Strange Folk, page 14
“Okay. No problem.”
What the hell am I doing?
* * *
That evening, the air was unnaturally warm. The dark flowers surrounded Lee as she walked to the clearing, their petals thick and veined. When the moonlight caught them at the right angle, they shimmered with sentience.
Lee took a sip from a bottle of iced tea spiked with just enough moonshine to keep her level. Belva didn’t have to know.
When Lee was very small and would often stay over at Belva’s, she would watch from the window as twenty or thirty people filed into the woods for a gathering. Now there were only a handful who came. Lee recognized some of Belva’s group from the church—Linda from the high school and Beverly, the owner of a local restaurant. They sat in camping chairs gossiping quietly as if it was any community function, though Lee could sense hesitation in their postures and expressions. The group was even smaller than the last ritual; the Mr. Hall rumors must have scared the rest off.
Lee was surprised to see Kimmie standing quietly next to Billy. She took a spot next to her and whispered, “What are you doing here?”
“TJ didn’t kill Joe.”
Lee tried to protest, but Kimmie stopped her. “I swear he didn’t. He’s done a lot of bad shit, but not this.”
“Then why are you here?”
“If Belva’s gonna bind him from doing more harm, I want to help.” She sighed. “I know it’s hard to believe, but there’s some good under there. Maybe this’ll give him a chance to turn things around.”
Lee tried to respond, but Belva clapped her hands, and they went silent. “Let’s get started.”
The others pushed back their chairs and stood up. They brought their arms to their sides with palms faced out and closed their eyes. Lee repeated the motion, but she kept her eyes half open so she could watch.
Luann was the first to speak. “We offer thanks to the land for lending its power to us tonight. We acknowledge that before our Scotch-Irish ancestors stole this land, our Cherokee ancestors lived on it, honored it, and drew from its power.” She spoke with a deep, reverent rhythm, like a pastor delivering a sermon.
She and Belva brought out a Walmart bag and pulled a bag of Cheetos and a container of neon frosted cookies from it. They dumped them into a small hole and filled it with dirt and patted it firm. Two black cans of Monster energy drink were popped and poured over it, and they listened to it sizzle in the soil. Luann offered these treats to the spirits of the land for allowing them to practice the work on their turf.
Then Belva spoke. “We gather to draw from this sacred land. These mountains that existed before the dinosaurs. These valleys that stood calm and silent for millennia. We draw from it so that we may ease suffering. Nothing more or less.” Her voice took on an edge. “TJ Ryder is selling poison to our people. He is committing murder. He is terrorizing this community.”
She paused, allowing the words to sink in. Lee saw Kimmie scowling next to her.
“We can’t let this happen any longer. Tonight, we call upon the land to aid us in binding him from doing harm. May he never take the life of another as long as the power exists in these hills.”
In the center next to the fire, a large straight branch was staked into the ground with another small hole in the dirt beneath it. Luann moved toward it with her tool belt slung low around her waist.
“Kimmie, bring forth TJ’s artifact.”
Kimmie pulled a small comb from her pocket and brought it to Luann in the center. She pried the hairs from the tines, put them in the hole, and filled it in with dirt.
Luann handed Kimmie a small knife, and she dug its sharp point into the wood. She carved vigorously, her biceps bulging in the firelight. When she stepped away, a crude “TJ” emblazoned the branch.
“Now, bring forth your offerings,” Luann instructed.
Belva leaned over to Lee and whispered, “Each of us brought something belonging to a loved one who was hurt by TJ. Billy brought something for you, too. We’ll use these to bind him.”
Beverly pulled a wad of cloth from her purse and handed it to Luann before returning to her spot. Luann allowed it to unfurl into what looked like strips of a man’s white T-shirt tied end to end and nailed one end to the top of the branch so that it hung down like a ribbon on a maypole. One after the other, they stepped forward with their offerings. An old ace bandage. A fishing line. Strips of a baby blanket.
When it was Billy’s turn, he pulled out two purple vintage chiffon scarves tied together, and then two more in yellow that he handed to Lee. They were her mother’s favorite accessories; she used to tie one around her neck like a choker. Lee put her nose to it and inhaled a dusty trace of her mother’s gardenia perfume.
After Billy gave his to Luann, Lee stepped up and handed her scarf chain over. She felt awkward knowing everyone was watching her. She saw that in a true ritual, every movement had significance, so that the power of it built with each gesture.
Hers was the last, and as the nail was driven in, Belva began to hum, and the others joined in. Lee hummed softly at first, afraid of creating the wrong frequency, but soon, as the sound built and melded, the humming became like a cocoon that enveloped Lee, and she couldn’t distinguish her voice from the rest.
Belva spoke again with a voice more savage. “My daughter used to be a marvel.”
Everyone grabbed the loose end of their offering and held it taut in front of them. Then they began to move in a circle, weaving in and out of one another slowly. Lee focused on following Billy.
“She was the greatest thing I ever created. I couldn’t wait to see what she would become. But then she got hooked on the poison. All that greatness became dust. She’s nothing now!” The last line was an angry wail in Belva’s throat.
The weaving quickened, and Lee strained to keep up.
“A man lay dead in this very clearing, slain by the hands of this man. How many more have died?”
Beverly wailed about her son-in-law who would never hold his baby girl.
Linda howled about her nephew who would never graduate from high school and take his football scholarship. The sound and pain of their voices echoed up and out of the clearing.
The weaving picked up even more speed, and the hum became a shriek around Lee. Their shadows were thick and hulking against the tree trunks that surrounded them. Some gnashed their teeth and spit at the wood, and others tore at their hair, flinging strands into the fire that burned nutty and golden for a flash. Kimmie jumped into the center, squatted over the filled-in hole, and peed while she screeched up at the moon.
Lee watched it all as a spectator. She didn’t feel their fury. For a moment, she felt the presence of someone behind her, watching from behind the trees. But when she turned around, there was nothing there.
“Opaline! Tell us your suffering!”
Lee found herself back in her mother’s bedroom, staring at her body as the life leaked out of it. How could she capture everything that had happened to her mother and the tortured, shifting, sometimes shameful way she felt through most of it? That she still felt? Her voice caught in her throat as she tried to find the words. Her tongue was thick in her mouth, and whatever shred of harmony she’d felt moments before slipped away. As she hesitated, she felt the energy dip.
Belva launched back in, screaming, “SCREW HIM!” and the circle answered, “SCREW HIM!” They went back and forth for a few choruses until the pace slowed and the hum died.
Linda collapsed onto the ground, laughing hysterically, and then Beverly did the same, until all except for Lee were sprawled and giggling with heaving chests and wet eyes gleaming in the firelight. They’d braided most of the fabric so that the branch was wrapped in a crosshatch pattern with the loose ends peeking out of the bottom.
Belva pulled a large container from her bag and set it down on the ground, revealing a platter of rolls stuffed with sliced ham and mayonnaise. The others pulled out containers as well, of fried chicken and macaroni salad and liters of off-brand cola. They descended upon the food, starved and giddy and using only their hands. A euphoric Kimmie leaned against Billy, holding a chicken wing with her cheeks covered in grease.
Lee sat back and watched them, declining all offers of food and drink. The emptiness inside of her didn’t burn with hunger; it just sat there, cold and lonely. She hadn’t felt any power coursing through her.
Maybe there was something wrong with her.
Or maybe it hadn’t worked.
Or, maybe, it wasn’t real.
As she marinated in her disappointment, something swept through the firelight behind Belva and Kimmie. So quick and subtle that no one else in the circle noticed, and Lee dismissed it as a trick of the fire.
It was only a shadow.
FIFTEEN
MEREDITH
As Meredith crept through the darkness around the clearing, the energy of the land rose up through her feet and met her fury, becoming molten. She worried the leaves would catch fire.
That morning, she had listened from her hiding place as Belva told her mother about the moonshine and the way it could simulate magic. A thought that had been forming deep inside of her for a while floated to the surface and ignited. She had waited all day, her insides blistering, for the moment when the adults would take the path for the ritual and leave her and Cliff alone.
It was not long before she arrived at TJ’s. There was no fire this time, and there were fewer people milling about than usual. She moved toward the group congregated around the couches, but as she got closer, her steps slowed.
Redbud was laid out on one of them with her eyes closed. Her skin was dry and corpse-like in the low light of the trailer’s porch bulbs. Tiffany lay next to her in the same position, looking angelic in her motionlessness. Meredith noticed the curves of a flower freshly burned into the inside of her thigh, and her breath caught. Mom described the same flower on Mr. Hall’s body to Belva.
She ran toward them, but TJ stood up and held her back. “Hey, Mer, we weren’t expecting you. What you doing here?”
“What’s wrong with them? Are they okay?” She jerked from his grasp, but he just gripped harder and pressed his dirty nails into her flesh.
“This ain’t a good time. Why don’t you go on home.”
Meredith fought harder, and he released her. She moved to go around him, and he moved with her. He tried to put his hands on her again, and she took a step back. “Don’t touch me.”
He put his hands up and chuckled. “No one’s trying to touch you. I told you to get. Now, get.” He stepped toward her with his full weight. He thought he could scare her like one of his pups.
“I’m not going anywhere until I see that Redbud and Tiffany are okay.” She could feel the heat flowing up through her sneakers again and meeting at her middle, where her anger and power collected. She imagined it moving up her shoulders, down her arms, and into her hands like Redbud had taught her. She thought of how much she wanted to hurt him for threatening her, and for whatever he’d done to her grandmother and Tiffany.
Her hands heated until the pain became too great. Then she stretched out her arms and unleashed it on him. She braced for some extreme reaction: his face contorted in pain, or his body writhing in the grass.
But he only stood there smiling at her. “Look here, y’all, we got ourselves a real witch.” Laughter came from every direction, and Meredith realized she was surrounded by TJ’s boys. Fear sparked and spread through her. She stared hard at Redbud’s blank face, willing her to wake up, but she remained still as stone.
She tried the spell again, and again it failed. Her fear gave off a different heat than her fury; it warmed and prickled in her cheeks. The laughter ceased, and in their silence, they closed in on her. A boy grabbed her from behind by the shoulders and another dove for her legs. She jerked her body as they lifted her off the ground, and their laughter rose again with her resistance.
She had thought this would never happen to her now that she had this gift, and so the pain cut deeper when she felt the absence of her power, her body no longer hers to control.
Redbud’s sallow face loomed into view with a look of demonic possession. “Junior, put her down, now.” The boys froze and turned to TJ, who looked between Meredith and Redbud. After a moment, he nodded, and they dropped her on the ground. She quickly stood up and stepped away from the group. She knew she should run, but she couldn’t leave Tiffany.
Redbud collapsed on the couch and tipped her head back. Meredith approached cautiously, watching the boys as she moved toward Tiffany. When it was clear they wouldn’t jump her, she went to her and felt for a pulse at her neck. Her heart beat softly beneath her smooth, warm skin, and Meredith exhaled. She shook her gently, but she didn’t wake up.
“What’s wrong with her? Is she sick?”
When Redbud didn’t respond, Meredith slapped her arm and yelled a guttural “hey” like Mom sometimes did to stop their fighting. Redbud’s eyelids fluttered open, and she looked dreamily over at Meredith. There was no life behind her eyes, only dirty vapor. Meredith repeated her question.
“Nothing wrong with her. She’s feeling better than anyone should feel…”
“What did she take? Should I take her to the hospital?”
“No, no, she’ll be fine…”
It was like trying to talk to a small child. Redbud was a wisp of consciousness, floating there, barely existing. Meredith didn’t recognize this person.
She had imagined this confrontation fueled by anger, but there were tears in her eyes as she asked, “Did you really teach me magic, or was it just fake?”
Redbud blinked back into being for a moment, becoming solid as her brow dipped. “Oh, honey…”
“Do I even have a gift? Do you? Or was it all just make-believe?” The tears slipped down her cheeks as the idea was given air and took its first breath.
“You don’t want it…”
“Is it real or not?”
“I was protecting you…”
Meredith’s shoulders slumped. “I’m so tired of people protecting me. I just want the truth.”
“You don’t understand, baby. It’ll ruin your life.”
“And I’m so tired of people telling me I don’t understand, as if that justifies their lies.”
“Please, just trust me, okay?”
“Why would I trust you? You’ve lied to me since the moment we met. You told me you’d take care of Tiffany, and now look at her—”
“I promise I’ll be better. I’ll tell you everything. I’m gonna get clean for you and Cliff.”
“I don’t believe a single word you say. Mom and Belva were right. You’re poison. I wish I never met you.”
Redbud’s face contorted, and she whispered, “Please…”
Meredith immediately regretted the force of it, but part of her was glad to see she’d drawn blood. Tiffany stirred, and Meredith asked if she could take her home. She nodded sleepily, and Meredith pulled her up to standing.
Redbud tried to help, but Meredith pushed her arm away. “Don’t.”
As she and Tiffany turned toward the woods, Redbud wrapped her arms tightly around Meredith. She pleaded “Please don’t leave” in her ear with dry, putrid breath. Meredith tried to shake her off, but she wouldn’t let go.
“I promise I’ll be better. Don’t give up on me…”
Meredith continued to struggle, and a sick, sad anger built in her chest. She had thought there was magic here with Redbud, and instead there were only lies and disease and rot. The feeling continued to build, until the pressure released and the world went black for a moment.
When she refocused, Redbud was on the ground unconscious.
Meredith stared down at her, horrified. With panic coursing through her, she took Tiffany’s hand, and they stumbled into the woods.
After she helped Tiffany get home, she climbed quietly back into her room. When she collapsed onto the cot, her hip hit against something hard, and she winced. Beneath the comforter she found Belva’s black book. She pulled it out, and for the first time since she’d learned of this magical tradition, she was frightened by what lay behind its cover. She put it back and crawled into bed with Cliff and lay against him with their backs pressed together. Neither of them liked to be held, but she wanted to feel someone there.
“Did you know?” Meredith whispered in the dark.
“Know what?”
“That Redbud lied to me. That she’s sick.”
“Mom and Grandma Mama told us to stay away from her.”
“I know. I mean, did you see it?”
“No.”
Her shoulder blades started to shake against Cliff’s, and he reached back and grabbed her hand. The mourning of what she’d lost burned through her, and as it receded, she felt a soft cooling enter her hand through his and travel along her veins, relaxing her body. She took a few deep breaths and wiped her face on the blanket.
“I think something bad is going to happen.” His voice was delicate and wispy like spider silk.
“Something bad did happen. Multiple bads.”
“This will be worse.”
Meredith could feel the panic returning. “What? What could be worse?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see any shape around it. But it gives me this scary feeling.”
Meredith was silent.
“What should we do?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Meredith squeezed his hand. “But no matter what happens, we will take care of each other.”
“How?”
“We’ll find a way.”
“Okay.”
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes.” Cliff pressed harder against her back, and Meredith wrapped the blanket tighter around them, sealing them off from the rest of the world.
SIXTEEN
LEE
The morning mist still carried the smell of fire as Lee sat drinking weak coffee and clutching her knees in an old hunting jacket on the porch. The empty feeling from last night lingered along with the smoke.
