Page 5

CHAPTER FIVE

“W ho are these people?”

Cody looked up. His youngest brother, Brady, sat on a folding chair near the front of the storage unit, a heavy photo album in his lap. With his dark hair in an undercut and his often bearded face now clean-shaven, he looked like a young conservative go-getter. Which might not be far from the truth if Cody had correctly understood Brady’s latest promotion in the Louisiana oil company where he worked. Their father leaned in over Brady’s shoulder for a look.

“I think those are your great uncles,” his father said. “Down on Grandpa Milton’s farm.”

Brady looked up, his expression scrunched. “We have a Grandpa Milton?”

“With a farm?” Roman put in. “How many acres?”

Cody could practically hear the dollar signs building in Roman’s mind as his older brother most likely—actually, very likely—thought about selling land for a large lump sum.

“Sorry, he would be your great-grandfather. Milton was my grandfather on my father’s side.” He looked at Roman. “And the farm was sold shortly after you were born.”

“Sorry for your loss of investment, Romes,” Grant said from farther back in the storage unit. He held up a white lace tablecloth. “But you can have this pretty and delicate tablecloth as a consolation prize.”

Cody restrained his laugh, then bent back to the bins of mismatched pots and pans their mother had assigned him to look through. More Teflon-coated cookware, the bottoms scratched and flaking. Why, exactly, had these been saved for so many years? And why hadn’t his parents told him about this storage unit before now? He could have been sorting through all this crap for years.

“Real estate is one of the best returns on investment you can make,” Roman said to Grant.

“I don’t know, Romes, cannabis has been pretty lucrative for us. Right Moms and Pops?”

“What?” Their mother popped up from behind a stack of boxes which, Cody saw with an internal groan, were marked with the ominous abbreviation MISC. She was in her mid-sixties, hair more gray than brown and done in a single braid that hung past her shoulders. Trim and lithe, standing just barely over five feet, she had often amazed Cody in that she had given birth to five boys, all almost six and a half feet tall.

“He’s talking about the drug house you’re running back home.”

That came from Cody’s brother Dave, who was out of sight somewhere behind a cluster of wooden chairs that appeared to belong to a large dining room set. How big was this fucking storage unit?

“It’s not a drug house,” Greg and Alice exclaimed together.

“It’s a cannabis operation,” Alice said, brushing at a smudge of dust on her zip up hoodie. “And, yes, Grant is correct, it has become quite lucrative.”

“As good as a real estate investment?”

“Probably better,” she said. “Considering it’s only been in operation around five years.”

“How are you, son?”

Cody turned away from the conversation between his mother and Roman to find his father standing beside him. He looked as tired as Cody felt: bruised skin under his brown eyes, a shadow of scruff along his narrow chin, more white now than brown, like his wavy hair.

“I’m fine,” Cody said. “Just trying to get through this box so I can open up another and go through it.”

“Your grandmother had a lot of stuff.”

“I see that,” Cody said, then added with emphasis, “now.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It would have been nice to know about this storage unit before this week. Dave and I could have been going through this stuff the last few years and sorting or trashing it.”

Greg looked a bit scolded. “I thought you knew about it.”

“Nope. Had no idea until the funeral when you and mom informed the five of us we’d all be looking through Grandma’s belongings.”

“What did you think happened to everything in her house?” Alice said.

“I thought you sold it or donated it or something,” Cody said. He looked around the storage unit—so many boxes, so much crap—at each of his brothers. “Did you guys know about this place?”

They all replied in the negative.

Cody gave his parents raised eyebrows. “I know you were already in Colorado when we moved Grandma into Parson’s Pines, but you never told us you were renting a storage unit the size of her house to pile all her belongings inside.”

“It’s nowhere near the size of that house,” Alice said with a huff. “Trust me. Your father and I, and his sister Marlene and her husband, moved all of these things here. You boys were all busy with your lives, so we didn’t ask you to help.”

“Speaking of which, where is Aunt Marlene?” Brady didn’t look up as he turned another page of the photo album. “Shouldn’t she and our cousins be helping?”

“They had prior commitments they needed to return to Georgia for right after the funeral,” Greg said.

“Probably another beauty pageant for Amanda,” Dave said. He held up a maroon corset and smiled. “Hey, Roman, want this for Madison?”

As Roman scowled at their brother, Cody had to agree with Dave. Their cousin Amanda was beautiful and had won a few local pageants. So far it hadn’t seemed to go to her head, and he hoped she could stay grounded a little longer.

Greg pulled another chair up beside him. “How are you doing, son, really?”

Cody gave him a long look. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“You sure?” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Do you need money?”

“We all heard it, Pops,” Grant said. “Good try at the lower voice, though.”

“All of you mind your business.”

“That’s really nice of you, Dad, but Demmy and I are doing fine.” Roman snorted, and Cody jerked his head up. “Got something to add, Romes?” He used Grant’s nickname because he knew it bugged him.

Roman tried for wide-eyed innocence as he looked up from a suitcase that appeared to be filled with lingerie. “What? It’s dusty in here. I sneezed.”

“Didn’t sound like a sneeze,” Dave said. “Sounded like a derisive snort.”

“Derisive?” Roman snorted again. “You’ve been living back here with Cody too long.”

Cody and Dave exchanged puzzled looks.

“What’s that mean?” Cody said.

“Boys…” Alice warned. “Do not start.”

“No, Mom. I want to know what it means, too,” Dave said. He folded his arms and fixed Roman with an icy glare. “What did you mean by that?”

“I didn’t mean anything.” Roman was quiet for a couple of beats, and then said, “It’s just that since you moved back here, you’ve changed. You’re different.”

“Different as in happy, right?” Dave pushed his glasses up his nose and ran a hand over his brunette beard. “Because that’s what I finally am. Which you would know if you ever bothered to call any of us and check in.”

“He calls me,” Brady said, then looked up and made a face. “Sorry.”

“Of course he calls you,” Dave said. “He’s grooming you to be a younger version of himself.”

“What the fuck?” Roman shouted.

“What’s that mean?” Brady stood, clutching the photo album tight with both hands.

“Hey now, all of you!” Alice said.

“I totally had nothing to do with any of this,” Grant said, tossing one of his braids over his shoulder.

“David Floyd,” their father said, pushing to his feet. “That was completely uncalled for.”

“Uh oh, Pops is using middle names, Daves,” Grant said with a smirk. “You’ve triggered ultimate Dad mode.”

The arguing continued, and Cody slouched in his chair. The new box he’d opened contained a batch of photo albums. He picked up the one on top and opened it. The photos on the page were black and white, overexposed due to the time of day, the camera, the processing of the time period, or their age. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t see any detail of people’s faces. He didn’t recognize anyone in the photos. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t recognized anyone in any of the photos except maybe for his grandmother as a child.

Was this what became of a long life? She’d been one hundred years old when she died. What were they supposed to do with all of these photos? And clothes? And furniture? None of them had homes big enough to accommodate any of this. Well, Roman did, but he sure as hell didn’t want to haul it out to Utah and find a place for it. Did it all just go into a dumpster or get handed off to Goodwill?

What about when he died? Given his recent track record, it might happen sooner rather than later. Would Dave and his parents have to figure out what to do with his belongings? Would Demmy be the one to go through his phone and decide what photos to keep and what to delete?

He replaced the photo album and shoved the box aside. Leaning in over a plastic bin, he removed the lid and discovered it contained a number of boxes of varying sizes. Boxes within boxes within bins. This was a nightmare.

A small wooden box caught his eye. It was the size of his palm and looked handmade, the sides engraved with flowering vines that twisted around the corners and up over the lid. It was beautiful, and holding it made Cody feel calm and grounded. Carefully lifting the lid, he looked inside and caught his breath.

A small piece of burlap had been wrapped around items, the corners gathered and tied with a long, thin piece of leather. It looked exactly like the hex bag Demmy had shown him that morning, and which Cody had been actively working on not thinking about.

What the hell did this mean? Where had his grandmother gotten this hex bag? And why? And along with that, who the hell had placed one outside his and Demmy’s bedroom window, and why?

He looked up, tuning back into the arguing that raged around him. Greg and Alice would have no idea what this was or where it came from. It was just a random box inside a random bin that they’d packed years ago when they’d been getting his grandmother’s house ready to sell. Dave was focused on needling Roman and defending himself from their mother’s corrections.

He wouldn’t find any answers here. He needed to talk with Demmy and, most likely, one of their circle of friends who knew all about creepy shit like this.

After replacing the lid on the hand-carved box, he pulled his phone from his pocket and stood up. He curled the fingers of one hand around the box and pretended to accept a call with the other as he walked outside. Talking to no one, he said, “Yeah? You can’t find anybody else? What about Jugs? I’m in the middle of some family stuff right now. All right, all right. I’ll be there when I can.”

Turning, he acted like he was ending a call. He slipped the box into the pocket of his jacket and held up the phone.

“Gotta go,” he said.

Greg was the only one who heard him, and turned. Alice was switching her attention between each of his brothers, pointing up into their faces and ripping them all new ones.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” His sad expression almost changed Cody’s mind. Almost.

“Yeah, that was work. Someone called off sick. Sorry.”

“Well, of course. I understand. You go on. We’ll keep working here. The donations truck will be here tomorrow afternoon to pick up whatever we can set aside.”

Cody looked past Greg, but Alice and his brothers were still entangled in their protests and defenses. He lifted his chin toward them. “Tell them I said goodbye when they come up for air?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll talk with you later, Dad.”

“Take care, son. See you tomorrow.”

“You’ll be able to get back to Amelia’s okay?”

“Oh, we’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us. Go on to work.”

“Yep. Okay.”

Cody turned away and walked along the row of storage units. A heavy layer of flat, gray clouds lay overhead like some kind of insulation. The air was heavy with moisture, packed with the scents of spring just around the corner: damp earth, molding leaves, and wet mulch. The roll up doors for all the units in this section had been painted a bright and cheerful blue. Was the bright color supposed to make people feel better about all the junk they had stacked behind the doors?

He reached his truck and climbed into the cab. He put the box inside the center console, making sure to position it so the lid remained secured. Starting the engine, he plugged in his phone then pulled out of the lot. Fortunately, he’d parked facing exit and didn’t have to drive past the unit again. Knowing Roman, he’d probably jump in front and prevent his escape. Cody wondered if he’d try to brake in time.

The storage unit was one of hundreds in a place called StoreMore Solutions, located on the very edge of town past Parson’s Pines senior living complex and Parson’s Pond. He passed both, consciously not looking down the driveway for Parson’s Pines where his grandmother had been living. Less than a mile later, he passed Buford Heights cemetery. Unfortunately, his grandmother wasn’t buried there. She’d had a plot next to her husband, Everly, in Hollow of Eternal Rest on the other side of town which also happened to be where a bunch of corpses had come back to life the year before and swarmed the town. Going back there for the funeral had triggered more than a few painful memories for Cody. And he figured those memories, along with the loss of his grandmother and the ensuing invasion of his family, had been major contributors to the steady decline of his mood.

Plus the last couple years of weirdness he and Demmy had lived through, of course.

He flexed the fingers of his left hand and fought back the phantom pain from the zombie bite he’d received on his forearm. No need to think about that. Or the constant ache in his neck from the vampire bites over Halloween. They had other terrible things to think about now.

After pressing the button on the steering wheel to connect to his phone, Cody paused. He was about to call Demmy, of course, but had a second thought. Demmy was always running off to the library to look up stuff about their monster cases. Cody had gone along a time or two but had never really seemed to add much to the effort. And seeing Tracey Mumm had never been high on his list of fun activities. However, he’d been thinking about Tracey since he’d seen her at the store last night. It would be good to check on her, and maybe he could figure a few things out without having to bother Demmy.

He ended the connection with his phone and adjusted his path through town. The few blocks of the downtown business area were busy. All the parking spots near Parson’s Pharmacy were taken, and on the next block, Antonio’s, the upscale Italian restaurant in town, looked to be pretty popular for an early weekday afternoon. A few storefronts farther along, Margie’s Diner was packed, with a line out the door. He looked forward to the days when he and Demmy could go to Margie’s alone again and eat and talk and be an actual couple. Sleeping on that fold out bed in the living room was not only painful for someone of Cody’s height, but it was definitely putting a cramp in his and Demmy’s personal play time.

The library was a few streets off Main Street. Made of yellow bricks and looking like some civil engineer’s wet dream, the Parson’s Hollow library was a single story rectangular structure plunked down in a group of similarly styled buildings. There was parking in front and a larger lot to one side shared by the Parson’s Hollow post office and Thomas Jefferson Elementary, both built with matching brick. Apparently there had been a sale on yellow bricks back in the forties and fifties.

Cody parked in the lot and allowed himself a minute to just sit in the quiet of the cab. A woman walked past holding several books, and two little kids trailed behind her talking and laughing. The kids looked to be about kindergarten age, and he marveled at the fact that he and his brothers had once been that small. He looked at the side entrance of the school building, and a wave of nostalgia swept through him. He and Demmy had become best friends inside that building. Had it really been thirty years since he and Demmy had met? He looked at the ring on his left hand, the flat light of the overcast day dulling the gold. Where in the absolute fucking hell had time gone? Devoured by some monster they’d yet to meet, no doubt.

He checked his hair in the mirror, ran a hand through it, then put the box with the hex bag in his jacket pocket and got out of the truck. The breeze had picked up, bringing to him the smell of fresh mulch and damp earth.

At the library entrance, he held the door for a young mother holding the hand of a toddler and carrying an infant in one of those packs that hung on her front. The infant had been dressed with a hand-made hat that looked like leaves on top of a strawberry, and he guessed the baby had red hair. Probably not the best idea to dress children up as food items in a town like Parson’s Hollow. Might be something to put on the visitor brochures.

The dry, coarse smell of books and a well-trod, industrial grade carpet washed over him. A hushed energy thrummed inside the building, maybe generated by all the people reading banned books or looking up forbidden factual information. He walked up the two steps to the main level. The check-out desk was about twenty feet in front of him. To the right was the children’s section, brightly decorated and populated with low tables that made Cody’s knees ache just looking at them. Parents sat with their children, looking at picture books and talking quietly. Off to his left was the main area. Rows of tables extended to the outer wall, and shelves of books stood in lines at either end of them. People sat at the tables, leafing through magazines or reading books. A couple of high school girls sat across from one another, whispering over open and ignored laptops. The computers looked expensive, and Cody fought back a wave of envy.

An older man standing behind the circulation desk smiled as Cody approached.

“May I help you?” A badge on a lanyard showed his picture and provided his name: Robert.

“Yeah, hi. Is Tracey Mumm working today?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, she’s not. May I help you with anything?”

Cody looked past him, down the short hallway behind the circulation desk. The gated and locked door at the end of the hall led to the artifacts room where they kept a number of older books. The room was climate-controlled and secured, and Tracey was the one who managed the collection. He knew Robert, helpful as he was, wouldn’t be able to let him inside.

“No, thanks. I just needed to speak to her.” Cody started to turn away, then looked back. “Is Heath in today?”

Robert made an apologetic face and shook his head. “Sorry, he’s out today as well.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Cody turned for the door but stopped abruptly and nearly tripped over a short woman standing directly behind him. He let out a quick shout of surprise and was shushed from all directions. Ducking his head as if avoiding enemy fire, he waved and whispered, “Sorry. Sorry.”

“Hey there, Stretch,” Clarabell said, grinning as she looked up at him. She wore baggy black jeans and a bright green hoodie over an XL t-shirt showing Godzilla painting his nails while sitting in the midst of a trampled city. Her Doc Martens were still decorated with UFO stickers.

“Don’t creep up on me,” Cody said. He stepped around her, heading for the door.

Clarabell, of course, followed him outside, adjusting the messenger bag around her shoulders. “I came here to talk to Tracey as well. We’ve been working on something, and I haven’t heard from her.”

“Yeah? Well, I saw her last night, and she was pretty scattered,” Cody said. He pressed the unlock button on his key fob and the truck beeped.

“Saw her where? And what do you mean scattered?”

“Get in and I’ll tell you.”

Cody got in behind the wheel and Clarabell clambered up into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut with a heavy exhalation. She turned sideways in the seat and looked at him.

“Spill the tea,” she said.

He made a face. “Don’t say that.”

“God, you’re so grumpy all the time. Just tell me what you know.”

He told her about his encounter with Tracey and Heath at Bulk & Beyond the night before.

“Oh no,” Clarabell said, shaking her head. “That sounds bad. And if Tracey was alone, that means Rita might be in trouble.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that name. Who’s Rita?”

“She works over at Drives Rite.”

Cody made a face. “Not my favorite place in town.”

“That’s right. That’s where the guy you whacked used to work.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cody muttered. “He was already dead . You can’t whack a dead guy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Clarabell tapped her lip as she looked out the windshield. “Sounds like they found what they were looking for but things got out of hand. Dammit.”

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

“I’ll tell you,” Clarabell said. “But first, is there anything else you know?”

Cody gave her a look, but then explained about the hex bag outside their house. He pulled the wooden box from his jacket pocket and showed her the one he’d found in his grandmother’s belongings.

“Hex bags,” Clarabell said, staring into the box. “So, your grandmother was one.”

“Goddammit, talk.”

“Wow, you’re really walking that edge these days, aren’t you?”

“Look, my grandmother died, my family’s in town and driving me crazy, and now there’s some kind of spooky crap going on again , and Demmy and I have no idea what it is. I have, like, no patience anymore, okay? Talk.”

“All right, all right.” Clarabell paused a moment, gathering her thoughts, then she looked him in the eye. “I buried the hex bag outside your window.”

Cody blinked. “You did?”

“Yes, it was me.” She gestured to the box he still held, clutching it so hard it made his fingertips ache. “I had no idea about the one your grandmother had, but it doesn’t surprise me with everything I’ve learned.”

“Everything you’ve learned? About what?”

Clarabell took a breath and let it out. “What do you know about witches?”