Chapter 8 #4
“Your parlor tricks are borin’ as all fuck,” I yelled out loud. “If you want me, come and get me.” Maybe, for once in my life, I should’ve kept my mouth shut because I heard Bear’s laughter just before I flew through the air and crashed against the wall, much like Atlas had a few minutes before.
The pain swept through me so forcefully that I thought I’d be swept away with it, but still, I rallied and rolled onto my front before carefully getting to my feet and making for the door with the cut still in my hand.
Every nerve ending jerked from the feeling of static in the air, and I knew Bear was watching my every move, but I remained determined to raze his motherfucking cut to the ground.
Whatever happened, I needed to hold onto it; if Bear somehow managed to take it from me, it would be game over, and I knew we’d never get rid of the evil bastard.
I entered the bar and headed for the main doors, determined to get this thing out of my clubhouse. I reached for the door, but something tugged me back with so much force that my feet left the ground and I landed flat on my ass.
With a growl, I leaped to my feet, fists up, ready to brawl, even if it was with thin air.
Bear grinned at me from a spot over by the bar, his pointed demon teeth glinting in the dimmed light. “Look at you, still dumb as shit, but I gotta hand it to ya, you’ve got balls.” He walked toward me, the edges of his form shadowed and eerie but becoming more solid with each step.
I tracked the bastard’s movements as I backed up toward the doors, trying to keep myself at a measured distance, holding the cut so tight that my knuckles ached.
“I love how hard you fight,” he went on.
“It makes things interestin’ at least. Though I remember the days when the Speed Demons weren’t so damned soft.
Back when Bandit had the club, you were a force to be reckoned with.
I heard about what your pop and Bandit did to my grandpop and uncle.
It’s the stuff legends are made of. All ‘cause of one itty-bitty ol’ lady.
Tell me, how is Iris these days? Heard she never got to have kids after my gramps finished with her. ” His grin widened. “Shame that.”
“At least she got to live,” I spat out, reaching behind me for the door handle.
“Did you know my dad got his road name, Dagger, from all the knives he stuck in your granddaddy’s vile, evil dick after he raped Iris.
You’re right. There’s a legendary tale right there.
And your uncle was the one who took my big sister out of her mother’s belly, right?
Shame I didn’t get to meet him, though my dad killed him too, didn’t he?
It seems that Stone men killin’ your genetic line of filth is a rite of passage, especially since I shot your brains out a few years ago.
Hopefully, we’ve got you all now, so we can kick back and relax. ”
Bear’s face loomed an inch from mine, making my heart twist. “Don’t bet on it,” he snarled. “My line ain’t finished yet. I made sure of it.”
I felt myself being lifted by the throat; however, there was nothing there except air. Then, after a beat, I felt the cut being ripped from my hands before watching it fall to the floor with a thwack.
Fuck!
Clawing at my neck, I kicked out, but the cold, invisible fist just squeezed harder and lifted me higher. My vision began to fade as black dots swam before my eyes, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I passed out.
Bear grinned, the shadowed lines rippling across his face.
“You ever think about consequences, Cash? How every action creates a ripple effect, like a stone being thrown into a pond? Every drop of blood you spilled brought more monsters to your door. When you die in agonizin’ pain, I hope you remember that. Everythin’ is your fault.”
My world began to darken around the edges, and I knew I was being choked to death.
Weirdly, I didn’t panic, didn’t feel fear, just a sense of calm.
Maybe it was because I knew there was somewhere else to go to, though I hoped it wasn’t here; the thought of my ghost having to share eternity with Bear Rawlins made me sick to my stomach. Even Hell would be better than him.
The grip around my neck loosened, and I sucked in a hard breath just as I fell and landed hard on my ass again. Coughing, I peered up to see Layla standing in front of me, throwing some white stuff at the apparition of Bear.
My voice came out in a croak. “Is that salt?”
“I watch Supernatural and Charmed,” she muttered, tossing another handful. “Salt’s supposed to do something to spirits. God knows what, but I saw you needed help and thought I’d at least try.”
A scene from Cara’s favorite movie, Practical Magic, filled my head. She made me sit through that shit at least once a month. I remembered the sisters used salt in that too, when they wanted to get rid of Nicole Kidman’s psycho, dead ex-boyfriend.
“Good call,” I said, grabbing the cut with one hand while using the other to rummage through my pocket for the secret lighter I used when I wanted to go off and have a smoke without Cara knowing.
I didn’t even attempt to go outside; instead, my fingers closed around my Zippo, and I pulled it from my pocket with a triumphant shout.
If I had to burn the clubhouse down to get rid of Bear, I would.
The motherfucker lunged again, but that time his pointed, clawed fingers passed straight through me before he doubled over in pain as another handful of salt hit his shadow.
Then Layla did something weird. She poured the salt out in a big circle around the spot where she stood and motioned for me to step inside.
“Don’t disturb it,” she ordered. “There can’t be a break in it, or he’ll be able to get in.”
I stepped inside the circle and flicked the lighter, holding it up against the cut. A small, blue flame caught onto the cloth and slowly flickered to life.
The leather began to crinkle as it slowly melted from the spreading fire. The flames licked at my fingertips, but I didn’t let go. I’d set myself alight if I had to; it would be a sacrifice I was willing to make.
An awful stench filled the room, like tobacco, burnt hair, and the smell of rotting flesh, as the flames began to lick greedily at the Sinners’ patch sewn onto the back.
Bear screamed, a sound that ricocheted around the empty bar, and I watched open-mouthed as a fire ignited in the middle of his gut and began to burn up through his ghostly chest. He threw his head back and howled desperately, the tone filled with excruciating pain.
Then, his shape began to warp, thinning and stretching until it curled into a thin column of black smoke and finally disappeared into the ether.
I dropped the burning cut onto the floor and slowly twisted my neck toward Layla. “Is that it?”
Her gaze never left the charred piece of leather, and she shrugged. “Looks like it.”
My eyes snapped up as a commotion sounded from the hallway, and Atlas and Breaker came clattering into the bar.
“Where the fuck is he?” Atlas barked, glancing around the room.
“I think we just killed him,” Layla called over.
Breaker’s jaw dropped. “How the hell did you—?”
“Salt and fire, baby,” I said, cutting him off. “Fire and brimstone at its fuckin’ best, and it was all Layla’s idea.”
Atlas looked at the tiny, doe-eyed, chestnut-haired ol’ lady standing hand to hip in her fuzzy robe and gave her a curt nod. “Impressive.”
She shrugged and glanced at me. “Tonight has been the weirdest night of my life, and it’s happened in the space of an hour.”
I checked my watch.
4:01.
Fuck me.
—————
Three Days Later ~ John
Me, Layla, Cash, and Kit stood stock still as we watched Atlas pour the huge container of water over the fresh mud where we’d just buried that damned Ouija board.
After making Kai and DJ hand it over, we took it to a medium up in Rock Springs, who managed to close it down properly and cleanse it.
She said the crack in the Veil was caused by the session not being shut down, which would’ve been impossible to do because the planchette was broken.
Anyway, she did her voodoo shit on it and told us the Veil would seal by itself.
I wanted to burn the damned thing, but she said if I did that, every energy associated with that board would be let loose.
Instead, she told us to leave it out in the rain for a few days and then bury it and cover it with holy water.
So here we were, up in the woods with a fucking Ouija board.
“Do you think that’s it, John?” Layla asked softly. “Is it over?”
I gave her a smile because I knew how much she missed her dad; I missed him too.
Right at that moment, Colt was over in Virginia, carrying out an investigation into Stevie’s death.
However, it looked like Kelly had been telling the truth.
When Colt checked the police report, they found tire tracks from at least three different motorcycles on the road where Stevie crashed, which indicated foul play.
The mayor at the time (Henderson) had covered it up.
Incidentally, Layla had gotten a phone call from the sheriff’s office the morning after Bear’s appearance to let her know her mom had been found dead in her house. She’d tripped down the stairs when she was drunk and broken her neck.
Kelly had been gone for three days.
“What did Elise say?” Cash asked.
“I told her I went for a spiritual reading from that medium in Rock Springs, and Bandit came through with a message,” Layla confirmed.
“She was shocked,” I stated. “But she did admit that she told Bandit everything about Sophie when he was on his deathbed. Nobody else was in the room, and she never told another soul, so it looks like you did speak to your gramps.”
“You’re taking this well, Pop,” Breaker pointed out. “Usually, you don’t believe in shit like the occult. When Mom used to talk about it, you’d tell her she was a loony.”
“Cash and Layla told me things about that night they’d never have known unless it came from the horse’s mouth,” I muttered, but what I didn’t tell him was that I had my own spooky experience that night, too.
Did spirits really visit us?
Well, it seemed that way after all the messages we got.
Was the ghost of Bear truly out for revenge?
It seemed that way too, going by the fingermarks that were etched into Cash’s throat and the cuts and bruises that covered Breaker and Atlas.
“I still can’t get over that it happened in the space of an hour,” Atlas said, emptying the last of the holy water onto the soil and screwing the cap back on.
“The medium explained that, too,” Layla pointed out. “The time between three A.M. and four A.M. is called the Devil’s hour, or the witching hour. It’s when the spirits are at their strongest. Bear may have disappeared at four A.M. anyway, but we got to him just in time.”
“And who’s to say he wouldn’t have come back?” Cash added. “That fucker was out for destruction. Another minute and I reckon I would’ve been a goner.”
“It’s fuckin’ terrifying when I think about the kids bein’ upstairs,” I admitted. “And I’m not a man who’s scared easily.”
“Even Belle saw him,” Atlas told us. “I hate that he got so close to her.”
We all stood and stared at the freshly dug earth for a beat before turning for the clubhouse.
“Well, next Halloween, I’m not leaving my house,” Layla declared.
I gave her a small smile and took her hand, slipping it through my arm as we began to walk home. Layla’s fingers curled onto me, good and snug. She didn’t tremble, not exactly, but her grip was the kind that you saved for rollercoasters and scary movies.
As we all trudged back through the tree-thick twilight toward our home, nobody spoke a word, except for Cash, who, with a fake, robotic voice, began to sing the chorus of an old familiar song.
Candy.
The End
This book was released as part of the 31 Days of Halloween Mobsters and Bikers Collaberation.
Thank you for coming back to Hambleton with me for Halloween.
I hope you enjoyed our little catch-up.
Love and light,
Jules