Like Lambs Led

18 Bitter Coffee

"Tell me about Bella Hardgrove," I demand, folding my arms across my chest, grateful for warmth.

A space heater on the floor clicks beside me. Mr. Thatcher offered me a jacket, but I declined it. If it smells anything like him, I prefer to suffer in my wet sweatshirt.

With trembling hands, Mr. Thatcher hands me a dainty, white tea cup filled with steaming black coffee. "You tell me about Ethan Morales."

Against my better judgement, I've followed Alex back into this stuffy house with its gummy carpet and piles of trash bags. Folding chairs surround the wobbly card table in the living room. On the table is a black wind chime in the shape of a pentagram.

A dim lightbulb overhead casts a timid glow. The five-pointed ornament stares up at me. I want to be anywhere but here.

"I'll tell you what you want to know. But you have to tell me about Bella first," I say, warily eyeing the golden bells attached to the bottom of the wind chime.

"Seems fair enough," Alex whispers to Mr. Thatcher. He leans back in his chair across from me and grimaces. Or maybe it's a smile. It's hard to tell with the bruising on his face.

"We don't have time for no damn Twenty Questions." Mr. Thatcher purses his lips at Alex.

"I need to know what the hell I've gotten myself into." A shiver catches in my bones, but my voice stays steady.

He fixes his watery stare on me, lowering himself into a chair. "I'm only gonna go through all of this once."

"Once is all I need."

He sighs. "When Shannon reanimated Bella, she didn't quite know what would happen. Shannon had heard from her mama about the dangers of playing games with the dead, but she never witnessed a resurrection firsthand.

"Bella was from the trailer park about a mile south from here. The poor girl never had an easy go of it with her having a whoremongering, drunk daddy and all. Her mama died when she was real young. Terrible accident on the I-235." Mr. Thatcher clucks his tongue, giving a sad shake of the head.

"With a background like that and nobody to care for the poor thing, she was an easy target. The Colbys like girls that don't have a lot of family. Less family means less people to miss them. After they snatched her two years ago, Bella's ghost haunted your aunt somethin' terrible. Just wouldn't let go."

"Night terrors, scratches on the floor, that sort of thing." Alex blows on his coffee. Takes a sip. Winces. "You got any sugar, old man?"

Mr. Thatcher gives Alex a mean side-eye, but continues, "After Shannon did that whisperin' and made that Ethan boy of yours die, she began to believe in her power a little more. Started standin' a little taller. I told her she best be careful, marching 'round here like a damn peacock. But she 'was feedin' the right wolf', she said, and so she started thinkin' she could raise the dead."

Mr. Thatcher sniffles. Jaw turns to stone. Though he's trying his best to maintain his composure, I'm wondering if his relationship with Aunt Shannon had its share of complications.

"Bella's ghost led Shannon to the bones," he says. "They were in a wide, open field behind the Colby's hog production site. Those damn Colbys left her to decompose there like roadkill or somethin'. Under an unblinkin' full moon, I held watch as Shannon whispered. She whispered, her eyes rolling back in her head, until flesh formed on those old, forgotten bones. Until a rosy-cheeked monster stood in front of us."

Then Mr. Thatcher points a finger at me. "The problem with raising the dead, you never know what you're gonna get."

I take a tentative sip of the coffee. The bitter sludge leaves a film in my throat. "I met Bella. I'm not at all surprised she came from Hell."

"I didn't say all that, now. You can't make assumptions with these things. Like Shannon wrote in that journal, we thought that by reanimating that girl on a full moon night, we'd be in the clear. Safe from any tomfoolery. Shannon always found ghosts friendly during full moons. But the thing that came back as Bella wasn't fun and games. No, sirree. She was like those things that rise from the ground on other nights, the nights when the moon isn't full. Dreadful, hateful creatures. Bella almost killed your aunt that night. She'd have done it, too. But Shannon was kept protected by The Veil."

My skin crawls. With a sinking stomach, I ask, "What's this Veil thing?"

But Mr. Thatcher carries a faraway look in his eyes. He ignores my question. "Bella showed up on the Colbys' front steps, at their home. Imagine that! She demanded retribution and became fixated on Colt, saying she was gonna drag him to the grave with her. The Sheriff tried locking her up. But she'd escape somehow and be on his front porch every morning, eyes glowing, talkin' about the day she'll ruin them. Everyone 'round here has handled her with kid gloves, because we're expecting a fuse to blow at any moment. Though we've been afraid of The Dust for generations, once Shannon brought that poor girl back, the town's fear turned to somethin' else. Somethin' frenzied."

Alex nods, his eyes downward. "It's true. Once The Dust realized Bella was revived, it sent two big-ass tornadoes. Tore everything down on Route 19. People were anxious to feed it again. Anything to appease it. After that, the town actually helped The Colbys find two girls to sacrifice. Broke into their homes while the girls were alone. Told the girls it was a school prank. Hogtied them."

Mr. Thatcher clears his throat before slurping from his cup.

Alex says, "My sister was one of them."

A silence stretches out between us, as thick and muddy as the coffee that sits in front of me.

The whole town helped? Conspired together to offer up two girls to some dust demon? This is why that janitor didn't leap to my defense this morning. I shiver. I'm not sure if it's from my wet sweatshirt or the realization that a dead girl pulled my hair earlier today.

"Now tell us why Shannon risked her hide to send that foul thing to kill Ethan," Mr. Thatcher says, rapping his knuckles against the table. "And talk quick. We need you to learn how to whisper before these Colbys come back 'round here."