Desecrating Solomon: Book 1 of 3 (Desecration Series) (13 page)

“Shh!” she ordered with a shaky finger at him. “Not in my house. I haven’t heard that forbidden word in half a century,” she whispered.

“What does it mean?”

She shook her head. “Can’t talk of it.”

Solomon stared at her stubborn look, knowing she meant it and wouldn’t budge. “I can’t leave her Miss Mary. I have to help her.”

Her mouth suddenly went hard. “Ain’t no helpin her if she’s in that.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I need to know.”

“Aint’ nobody a hundred miles of here gone tell you anythin. Cept crazy Jimmy Ray Smith. They don’t mess with him, he’s already messed with in the head.”

“Where is he?”

“Oh he don’t be havin no company. He’ll shoot you plum dead if you visit,” she said plainly. “Then eat you for supper.”

“Should I go to the police?”

She shook her head more. “You don’t be doin that son, lessen you wanna be escorted outta town in a box.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack. There be secrets in this town that just ain’t supposed to be unearthed I think.”

“Where is he? This person? Jimmy?”

“I ain’t tellin you!” she exclaimed.

“Mary,” he gasped, back on his knees before her. “Six years ago, my wife was abducted and murdered. And I couldn’t save her. Remember that night I came here thinking you were in danger? That was the night I found this woman. I heard her calling me in my dreams. Me. Screaming in horrific terror. Then I found her hanging half dead in the trees. That has to count for something Mary, please, I beg you. Tell me where to find him.”

The old woman’s eyes had gone wide and her hand covered her mouth. “Oh son, you done sure got your momma’s gifts, didn’t you?” She shook her head, pressing her lips together before blurting an address.

“Where is that?” he asked, leaning and kissing her cheek.

“In Weston’s haunted woods behind the asylum.”

“The asylum? What asylum?”

She balked at him, her slack jaw shaking a little. “What asylum! Boy don’t tell me you never heard of the asylum in Weston.”

He tried to remember. “You mean the big hospital?”

“It’s an insane asylum. Or was,” she whispered. “Luna Hills Trans Asylum,” she added even quieter. “They done closed it down years ago but that crazy preacher bought it up and is so called restoring it for only the good Lord know’d what. And Jimmy Ray is the only living soul I know crazy nuff to answer those kindsa questions.”

Solomon stood and hurried to the door. “Thank you Mary. I’ll be by here tomorrow to see about you.”

“You need to be careful,” she said, sounding so very dreadful.

“I will.” He turned and looked at her. “Say a little prayer for me?”

“Eva, single, day.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Grandmother!” Chaos embraced the woman after sneaking into her room off the main house.

The old woman gasped at seeing her, like she were a ghost. “Child,” she whispered, hurrying to the door and locking it behind her. “What are you doing here?”

Chaos shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “I… haven’t been properly prepared, Grandmother. I thought… you would tend to that but it’s not done.”

Her gray eyes darkened as awful dread wrinkled her forehead. “I-I never got a chance,” she whispered, her hands fluttering to her trembling mouth. “I thought I was to do it after the graduation,” she gasped to her. “But when I was talking to Master, he acted like I had done it before.” She shook her head with a frail gasp, “I was too scared to say anything.”

Oh God. Chaos looked around, thinking, pacing. She suddenly hurried to Grandmother, gripping her hands. “Now, what about now, you can do it now?”

A loud banging shook the door and the old woman held Chaos’s hands tight. “Yes?” she called, her old voice shaking.

“Master wants to see you. And Chaos.”

Dread slammed Chaos as they both gasped. He knew she was there. Of course he would.

“Coming right there,” Grandmother called.

“He said immediately.” Sounded like Reginald’s voice. One of the newer Chosen.

“Right away,” Grandmother said. She turned a terrifying look at Chaos, making her stomach clench. To see the old woman with that look bothered her more than her own fears. 

Chaos hurried to the door, Grandmother behind her. She didn’t want the woman in any more trouble. Not again. She was always getting in trouble for Chaos, always trying to make her life easier, always doing things that upset Master.

As they hurried down the familiar stone walk to the main house, the limbs above tunneling the walkway were suddenly like the boiling sheets she’d been swaddled in. Gasping, she hurried faster to get away from the suffocation even though in the back of her mind, she knew her destination would likely be worse.

Her half-healed body ached with over exertion while dread made her heart bang in her chest. Master would only get angrier while waiting.

She knocked softly at his private chambers on the back of the large residence.

“Enter!”

The rage in that one word made them both jump. “Let me talk,” Chaos whispered to Grandmother at her heels. “I’m here, Master,” Chaos called, hurrying in.

He spun to her. “And just
why
are you?” He peered at her left and her right. “Are you not missing something?”

Chaos swallowed. “I came to inform you that the sacrifice does not wish to bond with me.”

He drew back like she’d spoken blasphemy.

“I have tried, Master,” she implored, forcing her voice firm and her hands to remain still at her sides, spine straight. “Not wishing to harm the most sacred ceremony by doing the wrong thing, I came to implore of your wisdom in how to proceed.”

“All of these years of training,” he began, fury growling in his tone, “and you cannot find a way to attract the sacrifice?”

“As you have said, he is special, Master. He only binds with females that he loves.”

“Loves!” he thundered. “You will return to this Solomon Gorge at once and inform him that we do not
need
something as
useless
as love for this sacrifice.

Chaos flew to Master and knelt at his feet. “I will see to it Master. I’m sorry. I can use force if you think I should.”

Many seconds passed as Chaos waited and braced for the sure impact coming. He finally petted her head and the silence that followed was the most dreadful Chaos had ever endured. “Because this will lessen the power we would have gained had he been a willing vessel… you shall be Desecrated with him. This is the way. Shut! Up!” he roared at Grandmother who let out a sudden sob.

Chaos didn’t understand. “I’ve been Desecrated many times, Master.”

“This is the Desecration of Desecrations!” he roared at her, shoving her by the head so that she fell over. “It is
final!
”

Chaos remained on the floor, watching his bare feet beneath his black robe as he headed to the door. “And I must cleanse you before I send you back. You will ensure he stays there until I come for the mule myself. Have your fun with him, daughter. Because once I come, Desecration
will
commence.”

She didn’t understand. “But… we have till the end of the month Master,” she gasped. “Give me a chance to at least bring the sacrifice. I can do it!” she choked out bitterly.

“Grandmother,” he barked. “Prepare her for the Fourth Floor.”

Panic hit her. “But why?” Oh God, she hadn’t meant to yell it.

He jerked back to her. “Don’t
question
me child!” he roared, his face trembling in rage. “Is it not enough that you’ve tainted the final ceremony with your failure? You must be cleansed after that one,” he bellowed, turning to go then jerking back again. “Do you think I want this? That this is fanciful times watching my own daughter threaten the city with more curses and ruin? This—is—the Desecration—of Desecrations!” he raged. “And it can
not
fail!”

Chaos gasped and nodded, despite the horror of the Fourth Floor tearing through her body and mind.

The dream. The dream hadn’t been a nightmare, but a premonition.

And yet all she could think about was failing. She’d failed Master. She’d failed the Order. Oh God help her… she hoped she didn’t fail the world.

****

Solomon drove through Weston and his foot left the gas pedal in abject shock at finally coming upon it. The Asylum. Sitting right there on the corner of Second street like an elementary school might, only a massive, mile long structure resembling a medieval castle. Right in the middle of town! How did he not hear about this thing? He’d heard of the hospital, but who envisions a seven hundred year old mammoth of ancient stone?

'Nobody talks about it.'

Clearly they did not. And yet how did they not?

He hit the gas and headed toward the woods behind the asylum, searching for a road that would get him there. Finding one, he took it until he got to a decrepit metal gate with a No Trespassing sign hanging on it. Solomon got out and looked all around for a moment then inspected the barrier. Finding a chain loosely hanging around a post, he opened it up, then got in his truck and proceeded to trespass.

A few feet in, he stopped and shut the gate, again looking all around for any signs of being watched or even noticed. He wasn’t sure what was worse at this point, to be followed in or not be. The creep factor in the woods was off the charts hair raising. Back in his truck, he put his shotgun across his lap and proceeded down an overgrown drive leading hopefully to find the so-called town outcast named Jimmy Ray Smith.

The road gradually became less discernible as he went until he stopped and stared all around. Here we go. Easing out of the truck, his new adopted pet jumped out to stand next to him, eager for adventure.

Good for him.

He patted his head, letting him know he was glad for the company. Which way was he supposed to go now? The dog growled long and low right as the sound of metal clicked behind him.

“That’s as far as you need to be goin.”

The gravelly voice froze Solomon. “Hello, sir.” Slowly he raised both hands while standing stock still.

The man snickered. “Figures it’d be a city boy venturin in my woods. You can’t read?”

“I can, sir, but I needed to talk to you.”

“Turn slow so I can sees this fool and tell your dog to settle down.”

The wolf had begun to bark non-stop as Solomon did exactly as instructed. “Settle down boy,” he ordered, wishing he’d named him or knew his name.

“Yep, city as can be.”

The only thing Solomon saw was bright green eyes and patches of white around his head along with a couple of teeth. Was he painted black? “You Jimmy Ray Smith?”

“Who’s askin?”

“Me, sir. Solomon Gorge Hensley.”

The teeth slowly disappeared. “What you say boy?”

The sudden low tenor in his tone sent Solomon’s heart hammering. “Solomon Gorge Hensley, sir.”

“Where you from?”

“From Wheeling. My mother was Deidra Hensley. My father was from Morgantown. But I was raised in Edmond, Oklahoma.”

“Where’d you get a name like that?” he said, annoyed.

Solomon gave a dry chuckle, still holding his hands up. “My mom. She liked the name.”

“Who’d you say your momma was, boy?”

“Deidra Hensley.”

“Her maiden name son,” he snapped.

“Uh, Deidra… Thames. Get in the truck,” he ordered the incessantly growling wolf.

The man lowered the gun finally but those green eyes didn’t leave him. “What you wantin from me,” he muttered, sounding unhappier than ever.

“Miss Mary Bartley said you could help me.”

A few seconds later, he slapped his leg, laughing. “Miss Mary? How’s she doin, Lort I ain’t seen her in ages.”

“She’s doing fine,” Solomon said, happy for the connection. “I’m her caretaker.”

“Where Arthur at?” he asked softly.

“He died about a year ago.”

“What you got on your mind boy,” he demanded, back to suspicious.

“Well…”

“Don’t be pissin round ya words now. Go on.”

“I met a girl, her name is Chaos.”

“Chaos,” he said, sounding disgusted.

“I know this might sound crazy—“

“Don’t’ be usin that word in these woods,” he barked.

Solomon started again, carefully. “I had a dream of a woman. She was calling me. Solomon Gorge. Solomon Gorge. That same night, I found a woman half dead, hanging in the trees by my house. I took her home and she made me swear not to tell. But after a few days of digging, I learned she’s into some strange things.”

“Like?”

“She says she was adopted. She calls her father Master. And she mentioned something Miss Mary said I’m not supposed to say.”

“That a fack.” He propped a foot on Solomon’s bumper. “I’ll be the determination of that.” The light of the moon cast just enough illumination to give his outline. It finally hit Solomon why the man was black. Because he was black!

“Desecration,” Solomon said quietly, just in case it was bad to say.

The man spit on his right, eying him the whole time. “What the hell you doin, tryin to raise the dead round heeya?”

“No sir,” Solomon said. “But I think she’s in trouble.”

“Who?”

“The woman.”

“With the crazy name?” Solomon eyed him and the man shot out, “Yeah, I can say it, but you can’t.”

“Yes, Chaos. She left my house and I think she’s going back to the place where she came from.”

“Which is where?”

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m here to ask about.”

“How’s I’m supposed to know where she at?”

Solomon finally shook his head, looking around. “I don’t know.” He looked back at him. “What is desecration?”

He spit again, eying him and Solomon realized he had tobacco in his lower lip. “You like playin with the dead, son?”

“No sir,” Solomon said. “Not at all.”

“Well you is.” He seemed to need to spit after every exchange now. “You see that place behind you?”

“The asylum?”

“Yes, the asylum,” he stressed perfectly, the whites showing around his eyes briefly.

Solomon nodded. “I saw it.”

“Then you sawed yuh ansuh.” He seemed to shift from heavy accent to proper dialect every other word.

“The asylum has the answers?”

The whites of his eyes slowly became more visible as did his few teeth. “You gots it city boy.”

He wasn’t going to just divulge. Solomon thought about Chaos and what might be happening to her and leveled his own glare on the old man. “How about you share a story that would lead me where I need to go?”

Thick silence spanned the seconds before his cackling echoed in the woods. “Shaaaaaare a storeee, you say.” His smile disappeared and he angled slit green eyes on him. “The story is tellin itself, boy. Has been for years. Just ain’t nobody listenen!” he squealed like it annoyed him. "The town be tellin the story ova and ova but they too smart to see it.” He gave another cackled laugh that raised the hairs on Solomon's arms. “The dead looooove to talk Mr. Solomon Gorge, they loooooove to sing and dance, oh how they looooove to wrong those rights.”

“Wrong rights?” Solomon wondered.

The man winked at him. “Now you hearin me!” he exclaimed as though Solomon weren’t confused.

“Check out page twenty-five, Mr. Solomon Gorge. You might find it quite entertaining. As well as page three. And four and five and six. Hell, all the pages is just exploding with fun!” he strained in excitement.

“What pages?”