Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“Aricella, wonderful to see you. Please, come in and have a cup of coffee.” Travis was with Jon when the baker came to the halfway house kitchen door.
The slim, dark-haired woman wore an open flannel shirt over a tee in the cool morning air, with jeans and baker’s clogs.
“Jon, Travis, glad to see you too. I brought these for the residents, and that little one on top is for us.” Aricella handed over a stack of boxes that were still warm on the bottom and smelled wonderful.
They went to the kitchen, and Jon brought three cups of coffee to the table with fixings. He put the large boxes on the counter and brought the extra one to share.
Travis took a rapturous inhale as Jon opened the box to reveal a mix of pan dulce and house-made churros.
“These look amazing.” He knew from experience they would taste just as good.
Aricella’s cheeks pinked at the praise and she grinned. “I figured everyone could use a sugar boost.”
For several moments, they savored the treats, sipped their coffee, and exchanged neighborhood news. Travis thought Aricella looked tired.
“Have you noticed anything strange lately?” she finally asked.
“Gotta define strange,” Travis replied. “We have a pretty broad range.”
Aricella knew some of what he and Brent did, and lent her own magical protections to help.
“Stranger than usual.” She ran a finger around the lip of her coffee cup.
“I put down protections around the bakery, and I’ve got a thriving side gig with charms, amulets, and wards for clients and the neighbors. People are jittery.”
Travis and Jon exchanged a look.
“Anything happen recently?” Jon asked as he refilled her cup, and Aricella took a few sips before she continued.
“The ghosts are more restless than usual,” Aricella said. “Some of them have gotten troublesome, but with the others, it’s like there’s been a shift that has them riled up. What scares ghosts?”
“How can you tell a difference?” Travis asked.
“More chatter on the street about hauntings,” Aricella replied. “More requests for banishment rituals and charms. People talking about bad omens, crows, black cats, and that weird black moon. And it’s not just ghosts. There’ve been more sightings of creatures than in a long time.”
“Pittsburgh is a very old town. There’s been a lot of history here for ghosts—and monsters—to set up shop,” Travis observed.
Aricella shook her head. “This feels different, but I can’t quite put it into words. Like something has woken up what was sleeping and turned them loose.”
“What kind of creatures?” Jon asked while Travis mulled over her last statement.
“Black dogs. Women in white. Bridge trolls. Boo hags. And it’s not just my folks seeing them. I know other neighborhood witches—Italian, Slavic, Black. It’s happening everywhere.”
“Are people getting hurt, or just frightened?” Travis asked.
“So far, just scared, but what happens when someone has a heart attack or falls down the steps or gets in a car accident because of what they’ve seen?
” Aricella challenged. “None of us can figure out what’s turned up the volume, but if this keeps up, I’ll be spending more time doing the witchy side of my business than baking. ”
“I’ll keep my ears and eyes open.” Travis added Aricella’s neighborhood to the list of streets around St. Dismas that needed more protection.
He knew that he and Brent couldn’t protect every alley in the city, but a good cleansing could often drive out dark entities for a while until they regrouped.
And if their hunch was right and the uptick in spectral activity was being caused intentionally, getting rid of the cause would go a long way toward reducing the incidents.
“Thank you.” Aricella finished her coffee and set the cup aside. “I know you can’t be everywhere, but I figured you would want to know. Anything you can do to help is much appreciated.”
Travis and Jon walked her to the door, and conversation turned back to the weather. When she was gone, Jon gave him a look. “I’m guessing that meant more to you than what I probably got out of it?”
Travis nodded. “Yeah. I’m afraid it’s part of the problem that Steve told us about.
And if it’s also linked to the issues up in Mark Wojcik’s area, then we’ve got to take a good look at who is powerful enough to make that much trouble and figure out why.
” He shook his head. “I really prefer small, easily-fixed problems to mini-apocalypses.”
Jon clapped him on the shoulder. “Can’t blame you on that. You out with Brent again today?”
“Yeah. Might not be back in time for dinner depending on how things go.”
“We’ve got you covered,” Jon replied. “Although I have it on good authority that it’s spaghetti night with the cook’s grandmother’s sauce recipe, so I can’t guarantee there will be leftovers.”
“If they had all these big mine fires and collapses, why weren’t there more protests?” Brent asked as Travis drove toward what was left of the town of Mammoth and its coal mine.
“There were,” Travis replied, “About three months after the Mammoth disaster, there was a huge march by a thousand workers on the Morewood Works, another nearby mine. The local police fired into the crowd, killing nine of them, and the officers were acquitted. The law and the powers-that-be weren’t on the side of the workers. ”
Brent’s sour expression made his feelings clear.
“Did you look at those videos I sent you, with the urban explorer who went into the Mammoth Mine?” Travis asked.
“Yeah, he’s either brave or crazy,” Brent agreed. “The whole place looked like it could come down on his head at any moment.”
The Mammoth Mine had actually been two mines, a shaft mine and a slope mine.
Parts of it had continued to operate even after the 1907 explosion that killed over one hundred miners, not closing for good until 1927.
At the time, there had been a huge setup including massive brick coke ovens, breakers, and tipples, along with rail lines and engines.
“It did look pretty sketchy.” Travis shuddered. “I was surprised that the mine company left so much equipment behind. Rail cars, drills, all kinds of specialized tools. Just abandoned.”
“A lot of it was big stuff,” Brent pointed out. “Getting it out and moving it somewhere else wouldn’t have been easy.”
“Yeah, but the buddies of the guys who owned the mine owned the railroad. I guess they just didn’t care,” Travis replied.
“We’re not going inside, right?” Brent double-checked. He couldn’t help sounding a little nervous. The explorer’s footage of twisted metal, gaping deep holes, dark tunnels, and rock slides had brought out a claustrophobia he hadn’t realized existed.
Travis chuckled. “No. The mine entrances have been blocked off completely now. And even if they weren’t, we take enough risks without asking for trouble. But from the videos, it’s only been a couple of years since people could get at least some of the way inside.”
“Is there anything left around the mine?” Brent couldn’t help being curious. “And what does ‘coke’ have to do with anything?”
“They superheated coal to refine it into a harder substance called coke, which was used in iron and steel manufacturing,” Travis said. “I guess I watched a few more videos than you did.”
Travis glanced at the GPS on his phone before he went on.
“There were massive ovens near the mine to refine the coal to coke, but those are gone now, along with the other big buildings that got the coal out of the mine and broke it up. There’s a concrete dynamite shack, a boiler house, and a gigantic man-made mountain of slate they used to call a boney pile. ”
“Did anyone get in trouble for the disaster?” Brent figured he already knew the answer, but he needed to ask.
“Not really. The mine inspector had just cleared the mine as safe days before. People are still arguing over whether the inspection missed something big or whether the explosive and suffocating gases seeped in through cracks in the rocks,” Travis said. “But of course, the owners weren’t liable.”
They passed a granite marker and a historic location sign, turning off the main road onto a paved driveway that led to a large expanse of green lawn with the old boiler house at one end.
Brent spotted the boney pile right away, looming gray and ugly in the background. Over to the side, he saw where an entrance to the mine had been sealed up.
“The news reports said that when the explosion happened, there were bodies strewn over sixty acres,” Travis said. “They were burned, crushed by rock falls, and slammed into the walls. Many couldn’t be identified. The company buried them in two long trenches.”
“Shit. No wonder the place is haunted.” On such a bright, sunny day, it was difficult for Brent to reconcile the horrific history with the peaceful green hills.
“Can you sense them?” Brent asked after he parked and they got out.
Travis concentrated, closing his eyes. “They’re out there, but they’re hanging back,” he said after a few quiet moments.
“What about the gnome? Do you think it played a role in the disaster?” Brent asked.
“I don’t know. It could have moved in after the people left,” Travis replied. “There were enough dangers that mines didn’t necessarily need monsters to make them explode. The carnage would have been a feast for any creature close enough to gorge itself.”
Brent nodded. “If they kept the mine going, the gnome could probably snack a little at a time. Once the mine closed, did it go to sleep? Did the explorers wake it up? Is it getting by on what it can grab from hikers, hunters, and explorers?”
Travis shrugged. “Maybe. For all we know, it left and came back again. But it’s here now, people are getting killed, and we need to get rid of it.”
“Does any of this look like your vision?” Brent asked.
Travis shook his head. “No. The entrance is all wrong. So I still have no idea what I saw or why it matters.”
As they drew closer to the mouth of the old mine, Brent felt a cold breeze and caught a whiff of stale air.