The Marradith Ryder Series: The Art of Shadows, Part 54

Jake Rubidoux was reed thin. He had round, dark brown eyes and cinnamon colored skin.  His hair was mostly black, but tinged with silver around his temples. He had an easy smile and a ready laugh. Danny always remembered his uncle as a good tempered man with many friends. Though he hadn’t seen Jake in several years, he felt as comfortable with him as if they parted yesterday.  He was waiting for Danny at the parking area outside the airport, leaning against his car with his arms crossed.

“Look at you son, you have grown,” Jake patted Danny on the back. “You’re sure you’re just ten?”

“Almost eleven,” Danny said coolly, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Uh huh,” Jake smiled and picked up his nephew’s suitcase. “I see you travel light. Your sister’s bags are already at my house, even though she won’t be here until this afternoon.”

“Yeah, that’s Marradith,” Danny grinned. “And once she’s here she won’t be able to find a thing. ”

***

They drove away from the airport and towards the long highway that would take them Lazarus.  Danny put on his ear buds, relasing in his seat. He had a new playlist of music he wanted to finish listening to, and had only made it through the first half on the plane.

“So Uncle Jake, what is there to do in Lazarus?”

Jake smiled. Oddly enough, something about his expression made Danny think of his Mom, though Nora’s smiles were rare.

“Depends on what you want to do.  We’ve got a pool at my house. Lots of space. We have horses. There’s a movie theater in town. There’s a mall in Roseville, which isn’t far.”

Danny nodded, though to him it sounded boring. He was glad that his cousins were away.  Jake had three sons,  and the younger two were close in age to Marradith. The oldest was already at college back East, and would be vacationing in Miami.  One son was at a camp for summer, while the youngest was away visiting his Mother’s side of the family.

Marradith would be around, but she always gave him room to do what he wanted, within reason.  Danny wasn’t sure yet about Uncle Jake. He’d never stayed at his Uncle’s for more than a few days, but he trusted that he wouldn’t go reporting things to his sister, Nora, if only to save himself the verbal assault he’d endure because of it.

With the music roaring in his ears, Danny sat back, and felt himself lulled by the motion of the car. Jake stared onto the road ahead, lowering the visor to shade his eyes from the intense sunlight.

***

Danny woke with a start.

The last chords of a song were dying away on his I-pod, leaving behind a breath of silence, and the singsong of wheels against pavement.

Danny recognized the area they were driving through. Mountains lay ahead, golden, dry vegetation lay alongside the gray stretch of highway.

The heat reflected off the road like a shimmer from a stovetop. Fascinated by the shimmer, Danny stared.

And then he blinked.

The shimmer of heat was shaping itself into form.

As they continued down the road, drawing closer, Danny could see more clearly.

A woman in long skirts and a bonnet walked up the highway, cars moving through her, unaware of her presence. Danny watched as she made her progress towards them.

“Uncle Jake….”

“Yes?” His Uncle said, thrumming his fingers against the wheel as he drove.

The woman didn’t stop until she reched their car, only the glass of the cars window seperating them.

Danny looked into her eyes and saw nothing but blackness. He screamed.

Jake pulled the car to the shoulder.

“What is it ?”

“That lady? You didn’t see her?”

Jake looked up the road. It laid empty before them.

Leaning over to pat his nephew’s shoulder, Jake sighed.

“A lot of people died on these old mountain roads. Trying to travel between towns over the mountain passes. There were more that died working the railroad. Some of their spirits are trapped here, traveling their last three or four miles over and over again. And you’re a medium, so you can see them. Don’t be afraid. What’s not flesh can’t hurt you. At least, not if you don’t let it.”

Jake gunned the engine and pulled back onto the highway, as if they’d been talking about sports or the weather.

When Danny caught his breath, he spoke again.

“No one has ever called me that before.”

“Well, if you prefer some other name for it. I don’t know what else one would call it.”

“Uncle Jake…”

“It’s okay.  There’s others like you, and a good many in our family. Your Mama and I talked about it. There may be a kind of education you can get here, that you won’t find anywhere else. We’ll help you.”

“I don’t want it,” Danny said.

“I’m sorry son, but you have no choice in it. You can master the gift, or you can let it control you. And you don’t want the latter to happen.”

___________________________________

©2011 Lori Titus

Want to know about the origins of Lazarus and how the Rubidouxs are tied to the Ryder family? Lazarus is available on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Lazarus-Lori-Titus/dp/1453775722/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_2

 

FOREWORD

 

Mournful voices haunted her in the night…

The words were barely distinguishable, as dead and fragile as the cracking of dried leaves. From where they called to her, language was only a memory. A fragment of sound no longer carried over vocal chords, rasped between withering lips.

Sometimes, when they were near, she heard a hiss, like the rustling of a snake through undergrowth.

Worse than that was the sound of scratching.

She kept a light in her room, until the candles were extinguished or morning came, whichever was first.

She kept a gun beneath her pillow. The best sleep came at dawn, when those that whispered to her sought the sanctuary of their graves.

 

 

Luella arrived in town with one trunk and a suitcase.

The trip had been a long one. The train stopped two cities away, and from there she rode a coach up to Lazarus.

The town was small: a church, a city hall, a Sheriff’s station. A few stores, including a bakery and a commissary. The saloon and hotel sat further back from the street, the windows dark beneath the shutters drawn tight against the blanching desert heat.

Luella entered a small, dark building, and leaned over the counter to speak to the man behind it. “May I speak with the Sheriff?”

The deputy, a man named Sully, roused himself from his daydreaming and blinked.

The woman wore a fine, pale blue dress and matching hat. As hot as the afternoon was, he didn’t see a bead of sweat on her. She regarded him coolly, her brown eyes narrowing as his stare slipped from her face to the swell of her décolletage.

“Miss, uh, can I help you?” Sully asked. “If you’re here to report a crime, then I am the man you need to speak with.”

She smiled. “No sir, that’s not why I am here. I have specific business in which the Sheriff will take an interest.”

“Business. From a woman,” he muttered under his breath. “Well have a seat, ma’am.”

She stared at him for a moment, and seeing no other choice, took a seat in the corner.

Sheriff Drake didn’t come back into the office until a little past twelve. He saw the young woman sitting in a chair, playing with a timepiece in her palm.

“Miss?” he said.

She snapped the timepiece shut and looked up at him. “Are you Sheriff Drake?”

“Yes, I am ma’am. And you are… Miss…?”

“Mrs.,” she corrected, “Luella Pembry.”

“Have you been waiting long?” he asked.

Her eyes flashed over at Sully, who pretended to read paperwork on the desk in front of him. “No sir, not at all,” she replied.

“Well please, come into my office, and we can discuss whatever it is you need.”

The Sheriff’s office was cramped. The desk seemed to take up most of the space in the room. The window behind the desk was open, but the air that sifted in was hot. Sitting across the desk from him, Luella was aware of just how close the space was.

The Sheriff was a tall man with black hair and dark eyes. He had a cleft chin, and olive skin. He grinned, and the expression lit his eyes.

“You’ll have to excuse Sully,” Drake said, “his manners could be better. I was a few doors down, talking with one of the shop owners. I’d have come if I knew you were waiting. Are you settling here in Lazarus?”

“That’s my intention,” she replied.

“Then your husband will be joining you?”

 “No, he won’t. I am a widow.”

 “I’m sorry for your loss ma’am. Is his passing recent?”

“Somewhat. It’s been little over a year.” she paused. “I’ve come here to get a new start.”

“You have relatives nearby?”

“No. Which is part of the reason I came to California.”

“Well I do suppose family can be both blessing and curse. So what brings you here to see me today, Mrs. Pembry?”

She sat back in her chair. Staring out the window, Luella paused before looking back at Drake.

“My husband was a wealthy man. I’d like to buy property here in Lazarus. I am told that, even with the means to buy, it’s very difficult for a lady like myself to secure land on her own. I was also told that certain exceptions could be made and that you’re the man with whom I should speak.”

“Mrs. Pembry, I do sympathize, but the town’s laws are what they are. I hope you’re not suggesting….”

“What I am suggesting is that I can be of service to you and your town. And once my services are provided, I’d like to purchase a plot of land here to build my own home, in my name.”

“Services? What would that be?”

“Sheriff Drake, the train’s been coming in to Roseville for a few years now. That’s a stone’s throw from here. By all rights, your town should be prospering. The old families stay, but new ones don’t come. There’s a reason for that.”

“Mrs. Pembry, I don’t recall you saying exactly where it is you’re from.”

“You don’t recall because I didn’t tell you. My husband and I lived in Boston. That’s where he was born. But I’m from Louisiana.”

“Then how is it you think you know so much about Lazarus?”

“I don’t think. I know,” she leaned forward in her chair, her voice dropping to a whisper. He could smell the scent of rosewater on her skin. “You and I both know that people are afraid to stay in this town, and for good reason.”

“Since you know all about the local folklore,” Drake spat, “let’s talk plainly about it, then. What is it you‘re getting at?”

“You’ve got a problem keeping the dead in their graves here,” she said. “And I can help you.”

Drake stared at her. A moment elapsed, and they were both silent.

“How did you come to hear of our local…folklore?” he pressed.

“People say things. I listen. It’s not as well kept a secret as you and Mayor Cole think that it is.”

“Mayor Cole…?”

“Jasper thinks that he knows everything,” she continued. “So do you. It’s one of the things you have in common. But as of late, it’s happening more often, isn’t it? The dead are restless.”

“Who are you?” Drake asked. “Who are you really?”

“That’s not the right question.”

“Then what  are you?”

She stood. When she smiled, the expression did not touch her eyes.

“Certainly, Sheriff Drake,” she said, “you can figure that out on your own.”

_____________________________

©2010 Lori Titus

Want more? This novella has been published through The Library of the Living Dead Press, and is available on Amazon.com:

http://www.amazon.com/Lazarus-Lori-Titus/dp/1453775722/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1285486200&sr=1-1

Edited by Felicia A. Tiller

Cover Art by Tony Smith