The Restorer

Eighteen

Rhapsody and her friends walked me to the cemetery, but they would go no farther than the entrance. I moved alone through the modest headstones, pausing at Mariama’s and Shani’s graves to glance back. Rhapsody stood on the side of the road, staring after me. Something in her anxious expression reminded me of the conversation I’d overheard between her and Essie.

Somebody uh-comin’ for dis gal. Somebody with a soul black as midnight. Somebody dat walk with the dead.

A chill settled over me, followed by a sinking sensation.

Then I scoffed at myself for taking her words so literally. I was making too much of the whole thing. Essie might have the ability to cure certain ailments with her roots and berries and her Life Everlasting, but that didn’t mean she had the gift of second sight.

Nevertheless, I picked up my pace, anxious to be well away from the graveyard before dusk. The sun still hovered at treetop level, spangling down through the oak leaves like long streamers of glitter. I had plenty of time, but already I could feel the budding prickles of unease that always accompanied twilight.

Pressing the remote to unlock the car doors, I scrambled down a small embankment and jumped the ditch to the road. But as I approached the SUV, my steps slowed and I swore under my breath.

The front tire on the driver’s side was completely flat. Not an uncommon occurrence on the back roads I traveled, which was why I always took care to keep my spare aired up and my jack working properly.

Tamping down my impatience and just a tinge of panic, I hauled around the necessary equipment and set to work, the light at my back.

The lug nuts were always the hardest part for me. Each one took extra effort to loosen. By the time I finally got the car jacked up and the tire off, the sun had dipped below the treetops.

Somewhere in the woods behind me, a loon wailed, the eerie sound running a cold finger up my spine.

Feeling exposed and vulnerable with my back to the trees, I positioned the spare onto the wheel studs, fumbling the lug nuts in my haste. Then I lowered the jack. Tightened the lugs. Glanced over my shoulder. All clear.

But I heard the loon again, a tremolo this time, which Papa always said indicated agitation or fear.

Throwing everything into the back of the SUV, I climbed behind the wheel and left the same way I’d come in.

The trees on either side of the gravel road grew inward, creating an impenetrable tent dripping with Spanish moss. My headlights came on automatically, and now and then I saw the gleam of wary eyes from the underbrush, the scurry of some small creature along the ditches.

As much as I wanted to be away from the cemetery, away from Essie’s warning, I took it slow over the bumpy road. But once I reached the highway, I stomped on the accelerator. With every mile, the sun sank lower, flaming out as it slid toward the marshes, leaving a comet’s tail of gilded crimson just above the treetops.

I’d gone less than five miles when I heard a telltale thump.

No!

No, no, no. No!

This could not be happening. Not another flat. Not here. Not now.

Fighting back panic, I tried to assess the situation.

I could keep driving, get as far down the road as I possibly could before the tire came completely off the rim. Or I could turn around and try to make it to Hammond, which was probably seven or eight miles the other way.

From the sound of the flapping rubber, I doubted I’d get very far in either direction.

Hobbling to the shoulder, I parked and checked my phone for a signal. A solitary bar flashed in and out.

I got out, climbed onto the hood and then scrambled up to the roof where I turned in a slow circle, my eyes glued to the signal.

The light was fading fast. All around me, utter stillness. The hush of twilight. That end-of-day moment when the ghosts came out.

There!

Another bar!

Quickly, I placed a call to my roadside service and managed to ramble off the directions before the signal faded. Whether a tow truck would be forthcoming, I had no idea.

I kept turning, hoping for a stronger signal. As I finished a second rotation, I saw a flicker of movement just beyond a row of trees.

The hair bristled at the back of my neck, but I didn’t outwardly react. Instead, I made another circle, surveilling the woods from the corner of my eye.

I saw it there, hiding in the gloom.

Whatever it was, it had followed me all the way to Beaufort County. And now it hunkered among the trees, watching me.

I didn’t move, didn’t even dare breathe.

It wasn’t like any apparition I’d ever encountered. There was no aura, no ethereal lightness. This thing was dark and dank, with no more substance than a shadow. But I could feel its presence. The evil that emanated from the woods was palpable.

Now the hairs on my arms rose, as well. I tried to take my time climbing down from the roof, but my feet slipped and I ended up on my butt, sliding down the windshield, bouncing off the hood and landing on my hands and knees in the dirt. Gravel and glass cut into my flesh, but I paid little mind to the sting. I leapt to my feet, jumped into the car, slammed and locked the door.

As if that would keep the thing out.

I reached into my pocket for my phone, found Essie’s amulet and clutched it in my hand.

A foul chill oozed through the closed windows, turning my stomach, making my heart pound even harder.

I saw a flash at the passenger window. There one moment, gone the next.

Pulling the mirror toward me, I watched the rear, almost expecting to find something peering in at me, but I saw nothing. No…there was something…

About two hundred yards back, a car had pulled to the shoulder.

I experienced a momentary elation before I realized that I hadn’t heard the engine or seen the lights.

Very odd. And creepy.

My eyes fastened on the mirror, I tried to detect movement.

Nothing.

But at least a car was real, the driver a flesh-and-blood person.

Climbing over the seat, I grabbed the tire iron I’d used earlier and then returned to my place behind the wheel. My gaze went again to the mirror and I wondered if I should go back there and ask for help.

I waited.

An eternity passed before I finally spotted a faint glimmer on the horizon that gradually morphed into twin pinpoints of light.

Whoever was in the car behind me must have seen the headlights, too, because I heard the engine start up. The next thing I knew, the vehicle was flying up the shoulder so fast I thought the driver meant to ram me.

I caught my breath and braced for a collision, but at the last moment, he veered onto the road and shot around me, still without lights. I could make out nothing more than a dark color and the boxy shape of a late-model sedan.

As the other car approached, I got out and stood shivering at the edge of the road. Terrified the driver might fail to stop, I dashed into the middle of the highway, screaming at the top of my lungs and waving my arms like a madwoman.

The vehicle slowed, stopped and a door opened. I heard the crunch of shoes on gravel and then miraculously, my name.

“Amelia?”

My knees went weak with relief.