. Her long brown hair was tucked under her white ball cap, and she hoped she had applied enough sunscreen to protect her pale, freckled face.

She glanced around at the leaning tombstones etched with names like Southers, Olson, Simpkins, and Wingo. Overgrown thorn bushes clawed at her clothes. How her grandfather, Hank Grandoff, endured that flannel shirt, she didn't know. She'd read somewhere that old people didn't feel the heat. She sure did. It was a hot May day in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Bentonville, Virginia.

"Ghouls are as real as you, honey. Heard it all my life growing up around here. Got personal experience. My mother used to talk about them walking around these grounds even when she was a little girl. She'd tell me to never come around here after dark. Good advice. Don't frown at me, Debbie. Come here at night and see for yourself. You just might find out a lot of things they don't teach you in that community college of yours."

He turned quickly and pointed to another side of the cemetery. "Now, as I was saying, my grandmother Jenny is buried over there by the oak tree. I was little when she died so I don't remember her much. Grandpa Paul Grandoff is next to her. I heard he died of cancer, but I'm not sure. Things happen when you leave the mountain. Personally, I think it was witchcraft. Then, there's my brother Herman beside them, but the stone is gone. You getting all this?"

Debbie nodded, ignoring his comments on ghouls and witchcraft. She took a swipe at the gnats around her head and scribbled in her notebook. "Why doesn't your brother have a stone?"

"They removed it when they dug him up. Born April 12, 1925. Died in the war in 1944. Germany." Her grandfather waited for her to finish writing. "Dug him up five years later. Seems he wasn't quite dead."

Debbie stopped her writing and stared hard at him.

"What do you mean, Granddad? Either he was dead or he wasn't. Which was it? Stop playing games with me. This paper is an important grade. I have to pass this seminar to graduate. Stop all this crazy stuff. I mean it. Talk like that will put you in the nursing home."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, but I'm not crazy." He pointed toward the rickety fence on the right.

"As I was saying, my parents are over there by the fence. Ma died in the nursing home, aged one hundred and twelve. You might remember her."

"Naw, I don't think my father wanted to visit her. He said it was too sad. Where is Grandma buried?" she asked. The old man took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead covered in sweat. He led her through the wet grass to a light gray stone toward the back of the Lewis Methodist Church Cemetery. They both stopped and stared. The grass covering the grave had been ripped up leaving the red dirt exposed in large spots.

"What the hell?" the old man yelled. "Looks like some wild animal was digging here." He took his foot and tried to smooth the dirt and tufts of dried grass back over the grave. Debbie saw stray dried flowers laying in the grass where they had been thrown off. She gathered them up and replaced them on the grave. "This ain't good," the old man grumbled to himself. He examined the upturned river rocks that used to line the grave. "Someone has been fooling with the protection."

"A pile of rocks is no protection, Granddad. Doesn't anyone take care of this place?" she asked.

"The church burned down some time ago. There's supposed to be some association in charge of this place. Every once in awhile, a relative will come and mow it. If I wasn't living off my Social Security, I'd pay someone to come out here. It's a shame that a cemetery looks like this. I plan to be buried here, right next to your grandma."

"Why did Grandma die so young? It says here she was only thirty-five." Debbie pointed to the other stones. "Most of these people seemed to have lived into their hundreds. How strange is that?"

He reached down and traced the letters on his wife's tombstone with his finger. "Not that strange at all. People from these mountains age very slowly. But my wife was an outsider. Darlene O'Brien Grandoff. Prettiest woman in Handle County. It was kidney disease. They couldn't do anything for her back then. Now they have transplants."

"And you never remarried?"

He shook his head and sighed. "There could never be another Darlene. Maybe I should have though, being as the two boys were such idiots. Maybe a mother would have made all the difference. Could have been the Grandoff curse of stupidity. I haven't quite worked it out."

"Probably not some curse, Granddad, though I wouldn't argue about the stupidity part," Debbie said. Son bashing was Hank's hobby. Trouble was, Debbie agreed. Her father Clyde had definitely been brain-challenged. Five years ago, he had been beaten to death by an irate husband with a nasty golf club. Everyone agreed he had it coming.

"Now, you remember that I'm going to be buried right next to her. It's already paid for," he repeated.

Debbie put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You'll live forever, Granddad. Okay, is there anyone else I should look at? Any more Grandoffs? How about on my grandma's side?"

"The O'Briens? Too good for this place. Catholic, you know. They're buried in town in hallowed ground." They started to walk away.

Debbie put her arm through his to steady him. She didn't need him breaking a hip out here. "Aren't all cemeteries hallowed ground, Granddad?"

"Not all, honey. Certainly not this one. There's all kinds of stories about this spot. Some say it's cursed by the witches of Drohrback Hollow. But you don't want to hear about that." He paused to look into her eyes. "I'm not making this up, Debbie. Suicides. People murdered. Restless souls looking to get even. Look it up at that library where you work. You'll find some strange things have happened around here. People have seen the dead walking around here. Then there are the witches."

Debbie snorted. "Oh come on, Granddad! Witches! Really. Where do you get this stuff? Cable TV?"

"Okay, have it your way, Debbie. I was just giving you some of the family lore."

Debbie led him toward the open gate, her notebook in her other hand. "If this place is so cursed, why did you have Grandma Darlene buried here?"

"It's where she wanted to be because she was so fond of my parents. We lived here for the first years we were married. I went to Lewis Methodist Church when I was a child, was baptized here. This is my home. She never believed in the curse, anyhow. Being Catholic, she thought she was immune. We Grandoffs are supposed to protect our own." Hank wiped his watery eyes. Debbie thought she saw tears. He went on.

"Anyway, after a while, you get used to strange things going on. I just didn't come here after dark. Those who did, well, sometimes you didn't see them again."

"That's just crazy talk." They reached the gate, and Debbie jerked the rusted metal across the grass to try and close it. She noticed there was no lock or clasp on the gate. It remained stuck in the grass. They got into Debbie's old blue Honda Civic, and Debbie tossed her notebook into the back seat.

"Who's this cemetery named after? Lewis who?"

He rolled down the window to let some of the heat escape. "Conrad Lewis, traveling Methodist rider on horseback. He didn't last long before the witches got him."

"Oh God, Granddad."

Before she started the car, she paused and turned. "What is a ghoul, exactly?"

"It's a demon that inhabits the body of the dead to do evil things. The witches call it to do their bidding. They raise it from Hell through a spell. Want to hear it? I think I remember how it goes." He was silent for a second, letting his words sink in. He looked her straight in the eye, daring her to call him a liar. She rarely disappointed him.

"You know how insane that sounds, Granddad? Have you ever seen one of these ghouls? Or is this something old people make up to keep vandals out of the cemetery?"

"I've seen one, although it was many years ago. We had to send it back to Hell. I told you we protect our own." His voice shook as he spoke, she noticed. He really believed this stuff.

"Anyone you knew? I mean, you recognized this ghoul?" she ventured. She decided she would play along.

"Sure did." He paused again to wipe his sweating brow. "It was my brother Herman."

Debbie hit the gas, and they headed for home. She was definitely checking his medication when they got back.

## Chapter Two

Jerry slammed the door shut as he rushed out to his car. In his shirt pocket, a cell phone was buzzing, but he knew he couldn't answer it. High school principal and adulterer Jerry O'Brien was late to his wife's birthday party at her sister's house. His secretary and lover, Malinda Johnson, waved weakly from her living room window as he backed his new red Cadillac out of the driveway. She believed his wife already knew about them. After all, it was all over the office. Agnes O'Brien may be an invalid in a wheelchair with multiple sclerosis, but she was not stupid. Malinda was sure someone had called her by now to give her the news.

Jerry hit the gas, trying to make up for lost time. In his mind, he was already making up an excuse for this tardiness. A faculty meeting ran over. The superintendent called. Maybe a parent conference that got ugly. He couldn't remember which ones he'd used before. It didn't matter. Agnes swallowed his excuses like candy. They both knew a divorce would ruin his career. Principals were supposed to be ardent family men, protectors of all that was good and true. O'Brien sighed. Instead, he was a liar and a cheat.

What am I supposed to do? I'm only human, for God's sake. How much am I supposed to take? Agnes couldn't have sex. She couldn't even walk anymore.

It was beginning to rain. A light mist covered his windshield as he sped through town heading toward his sister-in-law's house out on Iron Bridge Road. He prayed that the cops were busy eating at Melvin's Diner. His cell phone buzzed again in his pocket, and he reached for it, keeping one hand on the wheel.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" he hollered at Jan, his wife's sister. "I'm on Route Sixteen now so I'll be there in twenty minutes. Stall the party. Yes, I know I promised not to be late this time. Jan, I have a job that demands most of my time. Agnes understands that my schedule is unpredictable." He switched off and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Traffic was heavy on the main road, but lightened considerably as he pulled off onto Iron Bridge Road, the rural road his sister-in-law lived on. The sun was setting. Without street lamps, the road appeared especially dark and never ending. The rain beat on his windshield. He zipped past the gates to the trailer park on the right. He remembered that many of his students lived there, their parents wanting to own a piece of the country. Next he passed the Dickerson mailbox on the left, the name on the crumpled metal box almost beyond reading.

He thought about the Dickerson Farm every time he came this way. It had been the senior picnic that May of 1984, and he had been the newly appointed assistant principal at Bentonville High. Just like always, the seniors had gathered at the farm under the trees by the creek to drink beer, eat hamburgers and hot dogs, and to say their final goodbyes before graduation scattered them. Then someone had gotten drunk, and a girl had died in Beaver Creek. The bastard had strangled her and weighted her down in the river with a rock. That senior, now a middle-aged man, was still on death row at Greenville Pen.

"Thank you, Billy Ray," he laughed. He had even testified to Billy Ray's good character at the trial. The school board went ballistic over the incident when the family sued. Some of the kids drinking were underage, and the family got a huge settlement. The old principal was booted out, and Jerry O'Brien was catapulted into the job like a rocket. The first thing he did was cancel senior picnics.

The Cadillac flew over the road. He passed the Lewis Methodist Church Cemetery sign. There he had attended the murdered girl's funeral nineteen years ago. The grass almost covered the sign, making him wonder if they buried people there anymore. As he rounded the sharp curve, his wheels squealed, and he slowed down slightly. Then he saw the one-lane bridge sign and released the pressure on the gas even more. The sign meant he was almost to Jan's house. His lights illuminated the bridge, and he saw that he was free to cross. The Lewis Methodist Church Cemetery was just on the other side.

Suddenly an alarm went off in his head. Then he saw her. What the hell? A woman, dressed in a long white gown, was standing on the bridge. Her long brown hair was wet and clung to her pale face. She stood perfectly still, not moving from the bridge, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Get off the bridge!" Jerry screamed out loud. He slammed on the brakes hard, and the car pulled to the right on the wet pavement. He missed crashing into the metal trusses but flew off the embankment. At that moment he thought about Agnes and their life together. He knew she deserved better.

The wheels caught on the rock bank as the car barreled through the light brush and flipped over, sliding into the murky water with a large splash. O'Brien was crushed as the roof folded inward against the river bottom. Dirty water poured in through the busted windows. With his eyes open and his head pinned against the ceiling of his car, O'Brien said a prayer. He began to choke on the black water. As his lungs filled, he thought he saw a face looking at him from the window. Her hair floated around her swollen cheeks, and she smiled. In his last seconds, he thought he recognized her. It can't be! She's been dead for decades. I was just a kid when they laid her in the ground. Then there was only silence.

The woman in white stood at the rail of the bridge. Her work done, she slowly turned from the wreck and walked away into the night. Her bare feet left no prints on the bridge. Laughing, she began to dance, swaying to and fro until the mist swallowed her from sight.

When the two policemen arrived an hour later, they tried to put the pieces together. "Tire tracks show he was veering off to the right at the last second before crossing the bridge. The brakes were on, see those skid marks? Like he changed his mind at the last minute and tried to stop." Officer Wilkins scribbled on his report fastened to a clipboard.

The old farmer, John Dickerson, stood at the edge of the bridge peering down into the murky water. "I heard the crash first. I didn't see anything on the bridge when I got here. Just that car in the creek."

"A deer, you think?" the officer speculated.

"Maybe," the farmer agreed. "Something made him swerve." Dickerson paused and then looked across the bridge into the mist. "Plenty of deer around here," he commented but continued to look across the bridge. He shivered as though he were cold. "And other things."

"Well, I hope he wasn't drunk. I hate working scenes like this. Another pointless death." The officer paused to listen to the incoming radio message "The tow truck is coming, and the ambulance is on its way. Better move your truck back, sir." The officer turned back to his partner. "Go put out the flares, Lemuel. You know the drill."

The farmer got back into his truck and backed up. He was reminded of another day those officers were at his farm, fishing a body out of that same creek. Only it wasn't a car accident that brought them out. It was a strangled girl pitched into the creek with a rock around her neck.

He turned his pick-up truck around and headed home into the darkness and the rain. "Some places are cursed," he murmured as he disappeared up the road. He looked back once, feeling like someone was watching him. Red eyes glared back from the woods. Somewhere a dog howled.

## Chapter Three

Kenny Grandoff watched his life evaporate as the paper floated slowly to the floor. With it went all his hopes and dreams of being a doctor. Mr. Beams, the French teacher, reached for the paper and read it. His face registered shock and surprise.

"That's it, Kenny. You've finished your exam. March yourself down to the principal's office and prepare to fail. I guess you didn't plan on graduating when you decided to cheat on your exam!"

Kenny, pale and blonde, turned red in the face. His freckles glistened with sweat. All around him he could hear the snickers of his classmates.

"Kenny finally got what he deserved!" floated back to him. "Not as smart as he thought he was!"

"Quiet!" Mr. Beams pointed to his watch. "You have thirty minutes left. I suggest you try to finish this exam so you can graduate, unlike Kenny here. Pack up your stuff, Kenny. Get out of my class!"

As if in a dream, Kenny grabbed his book bag from the floor and headed for the door. As he closed the door, he could hear his classmates' laughter trailing after him. He walked automatically down the quiet hall toward the office.

This was the end of his life. Kenny faced the fact that he wouldn't graduate, that he wouldn't go to the University of Virginia in the fall, and that he would probably carry bricks for the rest of his life. Cheater they would whisper as he walked by in the grocery store. It would be on his records, etched into his soul. Weren't you the boy who cheated on his French exam would follow him to his grave.

Then Kenny got angry. Everyone he knew cheated because A.P. classes were hard, overwhelming, and time-consuming, and he was enrolled in six. What was he supposed to do? His classmates got away with it, all but him. He couldn't even cheat right. Now he would be an example, the sacrificial lamb of cheaters. Mothers would point him out to their children. You remember that Kenny Grandoff? He was a cheater.

He felt the tears welling up, but he choked them down. He ambled through the open door of the principal's office. No one was there so he sat down to wait. Part of him wanted to bolt for the parking lot and disappear forever. More than anything, he feared his mother. Voices, hers and his grandfather's, floated through his head. He could hear her saying, "Kenny, he's such a disappointment. Just like his lousy father. Ten years in prison for robbing that gas station. Yeah, Kenny, your father cheated in school too. You're just like him!" Then there was his grandfather. He could quote him word for word.

"No good son. No good grandson! It figures."

A tear rolled down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, determined to take his punishment. I am not my father. I will not go to prison. I will be somebody. Kenny whispered the mantra over and over. Still, his shoulders slumped. It was no use. He couldn't change his last name.

The door opened. "Kenny Grandoff, they told me you were here but I didn't believe it." Assistant Principal Jack Thompson came in and sat down facing Kenny. "The principal's gone, Kenny. I'll have to do."

Kenny was puzzled. "Gone? Like on vacation?"

"Gone, like dead. Killed in an accident last night. We just got word. No one knows about it yet. I'll make an announcement this afternoon. So I have a lot on my mind, Kenny. Let's wrap this up. I'm in charge until they tell me different. What exactly are you doing here? Mr. Beams seems pretty upset."

Kenny's shoulders drooped. He looked at his feet. "I cheated on my French exam."

"Naw, that can't be right. You're a straight A student. College bound. A good kid. What happened?"

Kenny couldn't face the man. He stared at his shoes. "Pressure. I just couldn't cram it all in there."

"I see." Mr. Thompson shook his head and wrote something down on a paper. "I don't condone your actions, Kenny, but I do understand your desperation. I see it happen every year. Good kid cracks and tries to take a shortcut. Well, Kenny, there are no shortcuts in life. You're now up for suspension. The rules say I can keep you from graduating."

Kenny looked up. "Can't I just take it over?"

"That's up to Mr. Beams. Right now he's foaming at the mouth. You'd better go home, and I'll see if I can reach some kind of compromise. But there will be repercussions. We'll send a letter home telling you what we decide. Until then, school's out for you. Shall I call your mother?"

Kenny stood up. "No! She doesn't need to hear how I screwed up from you. I'll tell her myself. I'll drive myself home." Kenny turned and walked out. The lot was empty of other students as he found his old red Subaru hatchback and glanced back one last time at the school. This wasn't how he expected his last days of high school to go.

On the way home, Kenny planned his suicide. Over and over in his mind, he thought about his options. No gun in the house. Police had taken it along with his father. Knives were plentiful, but Kenny thought that would be too painful and messy. Pill Overdose? No. His mother didn't even keep aspirin in the house. She gave headaches. She didn't get them.

There was a rope in the shed. No trees in the yard, though. Just more trailers. Behind the trailer park, Kenny envisioned the forest. Yes, he would go to the woods. There was no other way out of this mess. He would have to die. It would be quick and simple, a real man's way to finish his lousy life.

Kenny drove home automatically. Briefly his mind registered the sign that said the bridge up ahead was closed. Must be the accident. Principal O'Brien bought it last night on the bridge. He pictured the bridge and wondered how it happened. You couldn't speed on a one-lane bridge.

He turned into the Crestwood Trailer Park on his right where he and his mother had lived these last six years since his father had left for prison. Dust engulfed his car as he shot down the lane, passing the mailboxes. His lot was in the back, bordering the woods. Getting out of the car, he glanced up at the deteriorating green box he called home. The gutter hung down the side of the trailer, limp and broken. The antenna lay in the yard, surrounded by various car parts and tall spring grass.

His mom, Patsy Jean Grandoff, worked nights at the pajama factory. Kenny bounced up the two steps to the door and unlocked it, letting the screen door slam against the rail. He flipped on the lights because it was dark in there, even in the daylight, and surveyed the living room. On the coffee table was a note explaining that there was a meatloaf in the refrigerator and a load of laundry to dry in the washer.

Considering it his last act of kindness, Kenny went straight to the washer after ditching his book bag on the couch and transferred the clothes to the dryer. Then it hit him that he should write a note explaining his impending death to his mom. Now that he was alone, he let the tears flow. Sitting on the old couch, he put his head in his hands. He was her only child, all she had in the world. There was just his granddad and his cousin Debbie who worked at the library. The truth was he had failed everyone. Granddad was used to it, but Mom and Debbie? He really hated to let them down. He just couldn't face them.

He sat down and scribbled a note. Sorry, he wrote, you were right. I am a total screw-up. I just saved a lot of trouble by stopping this train wreck now. Kenny sighed. It wasn't very poetic, but it was all he could write before he lost his nerve.

Besides, she would get the note from school and understand why he had chosen to leave the world. With that decided, Kenny jumped up, wiped his eyes, and flew out the front door dragging a wooden chair from the table. He circled around the trailer, carrying the chair through the back yard to a rusting vinyl-sided shed which leaned to one side against the property fence. He pushed on the door and propped it open with the large rock he always used. Then he grabbed the chair and pushed it up to the top rung of the wire fence. Over it went. Then he went back into the shed.

On the floor he saw the thick brown rope he was looking for. Pulling it out of the shed, Kenny felt its roughness against his skin. It would cut him, perhaps take his head off when he leapt off the chair. Kenny reconsidered for a moment. The objective was to die, not suffer. He was a chicken when it came to pain. He wanted it all over in a second so he didn't even know he was dead.

Kenny felt his courage flagging. It would be so easy to go back inside and pretend that nothing had happened. His life would continue until his mother read his suspension letter. Then she would kill him herself.

He tossed the rope toward the chair on the other side of the fence, and then he climbed over. He imagined how ridiculous he looked walking through the field dragging a chair with a rope trailing behind. He glanced back at the trailer park in the distance and saw no one. He was hoping someone would tell him not to do this, that he had his whole life in front of him, that it wasn't the end of the world. That only happens in the movies. No one even knows I'm alive. Won't be for long.

Onward Kenny went. It was May and in the late afternoon now. The light was starting to fade. When he reached the woods, he looked around for the perfect tree branch. All he saw at first were scrawny pines. He moved further into the woods, dragging his chair and rope with him through the briars. It took a while, and by then it was getting dark in the woods.

Finally, Kenny stood at the base of the oak tree below the perfect branch. Right height. Right weight. No screw-ups. Kenny tossed the rope over the branch and collected the other end. He tied the rope to the branch standing on his chair which rocked from the uneven ground. Yanking hard, he tested it and saw that it would hold.

Now all he had to do was tie the knot around his neck and kick the chair away. But Kenny hesitated. This was going to hurt. Then there was the question, heaven or Hell? He figured he was already in Hell. He quickly tied the rope around his neck and pulled the knot tight.

The stiff wind rose up and blew at his clothes. He lost his balance as the chair rocked forward and fell to the ground. Kenny swung free like a ham. He couldn't breathe as the rope cut tightly into his neck. Self-preservation took over, and he knew in that instant that he didn't want to die after all. I'll drive a gravel truck until I get into med school. Yes, that's my new plan. This suicide thing hurts too much.

Desperately he hung on to the rope above his head, trying to pull himself up enough to loosen the grip on the rope on his throat. If he could grab the branch, he might live. Red-faced, he saw that the branch was still beyond his reach. He was doomed.

Then he heard a voice. "You don't want to do this." If Kenny could have answered, he would have agreed with her. The chair was suddenly under his feet again, and he frantically tugged at the rough rope. Coughing, he looked at his rescuer. A woman, dressed in a long white gown, stared up at him. Her long black hair flew about her face, obscuring her eyes. Barefoot, she appeared unreal to Kenny who still fought to undo the knot around his neck. She waved her hand, and suddenly the rope fell to the ground like a dead snake at her feet. The end of the rope struck Kenny in the head with a hard slap.

Kenny sat down, rubbing the fiery rope burn around his neck. "That was close. Thanks for saving my life. Where did you come from anyway? How did you know I was here?"

Her thin hand pulled the hair from her face. Kenny saw the hard black eyes and blood red lips on the snow white face. He shivered, and the hair on his arm stood up. She looked like a corpse. Without any effort, he could picture her in a pine box somewhere. He looked for fangs.

"I was looking for you, Kenny Grandoff." Her voice was graveled, low, and he strained to hear her.

"Looking for me? Do we know each other?" he asked, wondering if he had lost too much air. "Are you really here or am I dead, and you're part of Hell?"

"You're alive, Kenny Grandoff. I saved you for a reason. We have work to do."

Now he was sure he was dead. This can't be happening. A corpse just saved my life and wants to be my new employer? Kenny stared at the woman who had moved closer to him. Now he was sure he had lost his mind.

There was no noise as she moved. Although he could see her feet, she floated over the ground. Behind her, Kenny could hear slithering in the leaves. He suspected snakes but was glad he couldn't see them in the twilight. The woman leaned over to look him in the face.

"You have a problem. I have a problem. I think we can help each other," she told him, her voice soft, almost melodic.

"I just got suspended from school for cheating. How can you help me with that? You on the school board?" Kenny rubbed at the raw red line at his throat. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain this to his mother.

Her mouth opened, but her lips didn't move. "You don't have a job for the summer. I'm offering you something to do that will take up your time." Kenny looked into her black eyes and saw his own reflection. Then he felt something in his lap. When he looked down, a stack of dirty hundred dollar bills lay across his legs.

"What's this for?" he asked her, fingering the money. He quickly counted five hundred dollar bills. "Why is there dirt on this money?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers.

She straightened up and floated back toward the dark wood. "You will deliver letters for me starting tomorrow night. Meet me at the bridge at midnight, and we will begin the work." Kenny stared. Again, her lips never moved and yet a voice came from her face.

Kenny shook his head and stood up. "But the bridge is closed. Is this delivering stuff illegal? I've got enough trouble as it is. I think I might be happier working at Dairy Queen." But she was gone. He opened his fist and looked at the money in his hand. He was five hundred dollars richer, but did he still have his soul?

## Chapter Four

Kenny pulled the covers over his head when the light of the sun assailed his eyes. With nowhere to go, he was in no hurry to get up. He remembered his attempted suicide when he tried to swallow and discovered a very sore throat. Then he remembered the girl and wondered if he had dreamed it all. He slid his hand under his pillow and touched a pile of brown hundreds. He sat up and listened. His mom, Patsy, was rattling around in the kitchen, waiting for him to come out and leave for school. Or graduation practice. Or something meaningful.

Eventually he got up and threw on his jeans and a black T- shirt. When he went into the kitchen, she was scrambling eggs while still dressed in her factory uniform. Her dark brown hair was streaked with gray, and she was stick thin. Kenny knew she was weighed down by the struggle to make ends meet, a husband in prison, and what she considered a deadbeat son. Leaning over the frying pan, cigarette dangling from her lips, she looked at him through sleepy eyes.

"You're going to be late." She slid the eggs on to a plate on the counter. He picked them up as he headed for the small table by the trailer window. A glass of orange juice was waiting for him.

"No school today. The principal's dead. It's a holiday. Sort of."

"I heard the principal got killed, but they don't close school for that. Lying Kenny. Just like your dad. "

"Here it comes," he said under his breath. He leaned over his eggs and shoveled them in. His mother, red-eyed from the night shift, puffed on her cigarette and set her coffee mug down with a thump.

"Got a call from the assistant principal while you were getting your beauty sleep. I heard about your suspension for cheating. He said he decided to let you graduate because he didn't need another drop-out in the area. No cap and gown for you, though. Your diploma's in the mail."

Kenny looked up relieved and smiled. "That's great."

"Cheater," she sneered. "What's that on your neck? Someone try to cut your throat?"

"Just you with your comments," he countered. "It's just a scratch."

She stared at him hard, then gave up getting a truthful answer about the neck. She turned instead to Kenny's current problem. "You know, I told all my friends that you were graduating. Going to college to be a doctor. You were going to be someone, not like your father. Never work in some stupid factory like them. Make it big. Do something good in the world. And now I don't even get to go see you get the diploma. No picture to pass around at work."

"We'll take a picture when it gets here, Mom. I got the crappy cap and gown in my room."

"It won't be the same, and you know it. So now what? What are you going to do? You're not going to hang around the trailer on your ass all summer. I want something done around here. The grass needs to be mowed. Haul that old antenna out of the yard. There's some painting to be done."

Kenny stood up holding his empty plate. "Good news, Mom. I got a job. Working for a delivery company," he lied. "They paid me in advance."

"Paid you in advance? Delivering what, Kenny Lee? It better not be drugs."

I hope not too. "Of course not. Other stuff. Good stuff. They already paid my gas. I start tomorrow." He put his plate in the sink and drank the last dregs of his orange juice.

His mother got up and yawned. "I'm going to bed, Kenny. Long night. Since you got gas money, then you can start your so- called job today. Deliver some groceries to our refrigerator. List is on the counter. You better not be delivering anything illegal, Kenny. It would break my heart." She looked him straight in the eye, her face tight.

"I'm not, Mom," he assured her, hoping he was right. "It's all up and up. No worries."

After she went to bed, he breathed a sigh of relief. He got a plastic bag from the cupboard and went into his room to put the money in it. It was too dirty to carry around in his wallet. Looking at the dirt in the bag, he wondered where the money had come from. He bet it had been buried in someone's back yard. Or someone's grave.

Kenny went outside and tried to pull the old antenna out of the clumps of tall grass that entangled it. Eventually he wrestled it clear and dragged it off to the shed. There he saw the rope he had left by the door. He pitched it in the shed and thought about how lucky he was. Only yesterday his life was over, ruined forever, and he was condemned to a life of construction work. Today, he was still graduating, going to escape to college in the fall, and had a stack of five filthy hundred dollar bills. Life was great.

But there was sense of evil in the wind. He kept looking over his shoulder. His good luck couldn't last. He was a Grandoff after all. They failed at everything they did. Take his father Cleo, the jailbird who was so dumb that he robbed a gas station that didn't have cash. Take his uncle Clyde, Debbie's dad. Slept around with every female in town until finally an angry husband beat him to death with a golf club. Losers one and all. Hadn't Granddad told him about his two younger brothers, all into moonshine? How the police were waiting for them as they crossed the county line, and they went down in a hail of bullets? Granddad was all alone in the world, a crotchety old man with a lot of stories of grief to pass on. He and his cousin Debbie were his Granddad's only hope to redeem the family.

Kenny hoped old Hank Grandoff didn't hear about his suspension. A roll of thunder suddenly caught his attention, and he looked up at the black clouds floating overhead. The sun was gone. Taking it as his cue to leave, he retrieved his mother's list and set out in his old car for town. A black cloud followed him all the way to Bentonville.

## Chapter Five

The sign welcomed him to Bentonville, a city of one hundred thousand souls. Kenny lowered his speed as he entered the city limits, remembering how the cops always set up a speed trap at the bottom of the hill. Sure enough, Dickey Johnson's dad sat in his police cruiser and waved as Kenny crept by. Kenny waved back. He had probably heard already that Kenny had tried to cheat on his exam from his loud-mouth son. There was no place to hide in Bentonville.

Kenny decided to go by the library first to see his cousin. The library was a remodeled old grocery store, backed financially with much resentment from the city of Bentonville. They preferred to spend the city money on festivals and new computer systems rather than books and part-time workers that had to work other jobs to make ends meet. After all, DVDs were what brought the people in, not books. People didn't read anymore.

Debbie Grandoff was one of those frustrated part-time workers. She worked for a couple of hours in the morning before heading off to classes at the local community college. One day she hoped to graduate with an archival degree and work for the government. Kenny saw her as a future disgruntled employee at Taste Freeze, but he didn't tell her that. Everyone deserved to have a dream. He found her shelving some books back in the history section. Kenny came up from behind and poked her in the ribs.

"Kenny Lee! You creep!" she hollered and then lowered her voice. "Why aren't you in school? What are you doing here?"

"Just visiting my favorite cousin," he laughed.

"Your only cousin. You know, Granddad dragged me out to that cemetery out by your trailer park to show me all the dead relatives. Good God, I swear he was having heat stroke. The place was all grown up and scary. He went on and on about curses and the undead. He mentioned witches too. Not many of the Grandoffs made it out of the old hollow alive to reproduce."

"We're too stupid to reproduce. Ask Granddad." Kenny sat down at the bench in the stack. "Speaking of stupid, I thought I'd be the first to tell you that I got suspended from school so don't come to graduation. But don't worry. They're going to send me the diploma in the mail." He waited for her reaction.

Debbie stopped and stared at him. "Suspended, you idiot? For what? Being a nerd?"

He shrugged. "For cheating on a French exam. I just couldn't do it."

"Oh come on. French? No one cares about that. I bet your mom went ballistic. How come you're still breathing?"

"Speaking of breathing," Kenny leaned forward. He pulled his shirt collar down and pointed to the red marks around his neck. "I almost killed myself yesterday after I left school. Used a chair and the tree in the woods to hang myself." Debbie stopped shelving books and sat down beside Kenny. She grabbed his hand.

"Ah Kenny, suspension isn't worth that. Nothing is worth that. Thank God you didn't go through with it!"

"But I did, Deb. That's what I wanted to run past you. I was hanging from that tree and dying when all of a sudden, a girl walks out of the woods and tells me I have to live. The rope just fell off the tree branch like I never tied it. She was weird looking, in some white gown like a wedding dress. Stringy black hair. I swear she was a corpse. She told me I would be delivering some letters for her and gave me five-hundred dollars."

Debbie's eye grew large. "Five hundred bucks! A girl just walks out and hands you money after saving your life?"

"Yes. She told me to meet her on the bridge tonight for further instructions. Think I should go, or have I sold my life to Satan?"

"Mmm. Disturbing for sure. First Granddad gives me a lecture in that graveyard about witches and ghouls, and now you meet some corpse that's funding your summer. None of this makes sense. I tell you what. I'll come over tonight and go with you to meet this girl. I'll hide in the bushes."

Kenny looked relieved. "Got a gun? Or a wooden stake? I'm not quite sure what we'll need if this all goes south."

"I got a camera. I'm pretty sure my mom has a gun hidden somewhere. Just don't know what to do with it. With the camera, we can give a photo to the police. Prove we were innocent all along. You were running a sting operation. That way when they catch you with the money that's probably stolen anyway, you can say you were a victim."

"A victim of what? Free enterprise? She offered me a job. The undead don't do that. I believe it's not running drugs, but I can't say for sure that it's not. I don't even know if I have a choice. She wasn't taking no for an answer."

"Think she knows where you live?" Debbie asked. Kenny nodded.

"She knew I was hanging from a tree. How could that be a coincidence? She must have been spying on me. Imagine that, never had a girlfriend, but now I have a stalker."

Debbie frowned. "You say that like you're proud of it. This is just too strange to be believed, Kenny Lee. You live a charmed life. You cheat but you graduate. You try to hang yourself and end up with a lot of money for the trouble. I wish I could be so lucky."

"No you don't, Debbie. I'm not lucky. Never confuse stupidity with luck. No one in our family has ever been lucky. We are counting on you to break the cycle. Get out of this town."

"I'm trying real hard. Five hundred dollars would help me out," she told him. "Maybe she has a little something I could do for her."

"The money's covered with dirt, Deb. It's like she dug it up out of a swamp." He pulled the bag out of his pocket and showed it to her. She held it up to the light, fingering the dirt that fell to the bottom of the bag.

"Gross," she remarked. "Okay, I don't like this whole thing. What time should I be there? I don't want you killed in some witch sacrifice or captured by an evil spirit. Maybe we should fetch Granddad. He says he knows a lot about this kind of stuff."

"It's past his bedtime. She said midnight. I guess that's the bewitching hour. So come at ten and bring pizza." He handed her a clean twenty from his wallet. "I'm buying!" He grinned. The money belonged to his mother.

"Sure," Debbie said. "Did this girl have a name?"

"Didn't mention it. Just a woman in white." Kenny waved goodbye and went off to get his mom's groceries.

## Chapter Six

When Debbie and Kenny finished the pizza, they got the flashlights out of the closet. Debbie, dressed in a black shirt and jeans, sprayed their clothes with bug spray. She put on her black ball cap with the word Ford inscribed on it in red and tucked her long brown hair inside.

"Expect to stay invisible? You're supposing she can see like us."

Debbie looked down at her clothes. "Yeah, I'm guessing she's human. I don't go in for this supernatural stuff. There's a rational explanation here. You said it yourself, she's a stalker. I hope she's not watching us right now."

Kenny moved to the window and parted the blinds. "Just that old man with his binoculars. He likes that lady in 4A. She never put up curtains in her bathroom. Who does that?"

"Another pervert who likes to be watched by other perverts." Debbie tossed the pizza box into the sink. Kenny yanked on her jacket and pulled her to the window.

"Hang on. Who's that on the right? Someone under that tree. There's a red glow. Like a cigarette."

"I think you're right," she agreed. "Someone's out there having a smoke. Doesn't mean he aims to kills us."

He let the blind go. "There you have it. I'm surrounded by perverts and serial smokers."

"Whose car are we going in?" she asked, gathering her purse and the camera.

"Mine. She probably knows it and will be watching for it. Let's go, Rambo."

On the way to the car, Kenny checked the tree. The cigarette person was gone. They rode down the lane and turned right on Iron Bridge Road. Ten minutes later they were pulling into a trail road and shutting off their lights and cracking their windows. They sat in silence for awhile listening to the bugs and birds. A deer came by and peered in the window. Kenny hit the window with his fist and it ran off in a huff. He checked his watch.

"It's time," Debbie assured him and they got out of the car. Standing next to him, Debbie pushed him forward in the dark. "You go first. I'll follow behind without turning on the flashlight unless I have to. Maybe she won't see me coming."

Kenny agreed and turned on his flashlight. He found himself out on the paved road unable to recognize what he was passing. Trees loomed up like monsters. Suddenly he was scared. Walking slowly ahead, he came across the white residue the road flares left after the accident. Next came the orange cones that stretched out along the shoulder and blocked the hole where the principal's car had launched through the air. He came up to the bridge and hesitated before stepping onto the wooden planks covered with scanty asphalt. He peered into the darkness and saw nothing.

He turned and whispered. "All clear, Deb. Don't see her."

"I'll hang back here," came the answer. He didn't see Debbie but could sense her moving around behind him. Kenny turned back to face the darkness. By the bridge, over the creek, a white mist slowly floated up. Kenny soon was covered in a damp cloud.

"Hello?" he spoke to the air. He flashed his light through the mist. "Anyone there?"

Suddenly the girl stood there, in front of him, smiling with her bloody lips. She still wore the white gown, the bottom now caked in mud. When her mouth opened, a deep, masculine voice came out. Kenny didn't recognize it. She had sounded so different yesterday.

"Kenny Grandoff. Take this letter and deliver it to the address on the envelope. Do it tomorrow at noon."

"What if I don't?" Kenny looked down at the envelope in his hand. It was smudged with dirt.

"You will die," the voice answered. She was stepping back onto the bridge. Kenny followed her forward.

"Die? Die how?"

"Grandoff will die. Grandoff will die," the girl chanted, the mist gathering around her. Kenny felt the hair rise on his neck. She couldn't be real. He reached out and tried to touch her as she was backing up. He caught hold of her sleeve and tugged. A hand with ragged dirty nails grabbed his wrist, and they raked his skin. Kenny jumped back. The voice came again.

"First I will kill your mother, strangle her until her eyes pop out. Then I will stab you through the heart and eat your liver. Then I will split open your cousin Debbie over there and impale her on the trailer fence, her entrails smeared on your porch. Then you will watch your old grandfather buried in the cemetery next to all his loved ones." Flashes went off behind Kenny as Debbie snapped several digital shots. The woman in white laughed.

Kenny was shocked. "How do you know my family? Have you been watching me? Maybe I should call the police."

"They won't believe you. You don't believe you. Deliver the letter or else."

The woman in white turned and danced across the bridge. Debbie appeared at Kenny's side. "I got the pictures," she whispered. "Let's follow her."

"Are you crazy? She just threatened to kill our whole family. She mentioned you by name!"

Debbie grabbed his shirt and pushed him along, their flashlights bobbing on the pavement. As the mist floated down the road, Kenny and Debbie ran to catch up. It disappeared around the curve, and they found themselves standing in front of the Lewis Methodist Church Cemetery gate.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Kenny whispered. "A cemetery, this can't be good."

Debbie urged him forward. The mist curled around the graves, and Kenny strained through the darkness to see if he could catch a glimpse of the dress anywhere.

"Over there!" Debbie shouted. Kenny saw a swirl of white dash between the stones to the left. Kenny felt Debbie shove him from behind, and he tripped over a sinking grave. For a second he was sprawled across the wet grass, his face smashed up against a tombstone. Nearby he heard a snake slither off.

"Jesus, save me!" he muttered.

"She's gone, Kenny Lee. Relax, you big baby." Debbie helped him to his feet. "What was that thing? How does she know us?"

"You tell me. It was your idea to chase her. Oh no, I don't have the letter! Where's the letter, Deb? We can't lose the letter. She said she would kill us!"

Debbie put a hand on his shoulder. "I heard all the details. You probably dropped it on the road. Don't panic, I'll help you find it. Let's go, Kenny. This place is creepy, even in the daylight. Filled with ghouls, witches, and the living dead, according to Granddad. I think he may have been on to something."

"No kidding."

Using their flashlights, they carefully found their way out of the cemetery. Kenny wandered back and forth across the dark road, looking carefully for the letter he had to deliver the next day. Soon they came to the bridge.

"Could you have dropped it in the water?" Debbie peered over the bridge. "So that's where the principal bought it." She shown her light on the water and noticed the gouge in the bank. Kenny was right behind her.

"I wonder if our special friend might have had something to do with that accident. People think he swerved to avoid hitting a deer." Debbie looked at Kenny in alarm. He continued, "What's a ghoul, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. Something out of Halloween Thirteen. Eats human flesh, I think. Looks like I should look it up on the internet for both our sakes. I'm not certain that she was a ghoul or that she was real at all."

Kenny glanced down at his hand. "These scratches are real, Deb. She didn't touch you so you don't believe it. Keep telling yourself that. If we don't find that letter, I think we'll both be toast. She definitely knows where I live." They walked in silence back to Kenny's car.

Kenny unlocked the car and opened the door. There in the seat was the grimy envelope. Kenny stared and then slowly reached in and picked it up.

"I don't even want to know," he told Debbie as he sat down.

Debbie flicked on the car light and pulled out her camera. She checked her photos. The look on her face told Kenny she had nothing on the digital camera.

"There's just you and the white mist. No woman. The bridge is empty. I don't understand it."

Kenny sighed. "I don't want to know, I said."

## Chapter Seven

The next day Kenny rose late from his bed again and met his mother in the hall on her way to bed. They had little to talk about, Kenny hoped. Then she put a hand on his chest and stopped him. She voiced her disapproval loud and clear.

"Where did you go last night, Kenny Lee? I saw the tracks in the driveway this morning. Had company, did you? Pizza box in the trash. Not some new drug friends of yours, was it?"

"No. Just Debbie. She was worried about me with suspension and all so she came by with the pizza to cheer me up. Then we took a drive in the car. You know, to see the stars." His mom stared at him for awhile, then shook her head. She could smell a lie, and Kenny was rank.

"Okay, okay. We went down to the bridge to see where the principal got killed. It's creepy at night." There it was, almost the truth. He put on his most sincere face.

"Stay away from that bridge, Kenny. That creek is bad luck. A girl was murdered there. They say her spirit haunts the place. You don't want to be next, do you?"

Kenny stopped in his tracks. "What girl? When did this happen?"

"Oh, before you were born. Clara Simpkins. I knew her younger sister Mary from grade school. We used to play together. Bad thing that happened to her sister, Clara. So sad, so senseless. You know, Mary left town right after it happened. I heard she refused to come back to her mountain home. So did the murderer's sister, Cindy. Didn't go to the funeral even. I hear Clara's grandmother never got over it. Ever."

"Got over what?" Kenny asked quickly.

"Clara's death in that creek during the senior picnic. Billy Ray Larson strangled her and threw her in the creek. They had been lovers, you see, and she said she was pregnant. He wouldn't marry her so she was going to announce it at the party to shame him. Instead he killed her. It took days for them to find poor Clara. He told everyone she had run off like his sister. In the end, they got him to confess. The sad part was Clara wasn't pregnant after all, according to the autopsy. She had just said that. But if you do the crime, you do the time. Billy Ray got the death sentence for it. Although, with all the appeals, it seems like he's not going to get the needle after all. The execution date just keeps on getting further and further away. I bet Clara's family is mad about that. They were a mean bunch living up there in Drohrback Hollow."

Kenny looked at her, trying to put the pieces together. "I don't understand. How could he hide a body in that shallow creek? Why didn't they see her floating there at the picnic?"

"After he strangled her, he weighted the body down with a large rock so she was trapped on the bottom. They didn't find her until they dragged the creek. Broke her grandmother's heart. I think he was some relation to your father. Hank mentioned some Grandoff curse when it happened. Figures."

Kenny leaned against his door. "That's a horrible story."

"Life ain't a bed of roses. What are you doing today, Kenny Lee?"

"I have a delivery to make. Then I'll work on the lawn mower. I promise."

"Stuff your promises, Kenny. I need to see some action. Your father was full of promises." Then his mother disappeared into her bedroom to catch up on her sleep before the next shift. He was relieved he wouldn't see her the rest of the day.

Kenny showered, put on a clean T-shirt, and retrieved the letter from under his pillow. Like the money, it was dirty. He could barely read the name, Brenda Jones, on the front. Black smudges covered the back when he flipped the paper over. He read the faint words, Bentonville Public Library.

I shouldn't be doing this. I can't see my way out of this without getting someone killed. She knew she had me when she gave me the money.

So he drove to the library and met Debbie again at the desk. She looked tired, her face strained from last night's chase in the cemetery. "What are you doing here, Kenny Lee?" Then her eyes got wide. "You're not delivering that letter here, are you?"

"A Brenda Jones. Where is she?" He laid the letter on the counter.

"Gone to lunch, I believe. She's the reference librarian. See her desk over there? Just put the letter down on her desk. Then come back here. I found a book you ought to have a look at. She looked over her shoulder. "Sam, I need to take my lunch break now."

"Okay," her work partner answered. He was busy checking in books on his computer. Debbie watched Kenny walk over to the reference librarian's desk and place the letter on top of a pile of papers in the center of the counter. He guessed she would see it. Anyway, he had finished his obligation, and relief washed over him. He came back to the checkout desk where Debbie was waiting with a bagged lunch in one hand and a black book in another. Silently he followed her to the elevator and they rode up to the third floor where the worker's lunch room was. Debbie punched a code into the door lock, and the door swung open.

Kenny looked at the lock. "Safety issue for librarians? Are you on someone's hit list?"

"No, of course not. But some of our volunteers, especially those here for community service, well, we've lost food, a coffee machine, and all of our candy."

"Maybe I should give them a letter," Kenny joked.

"Not really funny, Kenny."

They went in. "Good, there's no one here." Debbie set her bag on the table. They pulled out chairs and gathered around the old book that Debbie opened to a dog-eared page. "Listen to this.

Ghouls are demons that live in cemeteries. They have an insatiable hunger for human flesh but have been known to eat small animals. They can be called by master witches to do a task. Once that has been done, they have to be destroyed by fire. Other sources say you can cut the head off with a silver axe. They can't be stopped by staking them through the heart or by bullets. They are immune to most weapons humans employ."

"Are they always female?" Kenny noticed the book had no pictures. Then he remembered their ghoul wasn't particularly photogenic. Debbie took out her sandwich. She passed some potato chips to her cousin.

"Don't think so. They take the form of a body they find in the cemetery. So that woman you have seen twice now is buried in that cemetery. We just don't have any idea who she was. She's probably in the grave during the day and comes out at night when she feeds. You know, Granddad said his brother Herman had been a ghoul. I thought he was trying to scare me. Do you think it was really true? He might know how to kill this thing."

Kenny didn't have much of an appetite. "So you're now saying it's a ghoul for sure? No other explanation? You were just there at the cemetery. See any open graves?"

"Some had been messed with, torn up, but not opened. Granddad said no one was taking care of it properly. I would have noticed open graves. Granddad did seem alarmed by it, but it looked like wild animals to me. After all, the deer walk through there. Skunks dig up dirt looking for worms. You think we should go back there and see if someone has opened a grave?"

Kenny made a face. "Not me. Once was enough. Besides, I'm not so sure about all this ghoul business. Things look different in the sunlight. There's something else we can do, I think. Mom mentioned that a Clara Simpkins died in that creek. Any way you can check on that? Put that archival training to work? Maybe there's a picture in the paper that matches the girl in the white dress. Clara is buried there at Lewis Methodist Church Cemetery."

"You got a date?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Before I was born?"

She gave him a mean look. "That's no help at all, Kenny. I'd be there for hours."

"Okay. My mom knew her sister, and it was at a graduation party. She mentioned that the girl was older than her. Let's see, my Mom was born in 1967. She didn't drop out so that brings us up to the 1980s. Tell you what, I'm not that busy. I'll do it if you show me how. By the way, can I check out this book?" Debbie nodded and pushed the book toward him as if to get rid of it. She munched on her sandwich.

"Yeah, might be a good idea. A little light summer reading. By the way, Granddad would like you to drop by to see him. He heard about your suspension. Since you got time, he's hoping you could run some errands for him."

"Before or after he calls me the biggest loser he knows, next to my father?"

"Oh, he already calls you that," Debbie chuckled. She took a swig of her bottled water. "You knew that was coming."

"What about this Brenda Jones? You like her?"

Debbie shook her head. "No one likes her. She's mean, petty, and treats us like dirt. I think life's been very hard on her. I heard her husband left her for a much younger woman. She's bitter and takes it all out on us. Let's just say no one would be sad to see her go on to another job opportunity."

Debbie quickly finished her lunch in the fifteen minutes she was allotted and led Kenny back downstairs. She slid into her station behind the counter, and Kenny handed her the book.

"My card may be out of date," he explained. She looked up from the computer and pointed behind him. Kenny turned and saw the reference librarian sitting at her desk. Brenda, a heavy set woman with short spiky red hair, looked to be in her late forties. She had the letter in her hand, a shocked look on her face. Kenny turned around quickly to face Debbie again.

"I wonder what it says," Debbie whispered. "She doesn't look pleased." Then Kenny looked up at the main entrance as two policemen entered. Several people stopped and stared as the policemen walked to the counter.

"Brenda Jones, please," a policeman inquired. Debbie's partner Sam pointed to the reference desk across the room. Brenda saw the men and began crying. The letter dropped from her fingers and onto her desk. She was stunned.

"Brenda Jones," the policeman placed his arm on her shoulder and nudged her out from behind her desk. "I have a warrant for your arrest on the charge of stealing church funds. You need to accompany us downtown at this time for booking."

The sobbing woman was handcuffed and led away in front of the patrons and staff who stared, mouths open.

"I don't believe it!" Debbie looked at Kenny. Sam was already on the phone to the director upstairs. "She turned out to be a criminal. I can't wait to see the paper tomorrow. Local librarian carted off to jail in front of customers! I can see the headlines now."

"I think it's kind of sad," Kenny said. He didn't feel right about this. Debbie shrugged.

"Your card has several fines on it, Kenny. You need to pay up. Oh never mind. What are cousins for? I've fixed it. Take the book, and let's look at the microfilm. Oh wait, I'm so curious. I got to know." Debbie came around the counter and walked over the reference desk. Discreetly, she recovered the letter from the desk and brought it over to Kenny. They both stared at it. The handwriting looked like a child's. There was dirt smeared on a corner. "You think it's a curse of some sort?" Debbie pondered.

I know what you did, was all that it said. It was signed by Clara Simpkins.

## Chapter Eight

Debbie set up the microfilm for Kenny before she left for class. She carefully instructed him on how to advance the film, how to zoom on the article, and how to make a copy if he wished.

"You do have a dime, right?" Debbie paused, pointing to the slot for copies.

"I have five-hundred dollars in dirty money. No change."

"Jeez, Kenny Lee. You're a mess." Debbie reached into her pocket and came out with two dimes. She plunked them down on the table. "Good luck," she offered before she left. She headed off to her night class.

Kenny took his time and learned about microfilm. He never dreamed you could look up old newspapers this way. If it wasn't on the internet, he wasn't interested. Back in time he went, scanning the headlines of Bentonville during the 1980s before glancing at the obituaries. Bentonville had been a prosperous town back then with various industries. There was the paper mill where his grandfather worked for thirty-five years. Greystone had built textile mills next to the Black River and produced carpet and nylon. Jobs had been plentiful, Kenny noticed. Today, all that was gone. The industries had dried up and evaporated as the economy slumped. His mom's pajama factory was all that was left in town and that was more and more iffy every year. Everything was moving to China.

People were dressed in leisure suits, and girls all had interesting hairdos. He liked the semblance of order and the class of 1980s. Bentonville had been an active place where people raised decent families and went to church on Sundays. Crime was unheard of in the rural community until that summer.

Then he came across what he looking for, bold headlines that announced murder had come to the sleepy town. Gruesome. Shocking. Disgusting. He carefully read the article relaying how a senior picnic down on Beaver Creek on the Dickerson Farm had turned deadly. Clara Simpkins had gone missing, and no one could find her. Her boyfriend Billy Ray Larson swore she had left the party in a huff and took off. But no one saw her leave. Instead, several witnesses claimed they had seen the couple down by the river exchanging heated words. There were accusations by Peter Wingo, Clara's cousin, who pointed a finger at Billy. The accused left the party early to go look for Clara. Smelling a rat, the police came for Billy Ray the next day.

Clara had never come home. Finally, Billy confessed. He had strangled her with a tie he found in his car and put her body in the creek weighted down by a large rock. He eventually led the police to the spot, and they dragged the creek. After a while they came up with a female's waterlogged and bashed body, and Billy Ray Larson said goodbye to his life. Clara was hardly recognizable with her headed caved in from the heavy rock heaped upon it. An autopsy failed to produce a fetus. At least now Billy Ray was just an ordinary murderer, not a baby killer too. He still got the choice of the electric chair or needle in a state that killed murderers at a furious rate. He had only been eighteen back then.

A funeral was held at Lewis Methodist Church, but the building was too small and frail to contain the hundreds of people, both relatives and curious souls who came. The crowd spread out into the cemetery where a fiery sermon was delivered about the corruption of today's youth. Curses were uttered, Kenny imagined, and revenge sworn over the grave. Two days later the church burned to the ground after a violent lightning strike.

As fascinated as Kenny was with all the editorials, he had to find what he looking for. It was two weeks later into the microfilm that he finally found a yearbook picture of Clara Simpkins, class of 1984. He was disappointed to find that Clara was a beautiful blonde girl with rosy cheeks and a brilliant smile. He shook his head in frustration. Clara was definitely not ghoul material. She wasn't the girl in the white dress that had saved his life last week and threatened his life this week.

Kenny rolled up the microfilm and returned it to the desk. The staff still seemed stunned that their reference librarian had been hauled off to jail after lunch. The library director now manned the reference desk, her ear glued to a phone. She looked sad and bewildered.

Kenny again felt pangs of guilt at his role of delivering a letter. What difference had it made, he reasoned. The woman was going to be arrested anyway, letter or no letter. Someone had just wanted to rub it in. He thought about the woman in white again. Did ghouls really think about such things? Plan such things? What possible connection could she have had to Brenda Jones?

I have a lot to learn about the undead, he thought. Kenny gathered his book on the supernatural and left for the hardware store to get paint, brushes, and new antenna for the trailer. When he handed over the first dirty hundred dollar bill to the clerk, he watched how gingerly she touched it, holding it by a clean corner. She gave him a mean look.

"You can wash money, you know. It's tough that way," she scolded him.

"Oh. I didn't know," he admitted. He wondered if that kind of dirt would wash out of anything, ever.

That night Kenny found himself reading the library book and looking over his shoulder. Being alone in the trailer had never bothered him before but now, with the woman in white on the loose, he jumped at small noises. About midnight, he got up and trotted into the dark living room. Carefully, he parted the blinds and looked out into the yard. Since he had mowed that day, having borrowed the neighbor's mower, he had a better view of his surroundings. Over to the right, once again under the tree he spotted the red glow of a cigarette in someone's mouth. I'm being watched, that's for sure.

Kenny considered his options. Yes, his mother was rough around the edges, but he didn't want some ghoul or something ripping her head off for its dinner. He had brought this trouble to their doorstep. It's up to me. Go out there and fight that thing, Kenny Lee. Be a man.

Kenny felt a new strength rise in his chest. He stumbled around the couch and groped his way to the kitchen where he grabbed a knife out of the drawer. Under the sink, he found the flashlight. Then he crept quickly to the back door and slipped out into the night air. Trying not to make any noise, he walked quietly down the four wooden steps to the yard. Inching around the trailer, he made his way to the corner and peered into the darkness where he thought the man might be standing. Moving toward the tree, he thought he saw a dark form standing under it. The red glow suddenly flew to the ground and disappeared as a foot ground the butt into the dirt.

Kenny flipped on the flashlight with his left hand while pointing the knife toward the tree with his right. Nothing was there. He heard running in the driveway and swung his light around toward his car. Something was dragging itself behind the Subaru, a glimpse of white cloth disappearing in a blur.

"Who's there?" Kenny asked softly. Feeling inadequate with his steak knife and shaking, Kenny paused in the driveway. He wasn't sure whether he really wanted to catch this thing or hide under his bed.

Gathering his courage, he again moved forward. Keeping the flashlight on the car, he ran around his car. He was determined to meet the danger head on, with the knife leading the way. "Who are you and what do you want?" Kenny yelled. But Kenny was all alone. No one was there. Instead, he heard footsteps retreating down the driveway.

His foot brushed against a lump by his car door and he looked down with his light. There was a dead squirrel fresh and gutted down the middle lying at his feet. "Yuck!" he yelled and wiped the blood off his shoe onto the grass. He wondered if it was some ghoul's dinner.

Stepping over the animal, Kenny went back to the tree and looked around. In the dirt, he could make out two footprints. No shoes. He counted five toes on one foot but only four on the other. The faint odor of cigarette smoke lingered in the air. He looked and found the butt in the grass. Ghouls don't smoke, do they? He collected the butt and carried it back into the trailer. He turned on the kitchen light and stared at it. Something brown lined the edge of the paper. Grabbing an envelope from the junk drawer, he slid the butt into the pocket and folded it. Here was the proof that he was being watched. Kenny relocked the doors, but couldn't sleep for a few more hours and tried to read his new library book. It only made him more nervous. In his head he added up the facts he knew so far. His watcher was a cigarette-smoking thing that was missing a toe and liked gutting squirrels. He kept looking out the window. Outside a hound barked at the moon.

## Chapter Nine

The next morning Kenny found his mother slumped over the newspaper at the breakfast table, cigarette dangling dangerously from her lips.

"What's so interesting?" Kenny asked, pouring some coffee. Bacon was cooking in the skillet behind him and sausage waiting on his plate.

"I can hardly believe it!" his mother exclaimed, jumping up to dump the ash from her cigarette. She flipped the bacon over with the other hand. "Brenda Jones was stealing money from the church downtown! My, how the mighty have fallen!"

"The whole library was shook up," Kenny told her. "Debbie and I watched her get arrested yesterday. I was there when the cops arrived."

"Her crime doesn't matter now. Look at the paper." Patsy set the sausage down in front of him. Kenny glanced down at the headline and dropped his fork.

Woman Kills Herself in Jail

His mother stared at him. "What's the matter, Kenny? Did you know her?"

"No, I didn't. I'm just shocked, that's all. I'd never seen anyone arrested before. I felt sorry for her. And then she went and killed herself. Was it really that bad?"

"I knew her," his mother told him. "Knew her from school. She was one grade ahead of me in Clara Simpkins' class. Very snooty. Her folks had money and she let everyone know it. She was the co-captain of the cheerleaders with Clara at school. Quite a pretty thing back in those days."

"She was fat when I saw her yesterday. Debbie said she was mean to them. They were almost cheering when the police came."

"Poor Brenda had hit hard times, evidently. I heard her husband left her because she couldn't have kids. She must have been desperate to pay off debts to steal $20,000 from the church missionary fund. She had to know she would get caught. Someone was bound to notice when the money came missing."

Kenny swallowed his sausage and washed it down with coffee. He started on the bacon and eggs his mother had plopped down on his plate. Then he lost his appetite, feeling the guilt come back full force. He had helped lead this tortured woman to her death. It felt crummy.

His mother put down her coffee cup. "I think her bad luck began with Clara Simpkins."

Kenny looked up in alarm at his mother. Again, the image of the pretty blonde woman floating in the creek surfaced in his thoughts.

"How so?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know.

"She was the one that broke Billy Ray and Clara up. It happened at the picnic. Billy Ray killed Clara to be with Brenda. After that, Brenda didn't have a friend in town. And her new boyfriend got the electric chair. That was the beginning of a long line of bad decisions. She married some guy from college. No one local would have anything to do with her."

"This high school class seems to have been cursed," Kenny observed.

"You got that right. Bad seed."

Kenny slid the paper away from his mother who was putting her dishes in the sink. "You don't happen by chance to have an old high school album or something?"

"Somewhere probably. Maybe in the back of the closet. Or the shed. Aren't there some old boxes out there?"

Kenny made a face. "You mean out there with the rain and the mice? What were you thinking?"

She slammed the dish washer shut. "I was thinking I'm losing my house because my husband is going to prison. I've got to find a place to live quickly or my boy is going to be living in a cardboard box by the side of the road. That's what I was thinking, Kenny Lee. What did I care about old high school junk? At least I graduated."

Kenny slumped. "Ouch."

"Wash these, Kenny. I'm going to bed. You get that antenna together yet? Sure would be nice to have a TV that worked."

"It's complicated. I'm working on it," he mumbled.

"And the mower?"

"Taking it in today to the shop. I borrowed the neighbor's yesterday. The yard looks better, don't you think?"

"Looking for compliments, Kenny? Mowing the yard don't impress me. I wanted you to graduate and become a lawyer."

"Doctor, Mom."

"Whatever. Any monkey can mow a yard. I'm always hoping for better things from you Kenny, and you always fail to deliver."

"I am graduating, Mom. I swear I will be a doctor!"

"Yeah, your dad said a lot of things too. I hear he's still making promises from his prison cell. Saying it'll be different when he comes home this time. He's a changed man. Oh Jeez, Kenny. Just amount to something, that's all I ask."

"I will, Mom. I swear it!" Kenny declared.

With a last puff on her cigarette, his mother walked away to her room. Kenny hung his head, wondering why he had been chosen to grow up here in this lousy trailer park with Grandoffs as parents. All he got was grief for any effort he made to crawl out from under the rock that seemed to be crushing him. Suddenly he felt a bond with Clara Simpkins.

The newspaper was still on the table. He read how Brenda Jones had pulled the elastic out of her cell mattress and managed to strangle herself during the night. His hand automatically went to his throat where he rubbed the scabs from his own suicide attempt. She was braver than he was.

## Chapter Ten

After breakfast, Kenny took a shower and went to his room to find a worn T-shirt to wear outside. When he pulled out the drawer, he saw two envelopes laying on top of his neatly stacked shirts. When he lifted them up, dirt drifted down onto his shirts. He sat down on his bed, wondering how she had gotten in and how she knew he would find his next assignment. He didn't want to think about how she might have stood at the foot of his bed watching him with those dark, dead eyes as he slept. Maybe drooling.

Kenny shivered, remembering the cigarette butt and the dead squirrel by his car. He glanced down at the stack of envelopes, reading the name Dr. Edward Thomas, Bentonville Medical Center on the top. A doctor? He had a bad feeling about this. If Brenda Jones was connected to Clara Simpkins, was the good doctor also involved in the death? He slid that envelope behind the second and read the name Danny Huffington. The address was listed as Clymore's Auto Clinic on West Mountain View Road. A mechanic? What could he possibly know about the killing of Clara Simpkins that would place him on the supernaturals' hate list? He thought he knew where he could find some answers.

Kenny flew out of the door of his trailer and bypassed the pieces of the new antenna laying in the yard. He opened wide the doors to the rickety shed and pulled the lawn mower out. In the back he spotted the three rotting cardboard boxes where his mother had placed memories of her not-so-great early life. He dragged each box out into the sun in the yard and brushed off the mouse droppings and spider webs. Opening one, a foul odor caused his eyes to water. Shredded baby booties, a chewed blanket, and old albums of yellowed and mildewed pictures greeted him in box number one.

He carried that box back inside and left it in the shed to rot some more. "Box number two," he told himself and forced open the lid. More animal traces awaited him as he squeamishly reached inside and pulled out the contents. Here he found documents like his old report cards and his parents' marriage record. Finally at the bottom of the water-marked box, he pulled out a school album from Bentonville High School dated 1985. This was his mother's senior album and too late for what Kenny was looking for. He needed the cursed class of 1984.

He replaced the box in the shed and pried open the last box. "Good God," he gasped as his eyes fell on an old snake's skin in the box. Gently he turned the box over and tapped it with his foot. The seams spit and the contents spilled out onto the grass. Old key chains with the beaver mascot of the high school, old green and white football pennants, and other albums lay in the grass. Gingerly, Kenny turned over the books and found the one he was looking for. He carried the 1984 album over to the front steps of his trailer and opened it. The pages were faded brown and water-stained, but Kenny was pleased to see that he could make out the images. Flipping through the senior portraits, he found Edward Thompson with a crew cut and big nerdy glasses. Just the doctor type. Nerds like him and me become doctors. He read that Thompson was voted the most likely to succeed. If he is getting a letter, that dream is over.

He continued to leaf through the album until he came upon a picture of Daniel Huffington III. He had been captain of the varsity football team. Kenny studied him and wondered if he was still as lean and mean as he was in the picture. Most people changed after high school and not for the better. Kenny could make out a picture of Clara Simpkins next to the football player. They had been king and queen of homecoming. He looked closer. There was another pretty blonde standing next to Clara, her maid-in-waiting. He checked the name, Cindy Larson. Here was the killer's sister his mother had mentioned. You were smart to get the hell out of Dodge and never come back. I certainly won't. And he meant it.

Clara was in several pictures, Kenny realized. Clara was in the glee club, ran with the track team, and was head cheerleader. Everyone loved her. Everyone except Billy Ray Larson. He found a picture of one of the witnesses at the trial, Peter Wingo. The teen was tall with long black hair and black eyes. He continued flipping the pages until he was staring at Billy's picture. He had that Grandoff nose, freckles, and light brown hair. He doesn't look like a killer. Now that woman in the white dress, she looks like a killer. One by one, Clara's friends or enemies are being stalked and I am helping.

Sensing he was about to witness the unraveling of more lives, Kenny felt intense guilt about the whole letter situation. "Shouldn't have taken the money," he said to the neighbor's cat that was sniffing around the pile in the yard. He was about to close the album when he noticed a hand scrawled message written on the back cover. He read the Best Wishes note that was signed by Clara Simpkins. On an impulse, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the tightly folded letter he had put on Brenda Jones' desk. Slowly he opened the letter so that only the signature showed. Then, with shaking hands, he slid it next to the signature in the album. It was a perfect match. Suddenly he felt sick. How could this be happening? Clara Simpkins was dead and buried. It had to be a hoax.

He got up and got some kitchen trash bags to replace the destroyed box, hiding the album in separate bag where he could find it again if he needed to. He got his wrench and the Chinese instructions from the antenna box and went back to assembling the mass of metal that might actually help get TV shows in the distant future. Grandoffs use antennas. Smart people use satellite dishes. The cat rubbed against his thigh.

Later, with the antenna together but having no way to get it on the roof by himself, Kenny decided to go into town, drop off the mower, and get the delivery over with. First he loaded the mower in the back of his car, taking the handles off with a screw driver. Then he got the letters and went to his car. He remembered the dead squirrel and looked for it before he opened the car door. It was gone, but Kenny could make out the brown smear in the grass where it had been. He followed the trail away from his car and back to the tree where four toes had stood vigil through the night. A clump of gray fur lay among the tree roots.

"Okay. Now is the time to bring in the big guns. I'm getting Granddad. This is just too weird," vowed Kenny, shaking his fist at the air.

But first he had ghoul work to do. He drove to town and into the hospital parking lot. He found Dr. Thompson's office number on the wall directory and got into the elevator. Before the doors closed, two other men hopped in. They wore long overcoats and were carrying duffle bags. Kenny pegged them as drug salesmen. When the elevator reached the sixth floor, they got off after him and followed him to the doctor's office at the end of the hall.

Kenny approached the young receptionist who slid back the glass. "Give this to the doctor," he told her and pulled out the envelope. The two men in overcoats pressed behind him and slid a card through the glass. Kenny stood there awkwardly, the envelope in his hand.

"Wait here," the receptionist said to Kenny while taking the men's card and disappearing from the desk. Kenny was impatient to be gone and far away, but he stood there. A nurse opened the door and motioned the men back to the doctor. The receptionist reappeared and slid the glass door open again.

"What does this concern, Sir? Is it payment for services, insurance information, medical files, what?" she calmly asked him. Kenny felt the blood rush to his head.

Kenny decided to be honest. "I haven't read it. I was paid to deliver this to the doctor." He extended the envelope again toward her hand.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" She jerked the paper from his hand and tore open the seal. Reading the paper, she stood up and grabbed his jacket through the open glass. "What is this? It's time to die. Clara Simpkins? Are you some lunatic?" The old couple in the waiting room was now staring at him.

Kenny saw her hand reach for the phone, and he turned toward the door to run. But he didn't make it. At that moment, gunshots rang out, and he heard screams coming from the back. The man and woman in the waiting room hit the floor while he slid down under the reception window. Two men in overcoats burst through the door, firing shots in all directions. Shocked, Kenny watched as the two men swinging revolvers ran away down the hall. More screams echoed outside the office.

Kenny jumped up and glanced at the receptionist. All he saw were her shoes sticking out from under her desk and a river of red blood staining the floor. He reached down and retrieved the letter where she had dropped it by the phone. Kenny could hear someone crying in the back room.

"I'll get help!" he yelled to the old couple getting up off the floor. They looked at him with blank faces. Out the door Kenny went, the letter crumpled and balled up into his jacket pocket. People were beginning to come back into the hall.

"They shot up the doctor's office in there. People are hurt!" Kenny pointed to the doctor's office door. Security guards in gray uniforms with guns drawn ran past him. He took the stairs.

Back at his car, Kenny watched as police cars flew into the parking lot. He took the back exit, his hands shaking. He fumbled for his cell phone trying to call Debbie at the library. The phone was antiquated and only seldom worked. He didn't have the money to update it. After several attempts, he got through. Debbie was at lunch upstairs when she got the call. Kenny explained what had just happened, his voice barely coming out a squeak.

"The doctor didn't even read the letter. Only the receptionist," Kenny moaned.

"Doesn't matter. The curse had already been put into motion. Thank God you didn't get shot, Kenny Lee. You think the police will want to talk to you? Maybe the doctor had a camera in the office. Someone might recognize you."

"I don't think so. The receptionist won't be talking and the two older folks there were in shock. There was a nurse that opened the door. Maybe they killed her too. Call me when you hear what really happened. I've got to deliver one more letter. Hope it doesn't get me killed. After that, I'm heading over to Granddad's to talk this thing out. Maybe he can help me get out of this mess before more people die."

"Okay. Sounds like a smart move. Let me know what he says. And Kenny?"

"Yeah, Deb?"

"Watch yourself. They could be anywhere. Don't trust anyone."

"Right." He hung up.

## Chapter Eleven

Kenny sat in his car for a second to calm down. He glanced over at the other letter lying in the seat beside him and thought about pitching it in the gutter. Then he remembered the woman in white's threats. He didn't need any of those awful things happening to the few relatives he had left. Passing fire trucks and more police cars, Kenny left the hospital by the back lot. In a short time he was cruising main street and passing the Kroger and fast food joints.

Clymore's Auto Clinic was near the outskirts of town. Dead cars lined the dirt driveway as Kenny turned in the lane by the sign. He thought he had been here before, once as a small kid with his dad. The shop fixed cars and stripped mashed vehicles of their parts. Weaving around the potholes, Kenny finally came to the main building. All the garage doors were open with vehicles raised on racks.

Kenny came up to the door marked as the office and shut off his car. He reached for the letter, wondering if he had come to the right place. Letter in hand, he opened the door and walked in. Several people sat around a TV watching a cooking show and reading old magazines. Kenny went around them and up to the counter. The place smelled of gasoline and car grease. Dirt was on the counter and crunched under his tennis shoes. He wasn't sure what he expected, but he wondered whether the dirt bothered anyone else. It was obvious that no one had taken a broom to the place in years.

"Yes?" a man at the counter asked him. He was in blue overalls with large black spots on the front.

Kenny held out the letter. "Letter for Daniel Huffington."

The man backed away. "You delivering a summons?"

"No," Kenny said. "Just a letter someone paid me to deliver."

"You from divorce court?" The man continued to back away from the counter.

"No," Kenny said again. "Really man, I got no idea. I was paid to give this to Daniel Huffington. Is he here?"

Suddenly the man behind the counter lunged forward and grabbed Kenny by the shoulders. "Got a wire, man? You a cop?"

"No, not even close," Kenny protested and twisted away from the man's grip.

The mechanic picked up a large wrench from under the counter and held it up. Now Kenny was backing away.

"Hey man, I don't want any trouble," Kenny told him. "Here, give this to Danny." He dropped the envelope on the counter. "I don't even know him."

"You going to wish you didn't know me if you don't get out of here. Get!"

Kenny didn't have to be told twice. In ten seconds he was gone as the door slammed behind him. He raced across the lot to his car and dove inside. Then he locked the doors. Without waiting, he pulled away and headed down the dirt lane as fast as he could without crashing. Soon he was swerving to miss another car on the narrow road, a black sedan with a light on its dash. Kenny acknowledged the unmarked police car by pulling over and allowing it to scoot around him. He saw a man loading a rifle in the front seat. Then another car passed him. Then another. By the time Kenny was back on the dirt road by himself, five sedans had passed him.

This is going to get ugly. You can't mess with the woman in white. Kenny sped away, trying to see through the clouds of dust that rolled over the car from the passing sedans. Then he paused at the stop sign as he came to the main road. He turned on his left blinker. BOOM! Kenny looked up in his mirror to see a mushroom cloud of black smoke and reddish flames behind him.

"That's got to hurt," he whispered, mesmerized by the tall flames reaching into the sky over the tops of the trees.

## Chapter Twelve

Kenny dropped off his dying push mower at the shop. His car now smelled like gasoline so he rolled down the windows. He wadded up the trash can liner he had placed the mower on and stuck it under the seat. Then he drove over to his grandfather's house on Orchid Road. Granddad lived in a rundown clapboard house with a large unpainted porch. Hank Grandoff was sitting in a blanketed metal chair when Kenny drove up. He didn't even wave.

"Where you been, Kenny Lee?" his grandfather asked matter- of-factly. "I've been waiting around for you all day."

"A little of this. A little of that. Errands." Delivering death from the woman in white.

Kenny took his time walking up to the porch and climbing the rickety stairs. "Debbie said you wanted me to come over." he tentatively said. "What can I do for you?"

Hank stared in silence, making Kenny uncomfortable. Kenny braced himself.

"For starters, you could graduate from high school. Is that so much to ask?" Kenny felt the poke of cane on his leg. "Your worthless father dropped out."

"They let me graduate, Granddad. I'm still going to college in the fall. I'm just not going to the ceremony. It all worked out."

"You're a cheater, Kenny. How you going to work that out?" His grandfather glared at him. Kenny hung his head and looked at his feet. They sat in silence again. Finally, Hank began talking again.

"Debbie said you would have a lot of free time this summer. I want you to paint this porch. And take me to the doctor's tomorrow at three o'clock."

"That wouldn't be Dr. Thompson at the hospital, would it?"

"Yes, why? You got a problem with him?"

Kenny shook his head. "Someone else did. I just came from there. He's been shot."

"What in the world are you talking about, boy? Why were you at my doctor's office?"

"That's what I came here to explain. That and the rest of this whole mess. Remember the other day when you were telling Debbie about ghouls and that cemetery out where you come from? Near the trailer park?"

"No. That would be crazy." The old man looked away.

Kenny stood up. "Why is it crazy? You told Debbie your brother was a ghoul and that the cemetery was cursed. I want to know what you know about it. Granddad, it's important!"

Something in his tone alarmed the old man. He poked Kenny in the leg again with the dirty cane. "Sit down, Kenny Lee. Tell me why you need to know."

Kenny hesitated. It was going to sound nuts.

"I think I saw one, down at the bridge two nights ago. She gave me a letter and told me to deliver it or else she would kill my family. So I took the letter and dropped it off on some lady's desk at the library. The next thing I know the cops came and put the lady in jail. Then I get this other letter to deliver to your doctor today. As I was trying to deliver it, all hell broke loose. Some guys came and blasted the office with gunfire. The receptionist is dead. I just came from Clymore's Auto Shop. That went up in a fiery inferno fifteen minutes ago. They were on her hit list too. Granddad, you've got to get me out of this. I'm killing people all over town!"

Hank was quiet again.

"The woman in white. Debbie saw her too," Kenny added. "I'm not making this up."

"This woman, she came from the cemetery?"

Kenny frowned. "Deb and I followed her in there. We were trying to see where she was going, but she vanished."

Hank considered for a moment. "Snakes?"

"Ugly bastards!"

"Did she leave footprints?" came next. "What did she look like?"

Kenny described her as best he could. And in the end, he fished the bag of money out of his pocket and showed it to the old man. Hank's eyes went wide. He got up suddenly and disappeared through the screen door of the house. Kenny was thinking of leaving and jumped up when he heard a crash inside the house. Afraid, he went inside where he saw his grandfather on the floor by the couch. Photo albums were scattered around him, and he was pulling out an old black-and-white photo from a yellowed page.

"Was that her?" he asked, holding the picture up to Kenny. Kenny moved over to the window where there was more light. It was a picture of a young woman in a casket, long dark hair surrounding her head like a halo. Her eyes were shut but her red lips were closed. Kenny shivered. Those lips had spoken to him last night.

"That's her," he turned back to his grandfather. "Who was she? Why is she wearing that white dress?"

"Because she wanted to be buried in her wedding dress, Kenny. This is Darlene O'Brien Grandoff, your grandmother. Or it was. That's not what she is now." He shut his book.

"And what is she now? I'm not going to like the answer, am I, Granddad?"

"Probably not. Well, Kenny, this is your lucky summer. Looks like you're going to learn a new skill that you won't use in college."

"And what would that be, Granddad?"

"How to kill a ghoul." Kenny thought he saw joy in the old man's eyes.

## Chapter Thirteen

"Did Grandma Darlene have a deep voice?"

"No, but you weren't hearing Darlene." They sat on the porch, Grandma Darlene's picture hanging from Hank's hand. "Ghouls are puppets, Kenny. They don't think for themselves. Somewhere there's a witch pulling the strings and feeding it goats. And not necessarily only one witch. That's why the voice changes. They speak through the ghoul. This particular witch, well, I had hoped she had died long ago. But evil lives forever, don't it?"

"Does this evil have a name?"

"Jessie Wingo. My nemesis from the time I was a boy."

"I saw a Peter Wingo in a high school annual. He testified against Billy Ray at the trial. Is he related?"

"Son. A dark one, he is. Seen him around town. Sometimes, I think I see him drive by the house. Now it's all making sense. Wingo's sudden interest in my whereabouts. By the way, Peter was always sweet on Clara Simpkins."

"Is that legal?"

Hank shrugged his shoulders. "First cousin marriage was preferred in this country until the 1920's when they decided it caused retarded babies. You can still go to certain places in this country to marry your cousin. If you're really set on it."

"Great, but I think I'll pass. So what's this all about, Granddad? They seemed to be after the people in the class of 1984 at Bentonville High. Anyone associated with the girl that drowned in the creek. I saw all their pictures in Mom's old album. Debbie thinks the letters are putting some kind of curse on the people I have to deliver them to. And why me? Why do I have to do this?"

Hank leaned back in his chair. "It's not just you, Kenny Lee. They're insulting the whole family. You think my boys died just because they were idiots? Maybe so, but I happen to believe they were cursed. Goes back to my pappy when he caught Harry Wingo with an apple head carving of my aunt. Gave her that brain tumor that killed her. Dad made Harry disappear. The Grandoffs have always fought against the witches of Drohrback Hollow, and now they just saw a way to get even. That Billy Ray, who killed Clara Simpkins, he was my second cousin's boy. I met him a couple of times. They picked you because you were an easy target, a way to slap my face. They needed someone who was flawed to deliver the letters."

Kenny frowned. "Flawed? Flawed how?"

"Didn't you get kicked out of school recently for cheating? That's a sin, according to the Bible. Lying. Dishonesty. Get the picture? I really think they're going through you to get to me."

"But why, Granddad?"

"I stood in their way all these years, keeping them from hurting my relatives. I did other things too I'm not too proud of. To get even, they went and dug up Darlene. But they don't know who they're messing with, Kenny Lee. Me and witches go way back."

Kenny stared at his grandfather. This was a side he hadn't seen before, perhaps a clear sign of insanity. "How do you know about witches, Granddad? And ghouls?"

The old man stared out at the sky. "I'll tell you, and you listen. After all, this is part of your heritage as well. Back when this was a wilderness, the first settlers came to this area looking to get away from the persecution in Europe. Some clans chose to live in the mountains. The Wingos, the Simpkins, and the Robertsons. They were ancient families that had fled from Ireland. They hated Catholicism and wanted to practice the old ways, the ways of magic and sorcery. Some people call it Druidism. We Grandoffs came later from Russia and intermarried with the clans. That's how we inherited the know-how. In order to survive in these hills, you had to know how to reverse the curses, make your cows well again, and make your children healthy despite all the black magic the witches were throwing your way. It was handed down father to son every generation. Times changed, and my parents left Drohrback Mountain to be a part of the modern world. I didn't grow up with magic all around me, but I seemed to have gotten a good dose of it anyway. I took to it naturally. Then I got old, and I thought no one would need the know-how anymore. Guess I was wrong."

"What know-how?" Kenny asked.

"The secrets of witches. How to fight a curse or how to send one. How to defeat the spells. How to kill a ghoul. I learned from my dad. He was there when we needed him to kill Herman, my brother. Yes, Herman was a ghoul and that was Wingo mischief too. Don't look so surprised, Kenny. Like I told Debbie, there's knowledge and then there's real knowledge. Now I have a reason to pass the heritage on. And we start tonight. There's no time to lose. First, I need to gather some things. Let's go inside."

Hank opened the screen door and they went back into the living room. The old man disappeared down the hall while Kenny sat on the floor next to the album. He looked for a while at the other pictures of his grandmother that his grandfather had given him. It was hard to believe that the smiling young lady on her wedding day was the thing in the cemetery. Yet, there was that dress with the handmade lace.

Kenny got up and helped his grandfather drag a wooden chest into the living room. It was made of pine but painted black. The hinges were rusty, but Hank managed to open the lid. Together they looked inside. Kenny's eyes grew wide.

Hank pulled out a large heavy pistol with an engraved handle. "There's silver bullets that go with that. They're in this pouch." Hank pulled the velvet sack from the dark chest and handed it to Kenny. They were heavy.

"We're going to shoot the ghoul?" Kenny asked.

"No. You can't kill a ghoul that way. That's for other things we might run into." Hank bent over the chest again.

Kenny looked up in alarm. "What other things?" Hank didn't answer but fished around in the chest. He pulled out two silver medallions on chains. There was an inscription on the round medallion, but it was too black with tarnish to read. He dumped them in Kenny's hand.

"This protects you from the spell of the witches. If you wear this, the ghoul can't approach you. She can't curse you or it reverses back to her. I only have two, one for you and one for Debbie. I'll wing it."

Hank reached over and slipped the necklace over Kenny's head. It hung there leaving a black smudge on his T-shirt. "Never take it off," Hank instructed him, "Or they'll be able to get at you." Kenny moved it under his shirt. He was willing to try anything to keep the ghoul away.

"What's on this thing?"

"It's dipped in a witch's blood, Kenny. Never wash it."

Kenny gulped. Now he was wearing human blood. He imagined he could smell the foul odor. He watched as his grandfather retrieved a small hatchet and laid it on the rug.

"Silver?" Kenny asked, remembering the beheading part in the ghoul book.

"You bet. Now," Hank pulled out a quiver of arrows and an old, hand-carved bow without the string. "How are you in archery?"

"I have a vague memory of it from P.E. class."

Hank gave the bow to Kenny. "This is no ordinary bow,"

"I would expect nothing less," Kenny whispered to himself as he moved his fingers over the smooth finish. "Is this bone? Deer bone?"

"It's bone all right. Wingo bone. Human bone, Kenny. The bow is made from the bones of your enemy."

Kenny dropped the bow on the floor. "It's all that's left of Harry Wingo, isn't it?"

"Don't be a wuss, Kenny Lee. It takes fire to fight fire. You didn't think I was going to give the witch a phone call and invite her over for tea, did you? You're going to have to kill her. And you want her to stay dead, don't you?"

"Sure. What's just one more body after the librarian, receptionist, doctor, and some auto mechanic? I'm racking them up left and right. Where's the string for this thing?"

"Rotted. We'll get what we need tonight at the cemetery to make a new one. We'll need some hair from Darlene before we finish her off."

Kenny suddenly didn't feel well. "Hair? You can't make a bow string from hair, Granddad. It's not strong enough."

"No, you will get the bow restrung at the shop out near the mall. The hair is just the beginning of the spell. Bone and hair, Kenny, powerful stuff. You'll need to keep this rock, Kenny." Hank pulled out a smooth and rounded black rock. He turned it over and showed Kenny the bright red inscription on the back.

"Looks like scribble to me." Kenny took the rock. It was heavy in his hand.

"It's a rune stone. If you get into trouble, toss the stone in the direction of the danger. It wards off evil. Whatever is chasing you will turn around and run the other way. Trust me."

"Sure, Granddad." Kenny put the rock back in the bag.

"And Kenny, don't use that blood money she gave you. That binds you to the ghoul. The witch knows exactly where you're at when you're carrying it. It's her eyes."

"Crap. That explains how she knew so much about me." He handed the money bag over to Hank who threw the it into the fireplace. Taking the lighter from the mantle, Hank lit the pile on fire. Kenny heard him mumble some words he didn't catch. He watched his summer hopes go up in flames.

"What am I going to do for cash? Mom thinks I'm rich."

"Never take money from a ghoul, Kenny. What were you thinking?" Hank chuckled as the flames enveloped the bag and the currency went up in smoke. "They buried it in a grave of a child to curse it."

"I wasn't thinking."

"You never do. Here." Hank moved to a desk in the corner and pulled open a drawer. He reached down, and his arm disappeared into the drawer. Kenny watched, puzzled, until Hank straightened back up with a white envelope in his hand.

"I keep cash hidden behind the drawer just for such emergencies. Here's six hundred dollars, Kenny. You take it, keep it safe, and dole it out when you need it."

"I can't take your money, Granddad. You're on Social Security."

"Don't be stupid, boy. Think of it as your inheritance because after I'm gone, all you're going to get are my bills. There's money hidden all over the house, Kenny. You and Deb are welcome to whatever you find if something happens to me. Okay?"

"Don't say that. No one else dies from here on out."

"No, Kenny, you got that all wrong. Plenty of people are going to die before this is all over. We just want to make sure it's not us, got it?"

Kenny had a bad feeling about that.

## Chapter Fourteen

"Pick me up at eleven tonight. We'll go to the cemetery together. Call Deb. We'll need her help."

"Do I need to bring anything special? That bow?"

"It probably won't be ready by then. First things first. Bring some shovels. Maybe a hammer. Oh yeah, a full gas can. We'll have to start a fire. I'll have to collect the rest. Well, go on now, Kenny. Lay low."

"Okay. See you later." Kenny left his grandfather's house and headed home. He listened to the radio and heard on the news about how the doctor and his receptionist were shot dead over a drug deal gone wrong. They had one suspect in custody already, identified by the wounded nurse. Then he heard about the explosion of a meth lab at Clymore's Auto Shop and how the suspects were burned beyond recognition before the cops could pull them out of the burning building. Kenny was sure Daniel Huffington would be listed among the dead. From football captain to meth maker. It seemed to Kenny that everyone connected to Clara Simpkins and her unnatural death had fallen on hard times.

Kenny was relieved, however, that no one was looking for him. He had the doctor's letter in his pocket, and he knew the signatures would probably line up. He tried to connect the dots.

Two people close to Clara Simpkins were dead. A third innocent woman also lay dead and eight not so innocent drug makers burned to a crisp, victims of the wrong time and place. He hoped tonight would end this nightmare, end whatever curse had been placed on him, and set things right.

• • •

Debbie was waiting for him at the library parking lot. She left her car there and got in Kenny's old Subaru hatchback. "Think you'll take this car to college?" she asked sticking her finger into a hole in the upholstery. She pulled the stuffing out.

Kenny smacked at her hand. "Stop that. My scholarship won't extend to covering a new car. I have to make the most of what I got. After I'm a doctor, I'll drive whatever I want. Then I'll pull the cotton out of the holes in your car, history teacher want-to-be."

"Ooo, Kenny gets vindictive! Hang on to that feeling for tonight's fun. I don't want you to freak out in the cemetery and run away. By the way, I brought this." Debbie reached into her purse and pulled out a small hand revolver.

"Where did you get that?" he yelled. "You don't even know how to shoot!"

"I took it from Mom's underwear drawer. I think she planned on shooting Dad, but someone else killed him first. I've even got the bullets, somewhere." She shook her pocketbook and fished around in the bottom. She came up with three bullets. "Well, we might need it!" she protested. "Why does your car smell like gasoline?"

"I took the mower in to the shop. Then I got some more gas while I was in town. Granddad said to bring the rest of the can. Something about needing a fire."

"Planning a bonfire for ghouls, you think?"

"A roast of witches," Kenny told her. "According to Granddad, we come from a long line of witch fighters. The witches send the ghouls. And this ghoul, the woman in white, is our grandmother Darlene." Debbie looked shocked. "Only, not really. Just a bitch from Hell. We have to find her resting place in the cemetery," Kenny told her.

"I can hardly wait," Debbie answered.

"Here. Put this on. Don't ask any questions and never take it off." Kenny handed her the medallion. She put it over her head and held up the round silver circle, trying to read it.

"Is that Latin?"

"Could be Martian for all I know. It's dipped in witches' blood."

"Yuck!" she squealed and wiped her hands on the seat.

"Now my car is witch proof. Everyone will want one!" Kenny laughed.

They drove up to Hank Grandoff's house. He came out carrying a large black bag. He slid into the back seat dragging his bag beside him and his cane in his other hand.

"Let's go," he said. "The night's waiting. You drop off that bow?"

"Pick it up tomorrow." Once Hank was buckled in, Kenny took off.

"What exactly are we going to do at the cemetery, Granddad?" Debbie asked.

"She has a gun," Kenny mentioned.

"Good for her. She's using her head. First we look for opened graves. I suspect we won't find your grandmother's grave open. We have to dig it up anyway, to draw the ghoul back. There may be more than one."

"Yeah," Kenny told them. "I chased someone two nights ago outside the trailer. He has four toes and smokes like a chimney. Worse than my Mom."

Hank snorted. "That would be Jimmy Wingo, another one of Jessie's sons. And he ain't no ghoul. They sent him to keep an eye on you. I'd know that four-toed freak anywhere."

"What happened to his toe?" Debbie leaned forward from the back seat.

"Well, I chopped it off when I was sixteen and fed it to my dog. He had it coming, threatening my family and killing my goats. Then I gave him this special skin condition that happens in the moonlight. They hate the Grandoffs with a passion. And they hate Billy Ray for what he did to Jessie's granddaughter, Clara. It's all becoming clearer and clearer to me now." Hank reached into his black bag and pulled out the pistol and black velvet pouch from the chest. He set them on the floor of the car beside his feet.

"That's for Jimmy Wingo, Kenny. Remember, only in the moonlight."

Kenny had no idea what he was talking about. Debbie's eyes were large.

They turned onto Iron Bridge Road. Hank spoke again. "They never got justice over Clara. Billy Ray is still alive in prison, and it irks them that they can't get at him. So they have decided to extract some justice the Wingo way. They're using us to do their dirty work."

"So how do we get out of this? They're threatening to kill you, Deb, and even my mother if I don't deliver these letters. If we kill this ghoul, won't they just send others? Jesus, Granddad, they're killing people in town."

"I ain't worried about the people they killed in town. There's no one but you who knows about the letters and if you went to the police, they'd lock you up in a mental hospital. They aren't actually killing anyone."

Debbie leaned over the seat. "Yeah, Brenda stole that money. It was her decision to kill herself in jail. That doctor was selling pain drugs on the street for his own personal reasons."

"Dr. Thompson had a girlfriend, Lorie the receptionist," Hank interrupted. "Everyone knows that. He got in trouble with those drug cartel people. So they shot him. That wasn't Wingo doing either."

"Then what do the letters do? If these people are going to die anyway, why am I in the middle of it?"

"The letters are grave letters, Kenny Lee. They are written and properly cursed by the witch. When you deliver them, their destiny is sown. They are condemned and justice must happen. What evil is in their lives must come out and destroy them. It's old magic."

"How can we stop it?" Kenny asked, pulling up to the cemetery's opened rusty gate.

"We have to kill the witch. But as I said, first things first. We got ghoul hunting to do. Bring the shovel." Suddenly Hank stopped talking and reached down into the duffel bag he had brought laying on the floor between his legs. He pulled out another old velvet bag that used to be green. Now it was gray.

"In here," he told them, "are all the old spells, curses, and ways to skin a witch and her cohorts. This contains all the knowledge that our family has gathered over the last two centuries. My great uncle wrote it all down and saw that we read the papers, practiced the white magic, and learned what we needed to survive. Now I am giving it to you two. Guard it with your lives. If anything should happen to me, and this thing is not finished, I want you to find Old Tater Marsh. She lives up the Rattlesnake Road. Kenny, your mom knows her, I'm sure."

He handed the bag to Debbie who laid it on the back seat beside her. "Is she a witch?"

"Kind of," their grandfather said. "I could explain her relationship to me, but you would just laugh. So I won't waste my time. Anyway, she can help you do what needs to be done. She's never been a fan of the Wingos and their wicked ways. But old Tater, she ain't easy to kill. They've tried often enough."

It was dark except for the lights of the car. Kenny heard crickets chirping in the weeds. Somewhere a dog was barking, and a light wind blew the hair around his face. A large white moon hung over the trees. Kenny cut the car off and pocketed the keys. They got out, carrying their supplies and the bag.

"I can't believe I'm doing this again," Hank muttered as he leaned on the gate, shooing Kenny and his gas can through the opening. Debbie handed her grandfather the black duffle bag he had brought from his house and passed out flashlights. They made their way through the rough and now wet grass with Hank leading the way. He leaned on his cane, carefully stepping around the fallen tombstones and over the uneven ground.

"Over here." Debbie pointed to the left where she recognized the grave of her grandmother. More than ever, the grave looked disturbed. The dirt lay in piles on top of the grave, the grass thrown off and tossed to the side.

"Someone has been digging here," Kenny Lee said.

"And now it's your turn, Kenny. Open her up."

Kenny stood still. "That's creepy, Granddad. Digging up my grandmother. I can get arrested for that."

Hank crossed his arms. "You could get killed if you don't. Let's get this over with." Debbie produced two shovels and they began to dig in the loose dirt. Before long, they hit a hard surface.

Debbie stopped and leaned on her shovel. "I thought graves were supposed to be six feet deep." Hank was busy searching for something in his black bag. He emerged with a crow bar and the silver hatchet.

"They already dug her up. They left the casket close to the surface so that the ghoul can return when they don't need it. Dig it up all the way. We've got to destroy the thing."

Debbie and Kenny struggled with the dirt until a large black rectangle became visible. Hank handed the crow bar to Kenny and motioned him to pry the lid up.

"The book said she likes human flesh. How are they keeping her going?" Kenny asked.

"Pigs, chickens, goats. Anything with flesh and blood. Stay away from the head. Leave that to me."

Kenny hesitated. If he opened a casket, then he could go to jail. If he didn't, the woman in white would eat him for dinner.

He made his decision. Kenny put his back into it. But the casket wasn't locked and the lid flew open with such force that Kenny lost his balance and fell into the empty space.

"Oh God!" Debbie screamed. Hank quickly reached for Kenny's arm. Dazed, Kenny stood up in the casket.

"Nothing here, Granddad. Where is she?"

"Out looking for us, I imagine. Don't just stand there. Get out so I can get this done." Kenny climbed over the edge of the grave and stood up. Hank was busy setting out candles around the casket.

"Candles to find your way home," he chanted. "Rosemary to bind you." He tossed the small twigs of rosemary between the candles. Then he brought out a necklace from his bag.

"This was your grandmother's. The ghoul will be drawn to it." He threw it into the casket. "Gas it, Kenny."

Kenny lifted the gas can and doused the lining of the casket. The odor of gasoline made Debbie cough and she moved back. When the can was empty, Kenny moved back to the trees where Hank and Debbie were standing. Somewhere a dog was barking, and Kenny glanced nervously around for signs of Jimmy Wingo. The cemetery grew silent again, and they waited.

## Chapter Fifteen

"Now what?" Kenny asked. Debbie pointed. The woman in white moved quietly toward them between the stones. Something slithered beside her on the ground as she came. Debbie pulled her gun out of her purse, but it hung limp at her side. She hadn't thought to load it, and the bullets were in her purse in the car.

"You've been a bad boy, Kenny Lee," the thing cackled in an old woman's voice. "I gave you a chance to live. Now you must die."

"No one is going to die, Jessie Wingo. The boy got help, and now this business is about to be finished. You can't use Darlene anymore to do your bidding. That was a low blow."

"You deserve it, Hank Grandoff. I've cursed your family, cursed all your seed. Now you've sentenced these children to death as well. I'll see it through, see if I don't."

Hank shook his head at the ghoul. "They're wearing the lockets. You can't touch them. Blood was the only thing your brother was good for."

"I can get you, Hank. One by one. Jerry O'Brien was just the first of your blood lately to die!" The woman snarled, looked up and howled at the moon. Hank threw the necklace into the open casket. She began to sway back and forth, stepping slowly toward the grave.

"Jerry O'Brien was my wife's nephew, you idiot. I never even liked him." Hank raised his arms to the sky. "Devil spawn, return to the earth. Break the bonds that hold you to your maker. Give me your hand, Kenny."

"What?" Kenny looked up as Hank pulled his knife out of his pocket. He sliced Kenny's thumb, dripping blood into the grave. The blood was like a magnet, drawing the ghoul into the open hole. As the ghoul slipped downwards, she grabbed the sides of the grave and held onto the fresh soil of the dark hole.

"Return to the earth, Darlene O'Brien," Hank chanted. The ghoul raised her hand and shook her fist at Hank. He grabbed at his chest and fell to his knees. Debbie dropped the flashlight in the grass and knelt by his side. Kenny stared at the snakes heading toward him, sucking his bleeding thumb.

"What's wrong, Granddad?" Debbie shrieked, watching Hank double over grabbing his chest.

"Into the earth," he murmured, bent over and eyes shut. The ghoul screamed again and fell away from the grave into the open casket. She lay there writhing and yelling obscenities. The snakes slid into the hole with her. But she didn't stay down. In a second she was back up, one hand reaching for Hank's leg.

"Take it," Hank yelled and pushed the hatchet toward Kenny. He grabbed it and paused, not sure what to do. "The head, stupid. Go for the head."

Darlene Grandoff smiled at Kenny. "It's a sin to kill your grandma, Kenny Lee. You'll burn in hell for this!" the ghoul shouted at him. Debbie was right. I am scared to death. Kenny fought the urge to turn and bolt from the cemetery. The ghoul was now partially out of the casket reaching with both arms toward Hank. A bony wrist encircled his ankle and drew blood with a crusty fingernail.

Hank tried to get to his feet, but her hand held him fast. "The time to act is now, Kenny. You can do this!" Kenny brought the hatchet down as hard as he could on the neck of the ghoul. The cut was deep but the head only slid to one side. The ghoul began to shriek, her arms trying to right the head. Kenny moved to the other side and whacked again and this time the head fell off into the grass. He realized his grandfather was still yelling at him.

"Get the hair, Kenny! We need it for the bow."

Kenny reached down and yanked at the slimy hair of the head. It bounced back and forth as he pulled on it. When he had a handful of hair, he kicked the head back into the casket. He crammed the hair into his pocket.

"Burn her, Kenny. She's squeezing my heart." Hank now lay on his back on the ground, his face white and glistening with sweat. "Do it now!"

Kenny jumped into action, kicking the nearest candle toward the grave. The headless ghoul reached out to pull him in, but he danced back. The candle hit the casket and the lining exploded. Fire roared up. Through the flames, Kenny could see the body in the casket melting, folding into the grave. Debbie was yanking on Hank's arm, pulling him away from the heat.

Hank was slowly getting to his feet when Kenny came to his side. "Feeling any better, Granddad?"

"Get me to hospital, you idiot. I'm too old for this."

Debbie helped him walk slowly back to the car. Behind them, the fire in the casket was going out. The casket had collapsed into the wet grave. "What about the fire?" Kenny yelled across the cemetery.

"It's done," Hank told him, "Bury it." Kenny picked up the shovel and began filling in the grave as fast as he could. He kicked the candles and rosemary into the hole as he went. His thumb hurt, but he knew better than to quit. He was only half done when Debbie honked the horn. He decided to come back tomorrow and finish the job. Grabbing the shovels and Hank's bag, he stumbled back to the car.

Hank was lying in the back seat, his eyes closed. "How is he?" Kenny asked Debbie as he started the car.

"Not good. She really messed with his heart. I think it's beating all wrong. He's having a hard time breathing. Let's go, Kenny. Straight to the hospital."

"Okay." Kenny backed the car out of the ditch beside the cemetery and sped up the road.

"Tater Marsh," Hank whispered from the back seat. "Take the stone with you."

• • •

"It was a heart attack," Debbie was telling Kenny an hour later in the ER waiting room. "They knew where to strike. Here he thought he was stronger than them, but they knew his weaknesses. You know when she scratched his leg? I think it poisoned him somehow. His leg was black when we got here. He's not a well man."

"Snake venom will do that. Did he say anything else? Is he going to die now?" Kenny felt tears coming. He stifled them. "This is all my fault. I fell right into their trap."

"Shut up Kenny and stop feeling sorry for yourself. They were after you from the start. Think about it. Your dad's in prison. Mine is dead. He mentioned something about a Grandoff curse. As a family we love to do stupid things. Your suicide attempt was just one more fulfillment of the ongoing curse of Grandoff blood. You'd have died there in those woods if they hadn't come and rescued you. You were no good to them dead. If they hadn't found you, they'd have gotten me to do the dirty work. Now, listen, this isn't over. Not by far."

Kenny looked up. "But the ghoul is dead. I'm free, right?"

"Granddad said we have to get the witch or she'll just raise another ghoul. We have to go after the Wingos and stop them from hurting anyone else."

Kenny stood up. People in the room were looking at them. He pulled Debbie to the side and whispered. "And how do we do that, exactly? We aren't Harry Potter."

"We have the papers and a name, Kenny. I work at a library. I'll do some research."

"And in the meantime, how am I supposed to keep them from going after my Mom? Or me? They made a lot of threats. She mentioned you too, you know."

"I heard that. Granddad isn't conscious right now, Kenny. We'll have to wait. We'll come back tomorrow."

Kenny looked at his watch. It was now four in the morning. Kenny took Debbie back to her car in the library parking lot and then drove home again. He was relieved to see his trailer was untouched. He parked his car and bounded out of his car, carrying Hank's bag of magical goodies and tools.

Seconds later he was on the ground, and a man was smashing a fist at his head. He rolled, pinning the man beneath him. In the darkness, he couldn't see his attacker clearly but he felt hair, lots of hair. Maybe the man was a bear. A lit cigarette lay by his car, glowing red in the grass..

"Jimmy Wingo, stop it!" Kenny yelled, placing his hands around the man's hairy throat. "I'll strangle the air out of you!"

The man quit struggling. "Message for you, Kenny Lee," he hissed.

"Yeah, four toes?" Kenny hissed back.

"They're coming for you. For all of you. This time they'll wipe out your entire line forever. Good riddance, I say!" The man suddenly shook loose of Kenny and slammed his furry fist into Kenny's chest. Kenny groaned as the man slid out from under him.

"I got a message for you, too, fur ball!" Kenny shouted as the hairy man thing ran down the driveway on all fours. "I'm coming for you, all of you."

## Chapter Sixteen

"Granddad's in the hospital," Kenny told his mother when she got home from work. Since he had never gone to bed, he had already fried the bacon and poured her some coffee.

His mother, still in her sweaty factory uniform, was tired to the bone. She sat down heavily and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her purse. As she lit one, she asked, "What happened? Stroke? Heart attack?"

"Yeah, heart attack, Debbie said. He wasn't conscious last night, but I'm going in to see him today. Maybe he'll be better."

"Good Lord, Kenny. He's almost eighty, I think. He was always so fuzzy about his real age. I was expecting it. I guess it happened at the house. Did a neighbor find him?" She blew a ring of smoke at him.

"I think so. I don't really know the details. You got a key to his house? I'd better go over there and make sure everything is locked up." Kenny was trying to remain calm. He didn't want his lies to give him away.

"That would be considerate, Kenny. Sure, I got a key here. It belonged to your father." She got up and opened a drawer. She hunted around and finally came up with a set of keys labeled Hank Grandoff and dropped them on the table.

"People hear he's in the hospital, they'll break in and steal everything. Not that he's got a whole lot. You go over and check it out. Guess there's not anything else we can do at this point. Just wait. Maybe plan a funeral."

"He's not dead yet, Mom. I'm still optimistic. He's pretty feisty for a man his age. Whatever it really is." Kenny handed her a plate of bacon and toast. His Mom nodded. She picked up her coffee mug.

"I always thought he was downright odd, actually," she added. "Your father told me once that he was like a witch doctor in those hills before he moved to town. That he knew things about magic. Convinced me that there was line of lunacy in the family."

"Maybe," Kenny agreed. You will never know, Mom, how right you are. "By the way, he kept saying Tater Marsh before he blacked out, Debbie said. Is she some relative way back?"

She stopped eating and stared at him. "My, I haven't heard that name for years. Tater Marsh. Of course, I've heard of Tater Marsh. If you did anything wrong, Tater Marsh was going to get you. When people disappeared, they said Tater Marsh took them. She was the boogeyman of the mountains, ancient when I was a kid. That old woman can't still be alive. Why in the world would he be calling her name?"

"You said it yourself, lunacy. Did you ever see this Tater Marsh? Are you saying she was a real person?"

His mother stubbed out her cigarette in the ash tray. "Sure, she was real. She would come to town dressed like some homeless bum. Wearing bone necklaces and carrying some old carpet bag. I always thought she was the woman in Hansel and Gretel. You know, the one who wanted to cook the children and eat them. Always mumbling to the air. The church used to visit her sometimes and take her a Christmas dinner. But I don't think she was really Christian, not by a long shot. Up on Rattlesnake Road at the very top."

"You been there?" Kenny asked her, finishing up his last bite of toast.

"When I was a kid. Scared me to death having to go up there. There's no real road, you know. Just a path up the mountain. I got dragged up there with the rest of the Sunday school children to bring her some food from the church. Took us forever in a truck and when we got there, the old lady was sitting there on the porch. Said she could sense we were coming. She took each of our hands and read our palms. Told us bad things were going to happen to each one of us. I remember she particularly told me that I would make bad relationship choices. Told me never to marry. I guess that makes her a genius. Told all of us to go away and never come back."

"Was she like a gypsy woman?"

"Something like that. Oh, she gave me shivers because everything she predicted came true. You know, Sam Duncan was killed in that car crash. Sue Jenkins did get cancer. I should have never got married! What a witch!"

The phone rang suddenly, and his mother hopped up to answer it. Kenny put the plates in the sink. She was still talking so Kenny went back to his room to find his car keys. That's when he remembered about the hair and pulled it out of his pocket. Hair of a dead person. He could hardly stand to touch it. Carefully, he wadded it up in a ball and slipped it inside Hank's bag. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it but thought Debbie might know.

"That was my sister Kate," his mother said behind him. Kenny jumped.

"Her husband's been in an accident over at Centreville. I called and got a sick day for tonight. Believe I'll run over there because Kate doesn't want to stay by herself. You'll be all right for one night?"

"Sure, Mom. No worries."

"By the way, Kenny, what is that ugly thing hanging around your neck? Some girl give that to you?"

"Granddad did, actually. He said it was an amulet, for good luck. He thinks I need it."

She frowned at him. "Maybe he's some relation to Tater Marsh after all. Charms? Grow up. It looks like something a serial killer might wear. Gross. Needs a good washing, I think."

"No, that would negate the good luck, see? I have to wear it like it is. He warned me about that."

She nodded. "Again, lunacy can be genetic. You'll be mumbling to yourself before too long."

Kenny sighed and slipped the amulet back inside his shirt. The smell took some getting used to. He'd never been a fan of dried blood.

Patsy reached over to the counter and retrieved a small bag. She slid a new black cell phone over to him across the table.

"Here is your graduation present, Kenny Lee. I had planned this surprise before you got kicked out. Looks like I was the one surprised. Anyway, you now have the latest and greatest cell phone. I'll have to work overtime to pay for it. Use it wisely. Nothing fancy. My number is in there and so is yours. The guy who sold them to me did it for me since I haven't a clue. I can push the buttons and ring you, but that's about all. Don't expect any texting from me. Ain't going to happen."

"Gee thanks Mom, the internet and everything! This will come in handy. Call me when you're driving home. That way I'll know you're on your way. I hope Uncle Roger pulls through."

"Well, you know what I always say, Kenny."

"Yeah, life ain't a bed of roses," Kenny finished her sentence. She sauntered off to bed.

• • •

Kenny walked outside carrying two things, a duffle bag and his cap and gown for graduation. It was hot already, the sun big and bright. He carefully placed Hank's black magic duffle bag in the passenger seat. With the threat of retaliation looming, Kenny didn't want to be separated from his grandfather's bag of tricks. He took stock of the weapons he possessed: one pistol with six silver bullets, a ball of hair from a dead woman, and a silver hatchet stained with ghoul something. He had added a flashlight, the camera, a large kitchen knife, an old rosary stolen from his mother's jewelry box, a barbeque fork, matches also stolen from his mother, and a blanket from the closet. He already had a shovel in the back seat. Now he had a new weapon, a working cell phone to dial 911. He hoped that would be all he would need for the battle to come.

## Chapter Seventeen

Kenny's first stop was the Lewis Methodist Church Cemetery. He drove across the bridge which looked normal during the daylight hours. He preferred to think of it that way, as a cozy spot for bass fishing instead of the local haunt of ghouls and witches or the death site for a principal. He was sure the iron bridge would never be the same for him. I'll always see the woman in white.

Kenny pulled up to the cemetery gate, next to a gray sedan. A man was helping an old lady carrying a plastic wreath to a grave. They stood there a moment while the man pushed the spikes into the ground by the tombstone. Then they made their way back to the car. Kenny sat in his car, pretending to read a road map. Actually, he was looking for Rattlesnake Road. The map he had only used route numbers so he was lost. Once the sedan pulled away, he threw down the map and pulled his shovel out of the back seat. He hurried through the cemetery gate to his grandmother's grave, shovel in one hand and magic bag in the other.

The minute he stepped across the threshold of the gate, Kenny felt the air change. Suddenly a wind was blowing and dirt pelted his face. Holding his fingers across his eye, he peeked through the cracks to see crows, perhaps twenty, sitting on the tombstones. They began to cackle and Kenny stumbled forward, aware they were watching his every step. He threw the shovel upon his shoulder in case he needed a bat. The cackle turned into words.

"Kenny," the birds whispered. He ignored them, brushing by the stones in a hurry to get to his grandmother's grave.

He pulled the amulet out of his shirt. "I'm wearing the amulet, Wingo," he yelled at the birds. "You can't touch me." They became silent but vigilant, watching Kenny with their black eyes. Out of the corner of his eyes, Kenny saw movement out at the trees. He watched as an old woman, hunched and dressed in multicolor rags came out into the overgrown grass of the cemetery. She had a black cane she leaned on and several stone necklaces around her bent neck. Tater Marsh I hope. She pointed her finger at his face and his hope fell. This is not the good witch.

"Justice!" she shouted in his direction, her voice old and raspy. Kenny recognized it instantly as coming from the woman in white. Jessie Wingo. His hand flew to his amulet. Then she turned and walked back into the woods. The crows suddenly took flight, and Kenny crouched to the ground in fear. Then the cemetery grew silent.

Kenny got up and went on his way to Darlene Grandoff's grave. It looked much like he remembered from last night. The dirt was heaped up on one side. A few spent candles littered the ground. He kicked them into the grave and began shoveling the dirt back into the hole. His shirt was soon soaked with sweat, and he took it off. He leveled the dirt over the grave and patted it down. It would be awhile before grass returned to the spot.

"Rest in peace, Grandma," Kenny said and walked away.

Then he stopped. A girl stood at the gate. She had long blonde hair and white porcelain skin. Her blue calico dress hung limply on her thin frame and came past her knees. Kenny stared at the urchin. She was the spitting image of Clara Simpkins. She's dead, Kenny. Buried. This isn't happening. So much of this shouldn't be happening. He turned his head to see the white marble stone to his left. Despite the black moss, he could clearly read the words Clara Simpkins. Born 1966. Died 1984. I am stepping on the edge of her grave! He hopped off the invisible mound in horror and looked back at the gate. The girl was gone. As he got to the gate, he searched the spot where he had seen her. He needed to know whether she had been real or just a figment of his scared mind. This sorcery stuff took some getting used to. It may have been second nature to Hank, but Kenny was new to all the curses, scary animals, and things wanting to kill him.

There, at the fence in the dirt where the grass didn't grow, were two shoe prints. Then he noticed his car door was open. She had been looking for something.

## Chapter Eighteen

Kenny met Debbie at the library. She was getting off the morning shift and reaching for her purse and another bag when Kenny came through the door carrying his cap and gown.

"You graduating today?" Debbie laughed. "I thought you were voted off the island."

"I need you to take a picture for my mom. She's not exactly happy about this whole situation. I'm hoping this will improve her disposition."

"Your mom was born that way. Nothing will help."

"Help me out, Deb. She's all I got."

Debbie agreed and led him out back to the flower garden. She rolled up a piece of poster board paper retrieved from the trash and fixed it with colored tape. Kenny posed there among the roses and dahlias in his cap and gown clutching the fake diploma while Debbie struggled with his camera. She took several shots from different angles until Kenny finally made her stop.

She hummed the graduation march all the way to his car.

"Knock it off, Debbie. This is embarrassing enough." He tossed the paper diploma in the back seat. "I'm going over to the house first before I come to the hospital. How about you? Exams done?"

"Last one tonight. Then I have a couple of days off. Shall we get together and find this Tater Marsh?"

"Absolutely. But I must warn you. I just saw an old woman and a Clara Simpkins look-alike at the cemetery. She apparently was rifling through my car looking for something. I don't think we will be alone on this journey into Marshland. I ran into that Jimmy Wingo too at my trailer. He promised us lots of grief. You still got the papers Granddad gave you? All those spells?"

Debbie held up her bag. "I don't go anywhere without it. I even read some of it during my break. I'm looking for a spell to put Granddad back into the pink. The ink's all faded and the paper's fragile, so it's slow going. Looks to me to be at least a hundred years old. I'll meet you at the hospital."

Kenny waved goodbye as he got in his car and roughly started it. "Maybe Deb has a spell for this engine," he chuckled. "Better yet, let's just change the Subaru into a BMW. I could really use a BMW."

As he drove up Orchid Street, he noticed an old black pickup truck parked just up the curb from his granddad's house. There was a man sitting in it, but Kenny could only see the back of his head. He pulled up to the walkway and reached for his duffle bag of sorcery tricks. He wished he could lock the door, but he was forced to leave the car open because the locks no longer worked. That meant anyone could rifle through his car again. Keeping his eye on the pickup, he slung the bag onto his shoulder and walked toward the porch. He went up the stairs and fished the key to the door out of his pocket. That's when he noticed the door was already cracked open.

He pulled out the revolver from his bag and kicked the door open. That's when he remembered he had never loaded the gun. He came in swinging anyway. Clara Simpkins stood up from Hank's desk where she had been searching the drawers. They were all open, and papers were thrown all over the floor.

She looked just like she had at the cemetery a couple of hours ago. Same blue checked dress. Hair hanging limply down her shoulders.

Kenny was speechless. It was Clara Simpkins' twin.

"Where are they?" she asked meekly. "They'll beat me if I can't find them. They can't come in. The house is protected so they sent me."

"And who is me?" Kenny dropped the bag on the floor with a thud. He raised the gun.

"Marla."

"Marla who?"

"Just Marla, Kenny Lee Grandoff. You've got to help me."

Kenny went to the window and looked out. A man had gotten out of the truck. He recognized the ponytail, now streaked with gray. Peter Wingo was staring at him. Then another figure emerged from the truck. The old woman, Jessie Wingo. They'd already met.

"Why didn't the Wingos come in themselves?"

"Wingos can't cross the boundary," she offered.

"But you did."

"I'm not a Wingo."

"What are you looking for, Marla? What is it everyone wants besides my blood and my grandfather's life?" He let the curtain fall. Marla had moved near him. Her large blue eyes were searched his face. He kept the gun up, but hoped she didn't realize it wasn't loaded. The most he could do was hit her with it.

"The spells, Kenny. Jessie wants the spells back."

"They're not here," he told her. That's when she rushed him, her hand tugging at his amulet. Together they fell against the window and onto the floor.

"Stop it, Marla no last name. I don't want to hurt you!" Kenny shouted. They rolled over, and Kenny found himself sitting on top of the small girl, pinning her to the floor. He reached down and yanked her amulet off, tearing the leather strap from her neck.

"No!" she screamed, her face becoming red. "I can't stay here without the charm. I'll die! Let me go!"

"Why can't you stay here?" Kenny asked. "You've got some explaining to do."

But she didn't answer. Instead, her face was suddenly red and swollen. Her eyes became slits.

He hopped off her, afraid he was killing her. He helped her to her feet. She swayed in his arms, and then lunged for the door. Kenny stood in the doorway watching her go. She stumbled down the walk, gasping for breath. Peter Wingo met her in the street and almost carried her back to the truck. The old lady pointed another crooked finger at him.

"Forget it!" Kenny yelled at them from the open doorway. That's when he noticed the stones in the yard. Granddad had littered the yard with round river rocks. Watching the black truck shoot away, Kenny poked his head out to check for other things. Crows. Snakes. Ghouls. He saw nothing but a man washing his car across the street who gave him a funny look. Then Kenny went out and picked up one of the rocks. A strange design was etched on one side, just like the stone his grandfather had given him for protection and was now in his bag. He sat it down carefully back in its original place. These stones were the only thing keeping him safe for the moment. Kenny went back inside and checked the back of the drawers in the desk. He could see groups of hundred-dollar bills still taped to the back when he pulled the drawers all the way out.

Marla's amulet lay on the floor where it had fallen. Kenny examined the brown stone covered with black spots. Dried blood. Grandoff blood. Yuck. He threw it in his bag. It might be useful later. Making sure all the windows were locked as well as the outside basement door, Kenny locked the front door again. He knew Marla had gotten in once so she could do it again anytime. He hoped the loss of the amulet would slow her down. Right now, Granddad's house was the only safe place to be. He didn't have any stones around his trailer. Maybe there's a spell for that. He had to get to the hospital and warn Debbie. A group of angry witches were out to get her and her collection of rotting papers. She would probably never see them coming.

## Chapter Nineteen

Kenny checked the hospital parking lot for the black pickup truck. Only when he thought he hadn't been followed did he grab the magic bag and go through the main doors. The guard gave him a quizzical look as he came in and for a minute, Kenny wondered if the guard would stop and search his bag. Good grief, there's a gun and bullets in there! But Kenny gathered his courage and put on a smile. He marched straight to the elevator and punched the button for the fourth floor. No one stopped him.

He met Debbie in the hall, sipping on a Coke.

"Hey, we got trouble," Kenny told her as he explained about Clara's doppelganger and his run in at Granddad's house. Debbie was visibly upset.

"What should I do? They probably know where I live. How can I stop them from getting the papers? They could threaten my mom."

"Oh, they're coming to your house, all right. This is what you should do. Move into Granddad's house until this is finished. They can't get in without the amulet. Looks like only non-Wingos have a shot at getting through the door. I'll pack some stuff tonight and meet you there after you finish your exam. That can be our headquarters until Granddad gets out of the hospital. How's he doing, by the way?"

"He mumbles a lot but doesn't say much that makes sense. He talks about Darlene, like she's still alive." Debbie tossed her empty Coke can in the trash in the hall. "Let's go see him."

They turned to go into Hank's room. The door was propped open.

"Did you leave the door open? I could have sworn it was closed when I got here."

"Of course, I closed the door, Kenny. Maybe the nurse went in."

An old woman, long white hair flowing down her back, stood over their grandfather. She was dressed in a long, flowery gown, almost like a house robe. In her hand was an empty jar.

"Get away from him!" Debbie yelled. The stranger backed away as Debbie ran forward, jerking the jar from the wrinkled hand. The woman said nothing and backed away.

"Who are you?" Kenny asked her. No answer. She raised a bony finger and pointed at Hank. Both Debbie and Kenny turned to look. Some liquid was dripping from the corner of his mouth onto his gown.

"What was that? Did you poison him?" Kenny looked around, but the woman was gone.

Debbie grabbed his shoulder. "Oh God, Kenny. Was that Jessie Wingo?"

"No, it wasn't the old hag I saw at the cemetery. You don't forget a face like that. The black eyes."

"Sister?"

"Don't know, Deb."

Hank looked small and helpless lying in the large hospital bed with the sheets pulled up to his chest. Wires connected him to several machines at his side. His gray eyes were open, and he seemed to recognize them. His hair was matted down to his scalp, and he drooled from the corners of his slack lips. Debbie wiped the liquid with a Kleenex. It was green.

"Medicine," the old man mumbled. "It's good for me."

"Who was that, Granddad?" Debbie took his hand.

"Who?" His eyes met hers.

Debbie gave Kenny I-told-you-so look and rolled her eyes. "See, he doesn't even remember she was here."

"Hi, Granddad. How's it going?" Kenny sat down on the stool next to his bed.

"Darlene?" Hank moaned.

"I reburied her this morning. Everything is back the way it's supposed to be," Kenny told him.

"Darlene is dead?" Hank looked at them bewildered.

Debbie shook her head. "See? He's out of it."

"The medication probably. The real medication, that is. Aren't they giving him something for the pain? What did the doctor say?"

"Blood poisoning is weakening his heart. Nothing they give him seems to be working. It's shutting down. The doctor seems to think it's just old age, but we know different. If we don't stop the witch, he will die. I've tried to find a spell to bring him back to health, but everything in the collection is about destroying evil and casting spells against the enemy."

"Kill the witch," Hank mumbled. "Kill them all!"

Kenny took Hank's hand and squeezed. "I'll try," he whispered. He looked at Debbie. "Are we cut out to do this? We can't even keep old women out of this room."

"We are Grandoffs. We were born to do this."

"Grandoff!" Hank shouted. They looked at Hank in surprise. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Debbie sighed. "I hate seeing him like this. I never thought I would miss him yelling at me."

"That part I don't miss," Kenny told her. "I miss him telling us what to do. We're in the dark and on our own. There's no one else we can go to for help. Except this Tater Marsh."

"I hope she doesn't have flying monkeys. What's the next step?"

"I think you should get those spells written down on your computer so we have a digital copy in case they steal the papers. Pack up your computer and bring it to the house. We better pick up some food, too. We may get lost in the mountains. Got a backpack?"

"Yeah. I've also got the county map from the library." Debbie pulled the map from her book bag and spread it out over Hank's feet. He didn't notice. She pointed to Rattlesnake Road.

"We will have to park the car here. There's no road up there to her cabin, only a path through the woods. Apparently she doesn't drive."

"Goes by broom I imagine," Kenny told her.

"Shut up, Kenny. Make sure you bring the gun. Heck, bring all your goodies. You never know."

"Of course. I'll load the gun with bullets too. It works better that way."

"Don't I know it. I'll have mine. Mom hasn't missed it yet."

Kenny turned to Hank whose eyes were closed. "I'm picking up the bow today, Granddad. Wish you could tell me what to do with it. How do I kill this Wingo witch?"

Hank's eyes flew open. "Hair of a dead woman will reverse the spell. A blood arrow shot through the heart sends her to Hell," Hank chanted.

"Doesn't sound easy, does it?" Kenny asked Debbie.

"There's a spell in the papers that goes with the bow and does just what he said. Sends her to Hell. Tomorrow, we'll learn it by heart."

• • •

Kenny picked up the bow on his way back through town. The man at the sports store asked him where he had gotten it.

"Looks like an antique. What kind of material is this? Antler?"

"Bone. It's a family heirloom," Kenny nodded.

"Well, it doesn't look strong enough to kill an animal."

"It doesn't kill animals. Something else," Kenny said and wouldn't explain anymore as he took the bow, threw it across his shoulder, and waved goodbye. It joined the items in the magic bag, the end sticking out of the opening.

## Chapter Twenty

Kenny drove up the gravel driveway to his trailer in a cloud of brown dust. He carefully looked around for any sign of the Wingos. Hoping the coast was clear, he grabbed his bag and dashed inside. He looked out the blinds for a few minutes to see if anyone was following, and then tried to relax. He decided to cook himself a hamburger for dinner and looked around in the freezer for a patty. As it was cooking, he looked for his old backpack in his closet and also his suitcase under his bed. He began to fill it with clothes he would need for a few days at Granddad's. Jeans, T-shirts, underwear, and socks all flew into the case. He found his hunting knife and tossed that in too. Then after finishing his meal, he began to rifle through the shelves for food.

As the sun was setting, Kenny made two trips out to his car to load the suitcase, backpack full of food, and his blanket and pillow into the Subaru. Then he went back inside and washed the dishes. His mom called, and he updated her on Hank's condition.

"How's Uncle Roger?" Kenny asked. "You coming home tonight?"

"Nah, I'll start back tomorrow. They had to operate, and my sister was a mess. But he came through. They took out his spleen, and he's going to have to take it easy for a few weeks. I called my supervisor and told him I was taking a vacation day. Production has slacked off so he okayed it. Probably going to shut the place down next month anyway. You should have taken Chinese instead of French, Kenny. You keeping the place clean? Doing the laundry? Eating well?"

"Of course I am. But listen, Mom. I'm going to move to Granddad's place for a few days. I found the door unlocked and some things disturbed when I stopped by today. I think someone is planning to carry off his stuff." Kenny tried to sound convincing. She couldn't take the truth.

"That's awful, Kenny Lee. Call the police if you see anyone lurking about. Don't take any chances. You got a baseball bat?"

"You bet, Mom. I'll be prepared."

"Okay, Kenny. How is that so-called job of yours going? Making lots of money?"

Kenny hesitated.

"Bad idea, wasn't it, Kenny?" She always knew.

"I'm not in the delivery business anymore. Don't worry, though. Something else will come along. I can always mow yards."

"You don't even mow your own yard, Kenny."

"Good point." Kenny agreed. I am too busy fighting the forces of evil, Mom. You wouldn't understand.

"Well, got to run. You be good, Kenny. I'll see you when I get back."

Kenny got the hair from the dead Darlene that he had been keeping in a pouch in the magic bag. He felt creepy pulling it out of the bag and stretching it out on the couch. Darlene had had long hair, but now of course it was brittle and grayish in color. Rotten, it has to be by now. Carefully he wrapped the hair around the bow string for now, around and around until it ran out. "Hair of a dead woman will reverse the spell. A blood shot through the heart will send her to Hell," Kenny chanted. That's what Hanks says. He counted three arrows in the leather pouch in the bag. The points were all steel, and Kenny was surprised they weren't rusted. They seemed to be coated with some brownish stain. Blood? Harry Wingo?

Suddenly there was the crash of thunder and Kenny jumped. He went to the window and looked out into the growing blackness... There were no storm clouds floating overhead. Instead, an orange moon stared back at him. Then he heard a howl, like a dog, behind the trailer. Kenny grabbed his bag and pulled out his pistol. Hastily he started loading the silver bullets into the chamber, vaguely remembering how he'd watched his father load a pistol he kept at the trailer. It was the same pistol he later used to rob that gas station, so Kenny supposed the police had that gun locked in some evidence box. They'd never trace this gun to him. He doubted that it was registered anywhere, except Hell.

Now the howling sound was at the back door. The door shook, but the lock held. Kenny pointed the gun in that direction while he shut off the lights. Thunder sounded again, and Kenny thought of witchcraft. He was convinced that this was a storm created just for his benefit. He moved to the window again in the darkness of the trailer, bag slung over his shoulder with his bow and gun in his hands. He looked for the black pickup truck of Peter Wingo but saw only the outline of his Subaru hatchback. Maybe the whole gang wasn't here yet.

Then the smell of gasoline reached his nostrils, and he knew he had to get out. Kenny rushed to the front door, threw back the bolt, and stood out on the little porch. The air was charged with electricity causing the hair on his arms to stand up. Gasoline fumes wafted through the air. In seconds Kenny was down the steps and out in the yard. That's when a streak of lightning struck the trailer with a large crack. Kenny jumped straight up in the air, feeling his skin crawl. He was running to his car when the first blast of an explosion came. A roar rose up from under the trailer, and flames came out like an octopus reaching toward Kenny. A ball of red fire singed his hair, and Kenny found himself on the ground next to his car as the ground shook.

Standing over Kenny was a large hairy dog with yellow eyes. "Hello Kenny," it growled. Kenny stared at the crouching animal with long, black hair and a cigarette protruding from its lips. I must be dreaming. This nightmare goes on and on. "I warned you we would get even. You die first."

"No, you die first," Kenny suggested. He raised the gun and fired point blank into the chest of Jimmy Wingo. The dog screamed, clutching at the large gaping hole where his heart had been with his hairy hands. Blood spurted out into the grass, and Jimmy howled in pain and agony. His cigarette fell into the bloody grass. The creature writhed on the ground near Kenny, claws extended and fangs bared. He stretched to rip Kenny's throat out, but Kenny fired again. This time the dog's stomach exploded, and his intestines slid out of the cavity.

Kenny stood up and backed away to his car. The air was hot, and people were coming out of their trailers and staring at the flames and smoke engulfing Kenny's home. Over his shoulder, Kenny yelled for someone to call 911. When he turned back, Jimmy was gone. He caught sight of a form crawling toward the flames, disappearing around the corner of the trailer. He thought he heard crying.

There was the sound of doors opening. Kenny threw the gun under his car wheel. Kenny's neighbor, Janet, ran up to his side. In pajamas and curlers, she checked Kenny for burns.

"Oh my God, what happened?" she asked. "Some of your hair is black."

Kenny thought for a minute. He decided on the truth. "I think the trailer blew up. It must have been the lightning." The walls now were black as the fire curled like long fingers out of the windows. The porch fell off and collapsed in a heap on the burning grass. Gone were the entire lives of Patsy and Kenny Grandoff. In an instance, everything they owned was burned beyond recognition. Off in the distance he heard sirens coming. Janet left to get a blanket, and Kenny realized he was still holding his magic bag in his right hand. He quickly threw it and the bow in the back seat of his now hot car. He retrieved the gun and threw it in too. Soon several people were standing around his car watching the flames.

"Is that gasoline I smell?" someone asked.

Then another explosion rocked the trailer park as Kenny's propane tank went up in a blue fire ball behind the first fire. Then the fire department was there, and a man in a yellow slicker was asking Kenny to move his car down the driveway and out of harm's way. This he did, pulling the car under a tree down the lane. He paused for a few minutes to suck in the cool air. There was another lightning strike, and Kenny jumped as the sound shook him. On the hill across from him in the glow of the lightning, he saw her, the old woman. Jessie Wingo. She resembled Medusa, her white hair wildly flying around her face. He couldn't be sure, but he thought she was naked. She shook her fist, and his blood ran cold. He clutched his amulet to his chest. I got an arrow with your name on it! Kenny one, witch zero! Hank ain't dead yet!

Then he walked back up to the waiting police. This is going to be the difficult part.

## Chapter Twenty-One

It was a long night for Kenny. Over and over he told the police the same story after he drove to the station. Kenny explained that he was home watching TV when he smelled gasoline. He saw someone creeping around the back door and decided to run to his car. A guy jumped him when he got to the car and tried to stab him with a knife. But Kenny fought hard, and the other guy got knifed. That's where the blood came from. The assailant crawled off, knife in his stomach, leaving a trail of blood on the grass. Before he could catch up to the dying man, lightning struck the trailer and everything went up.

The firemen worked for several hours before the fire was finally put out. A blackened partial body was pulled out of the wreckage and hauled away in a body bag. The firemen also found the charred and twisted remains of two gas cans under the trailer, probably Kenny's own gas supply for the lawn mower. They wanted to rule the fire arson, but the lightning strike had ignited the flames, so they were forced to say it was nature that actually burnt down Kenny's home. Police noted the blood on the grass, the bloody knife found with the body, the blood on Kenny's shirt, and Kenny's insistence that he didn't know who had attacked him. I know they suspect I had something to do with this. Thank God they found Jimmy Wingo.

"We've had a bad couple of days, Kenny Grandoff," Officer Lemuel told him. "First a doctor is murdered in his office, and then there's a shootout at an auto shop. When we reviewed the tape of the parking lot at the hospital, we see that your car was there. Someone matching your description was in the doctor's office when the murder went down, according to an old couple who overheard a disturbing conversation about a letter, and a nurse who saw you standing by the window arguing with the receptionist. The witnesses say you ran away, leaving them cowering on the floor.

"I can explain," Kenny protested.

"Next, your car was seen by undercover agents at the auto shop. You went in and you went out. Now you are telling us someone you don't know for a reason you don't know, decided to burn down your trailer with you in it. Instead, lightning does the job, but you miraculously escape certain death. That's when this attacker goes after you with a knife. Still don't have a clue, Kenny Lee? Something you want to tell us? We are all ears."

Kenny kept a blank expression on his face, thinking about how he would explain two silver bullets in the body of the man he supposedly knifed to death. They would turn up in an autopsy sooner or later. Kenny shrugged his shoulders. "I told you my story. That's all I got to say."

"You can understand if we don't buy it, can't you, son? What was it really? A drug deal gone sour? You sleeping with his girlfriend? You some kind of gangster leader we haven't heard of?"

Kenny refused to change his story. As for the hospital, he said he was picking up some medication for his grandfather. As for the auto shop, he explained he was looking for a part. It was obvious they didn't believe him. Since it was midnight, they decided to let him go after writing down Hank's address and his new cell phone number. Before he left, he called his mother and broke the news. Naturally, she was upset.

"If I were the police," she yelled at him. "I wouldn't believe you either. This has something to do with your drug friends, doesn't it Kenny Lee?"

"I don't have any drug friends, Mom! This isn't my fault. The Wingos are after me."

"Wingos? What in the world do you have to do with those loons? They're mean as snakes."

"I was delivering letters for them, Mom. They were dissatisfied with my service."

"Delivering letters? I didn't think they could write, Kenny. So they burned down our trailer because you wouldn't deliver their crummy letters? Do you know how stupid you sound? No one is ever going to believe that story. Guess I'll get to the bottom of this later, Kenny Lee. We'll have a heart to heart all right. Well, leave the door to Hank's house open. I'll be moving in there until we get the insurance straightened out. We do have fire insurance and as long as you didn't start the fire, then it ought to pay off. I've been dreaming about a new trailer, one without the mice. Some day you will tell me the real truth about what happened there, right?"

"Someday," Kenny agreed. "It's complicated."

"The one thing the Grandoffs are not, Kenny, is complicated. I've heard it all before."

Kenny paused. Then he said, "You've never heard this, trust me."

His mother ignored him. When Kenny got off the phone, his cousin Debbie arrived. She was carrying her back pack, which she tossed onto the couch. Kenny helped her carry in two suitcases as well as her computer laptop from her car, looking the whole time over his shoulder.

He told her about the fire, and she had to sit down. She volunteered to cut the black spots from his hair. "You're homeless, Kenny. This is getting real serious. I'm beginning to think they really intend to kill us. Maybe we should go to the police. I don't think either one of us is qualified to fight demons from Hell."

"I don't think the police can help us, Debbie. I am so sorry I got you into this. They aren't going to stop until all of us Grandoffs are dead. That might include both our mothers. So we are going to have to take care of this. Just us. Granddad has equipped us as best as he could. Sure we could have used a little more apprenticeship time, but now we have no choice. Get some sleep, Deb. You can have Granddad's room. I'll take the couch. Mom will be moving into the spare room tomorrow."

"You sleeping with your gun?"

"You bet," Kenny told her.

## Chapter Twenty-Two

When the sun came up, Kenny caught the full force of the light in his face. It was a painful reminder that he wasn't at the trailer anymore, would never be again. That life was gone, but it was a part of his life he wasn't going to miss. He felt renewed, more alive, since he now had a purpose. It was as if all his life he had been searching for that one thing he could do well. He hoped this was it.

As he sat up, his clothes wrinkled from sleep, Debbie came into the room. Her hair was wrapped in a towel. "There's eggs and toast. Got some coffee going. Granddad didn't exactly live like a king. He didn't eat much."

"He hoards his money. It's that Depression thing you see with old people. They're afraid of banks." Kenny pulled out a drawer of the desk and showed Debbie the wad of hundred-dollar bills taped to the back. She peeled the lump off and counted the bills.

"Wow! Seven-hundred dollars here. We could go to Vegas."

"No, but we are taking it for expenses. I'll put it in my backpack."

After eating breakfast, Kenny did the dishes and went to take a shower. He felt odd using Granddad's shampoo and towels. He changed into the clothes he had packed before the fire. Debbie was waiting beside the basement door in the kitchen.

"You got to see this," she told him and led the way down the rickety steps. Somewhere she flicked on a light and in the dim glow of the dirty light bulbs, Kenny could see rows of glass jars on dusty wooden shelves.

"What are they?" Kenny asked, picking up a jar of yellow liquid. On the side he could make out a faded label, Hives.

"They're all the potions in the papers. He's mixed every one and stored them down here in readiness for battle. Looks like he's had a long practice of fighting the forces of evil."

Kenny was surprised. "And I thought he was just a cranky old man. A few more days of this, and I'll be the cranky old man. Can we use any of this?"

"I've packed some jars in my backpack. I couldn't find anything that would restore Granddad's heart, just potions to stop it forever. Like I told you before, the papers seem to be all about war with witches. How to kill things. How to send curses. How to send a ghoul back to Hell. My favorite is how to change into an animal or a bird. I'm too chicken to try it."

"As a future medical student, I wouldn't recommend you downing any of this scummy-looking stuff. You have no idea what kind of disgusting ingredients he may have put it there."

"Well, Kenny, after this is all over, you may have a different perspective on disgusting."

Kenny nodded. "I'm sure you're right. If you're ready, then I guess we better get started. We'll need to stop by the trailer first to pick up the mail. I want to check the shed to see if there's anything else we can salvage from there."

"And the graveyard," Debbie added. "I need dirt from a graveyard for the potions to work full force."

"Of course you do. There's nothing I'd rather do than go back to that graveyard. That will throw the Wingos off our trail for sure. Jeez, Deb, they're probably waiting for us."

"We'll have to take that chance, Kenny. It's too important."

"Okay. Okay," he mumbled. They went up the basement stairs. Kenny checked the street from the window and announced the all clear. But when he opened the door, he saw two letters lying on the porch. One was addressed to him and the other to Debbie.

"I thought you said they couldn't get past the runes in the yard."

"Marla had some amulet that allowed her to get in the house. I took it, but I guess she found another one. Or they used her flaw. Granddad said you had to be flawed to deliver the letters. I wonder what hers is. Never mind. I bet they have Grandoff blood in jars in their basement."

Kenny stood over the envelopes smudged with dirt. "What do we do? They will put a curse in motion if they're opened."

Debbie carefully unzipped a pocket on her backpack. Kenny slid the letters inside.

"If we don't open them, then they can't hurt us. We'll bury them in the graveyard," she said.

Kenny and Debbie made their way to his car and pitched their backpacks and the magic bag in the back seat. Kenny slid his pistol under the seat after clicking the safety on. He had a couple of extra silver bullets in his pocket.

"You think the police are watching you?" Debbie pointed to the dark sedan parked down the street. Two men sat quietly in the front seat.

"They'd be stupid if they didn't," Kenny told her. "I did lock the door, but the key is in the mailbox for Mom. They need a search warrant, which they may have gotten over night. What's the worst they could find? A bunch of old jars in the basement?"

"Yeah. Let them look." They took off. Kenny saw the sedan pull out after them. They hung back, but Kenny spotted them over and over as he drove out of town. Fifteen minutes later he turned on Iron Bridge Road and headed toward Crestwood Trailer Park. They drove up the old driveway but were stopped by the orange cones surrounding the yard.

"Oh my God!" Debbie gasped. "There's nothing left!" They parked in the next trailer's driveway and walked up to the cones. Yellow strands of police tape draped around the trees encircling the lot. All that remained of Kenny's trailer was a hunk of blackened metal. The firemen and policemen had gone, having collected all the evidence that was left. The sedan pulled up while Kenny and Debbie watched, and parked next to Kenny's car.

Two men in dress shirts and khakis got out.

"Hi, fellas. I'd like to get into my shed if you don't mind. Would that be allowed? You can come with me," Kenny suggested. Debbie stared at him.

"It's a crime scene, Mr. Grandoff. You aren't allowed on the premises," the tall one said. "The yellow tape means stay out. That means you."

"And what crime is that?"

"They haven't decided yet."

"That's what I thought. Come on, Debbie. The firemen ruled it a natural fire. Either charge me with something, or you can't keep me out. Let's go." Kenny went under the tape and pulled Debbie behind him. They kept walking toward the shed across the blackened grass. Ash darkened their white sneakers.

"I can't believe you said that to a cop," Debbie whispered, looking back. The two officers remained behind. One was on his cell phone. "That's wasn't the Kenny I know. He would have crapped in his pants."

"Kenny the sap is finished. Meet Kenny, the destroyer of evil. We can't wait on the cops to figure it out. We have things to do." He opened the shed door and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He found the old high school album where he had found the picture of Clara Simpkins. He tossed it to Debbie.

"We might need that." Kenny got the shovel and kicked the dirt from the pan. Debbie opened the album.

"So that's what Clara Simpkins looked like. Wow. You say everyone who knew her at the picnic is dead?"

"Just about. Everyone involved in the trial of Billy Ray."

"And the signature is the same. How crazy is that?" Debbie slammed the book shut. "How about all this other stuff?"

"I'll ask Mom if she wants it. It's all pretty rotted. The lawn mower is still over at the shop. Looks like we won't need it, after all. Granddad pays someone to mow his lawn. When he doesn't have rocks in it, that is."

When they went back out into the sunlight, the two officers were gone. Kenny pointed to the spot where he last saw Jimmy Wingo.

"It was like he was crawling under the trailer. Why would he do that?" Kenny asked out loud.

"Dogs do that. They crawl under the house to die. It's just something they do."

"Granddad did that, turned him into a dog. That was cruel. I'm not sure he deserved that."

"Oh I think he did," Debbie said. "You forget they sent a ghoul to lure you in. And it was in the form of your grandmother. Now, that's cruel."

Kenny didn't reply. Instead, he got down on his knee and looked under the trailer. "Look, he buried something here." Debbie joined him, looking at a pile of dirt at the edge of the twisted metal that used to be the trailer. "I bet they didn't see that last night." Kenny took his shovel and poked at the dirt. In leveling out the small amount of earth, two silver bullet cases rolled out onto the ground. They were covered in blood. Kenny continued to roll them toward him until he could see them up close.

"That's so gross! He dug the bullets out. That's why he didn't escape. He was focused on the bullets. With the bullets out, he could have recovered. Been good as new. But then he got caught in the fire ball, and it was too late. The bullets didn't matter."

"You know what this means, Deb? They don't know I shot him. I won't have to explain the gun I'm not supposed to have. My story will hang together. Maybe, I can stay out of jail after all this is over."

Debbie took out her handkerchief and wrapped up the bullet cases. They went in her pocket. "I wonder where the officers went?" she asked.

"Probably went to get the arrest papers. Let's go before they return." He stopped by his mailbox on the way out and pulled out a cylinder-shaped container. "My diploma really was in the mail," he told Debbie.

She grinned. "So you did graduate after all."

"In more ways than one."

## Chapter Twenty-Three

A minute later, they were headed across the one-lane bridge and arriving at the Lewis Methodist Church Cemetery. They pulled up to the gate that was still stuck in the open position.

Kenny and Debbie got out of the car and retrieved their backpacks. Kenny dragged along his shovel from the back seat. "It's been real busy around here, lately. Look, someone dug a new grave." Debbie pointed toward the back of the cemetery where a mound of fresh dirt was heaped beside a grave hole.

"Jimmy Wingo," Kenny answered.

"Oh yeah. How could I forget?" Debbie pulled out a plastic bag from her pocket. "Fill her up. Let's start over at Grandma's grave. There's loose dirt there." They went only a few steps before a large black raven landed on a tombstone in front of them. Debbie screamed.

"I smell Wingo," Kenny growled. He took a swing at the bird with his shovel. The bird flapped away. Several more landed all around them. "Keep going, Deb. Get your dirt so we can get out of here. We're too exposed here. I left my gun in the car."

They took off running toward Darlene Grandoff's grave, running over Clara Simpkins' plot. That's when they noticed the yellow tape encircling the grave with the words Police Order printed on it. Kenny untangled his legs from the tape, and they ran on.

"I wonder what that's all about?" Debbie asked, running toward the Grandoff stone. She sank to her knees and pointed to the red clay over Darlene's grave. Kenny shoveled a clump and slid it into her bag. When he looked up, he saw the ravens were filling up the graveyard. They were surrounded. Debbie stood up, clutching her bag of dirt.

Kenny was preparing to bat ravens again. "Look out for snakes, Deb. The snakes always come with the birds."

Suddenly an animal howled behind them. They both turned. Debbie grabbed Kenny's arm. "What's that?" She pointed toward the open grave at the back of the cemetery.

"You mean who is that? I think you all ready know the answer to that." Two blackened arms were over the top of the grave. Then a charred black head popped up, eye sockets empty. The corpse of Jimmy Wingo was crawling up out of the open grave toward them.

"That can't be real!" Debbie shouted. "That's not a real person! It can't be. The body is at the morgue!"

Kenny prepared to swing his baseball bat. "Wingos probably stole the body. He looked pretty dead last night. Is this a ghoul?"

"Maybe. Maybe a zombie." Debbie moved behind him. Then she leaned over the grave of Darlene Grandoff. Kenny saw her eyes go blank. Automatically she reached into her bag of grave dirt and threw some into the air. She began to chant.

"Evil lurks around us now.

Blood flows in the air most foul,

Protect us now from those who kill.

We are your living descendants-

Provide us your shield."

"Say what?" Kenny stared at her. "What is that supposed to do?" Debbie didn't bother to answer. The wind was blowing fiercely, and leaves suddenly encircled them like a small tornado. The thing called Jimmy Wingo howled again, crawling back into his future grave. Debbie pulled out the two silver bullets from her pocket, black with Jimmy Wingo's blood, and threw them into the swirling leaves. They disappeared. Kenny tried to see through the dirt and leaves and got sight of a figure in white moving toward the Wingo grave.

"Who is that in the white dress?" Kenny turned to Debbie.

"Our protector, Grandma Darlene." They watched as the murky figure in a long white dress floated across the cemetery ground without touching the dirt. Ravens parted in her wake, stumbling backwards against the tombstones. The apparition was a young Darlene with long curly brown hair. Kenny could hear a humming song as she slipped between the stones. Then the ghost unrolled her hand, and Kenny saw the glint of the silver bullets. Into the grave they fell, accompanied by a scream from Jimmy Wingo.

"The bullets will bind him to the grave. He can't escape," Debbie whispered. "We should leave now." Kenny stood there staring at the woman in white. Debbie poked him in the ribs, and he jumped. Grabbing their backpacks, they ran through the circle of leaves toward the open gate. When Kenny looked back, he saw Darlene standing over her own grave, growing smaller and smaller, sinking into the earth. Kenny got into his car quickly.

"How in the world did you know to say that? Have you memorized all the spells?" he asked Debbie.

"No. It just came to me. From somewhere deep inside my head. I just knew what I had to do to stop Jimmy."

"I'm very impressed." Kenny soon turned the car around and mashed down on the gas pedal. They shot down the road. Debbie pulled a map out of her bag and started reading directions. The Iron Bridge Road soon led them into the mountains and gravel country roads. Some roads had names, and some only had route numbers. Houses and trailers fell away, and they were surrounded by deep forest. It was obvious that people didn't live way out here.

"Where is this Rattlesnake Road?"

"At the base of Drohrback Mountain. Keep going. It gets worse before it gets better."

Kenny slowed the car down. "Are we close?" Debbie shook her head. The gravel road they had turned on had gotten narrower. Then finally their way was blocked by a log across the road. Kenny stopped the car.

"It's a fire road," Debbie told him. "We walk from here. Up Drohrback Mountain until we get to the top. Hopefully this path will take us all the way to the cabin."

"But Mom said they came up when she was a kid. There must have been a road here before, something better than this. How in the world did they get up the mountain?"

"I think there's a road when Tater Marsh needs a road. When she doesn't, then it doesn't exist." Kenny looked at Debbie in amazement. "And Kenny, I forgot about the letters from the Wingos. They're still here in my backpack. I didn't have time to bury them in the cemetery. I was planning on putting them in Clara Simpkins' grave. That would have reversed the spell back to the Wingos."

"Well, I won't ask you how you know that. Not after everything I have seen and heard. What do we take, to see this Tater Marsh? Who has a name like Tater anyway? Doesn't sound scary to me. Sounds delicious."

"Short for Taterina, a Russian name. I looked it up. You should address her as Mrs. Marsh or she'll hex you. Don't make jokes about her name. Respect the magic, Kenny. We don't know who we're dealing with. Let's load up."

This time Kenny made sure he had the gun in his backpack along with the silver hatchet and rune stone. He even slid a bullet into the chamber and latched the safety on. He made sure the muzzle was pointing down as he slipped the pack on his back. He carried the bow and an arrow in one hand. In the other he carried his baseball bat. "Where are the spells?" he asked Debbie who was sliding over the log blocking their way up the mountain path. "You didn't leave them in the car, did you?"

"No, that's the first place they'll look. They're right here, in my backpack. I even sleep with them."

"Great." Kenny took out his cell phone and tried it. "No service out here."

"Who would you call anyway? Who could help us?"

Kenny shrugged. "Forest ranger? Smokey the Bear?"

He followed behind Debbie. Before they had gone very far, the path suddenly became steep. The path was filled with rocks, and they weaved in and out around the slabs of granite. As the air became hot and thick, Kenny and Debbie began sweating profusely. A snake reared up, and Deb screamed. Kenny leaped forward with his bat, dropping the bow at his feet, and smacked the snake off the path. "Go, go, go!" he shouted to Debbie. He picked up the bow again and leaped around the snake. They began running up the path. Overhead, vultures circled. They could hear them landing in the trees and cackling. Kenny caught Debbie as she tripped over a root and pulled her to her feet.

"It's the Wingos. They don't want us to make it to Tater Marsh. Just keep going."

Suddenly a large owl swept down from the trees and over their heads. They stopped and stared at the large brown bird that swooped back up into the trees, screeching. The vultures exited the trees and took to the air as the owl landed.

"It's on our side," Debbie told him. "Trying to help us." The path circled around the mountain, and they could see through the forest into the valley below. Debbie pointed across the valley. "That's Drohrback Hollow, the home of the witches. Somewhere down there the Wingos live, have lived there for centuries. Funny, but they're not in the phone book or on the tax records. Except for the school record for Peter Wingo, there's nothing on them. I checked. I guess they decided someone needed education in the modern world, and Peter and his cousin Clara Simpkins volunteered to venture out of the hills. Then Clara died, and they crawled back into the hole where they came from."

"Are you saying these people aren't real human beings?"

"I'm saying that they have enhanced their life with magic so they don't live like you and me. They aren't hindered by society. The hollow is a world unto itself. I don't quite understand how all this works yet, I just know it is. I have learned to accept what seems to be insane."

"And Jessie Wingo is their queen," Kenny added.

"Something like that. She's seems to think she should get her way. By the way, I have the letters in the backpack too. I'm hoping Tater can tell us how to destroy them safely without activating the death spell."

Kenny sighed. "That's all we need, another death spell on our heads. I wonder how much further up this mountain we have to go."

"The map wasn't clear about that." Soon they were back to huffing and puffing. The light from the sun dimmed between the trees. The wind came up, whipping dirt in their faces.

"Here they come again," Debbie warned him. "The ravens are gathering this time. Keep moving." Kenny looked up and saw flocks of black birds sitting in the trees around them. Watching. Waiting. He tightened his grip on his bat, preparing for battle.

"There's the gate!" Debbie shouted. "Up ahead." A rail fence had materialized in the forest with an old white gate. It was open, inviting them in. A grape vine basket filled with wild flowers sat just inside. Sunlight filtered through the trees, lighting a path through the darkness of the trail.

Then something growled. Dirt whirled around their heads and suddenly a large black bear stood in the path. It reared, claws out, foaming at the mouth. "Crap," Kenny complained. "This bat won't kill a bear. He's likely to beat my own brains out with it. Any magic suggestions, here, Deb?"

The bear began to run toward them, slashing the air with its paws and growling. Kenny felt Debbie tug on his backpack. "Give me the gun," he suddenly said and dropped the bat.

But Debbie put the rune rock in his hand. "You've got to be kidding!" he yelled back. Then he remembered Hank's instructions. The rock repelled evil. Debbie stood behind him with the gun, pointing at the bear almost upon them. Kenny threw the rock and smacked the bear in the chest.

The bear screamed, clutching at the red burn forming on its chest. It went down on all fours and disappeared, running into the forest and howling in pain. The crows followed.

Kenny stood speechless. Debbie had both hands up, still pointing the gun at the now gone bear.

"I can't believe that really worked. You can put that gun down now that you're aiming at my back. Would bullets have killed that thing anyway?"

"Probably not, Kenny. It wasn't a real bear. That scream was human."

"Peter Wingo, I presume." Kenny retrieved the rune stone, now covered with blood, and put it back in his backpack. They moved quickly to the fence and through the gate. The air became lighter, and the sun brightened. A slight breeze cooled their sweat. "This is more like it!" Kenny said. The forest thinned out as they walked, and green grass cushioned their feet. Suddenly they were out of the forest all together and standing in a meadow.

A log cabin stood in the middle of the field surrounded by wildflowers. Kenny stared at the array of daisies, poppies, bluebells, and other varieties. "This can't be real," Kenny surveyed the meadow. "I thought we were on top of the mountain. This looks like Shangri-La." Outside the cabin stood an old lady gathering flowers in a basket, her long white hair gleaming in the sunlight. She waved to them. Kenny waved back.

Debbie grabbed his arm. "Something tells me we're not in Kansas anymore."

## Chapter Twenty-Four

"That's the lady from the hospital!" Debbie pointed at the old woman. "You know, the one poisoning Granddad."

"Or saving his life," Kenny answered. "I don't think she ever explained herself. So let's ask her now." They walked through the meadow toward the cabin. The lady straightened up and flipped her long, thick braid of white hair onto her back. Deep wrinkles covered her face. She wore a long denim shirt and black pants. She had scissors in one hand and a basket full of flowers in the other.

"We meet again, children" she said, her voice sweet and musical. "I hope you ran that nasty bear off. Wingos aren't welcome here. They're forbidden to enter the gate. Come up to the cabin and we'll talk. You're safe here."

Kenny and Debbie looked at each other. "Is this heaven?" Debbie whispered to Kenny. He shrugged. They followed the old lady through the grass of the meadow and up the steps of her log cabin. She motioned for them to have a seat in the homemade wooden chairs on the porch. Nearby a colorful quilt hung from the rafters. There was a large black kettle filled with water in the corner.

"I'll fetch the tea," the woman told them and went inside. "I knew you were coming, of course." She left the screen door open, and Kenny leaned forward to peer after her. He saw some homemade furniture. Jars were everywhere, filled with various colors of liquids. There was a pie on the rough table.

"Like Cracker Barrel," Kenny observed. They unloaded their packs and set them on the porch floor. Kenny put his bat and bow down at his feet. "That's a load off. I take it she's the fairy godmother of the Grandoffs and this is Never Never Land."

"I'm keeping an open mind," Debbie told him.

"Right."

The woman was humming inside the cabin. Then the screen door flew open, and she walked out carrying a tray with a pitcher of a brown liquid and glasses on it. She sat it down on the rickety table where Kenny and Debbie were sitting. "I'll just be a moment to fetch the pie."

"I take that back," Kenny turned to Debbie. "She's Betty Crocker."

Debbie poked him in the shoulder. "Quiet! She'll hear you!"

The old lady came out again from the cabin carrying an apple pie and plates.

"Please, Kenny. Pour the tea while I cut this pie." Kenny reached over and poured the tea into three glasses. He passed one to Debbie. Then they each received a generous portion of pie on a ceramic plate. The lady gave each of them a fork. They set their glasses down on the porch near their feet.

"How did you know my name?" Kenny asked before shoveling in the pie. He was hungry, having missed lunch. He had to admit it was the best pie he had ever eaten. His mother wasn't exactly the greatest baker in town.

The old lady sat back in her old wooden chair and smiled. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? My name is Taterina Illena Marshavona. I was born here in these mountains, oh, some time ago. My parents came here from the Old County when this was all wilderness."

"My mother remembers you from when she was a little girl," Kenny said between forkfuls of pie. "She said you were ancient then. No offense. How can you still be the same person she was talking about?"

"I have been ancient for two centuries now," she told them. Debbie looked at Kenny. He nodded. Here anything was possible.

"I knew your grandfather, Hank Grandoff when he was a boy. I tried to keep his parents here, but they wanted to see the world. Everyone does. When they leave here, they age. And so they live regular life spans of seventy or so years when they pass the gate and don't return. I only age when I leave here. You saw me at the hospital saving Hank's life. I know you thought I was hurting him, but I was actually giving him a healing potion to drive the poison injected by the ghoul out of his heart. That snake venom went straight to the muscle."

"So he'll live?" Debbie asked.

"No worries, child. He'll be up and yelling in no time. He always was wound too tight. He always overreacted to the little stuff. Like that time he turned Jimmy Wingo into a dog. I ask you, was that really necessary?" She looked at Kenny. "He never was good at making friends."

"Why did you do that, save our grandfather? How did you even know he was sick?"

"I read the water, Kenny. It told me that my great great grandson Hank was in danger. I saw the ghoul of Darlene rise from the grave and come for you. I saw you battle Jessie Wingo and her sons. I see it all from here." She pointed to the large black kettle of rain water on the floor. "It's my window to the outside."

Debbie leaned forward and looked down into the black water of the kettle. For a moment she thought she saw her mother washing dishes at the sink at home.

"Was that who I think it was? My mother?"

"You see what is connected to you by blood," Tater told her. "You must have the gift, child, to see anything."

"She's a natural," Kenny said. "Spouts spells whenever we need them. So you are our great great great great grandmother?"

"Something like that. All of the family has left the mountain now, preferring to live in the valley without magic. That has made them targets for our natural enemies in Drohrback Hollow. Jessie Wingo and her kin. This war goes back centuries and began with a lover's quarrel. Jessie loved Edward Grandoff, but he spurned her. That's when she cursed the whole line the first time."

"No wonder we never amount to anything," Debbie said. "How many times have we been cursed?"

"Jessie doubled the curse when Billy Larson put Clara in the creek. I couldn't counteract it because it was a bad thing Billy Ray did. He may have never meant to kill her at first. He only wanted to shut her up. But when he put her in the creek, that's when the curse was activated. Evil brings evil."

Kenny drained his tea glass. Tater refilled it.

"And I thought it was just stupidity that ran in the family."

"Bad luck. Bad timing. Stupidity certainly. But all part of the curse. Now Jessie wants to end it in her favor because she doesn't know how long her reign in Drohrback Hollow will last. Loggers are coming, and they will discover the Wingo cabin sooner or later. Then the magic will be gone, and the Wingos will lose their protection. They will die. Jessie is already two-hundred and fifty years old."

"How old are you exactly?" Kenny asked.

"A lady never tells her age, Kenny. Jessie only has one thing on her mind these days. The matter of Clara Simpkins."

"We didn't kill her," Kenny protested. "This happened years ago. I don't understand why they are destroying everyone involved in the senior picnic now. Death letters. Burning down my trailer. I ask you, was THAT really necessary?"

Tater Marsh leaned forward and put a hand on Kenny's knee. "Oh dear child, I forgot you don't know the truth. Kenny, Clara's not dead. She never was."

## Chapter Twenty-Five

Kenny dropped his fork, and it bounced on the porch. "What are you talking about? I've seen the grave. They had a funeral. It was in the paper. How can she not be dead? Wouldn't someone have noticed?"

"They pulled a decomposing waterlogged body out of the creek with the head bashed in from a heavy rock. It was female. It was blonde. But it wasn't really Clara Simpkins. It was Billy Ray's sister, Cindy."

"I don't understand, Tater. How could they not know it wasn't Clara?" Debbie asked. "Why didn't Billy Ray recognize his own sister?"

"It all comes down to love, misguided and twisted, but love none the less. Peter Wingo was in love with his cousin, Clara. She didn't care for him and left home with her family in tow. She wanted to get educated. Peter decided he would go to school too, to be with Clara. But Clara fell for Billy Ray Larson, Hank's cousin. My great great great grandson. She announced she was pregnant at the picnic, and Larson hit her with a rock. Then he threw her into the creek. Peter was there, watching from the woods. He was always good at sneaking around. It's a Wingo trait. He pulled Clara out of the water, still breathing. He lured Cindy into the woods and bashed her head in with a rock. Then he weighted her down and threw her in the creek."

Kenny picked up his fork from the floor. "Cindy Larson looked just like Clara, Deb. I saw her picture in the album. Blonde hair. Both on the cheerleading squad. They seemed like best friends."

"Yes. That was the tragic part," Tater said, putting her empty plate on the tray. "Everyone thought Cindy had left town. She had just left life. She's the one buried in the cemetery."

Kenny wiped the fork on his jeans. "So why are the Wingos trying to kill these former classmates of Clara? Clara's alive. Larson's in jail. Why are they striking out now?"

"When Billy Ray hit Clara on the head with that rock, he did damage to her brain. She's little more than a child. Even worse, she gave birth to Billy Ray's child. You see, she really was pregnant. There was a daughter."

"Marla!" Kenny shouted. "I thought she was a dead ringer for Clara. That's explains the looks."

"The poor child is held by the Wingos and made to serve them. Peter has never forgiven Billy Larson for ruining Clara. They keep in touch with the attorney that prosecuted Billy. In return for a few spells and bribes, they get information. Seems Billy has figured it out. Spent a lot of time studying law in that jail. His lawyer has asked the judge to exhume the body of Clara and file for a new trial. With a retrial in the wind, the truth will come out, and Billy will go free. He has definitely served his time. That's why Jessie and Peter are killing all the witnesses. The dead can't testify. This very night they will dig up Cindy's remains and move them to their farm for safe keeping. DNA could prove the body isn't Clara's. You must stop that from happening, children. You must stop the Wingos once and for all. Their evil has cost too many lives. Hank sent you to me because I can tell you how to finish this vendetta and save our blood kin, Marla."

Kenny and Debbie were quiet for a moment, trying to let the revelation sink in. "Let me get this straight in my mind." Kenny leaned back in his chair. "We have to go back to that damned cemetery once again and defeat the Wingos. You have foreseen them beating the cops to the grave of Clara Simpkins, digging Cindy Larson up, and hiding the body so Billy Ray can't prove he was framed?"

"Kenny, Debbie, I am too frail now to leave this mountain. I only left to save Hank's life, and it took a lot out of me. If Jessie caught me outside my haven, she could kill me easily. Then again, Kenny, she grows weaker and weaker each time she makes an appearance in your world. And more insane, I think. That will be your weapon against her. That and the bow with arrows dipped in Harry Wingo's blood. Once they are gone, the curse will be lifted from the Grandoff name and you can live a normal, happy life."

Kenny looked at Debbie. "We don't relate to happy," he told Tater.

"It would be something different," Debbie agreed. "So, what should we do?"

"You have three arrows. Rewrap the hair around the bow instead of the string. The hair gives it power. Try to kill Peter too. Otherwise, he will continue to come after you and your family. Wait till the moon rises to return to the cemetery. They will send a fog to cover their actions. Debbie, I will give you a lifter spell, one not in your papers."

"What about Jimmy Wingo?" Kenny asked. "I don't think we've seen the last of him. Seems like killing him once is not enough."

"How did you finish the ghoul the other night?" Tater reached into Kenny's backpack. She pulled out his gun and then his hatchet and laid them on the porch. "The gun won't work anymore. Take the hatchet. Get his head off any way you can and burn the corpse to ash so the body can't be formed again. Debbie will seal the death with a spell."

Debbie looked at her with surprise. "How do I know all this stuff? Did you put it in my head or something? I've been casting all kinds of spells, and I don't understand where they're coming from."

Tater reached over and took Debbie's hand in hers. "You are of my blood. I have merely awakened what you already know. From now on, you'll carry the family's magical library in your head. Leave the papers here. They can never fall into anyone else's possession. Hank was never supposed to have them."

Debbie reached into her backpack and brought out the two sealed letters, one addressed to her and the other addressed to Kenny. "What about these?"

"Wingo spells can't work here. Likewise, remember, our spells won't work in Drohrback Hollow." Kenny and Debbie watched as the two letters floated out of Debbie's hand and up into the air. They burst into flames, and the ashes fell on the porch. "Good riddance."

"And Marla? How do we handle that?"

"All will be revealed in good time, Kenny. Trust your instincts. You're a warrior. Now, finish your tea and be on your way. The memory of this adventure will fade away over time, and you will never return here. My tea will take care of that."

Reluctantly they packed up their weapons and gave Tater the spells. Tater took Debbie's hand again and mumbled in a quiet tone. "She's ready," she said after she finished. "She has the lifter spell." Tater then kissed each on the cheek and waved as they started back through the meadow. Debbie turned and waved goodbye.

"It was nice to have a grandmother for a moment."

"I don't know, Deb. She's sending us out to kill three people. What kind of grandmother does that? No warm milk and cookies? No darned socks? No crocheted afghans? Just cut off the head and burn the corpse. Shoot the witch in the heart. I am beginning to think family is overrated."

"I still love you, cousin," Debbie put her arm around his shoulders. "She said you were a warrior."

"I've been called many things," Kenny tightened the straps on his pack as he walked. "Warrior doesn't come to mind."

Debbie laughed. "Like happiness. It will take some getting used to."

## Chapter Twenty-Six

They made their way off the mountain without any mishaps. Carefully, they wove their way down the rocky path, constantly checking for snakes and listening for birds in the trees. Debbie hummed a tune. "I see a change in your outlook on life already," Kenny teased her.

"I feel free, Kenny. I feel like I can do anything right now. Face anything. It's really strange. Don't you feel anything at all since meeting Tater Marsh?"

"Sorry. Still kind of anxious about this whole cut off the head of Jimmy, shoot the old lady in heart, and somehow defeat Peter Wingo on his turf in the cemetery thing. Evil versus good. I can only hope we are the good side. The police are still waiting to arrest me. My mom is coming home to no home. Hank is still in the hospital. You might be prematurely happy. So cut all the cheery stuff out, Deb. I'm not in the mood."

"Completely understandable, Kenny. But don't be a killjoy. I have complete faith in the powers that be."

"So does Jessie Wingo."

Driving back to town, they passed the cemetery. They had to slow down as a backhoe was stretched across the road, blocking traffic. Men were pulling down the wire fence to make an entrance for the machine.

Debbie rolled down her window. "Getting ready to exhume the body. That's what that tape was for this morning, marking the exact grave. Maybe the Wingos will be too late. They obviously want to start today."

The man motioned the backhoe forward, and it lurched across the road and started across the cut fence.

Kenny started to go on, but Debbie grabbed his arm. "Wait just a minute. I feel something in the air."

BAM! The backhoe's right tire suddenly went flat, air hissing out with a loud sound. Instantly the backhoe began to rock as the tire deflated. The driver flew out of the cabin and jumped the distance to the ground as the whole backhoe tilted to the right. Then the air in the tire was completely gone, and the backhoe rested lopsidedly on its rim. The men stood looking at the backhoe in shock and wonder. Then they began shouting and cursing. Kenny put the car in gear and pushed on the gas.

"That's gonna delay them for awhile. Again, I smell Wingo in this whole thing. We're still on for tonight, looks like."

Debbie agreed. "Absolutely. Home, please." They drove on.

They were pleasantly surprised when they drove up to Hank's house to see Hank sitting on the porch, the same sour look on his face. He was tying Marla's amulet back together.

"I can't believe it," Kenny said to Debbie as they climbed out of the car. They retrieved their packs, duffle bag, and weapons and crossed into the Wingo-free zone of Hank's front yard.

"Where you been all day? I had to call a taxi to come pick me up. Some grandkids you are. I thought I could at least count on you to fetch me from the hospital. And what do I find when I get home? Your mom has made herself at home in my guest room and announced she's here to stay. Seems you burned down her trailer, Kenny. Is that any way to treat your mother?"

"Same old, same old," Kenny whispered to Debbie. "You must be good as new, Granddad. I see this experience hasn't softened your attitude. I didn't burn down the trailer, Granddad. Jimmy Wingo spread the gasoline, and Jessie Wingo supplied the lightning. I was just an innocent bystander."

"Don't be an idiot, boy. I know you've been out fighting the Wingos. I saw where Jimmy Wingo got his just desserts. Don't think I didn't have a good chuckle over that reading the paper in the hospital. Now Debbie's got the glow of magic around her. I can see it from here. I take it your mom doesn't know what's going on, Kenny?"

They set their packs down. "No, Granddad. Let's not enlighten her just yet. It might get all of us institutionalized."

Debbie hugged the old man. "I'm so glad Tater Marsh saved you. I was so afraid we were going to lose you."

"Don't be silly, girl. I'm made of tougher stuff than that. It was only a scratch."

Kenny put the magic bag down at his grandfather's feet. "Yeah, right. Scratch of death."

It took awhile, but Kenny explained about the on-going fight with the Wingos, the news that Clara was not dead, and their trip to see Tater Marsh. Then they told him about their mission. Hank didn't seem surprised.

"Okay, that's what I wanted to hear. I'm going with you," Hank thumped his cane on the porch for emphasis. "I knew Grandma would come through for us."

"You just got out of the hospital, Granddad. Are you sure you're up to it? What will Mom say?"

"Works the night shift, right? She'll never know. I wouldn't miss this for the world." Kenny saw the old man was grinning, chuckling to himself.

Patsy Grandoff suddenly opened the screen door. "What are you all standing out here for? The pot roast is done. Get in here and eat. Some of us got to work for a living on account of their trailer just went up in smoke."

"She always was a joy to be around," Hank whispered. "I always thought she and my idiot son deserved each other."

They went inside and squeezed in around Hank's dinette in the kitchen. Patsy had dragged several folding chairs in from other rooms so that they all had a seat. Patsy dished out her famous pot roast with tiny potatoes accompanied with green beans.

"After eating that awful hospital food, this sure is good, Patsy. No one has cooked for me in years." They all stared at Hank. That was nicest thing he had ever said.

"I guess the way to your heart, Hank Grandoff, is through your stomach," Patsy laughed. "Someone needs to fatten you up, old man. You lost a lot of weight in the hospital. Until we get this insurance thing finalized, I can feed you in exchange for room and board."

"Sounds good to me," he said. "It sure wasn't your cooking that drove my son to prison."

Kenny snickered. "It didn't last very long, did it?"

Debbie nodded and kept eating. Patsy gave the old man the evil eye but held her tongue. Their rounds were famous, but it was her first night back to work after three days, and she was too tired to argue with him. "Watch it, old man, or you'll be eating out of the microwave."

Kenny tried to change the subject. "Have you heard from the insurance company already? I've been waiting for the police to return and cart me off to jail."

"They been here looking for you, Kenny. Seems they last saw you at the trailer this morning, and then you disappeared into the mountains. I told them I wasn't your babysitter. It wasn't my fault you were kicked out of high school and took up a life of crime. They left word with me to give them a call when you showed up again. They have more questions for you. When do you want me to call them? If I don't, they will charge me with interfering with justice or some nonsense."

"You don't have to tell them anything, Patsy," Hank explained. "They're parked down the street. They saw Kenny drive up just like I did. If they had any kind of real evidence against the boy, they'd be in here handcuffing him. Kenny can clear this up tomorrow. It's late, and I just got out of the hospital. They can wait. Right, Kenny?"

"Whatever you say, Granddad. Tomorrow is great." If I am alive to see the dawn, that is. Jail is the least of my problems.

Patsy paused with her fork of green beans. "Okay then. I told you what they said. If the police come to the door, I'm not to blame, got it? The insurance company says they will give us a check for the trailer. Wasn't as much as I was hoping for, but trailers don't increase in the value over the years. I think we can rent an apartment or something until I'm back on my feet."

Hank sat up. "Don't be silly, Patsy. I'll buy you a new trailer if that's what you really want to do. The boy is going off to college next year so why bother? You can stay here." Once again they were speechless.

"We'd kill each other," Patsy told him. "I can't put up with your mouth, Hank."

"Then I'll try to do better. This pot roast is too good to pass up. It's worth changing my ways." They all laughed.

"We'll see," Patsy said under her breath and went off to get ready for work. "Change his ways, like stripes on a zebra."

When Patsy was out of sight, they began to talk about the plans for tonight. Kenny carefully unwrapped Darlene's hair from the string of the bow and wove it around the bow itself. He made the kids give the money back and re-taped it in an envelope to his drawer. Then Hank asked about the spells.

Kenny frowned. "We had to leave the spells with Tater Marsh, Granddad. She said we weren't supposed to have them in the first place. She didn't want the Wingos to get them."

Debbie reached in her pocket and pulled out a small memory stick. "We got them," she said.

"That's my girl!" Hank shouted. "You're a Grandoff after all. We play dirty."

Outside, where it was dark, the moon was rising over the horizon. It was time to go.

## Chapter Twenty-Seven

Patsy had been gone for several hours when they left the house. Kenny had the magic bag as well as the bow wrapped tight with the hair of dead Darlene. Debbie had her gun loaded with regular bullets in her backpack and carried Kenny's baseball bat. She was wearing her black ball cap and black T-shirt again. Hank had his rifle slung over his shoulder and a flashlight in the other hand. Kenny stood at the door and looked out into the darkness.

"Aren't the cops going to think we're up to something going out like this, Granddad? We're dressed and armed like we're going to war. It's a dead give-away."

"If they could see us, they definitely would be sending in the SWAT team. But I worked a spell early on. They can't see us or your car, Kenny. I call it the old Grandoff cloaking device. As far as they know, you've never returned from the mountains. I didn't think Patsy needed to know that."

"Of course not." They went out into the night. The wind was blowing lightly and the crickets were chirping in the yard. They crossed the street and got into Kenny's car.

"What else you got in here?" Hank looked toward the back seat.

"A shovel covered with graveyard dirt, a crowbar to pry open caskets occupied by ghouls, and that rock we threw at Peter Wingo up on the mountain. It was too nasty to put back in the bag."

"Wingo blood?"

Debbie handed the rock to Hank from the back seat. "The best kind."

Hank grabbed the rock and put it in his lap. Then he stretched his arms up toward the windshield. As Kenny pulled out from the curb, a car behind them also followed. It was an unmarked police car.

Debbie looked back. "The cops are right behind us, Granddad."

But Hank didn't answer as he mumbled under his breath. "They seek but cannot find. They look but they are blind."

Kenny looked up in the mirror and saw the police turning down the next street and away from him. Their headlights vanished in the distance. "We're in the clear. Thanks, Granddad."

They shot out of town. They had a date with destiny.

The closer they got to the cemetery, the foggier it got. Kenny had to slow down, creeping through the white blanket of haze on a road that he suddenly didn't recognize. "I can't see a thing. Is there something you can do about this, Deb? They're trying to stop us. Wreck us. I can't get us there if I can't see!"

Kenny glanced back in the mirror and saw that Debbie was already in a trance, her lips moving. Her hands were moving and sweat ran down her face. The mist began to lift around them. Faces appeared in the white and then faded away as the car went by them.

"Who are they?" Kenny asked Hank.

"Spirits. They're pulling up the souls from the cemetery. I just saw my aunt. Keep going, Kenny. Run them over if you have to. They're already dead."

"I don't like this," Kenny drove through a naked woman with flowing white hair blocking the road. He waited for a thump but felt nothing. The woman screamed, and then disappeared when the car reached her. It unnerved him.

"Steady, boy. They're just blowing smoke. They ain't real. Here's the bridge."

As Kenny rounded the corner, the fog had receded off the road but still clung to the banks. A crowd of people, some men in suits, some women in tattered faded dresses, stood on the bridge. Some were just children. Kenny had no choice. He thought about the principal and how he had sailed off the bridge to escape whatever was standing on the bridge that fateful night. Now he understood.

Kenny felt his courage rise, and he floored the gas. The car flew up on the bridge and through the narrow lane. He shut his eyes for a second, bracing for the impact that never came. When he looked again, he was clear of the bridge and the people were gone. He slowed down. Hank touched his shoulder.

"Okay, we know they're here. Let's give them a fight they'll never forget. Pull over, Kenny, and park this thing. We'll go the rest of the way on foot."

Kenny pulled the car into a farm lane. They gathered their weapons. Debbie wiped the sweat from her face and gripped the side of the car.

"That was painful," she whispered. "I'm drained."

"That will pass," Hank told her. "You can't be expected to best a witch of her age. You kept her busy, and that's weakening her. Remember, she's out of her element. She's aging every second she steps out of the hollow so she'll wear out long before you do. Keep throwing curses at her."

Debbie looked dubious. They spread out across the road in the darkness and walked forward. The fog again closed in, but they followed the pavement toward their destination. Soon they stood at the disabled backhoe, jacked up and minus a back wheel. As soon as they crossed over the downed cemetery fence, the whiteness vanished, and it became a hot summer night once again. That's when the howling began.

## Chapter Twenty-Eight

"What was that?" Debbie grabbed Hank's shirt. His rifle was off his shoulder, and he was taking the safety off.

"You mean who?" Hank grumbled.

"We already had this conversation this morning, Debbie. You know who that is," Kenny said.

Debbie gripped her pistol in both hands as she let the bat fall on her toes. As their eyes became adjusted to the moonlight, the three of them stood at the edge of the cemetery. They heard movement to the right of them and the clinking of shovels. Hank handed his flashlight to Debbie who flicked it on. He cocked his rifle.

Peter Wingo stood in the grave of Clara Simpkins, knee deep in dirt. His shirt was hung over the tombstone. He straightened up when the light shone on his body. His long black hair with thick gray streaks flowed over his shoulders, and Debbie gasped as she saw the bloody imprint of the rock on his bare chest. The skin was black where the rock had touched him.

"Another step, Hank, and I kill the girl." Peter reached down and jerked Marla to her feet. Her hands and feet were tied and she swayed on one foot trying to stay balanced. "I'll cut her head off with this shovel, Hank. Just give me a reason."

"I'll shoot you where you stand, Peter," Hank countered, his rifle aimed and ready.

"You can't kill him." Clara Simpkins stepped into the light, carrying another shovel. "He's magic."

"Oh my God," Kenny gasped, shocked.

Clara was no longer the thin, pretty blonde he remembered from the high school album. Here stood a fat, gray-haired woman as old as his mother. Her long grimy gray hair hung in her crooked face. One eye was white, blind from the blow of the rock Larson had hit her with all those years ago. She began to twirl in a circle around Peter. "He's magic! He's magic! He killed the school man, didn't he? Raised your wife. He'll kill you too!"

Peter ordered Clara back. "He's got a gun, Clara. Go to Jessie."

Hank adjusted the aim of his rifle for Clara. "That's right, Peter. I'll nail Clara in the head and be doing her a favor. Put her out of her misery for all those years putting up with you. Let the Marla go, and no one dies tonight." Then Hank turned to Kenny and whispered, "Get the bow ready. Get out all three arrows." Then he yelled out again to Peter. "Better call your mother, Peter. You're out of your league."

Hank fired off a shot toward Peter, and dirt flew up. Peter climbed out of the grave and grabbed Marla's ropes. He dragged her backwards out of the light. A howl came from the left, and they heard more footsteps.

"Hello, Jimmy," Kenny called out. Debbie flipped on the flashlight's spotlight switch and set it down in the grass. It left her hands free to raise her handgun once more. Though the lighting was poor, they could see bushes moving at the edge of the cemetery. Jessie Wingo stepped into the cemetery, her arm pointing at Hank. Behind her was the dead black dog, Jimmy. Or what was left of him.

"You have vexed me for the last time, Hank. We finish this tonight."

"You have my attention, witch," Hank called out.

Jessie Wingo's face was covered in brown spots and deep wrinkles. Her long white hair flew around her shoulders in a wild, matted clump. Her eyes were black, empty. She had on a white flowing dress that stuck to the tall grass as she stepped toward them. Her back, straight before, was now hunched and she was leaning on a cane. She now looked her age, ancient.

"I'll kill the children too," she promised, shaking her fist. "Just like I killed your wife. Kidneys are fickle things, aren't they, Hank? Poor Darlene. I bet she suffered."

"You will too, witch. Darlene was innocent. I'm the one you're after so let's leave it between us."

"I owe you for Jimmy too. You went too far, crossed the line, Hank. I'll wipe the earth clean of the damned Grandoffs."

"You can try," Hank answered.

"No she can't," Kenny protested.

Kenny had the bow up and aimed. Jessie laughed and moved back into the shadows, out of range. Hank was whispering.

"Just wait till you get a clear shot, Kenny. Debbie, drop the ropes on Marla. That will keep Peter busy. Clara, you still here? Come out and see your old friend Hank. I've missed you."

Clara shyly moved into the light and waved at Hank. Debbie mumbled a spell, and wind blew through the cemetery. They could hear a struggle in the grass somewhere off to the left and then running feet. Marla, still in her calico dress that hung to her ankles popped into the light and grabbed Kenny's shirt. She hid behind him. "Don't let them get me. I hate them."

"Rightly so," Hank said. "You can hand Kenny his arrows. Get ready. Here they come." Jimmy suddenly howled and came limping into view. Most of his skin was gone and bones protruded through the gaps. There was hole where his stomach had been. He came at Debbie, paws raised and claws out. She had already thrown her gun at her feet and picked up the baseball bat. She knew regular bullets wouldn't stop him. As he jumped forward, she bashed him in the head as hard as she could. The body was so badly burned that the head rolled off the shoulders and into the grass. The eyes continued to look at her while the mouth twitched.

"Grandoff two and Wingo zero!" Kenny shouted. Clara disappeared as Peter pulled her back into the darkness of the cemetery.

Then Peter was on Hank, pinning the old man to the ground. His thick hands were around Hank's neck as Hank struggled to breathe. Kenny let an arrow fly, and it struck Peter squarely in the back. He reared up and screamed but refused to let Hank up. He continued to swing at him with his fists. Marla ran forward and shoved the arrow with both hands deeper into Peter's twisting back.

"Through your sorry black heart," Marla cursed him. Peter screamed again and fell off Hank into the cemetery grass. Clara sobbed from behind a tombstone. Marla grabbed her mother's hand and tried to pull her up and away, but she refused to stand. She reached out a hand to Peter's dead hand in the grass and cupped it. She started to sob.

Hank got up while Kenny readied another arrow. When he looked over at Debbie, she had her eyes closed and fingers extended. A ball of light formed on her fingertips and she sent it flying toward the forest. It found Jessie standing by a tree with her arms raised, and lit up the old woman's silhouette. A streak of lightning traveled across the dark sky.

Hank grabbed Kenny's arm and pushed him forward. "She's raising a storm. Come on." They moved toward the witch in unison, Debbie with her bat, Kenny with his bow, and Hank with his rifle. Marla followed behind carrying the last two arrows.

There were slithering sounds as snakes poured toward them. Debbie began hitting those near her with her bat. Kenny and Hank kicked at them with their tennis shoes. Finally Debbie raised her arm, and the snakes suddenly burst into flames, opening a clear path to the witch. The witch was hunching even more, shrinking into the earth. Her face was hidden under her hair, the eyes impossible to see.

"You're wearing her down, Deb. Keep it up!" Hank shouted. Debbie didn't answer. She swayed on her feet, eyes closed and mouth moving in silent chants.

They were so close now that Kenny aimed and shot. Jessie's hand flew up, and the arrow flew harmlessly over her head. Hank cursed. Marla handed Kenny the last arrow. "Make it count, cousin," she said.

"Easy for you to say," Kenny mumbled.

Hank tackled the witch, pinning her against a tree. She squirmed and wiggled, yelling out curses and spells. But Hank had on Marla's amulet that he'd put back together. He pulled the witch's arms behind her.

"Now's your chance, boy. Do what you came here to do."

Kenny let the last arrow fly. This time it hit Jessie in the chest. Black blood spurted out like a fountain, burning the grass beneath her. Her body began to shrink even faster into the ground as she died until finally nothing remained but a black spot on the grass. Hank kicked the grass.

"I think you got her!" He turned, patting Kenny on the back. The sky suddenly cleared as the dark clouds dispersed. Moonlight bathed the ground. The cemetery was quiet again, except for the sobbing of Clara Simpkins.

"Let's burn that Jimmy Wingo for the last time," Kenny said to Debbie as he turned around. But she wasn't there. Debbie lay unconscious on the grass, a new streak of gray hair hanging in her face.

## Chapter Twenty-Nine

The police arrived at the Lewis Methodist Church Cemetery after receiving an anonymous tip from Kenny's new cell phone. He was delighted to have a signal for once. There they found Clara Simpkins sobbing over a skeleton with an arrow through its back telling a wild story of battling witches and snakes. A pile of smoldering ash lay nearby. After a struggle, Clara was taken to the hospital for evaluation. Later that night, her mother came to the hospital to identify her. It was in the paper for weeks. Clara Simpkins was alive. The body in the cemetery was Cindy Larson, the missing sister. A month later Billy Ray Larson walked out of prison. Clara was committed to a mental hospital.

• • •

Debbie stopped by Hank's house with the good news. She found Kenny Lee packing up his mother's belongings in cardboard boxes. "Going somewhere?" she asked him.

"Mom got the check from the insurance company so we're heading for an apartment over at Westover Hills. It's pretty nice. I see you got your hair fixed."

"Hair dye is a miracle. I'm too young for white hair. I'm still tired, though. It really took it out of me."

"Granddad says it gets better with time. You'll be as good as new, as long as you leave the magic alone. It ages you unless you stay up on the mountain. What's in the envelope?"

Debbie took out the letter from Yale. "I got a full graduate scholarship, all expenses paid. You're looking at a doctorate candidate majoring in anthropology. Skipping the masters. It's a lot more interesting then shelving old papers."

Kenny looked up. "Anthropology? Would that include witchcraft and magic?"

"It's called folklore, Kenny Lee. You have to specialize."

"I see." Kenny taped the box shut. He dragged a suitcase over to the couch. "I didn't know you had even applied there. Came out of the blue, didn't it?"

"The lifting of the curse, Kenny Lee. Now we're due a run of good luck for a change. How do you explain that phone call from Johns Hopkins? You think you're so smart that they just had to have you as a undergraduate and future medical student? Free tuition?"

"It's possible," Kenny insisted. "It happens."

"And how about the police closing the mysterious case of a burning trailer, a certain dead man with four toes, and all that being at the wrong place at the wrong time. I thought they wanted your rear end in jail pretty bad."

Kenny shrugged his shoulders. "No evidence to convict me. I'm innocent by all accounts." He stacked more clothes by the suitcase. "Free and clear."

"And that big insurance check? Your dad getting out of jail next week? That big promotion your mother got at work? Granddad's not even walking with a cane anymore! He's never looked better. I think he's actually getting younger!"

"Well, Deb, life's a bed of roses, I always say."

Marla came into the room carrying another box. She was now cook and caretaker for Hank, the daughter he had never had. He was busy homeschooling her and teaching her how to adapt to the modern world. She was a fast learner. Now she smiled shyly at Kenny. "Here's some more things Hank wants you to have, sweetheart."

"Oh boy," Debbie laughed. "And the good things just keep happening!"

Kenny ignored her. He looked into the box and shook his head. "I told him I can't take a handgun with silver bullets to college or a bow made of human bone. No runes for me. I won't make a lot of friends that way. My roommate will be scared to death of me."

"Everyone loves Kenny Lee," Marla said.

"They sure do," Debbie agreed.

"Stop it, Marla. You're too old for me, even if you do only look sixteen. You take the magical stuff, Debbie. It's more up your alley. I plan on being a medical doctor, not a witch doctor."

"No one can see the future, Kenny Lee. Never say never." Debbie reached over and kissed him on the cheek on her way out to her new life. She stood at the door. "Stranger things have happened, especially here."

He unzipped his suitcase and began packing his clothes. "I'm done with strange happenings, dead women in white dresses, and most of all, howling in the night. I just want normal for awhile."

"Grandoffs don't do normal!" Hank yelled from the kitchen.

"I'm not coming back," Kenny hollered in his direction.

"So you say," Hank answered, chuckling because he knew different.

### Upcoming Books:

Secrets of Serenity Gardens

Funeral home director Mary Shepard works hard to keep Serenity Gardens Cemetery a peaceful place to bury loved ones. That tranquility is shattered when a stray body turns up. Things begin to smell like murder when Mary's friends and family are stalked by a mysterious killer, bent on covering his tracks.. Mary must turn sleuth with Detective Owen to uncover the truth before she ends up on the embalming table herself.

Satan in Serenity Gardens

Funeral home director Mary Shepard has her share of personal problems. Son Joey wants a relationship with the father that abandoned him. Sister Connie needs a shrink to deal with her childhood abuse. Embalmer and business partner Sam wants to be more than friends. When a dead homeless man is found in Serenity Gardens Cemetery, Mary must bring them all together to stop a vicious murderer who will stop at nothing to destroy her family.

The Picture

Archaeology student Claire St. John is no stranger to the supernatural. When she agrees to house-sit her professor's historic home and examine the Indian mounds on the property, she discovers the dead have another agenda. Haunted by an apparition in a picture, Claire and Sean, the caretaker, race to solve an old mystery before someone buries the evidence and her with it forever.
