The Maelstrom of the Leaf Academy (Gulf Coast Paranormal Book 11) Page 11

  Jocelyn! But she wasn’t alone! There was a man with her; it was Gary Holloway, and he was doing his very best to kill her. Gary pushed her to the edge of the roof by swinging his knife at her. Her clothes were blood-soaked, and she was screaming for help.

  “Midas!” she screamed as he took another swing at her.

  “Cassidy, just like before! Help me!” Sierra wept as she reached for my hand again. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the horrible spectacle, but in my mind I could see the purple energy around us. Only briefly. I couldn’t do it. Gary reached for her as she began to fall backwards. He raised his hand as if to deal her the death blow before she tumbled over the side, but then he vanished.

  Just as Jocelyn had vanished earlier.

  But then Midas was there, reaching for her. She caught his hand before she fell. He had her! I looked at Sierra and said, “We did it!”

  I heard Midas say with some relief, “I’ve got you, Jocelyn.” But as he turned around with her in his arms, he was not prepared for what waited for him.

  Ollie had returned with feather in hand. He was offering Midas a deal. But who could trust the Nalusa Falaya? It felt as if time stood still. The message was clear. Take the feather or you’ll both die. I can kill you both now. My legs wouldn’t work, and clearly no one else could move either. All we could do was watch in horror.

  Midas was weighing his options; his mind worked on solving the problem. And then Ollie changed his mask. He was Dominic Demopolis again, and he was crying pitifully, “Help me!” Sierra made a hissing sound as if she wanted to speak, but Ollie raised his hand and silenced her. There was nothing and no one that could help our friends. Tears rolled down my face, and before I could come up with any solution, it all came to an end.

  In one agonizing, awful moment, I saw Jocelyn grab the feather and plunge off the roof. The Nalusa Falaya melted into the night air as Midas’ scream echoed through the dark woods around us.

  Jocelyn Graves was gone for good.

  Epilogue—Cassidy

  “She would have liked it, Midas. She really would have loved it,” Sierra whispered in Midas’ ear as she tried to comfort him. He was a shell of himself. I could count on one hand how many times he’d actually spoken in the past week or eaten a meal.

  Joshua hugged him tight and patted his back. The sight of my fiancé’s sagging shoulders and red-rimmed eyes broke my heart. “I’m here for you, boss. Whatever you need, you call me.” Joshua hugged me too, but I resisted the urge to emotionally crumble although that’s what I wanted to do more than anything. Jocelyn Graves was dead, and her death had broken all of us. Midas most of all. That’s all Midas needed was for me to lose it. I couldn’t believe that her family hadn’t attended. I mean no one.

  Except Aaron. The lanky investigator observed the service from the back of the chapel and made no effort to speak to Midas or his former teammates. His message was clear—he blamed us for Jocelyn’s death. He left without a word to anyone, not even Joshua, who was making his way to him. Joshua glanced back at me, and the confusion and sadness on his face said it all.

  “Midas, I’m sorry about Jocelyn.” Sara rubbed his arm gently, and he hugged her momentarily. The funeral announcement had drawn people from near and far; Jocelyn had apparently touched many people in her short life. Sara didn’t behave inappropriately or pile on the accusations. Thankfully, she didn’t accuse Midas of all the things he was accusing himself of like being reckless, putting his team in danger. I’d heard those things from his own lips, and although I disagreed with him, I knew he believed it.

  “Sorry to have to see you again like this, Cassidy.” Sara stretched her hand out to me, and I shook it. She hadn’t changed much since I met her at that first meeting in the Gulf Coast Paranormal offices. Sara and Midas used to be business partners, and personal partners as well, but they’d broken up when she accepted an offer to participate in a paranormal reality television show. Her presence here was just a testament to how great Jocelyn was. Sara didn’t overstay her welcome, leaving us alone to receive the remaining attendees. There was no sign of Peter Broadus. I would have bet money on him being here since he and Jocelyn had been an item for a little while. Hopefully, he wasn’t knee-deep in a bottle somewhere.

  Even Papa Angelos had come to pay his respects. “Jocelyn was a lovely girl. You come to the diner when you’re done here, okay? I’ll wait for you. We’ll have the place to ourselves. I’ll see to that.”

  “I can’t, Papa. I’m going to California to meet Jocelyn’s mother. She’s been pretty sick and couldn’t come. I need to go.”

  Papa’s eyes watered and his thin mouth quivered as he hugged Midas tight. He was so small compared to his grandson, but he was still the family rock. He comforted Midas as he cried and then patted him lovingly before kissing my cheek and leaving with Jimmy, one of Midas’ many cousins.

  After the service, there was no time to do anything except take Midas to the airport and beg one last time for him to let me go with him. “I love you, Cassidy, but I need to do this. Alone. I hope you understand.” I didn’t really agree, but I told him that I understood. I walked with him to the security checkpoint and then a half-hour later watched his plane take off. He’d only be gone for a day, but I knew I’d spend every minute thinking about how to help him through all this. Sierra texted me as I left the airport inviting me to dinner. I turned her down but promised to come see her in the morning.

  We needed to stick together; we needed to talk about it. We were still a team, I hoped. But for how long?

  Oh, Jocelyn. I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry.

  I drove home from the airport in an emotional fog. Maybe I should go see Sierra? To comfort them, for the three of us to comfort one another. No, I was going to stick to my plan. I didn’t ditch Sierra because I wanted to be alone but because I wanted to paint. If Jocelyn were around, maybe she’d present herself and I could paint her. Maybe what she showed me wouldn’t be terrible, and maybe I could show it to Midas.

  That’s a lot of maybes, Cassidy Wright.

  Domino met me at the door. He’d gone completely crazy at Midas’ house for those few days we were gone, and he was still in a wild-I-can’t-believe-you-left-me mood. He smacked me with his paw as I rearranged his food dish. He had a habit of pushing it around the kitchen like it was a toy. I spent a few minutes coaxing him to come out from under the dining room table before I gave up. After changing my clothes, I returned a few phone calls—Helen was in New Mexico with Bruce at another of his archaeology conferences. She sent her love to Midas and promised to come see me as soon as she arrived back in Mobile. She took the news about Jocelyn pretty hard. I hung up the phone feeling completely alone. No family. No Midas. Domino continued to rebuff my attempts at hugs, so I grabbed a quick sandwich and headed off to my studio. Domino meowed to complain about my leaving, but he wasn’t interested in coming with me. I suspected he’d find something of mine to chew on or otherwise destroy. There was always a level of punishment involved in this cat-human relationship. Always from his side, of course. I shut the door and ignored his plaintive cries.

  Too late, buddy boy.

  Opening the studio door, I instantly felt peaceful, the kind of peace that accompanies all creatives when they dive into their work. Creativity strengthened me, and I needed that right now. I set a new canvas on the easel and brushed it off with a soft, clean paintbrush. I ransacked my paint-splattered table and found a good pencil, then stood in front of the canvas waiting for inspiration to strike.

  “Jocelyn, please…if you’re here, help me see. Let me know you’re okay.” I waited for what seemed an eternity without hearing anything or seeing a single image. My hand hovered over the canvas because sometimes that helped engage the source of my visions, but nothing came to me. No images of Jocelyn. Feeling defeated, I plunked down on the chair and finally let the tears fall. I couldn’t carry them any longer. Jocelyn, young, intelligent, spirited Jocelyn, died this week. A beautiful soul left this world, and
what had she left behind? Just her dog and a massive catalog of photos.

  Sierra beat me to the punch and adopted Sherman; the poor dog was having a tough time with the loss. Midas offered to send Jocelyn’s possessions, her many cameras and notebooks full of ideas, to her mother, but she didn’t want them. That seemed even worse to me. Jocelyn had no siblings, no extended family beyond her sick mother.

  I cuddled up with my butterfly pillow and sobbed until my eyes were swollen. The garage-turned-studio suddenly felt cold, and I reached for the throw and cuddled up with it. I replayed the investigation over and over again in my mind. The horrible crows, the bees that attacked Joshua, the creepy jackboots that everyone heard echoing through the hall. And the terrifying Nalusa Falaya. Whatever classification one might put him in, he was a trickster from the word go. As far as I could tell, he would still be there, on that piece of land, long after I was dead and gone. The Nalusa Falaya had won, and we had lost our Jocelyn.

  Midas had been right to tell Adrian to bulldoze the place, level it. Tear it down. Not only that, but he instructed her to salt the land and abandon all hope of using it for anything commercially or residentially. No one should be there. Ever. But at least the other souls were free. The Nalusa Falaya didn’t have Shanafila anymore, or any of the Waliki. And McCandlish and the others, they were gone too. I’d been with Sierra, held her hand, and we’d done it together. Well, it was mostly Sierra; I was more moral support than anything else.

  Yes, they were gone. Hopefully, Jocelyn had left too.

  Oh please, God. Don’t let Jocelyn be trapped in that awful place.

  That was the closest thing to a prayer I could muster. I didn’t want to believe that she was still there, but it was a possibility. The entity’s power had been weakened, but broken? No. Not broken. I fell into a deep slumber but not for long. When I woke up, it was still light outside. I felt groggy but tossed the pillow away and pushed my hair out of my face.

  I had a dream, and from that dream, I had an image to work with. Not of Jocelyn but of Shanafila!

  I tossed the blanket to the side and walked back to my canvas. Before I knew it, I was drawing long lines, long limbs. I sketched out a face and then another. Without much thought, I reached for my palette and my brush. I filled the jar with water and then began rummaging through my paints for just the right colors. Yes, that’s right. Not quite that dark, though.

  I brushed the canvas lightly at first, the darkest shades and then the lightest. Then the blending. Time passed, and the light in my studio shifted. I turned on the overhead lights and continued. I glanced at my watch briefly. Four hours had passed, but I had a long way to go. I would need days to finish this. I needed to add much more detail, like the thick black forest and the crackling fire in the distance. I wiped tears away as I studied my work with the freshest eyes I could muster.

  Yukpa held Shanafila’s hand, and together they were walking toward me, away from a warm campfire. They were happy, smiling, loving one another. Always together. Yes, this was right. Maybe more light on Shanafila’s face. Yukpa’s fingers should be longer. Just a little longer. Yes, I would have to change that but tomorrow. Not now. I needed to call Midas; he should be on his way to Jocelyn’s mother’s house by now.

  One more thing.

  I picked up the pencil again and carefully avoided getting my arm wet. No contact with the paint today. I didn’t need to spy on Shanafila and Yukpa. I knew this had been the end for them. They had crossed over together. Goodbye, Shanafila. I scratched at the canvas with my pencil; I wasn’t sure what my sketch would reveal, but the figure quickly came into view. Yes, she was there holding her big black camera. It was pointed at Shanafila and Yukpa, pointed at me.

  Jocelyn was still there, but she wasn’t trapped. She was free and doing what she loved. Only from the other side. I put the pencil on the easel and stepped back to take it all in. Jocelyn’s face was obscured by the camera, but it was clearly her. She’d done it. She’d made contact.

  My hand shook as I put my fingers to my mouth. “Jocelyn,” I whispered. My hand hovered over the canvas, but I knew I wouldn’t connect with her. There was no paint on her part of the painting. Not yet.

  One day I would finish this painting, and it would be a tribute to my friend and to all those who had been captured for so long by the Nalusa Falaya. I would paint her, in full living color. But not today.

  Today, I needed to let her go, and that meant living. Not lingering in the past with the shadows and the ghosts and all the other things that dwelled there. I had to leave this for a day or two. Maybe a month. I couldn’t say. But the peace returned, and I knew what I needed to do. Love my family and help them through this gut-wrenching time. I shed my smock and put my brushes away, not even pausing to glance again at the happy, retreating couple.

  I turned off the lights, closed the door and left all the ghosts behind.

  Connect with M.L. Bullock on Facebook. To receive updates on her latest releases, visit her website at M.L. Bullock and subscribe to her mailing list. You can also contact her at authormlbullock@gmail.com.

  About the Author

  Author of the best-selling Seven Sisters series and the Desert Queen series, M.L. Bullock has been storytelling since she was a child. A student of archaeology, she loves weaving stories that feature her favorite historical characters—including Nefertiti. She currently lives on the Gulf Coast with her family but travels frequently to explore the southern states she loves so much.

  Read more from M.L. Bullock

  Morgan’s Rock Series

  The Haunting of Joanna Storm

  The Hall of Shadows

  The Ghost of Joanna Storm

  The Nike Chronicles

  Blue Water

  Blue Wake

  Blue Tide

  The Seven Sisters Series

  Seven Sisters

  Moonlight Falls on Seven Sisters

  Shadows Stir at Seven Sisters

  The Stars that Fell

  The Stars We Walked Upon

  The Sun Rises Over Seven Sisters

  Christmas at Seven Sisters (bonus short stories)

  Ghost on a Swing (series prequel)

  The Idlewood Series

  The Ghosts of Idlewood

  Dreams of Idlewood

  The Whispering Saint

  The Haunted Child

  Return to Seven Sisters

  (A Seven Sisters Sequel Series)

  The Roses of Mobile

  All the Summer Roses

  Blooms Torn Asunder

  A Garden of Thorns

  Wreath of Roses

  The Gulf Coast Paranormal Series

  The Ghosts of Kali Oka Road

  The Ghosts of the Crescent Theater

  A Haunting on Bloodgood Row

  The Legend of the Ghost Queen

  A Haunting at Dixie House

  The Ghost Lights of Forrest Field

  The Ghost of Gabrielle Bonet

  The Ghost of Harrington Farm

  The Creature on Crenshaw Road

  A Ghostly Ride in Gulfport

  The Maelstrom of the Leaf Academy

  Gulf Coast Paranormal Extras

  The October People

  Shabby Hearts Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series

  A Touch of Shabby

  Shabbier by the Minute

  Shabby by Night

  Shabby All the Way

  The Sugar Hill Series

  Wife of the Left Hand

  Fire on the Ramparts

  Blood by Candlelight

  The Starlight Ball

  His Lovely Garden

  Ghosts of Summerleigh Series

  The Belles of Desire, Mississippi

  The Ghost of Jeopardy Belle

  The Lady in White

  The Vampires of Rock and Roll Series

  Elegant Black

  Lost Camelot Series

  Guinevere Forever

  Guinevere Unconquered

  The Undead Queen of Camelot


  The Desert Queen Series

  The Tale of Nefret

  The Falcon Rises

  The Kingdom of Nefertiti

  The Song of the Bee-Eater

  Standalone books

  Ghosts on a Plane