Southern Gothic (20 page)

“The hell it is,” Max said and leaped onto Rolson.

Both Drummond and Sandra called out, “Max!” Sandra sounded worried, but Drummond’s voice flooded the room with vigor and excitement.

In the instant that Max jumped into action, he had the satisfaction of seeing Rolson’s shock. He wished he could stop things at that moment like a still frame at the end of some movies. But nothing stopped. Max careened forward and knocked the man against the door.

He shoved back, trying to gain a second to reset, but Rolson had some training — he didn’t wait. As Max stepped back, Rolson moved in with a gut punch followed by an uppercut. Little lights sparkled across Max’s vision as he tumbled to the floor. His chin ached and his eyes required a few extra seconds to settle the images around him.

Seconds he didn’t have.

Though Sandra tried to intervene, Rolson shoved her aside with ease before straddling Max and punching him in the face. Those hammy fists slammed into Max’s cheeks twice. As Rolson pulled back for a final, devastating blow, his face took on a horrified, painful twist. Though Max couldn’t see clearly, he knew the answer — Drummond.

Rolson fell to the side giving Max a chance to get back up. Drummond let go, rubbing his hand and wincing, while Max steadied himself. Without hesitation, Max kicked Rolson in the side. Then he kicked again. And again. He only stopped when the door opened and a middle-aged waiter entered the room.

All eyes turned on the waiter. The dignified man stared back with his salt-and-pepper hair lending a sense of propriety to an otherwise chaotic moment. He glanced down at Rolson, stepped close in, and punched hard enough to finish the work Max had started. Rolson was unconscious.

The waiter offered his hand. A small tattoo had been inked between his thumb and forefinger — a circle with a swirling yin-yang symbol. “My name is Samuel. Thank you for helping our Mother.”

“Mother?” Max glanced over at the witch. “Who are you people? What is this all about?”

Samuel patted down Rolson, removed a handgun from the trench coat’s pocket, and said, “In the future, you should know that as long as Mother Hope is here in the hotel, she can come to no harm. That’s why we made sure she was here.”

“Made sure?”

“Max — may I call you Max? — everybody talks to everybody. The moment we knew Rolson had taken Mother Hope, we understood that he did so without the authority of the police. Thus, he could not bring her to jail. He needed a place to house her. We alerted all our friends at every hotel in the area, assuring that none would give him a room. When he finally called the O. Henry Hotel, he happily found a room available — exactly where we wanted him. This hotel is our central hub of control — our headquarters, if you will.”

Max looked to Sandra. “Do you understand any of this?”

“Some,” she said. “I’ll explain in the car. Right now, we’ve got to go.”

“Hold on. Go where?”

“New Garden Friends School. While you distracted Rolson and had him running all over, I’ve been talking with Mother Hope. I know where we need to go, so let’s go.”

Rolson stirred and moaned.

The waiter said, “Please listen to your wife and go. I don’t want him to wake with you or Mother Hope in this room. If that happens, I’ll be forced to kill him, and I don’t want that.”

Drummond descended next to Max. “Come on, Max. These aren’t people to mess with. They clearly know things we don’t, and well, frankly, when you’re given an easy out like this, you should take it — most of the time. Anyway, this is one of those times.”

Max backed toward the door. “What about Mother Hope?”

The door opened and two maids entered the room. With swift, economical motions, they helped Mother Hope to her feet and escorted her out the door. Sandra followed behind until she reached Max. She looped her arm around his and patted his shoulder.

“Trust me,” she said.

“I do.”

“Then we need to hurry. Pretty soon, Rolson will be back on his feet and he’s going to be angry.”

Chapter 22

Max had seen Sandra drive fast before
but never like this. Traffic on Bryan Boulevard was heavier than usual, but Sandra weaved in and out with expert skill like she had been born for Nascar. Max sat in the passenger seat feeling worse than he had on the previous drive. His bruised cheeks promised to swell up as his eye blackened.

“Slow down,” Max said.

Sandra pressed harder on the gas. “Rolson’s not out of this yet. He’ll try to come for us, so we’ve got to get to that school first.”

“She’s right,” Drummond said from the back seat. “I take it the witch told you where in this school we’re supposed to be finding the gold.”

“She told me a lot more than that.” Sandra pointed to the folder of Sebastian Freeman’s photographs sitting in the door pocket next to Max. “Look through those. We’ve got to find where on the school property this thing is buried.”

“Wait, you said — so she didn’t tell you where?”

“There was only so much time with Rolson chasing you and all that.”

Max said, “What exactly did she tell you?”

“She told me this Magi group exists not to fight the Hulls specifically but to fight any who try to abuse magic. That they’re a secret society who keep to the shadows, keep quiet — I get the sense they’re more secretive than the Hulls.”

Drummond ignored the photos. “We already know this stuff. I’m the one who found it out the first time.”

“I’m telling you what she told me. I figured hearing her say some of it again was like the way the cops will ask the same questions over and over looking for a slip-up.”

“That works when you’ve got hours to interrogate a person. We need answers fast.”

Max opened the folder and brought some of the photos closer to his face. “Will the two of you stop it? We’ve got enough problems.”

“She started it.”

Together Max and Sandra said, “Shut up.”

Drummond crossed his arms and looked out the window. In a lower tone, Sandra went on, “The witch told me that they’ve let us do a lot of the public work, but they’ve been watching us and they’re happy to use us whenever it suits them.”

Max shook his head. “Great. Another bunch of people willing to use us.”

“This school isn’t that far ahead. We’re not going to have much time.”

“To do what? You don’t really think we’re going to find that gold. It could be buried anywhere on that property.”

Sandra swerved into the left lane and received an angry honk from a rusting pickup truck. “The witch said we could find it and I figured Sebastian knew something about it, too, because he took pictures of the place.”

Max rifled through the remaining pictures until he found a handful marked
NGFS
. The photos depicted three single-floor brick school buildings. Two of the buildings were up front with a walkway separating them down the middle. In the back, a large building rose above. A small parking lot covered the front, and ball fields had been placed off to the left. A second photo showed empty, untamed grassland.

Drummond pointed to the empty photo. “It’s got to be in there. Why else would Freeman have a picture of that field?”

“It’s a pretty big field. We’re going to be digging all night long.”

As Sandra headed toward an exit marked PTI Airport and Old Oak Ridge Road, she said, “Sometimes, you boys can be so stupid. Pull up the school’s website. Check out the field in there. There has to be a school map or something.”

Max brought out his cell phone. He tapped in the website and started clicking around.

“Hey you mentioned this.”

“What?” Sandra asked.

“Didn’t you say they built a gymnasium a few years back?”

Drummond inched closer but his cold presence caused Max to involuntarily shiver. “You found something?”

Max lifted the photograph. “Where do you think they built it?”

Sandra turned onto Old Oak Ridge Road and drove by many homes and a supermarket. “The witch spoke in very broken phrases. I don’t know if she was all there or not, but she said the words
Wood
and
Three
over and over again. Wood-Three. Wood-Three. Maybe that has something to do with this.”

“Sheesh,” Drummond said, thrusting back into his seat. “You think you could have mentioned that a little earlier?”

“Sorry. I’m not used to driving this fast and having to solve a mystery at the same time.”

Max put his hand up between them. “Don’t you two start. We know this thing is probably buried somewhere under that gym, and now we have this information about
Wood
and
Three
. It’s a gym — there’s a lot of wood on the floor. I’m guessing it’s over there. We’ll figure out the rest when we get to the school. How much longer until we get there?”

Sandra pointed to an electronic sign on the side of the road that read — WELCOME TO NEW GARDEN FRIENDS SCHOOL.

Max looked at the sign and said, “Oh.”

Chapter 23

The New Garden Friends School
had been built off of Pleasant Ridge Road. It was a small private school consisting of three buildings and an open layout like a mini-college where students walked between buildings to get to classes. The newly constructed area sat in the back. Evergreens lined both sides of the school like stolid sentries watching over while creating a protective wall of green.

Sandra parked near the entrance to the building on the right — a large black letter ‘A’ next to the door. The building on the left had the letter ‘B’. She assumed the gymnasium in the back had a ‘C’ somewhere near its entrance.

Though the evening traffic had slimmed, cars passed down Pleasant Ridge Road every so often. Some turned into the housing development across the street, but none slowed down to look at the school. Max guessed that seeing a car parked at the school, even at night, did not arouse suspicions amongst the locals. They would think that a teacher or the principal had worked late, if they thought about it at all.

Max and Sandra started down the concrete path between the buildings and headed toward the gymnasium. The temperature had dropped, and Max felt the inside of his nose freezing up.

“I’ll see if I can get the door open,” Drummond said and flew ahead.

About halfway down the path, a brick overhang formed a square area near a side door into the ‘B’ building. Something large and dark sat in the shadows formed by the back corner of the overhang.

“What’s that?” Max asked, putting his arm out in front of Sandra — a useless but protective gesture.

Sandra pulled out a small penlight and turned it on the shadowed area. Max jumped at the sight of a bear. Only when he heard Sandra’s giggles did he realize that the ferocious animal had not moved nor made a sound. Sandra walked over and knocked on the wooden statue.

“Guess they’re the New Garden Bears, huh? You’re lucky they weren’t the panthers — that would’ve terrified you.”

“It’s dark, and I’ve had a crappy day. Give me a break.”

“Come on. Let’s go to the gym ... scaredy-pants.”

Max kept his retorts to himself as they crossed a small courtyard to the glass doors of the gymnasium. Drummond waited inside, hovering by the door.

“I can’t unlock it,” he said. “The door has bolts in the top and bottom and a key lock flush with the surface. It’s not like a house where I can turn a knob or switch.”

Max looked off to both sides. Another door was at the right end, but he figured they would find the same situation. “What if you freeze the lock?”

“And do what then?” Drummond asked a bit sharply. Max understood — because touching the corporeal world caused a ghost pain, Drummond didn’t want to do so unless he had a good reason. If he could open a lock to help the team, he would do it without question. But in this case, they had no idea what would happen after freezing the lock, and Drummond had no desire to suffer for nothing.

“We could smash the glass,” Sandra said.

Max put his face close to the door. “I can’t tell if the doors are alarmed or not. At the least, they probably have a sound detector that would pick up shattering glass.”

Drummond clapped his hands. “Then we make sure it doesn’t shatter.” He placed his hands on the lower pane. With a nod, he allowed his ghostly hands to become tangible. He kept them on the glass, wincing at the sharp pains, as he focused on the task.

The glass frosted over. The frost whitened and a crack appeared. Then another. The cracks grew, splintering off until they connected and formed a drunken spiderweb.

Drummond removed his hands, visibly relieved, and gestured toward the door pane. “Be my guest.”

Max took the penlight from Sandra, and with the back of it, he poked gently at the cracked, frozen glass. Pieces fell apart like hard candy. The small chunks dropping to the floor made a soft tinkling sound — nothing loud enough to set off an alarm.

“Good job,” Max said.