The Hanging Hill

39

The four men stood holding hands in a circle around the ghost light at center stage.

Grimes wished he had a toothbrush. He still tasted the canine carcass.

“Repeat after me,” Hakeem instructed. “Ego sum te peto et videre queo!”

“That’s Latin.”

“Of course.”

“Well, what does it mean?”

“Did you not read The Book of Ba’al?”

Grimes hesitated. “I skimmed some sections.”

“So I feared. Ego sum te peto et videre queo: I seek you and demand to see you.”

“I seek you and demand to see you.”

“In Latin, please.”

“Ego sum te peto et videre queo.”

“Louder.”

“Ego sum te peto et videre queo!”

“Again!”

“Whose spirit are we summoning?”

“Let us start at the top of your grandfather’s list. Mad Dog Murphy.”

“Who’s he?”

“Convicted bank robber. Murderer. Died in the electric chair in 1959.”

“What do we want with him?”

“Repeat the words.”

“First you tell me why we would want a murdering bank robber!”

“Because he is very good at his job!” said Hakeem. The other two men sniggered. “Repeat the words!”

Grimes felt the warmth of power surging through his body. Jolts of adrenaline rippled up from his hands as he clutched the hands of the two brothers of Hannibal. Who were these people? Why did they make him feel like he could soar through the air like an eagle, commanding all those below? Like his lame arm would somehow grow strong enough to wield a terrible swift sword and fell any who stood in his way?

“Ego sum te peto et videre queo!” he cried “Mad Dog Murphy! I seek you and demand to see you!”

“Louder!”

“I seek you and demand to see you! Now!”

The bulb atop the ghost light exploded.

Sparks arced up from the exposed filament.

Electricity crackled across the air, igniting a roaring thunderclap. Four lightning bolts collided at center stage with the screech of steel wheels screaming to a stop in a train wreck.

A monstrous man strapped in a wooden chair suddenly materialized in the air. He floated ten feet above the floor, bobbing like a tossed boat on a churning sea.

“Where am I?” the beast in the chair bellowed.

“Are you the spirit of Mad Dog Murphy?” Grimes demanded.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Where the blazes am I?”

“Where I summoned you!” answered Grimes, feeling more robust and vital than he had ever felt in his life.

He was his grandfather’s rightful heir.

He was a true necromancer!