Page 29 of The Mare Rider of Cornwall Cove
“I’ll protect you from him. I promise.” I leaned in to grasp his hand. His sight locked with mine. “He will not touch you again.”
That was a vow I knew I could uphold. If the mare rider didn’t want to play the game our way and made a move for Phil, I’d open myself up to taking the wraith into me. I’d done it before, and all had been fine. Mostly. Aside from being in bed for a week. Yes, that had been a child, not a pissy, full-grown phantasma, but there was no way I was letting Phil get hurt again.
“Okay, sure, that’s good. I love you. Don’t do anything reckless,” he whispered, then stole a soft kiss before the sound of footsteps on the creaking stairs warned us of our team descending toward us. We pushed to our feet to meet them. Roxie and Tray were stoic but ready. Grandpa shuffled over to force a few more bracelets onto our arms. Phil and I now looked like Keiran Culkin with all the bangles. Monique was dressed in white, with an ivory turban on her head, a white robe with red lining and trim, and plenty of necklaces, earrings, and other charms that jingled when she moved. Tiny white boots peeked out from under the voluminous robe. A long, lacy shawl sat delicately on her shoulders. A cloud of scent engulfed us as she neared. The herbs she had bathed in were rich and heady, a combination of mint, sage, and perhaps basil. She’d not said, and no one had dared ask, what those herbs meant. She made me and Phil look like poor college dudes in our jeans, tees, puffycoats, and leather boots. Which was what we were, but yeah, we paled in comparison.
“You should go. The night is dark and full.” Monique kissed me and Phil on the cheek, a loving peck for us both.
“Do what Monique has told you to do,” Grandpa said to both Phil and me. We dutifully nodded. “Remember that even the most vile of souls can be turned to the light if the lantern leading the way is pure. You are a Kee. Your inner eye will show you the correct path to take. If all else fails, call upon your ancestors for guidance.”
“I will. Everything will be fine.” I said that with an assurance I didn’t quite feel but had to project. Roxie and Tray both hugged us and gave us little trinkets.
“Please do be careful,” Roxie said softly as she placed a tiny amulet with a lotus flower emblem in my hand. “Your grandpa told us once that your mom loved this flower. Maybe carrying this with you will keep her close.”
I hugged her hard. “I’ll wear it all night.” I dropped it over my neck and tucked it inside my shirt. Roxie looked shaken, but she hid it as best as she could.
Tray passed Phil a Liverswell Lions keychain. “To help you remember that you’re a lion at heart.”
“I fucking love you, man,” Phil coughed. After a long round of bro hugs and shoulder claps, we headed to the door.
“Hold us close to your hearts. That love will lead you back home,” Monique called. I could smell the faint aroma of mint on my clothes from her embrace.
“See you guys later,” I said, hugging my grandfather, then followed Phil out into the cold. Snowflakes danced around us as we clambered into Phil’s truck. Grateful that his older model truck had a bench seat, I shimmed next to totes and bags filled with an eclectic assortment of things from Monique. To be used when needed, she had explained earlier over a light lunch, and Iwould know when. I wished I had her confidence in me. I belted myself in and waited for Phil to get himself settled. Phil was quiet, his demeanor subdued. Not scared really, I didn’t feel, just resolute in what we were facing. With a pithy smile, he started the old gal up and began fiddling with the stereo.
“I need good tunes,” he explained, but I already knew that. This was nervous chatter. “We usually listen to my playlists. Is that okay? Do you want something more religious or something? I might be able to find something on Spotify that—”
“Phil, baby, your tunes are awesome.” Phil stopped scrolling through playlists from other people and got one of his loaded. As soon as the first song started, I gave my boyfriend a curious look. He smiled sheepishly.
“I’m in my Simple Minds era,” he confessed as we pulled away from the curb. I glanced at the store and saw Reg standing at attention just inside the front window, saluting us. I snapped one back to him just as the band began singing about dancing alone.
“I love this movie.” I sighed as we made a left to leave our loved ones behind. “I know it came out in like ?85, but it related so well to my years in high school and the music was amazing. I had such a mega crush on Judd Nelson’s character when I was younger,” I confessed.
“No really? I totally thought you’d have been into Emilio Estevez’s character,” Phil said as we cruised past the local grocery store, lights flickering off as they closed up for the day. “Youdolike jocks.” Phil gave me a tiny wink.
“Yeah, well,nowI do, but when I first saw it, I was like twelve and that bad boy thing really struck a chord. I would have given anything to be tall, badass, and White when I was falling face first into puberty. I’m pretty sure John Bender wouldn’t have taken the shit I did back then.”
“Kids can be cruel.” Phil sighed and took my hand, resting on a cloth bag that reeked of cigar smoke. “You’ve grown into the sexiest, smartest man ever. Any of those twits who poked fun at you back then can go pound sand.”
“Thanks, babe.” I bent over to kiss his knuckles. “They can lick a frozen pole.”
“Yeah, they can go blow glass!”
“Maybe we stop for some coffee on the way?” I offered a few miles out of town. “Monique said to have some on hand.”
“For what?”
“Something about an offering to a kind Loa if we need his assistance?”
“Sure, if that’s going to help, let’s grande the shit out of this nice spirit.” We pulled into the drive-thru window of a large coffee chain and ordered up. Phil and I knocked back ours but left one large black coffee sitting in the cup holder on the door. Tired ghost hunter, caffeinate thyself!
The lighthearted feels didn’t linger long, sadly. The closer we got to the sanitarium, the more internal we seemed to grow. I was deep within myself, plotting out what I could say to a possible demonic force that reveled in the fear of nightmares. Politely asking him to cease and desist didn’t seem feasible. Nor did demanding him to stop being a big fat dick. I’d have to be insightful and try to ferret out what it was that kept him here. Surely it wasn’t the smorgasbord of dreams he could feast on, not anymore. Once in a while some dopes would arrive on the grounds—and yes, that did include Phil and me—that offered a small meal of fright, but that little taste every few years couldn’t be enough to sustain it. No, there was something else. And that was what we had to discover.
The gates of the asylum appeared out of the darkness, still open from our entry last night, still just as foreboding.
The tension in the cab climbed. “I really hate this place,” Phil said as he scanned the grounds, his lips flat. “Once we clean this place, can we agree to never come back?” He glanced over at me. I nodded. Phil crept through the gates. A song I’d never heard before flowed from the speakers. Something about sanctifying yourself, which felt pretty apropos right now. “Do you see any lingering spirits?”
I tore my sight from him to look out over the snowy grounds. A few dull gold shapes moved among the bare trees, mostly free-form spirits, clusters of residual life energy that were soon to filter into nothingness.
“Not yet, but the best contact I had was inside,” I replied and wet my suddenly dry lips. “We’ll have to park and go inside.” I peered over at my boyfriend sitting stiff as a newly sawed two-by-four. “Phil, how you doing?”
