Dark Power (Charli Cross Mystery Series Book 3) Read online

  Dark Power

  Charli Cross Series: Book Three

  Mary Stone

  Donna Berdel

  Copyright © 2021 by Mary Stone

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Dedication

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty-One

  22. Chapter Twenty-Two

  23. Chapter Twenty-Three

  24. Chapter Twenty-Four

  25. Chapter Twenty-Five

  26. Chapter Twenty-Six

  27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

  28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

  29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

  30. Chapter Thirty

  31. Chapter Thirty-One

  32. Chapter Thirty-Two

  33. Chapter Thirty-Three

  34. Chapter Thirty-Four

  35. Chapter Thirty-Five

  36. Chapter Thirty-Six

  37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

  38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

  39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Charli Cross Series

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  This book is dedicated to those who struggle with addiction and to the ones who love them.

  Chapter One

  Heavy breaths echoed off the dark red brick of the alleyway as Jefferson Brown ran as fast as his arthritic legs would carry him. His own exhalations were all he could hear, drowning out any other noise, including any footfalls behind him.

  Was he still being followed?

  He desperately wanted to glance back, but there was no time to look around and double check. If he could calm his breathing, he might be able to hear what was happening behind him, but that remained an impossibility.

  He’d been running for too long. His body was reaching a breaking point. If he didn’t gulp air in heaving gasps, he wouldn’t absorb enough oxygen to sustain himself. Hell, even sucking in oxygen like a fish out of water wouldn’t help for much longer. But Jefferson was only a few blocks from home. It wouldn’t be too far now.

  Though he wasn’t sure reaching home would change anything.

  Dammit, why hadn’t he just left well enough alone? Why did he have to push, have to test the limitations of this world? Jefferson wasn’t a believer. He never had been.

  Even as a child, while his classmates would share stories of Santa or the tooth fairy, he shrugged them off as ridiculous. Jefferson was a man grounded in this world, the real world, unable to imagine anything he couldn’t see with his own two eyes.

  He had seen it now. In fact, it was right in front of him, smothering him, threatening to swallow him whole. He couldn’t deny it, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

  His friends had told him not to mess with a voodoo priestess. And he hadn’t listened. Because what was there to worry about? What could a woman wielding voodoo possibly do if voodoo itself was imaginary nonsense? It was easy to feel invincible to her magic when Jefferson knew the magic wasn’t real to begin with.

  What a fool he’d been. This never had to happen. He could be home right now, carefree, his mind far from the realm of paranormal phenomena. If only he could go back in time, make another decision, refuse to ever enter into her world.

  A world that consumed him now. She’d infiltrated his mind, blurred even his deepest memories. Every moment was an enigma, including this one.

  Why was he running? Why was he so racked with fear?

  Jefferson hadn’t a clue who was chasing him, but the feeling that they were there to cause him harm was overwhelming. This fear ran deeper than any he’d ever known.

  Danger wasn’t foreign to Jefferson. Before this, he’d considered himself to be abnormally courageous, unable to be shaken. The way every muscle in his body trembled, that was no longer true.

  When he arrived at the curve in the L-shaped alleyway, he nearly sank to his knees and sobbed. The streetlights at the end of the road were his saving grace. Jefferson was nearly home, his apartment only one street over. If he could just make it to his door, he would be safe.

  The yellow streetlamps brought warmth into his body. Reminiscent of his childhood nightlight, they signaled to him the same thing his nightlight had…safety. In just ten feet, he’d be out of the darkness, onto the public street that led to his home.

  The soles of Jefferson’s shoes pounded the pavement more vigorously than a moment ago. With the hope that the streetlamps provided, he’d gotten a second wind. The increased speed caused the heavy glass in his pocket to thump against his chest, likely causing a deep purple welt. But Jefferson couldn’t care less about a bruise. That was the least of his problems. It wouldn’t be long now until—

  “Jefferson.”

  A voice stopped him dead in his tracks. He knew that voice, though it had been a decade since he’d heard it. Was it really her?

  “Mom?” The word was barely audible over the beating of his heart.

  It couldn’t be. In the back of his mind, with the tiny piece of his brain that was still holding onto the logical framework of reality, he knew it was impossible for his mother to call out to him.

  She was dead.

  He’d seen it himself. Curled up in her sterile, white hospital room, she’d taken her last agonizing breath as he held her hand.

  This had to be a trick, more mind manipulation from the voodoo priestess. Unless…unless maybe it wasn’t a trick at all. Perhaps the priestess had opened up a portal between the world of the living and the dead.

  The idea would’ve sounded ludicrous a week ago, but Jefferson’s entire worldview had shifted in the past few days. If the priestess had been capable of all the evil she’d instilled upon Jefferson, wouldn’t it be possible that her voodoo was capable of bringing dead spirits back to this Earth?

  With each passing second, Jefferson became further convinced that he could sense his mother’s soul nearby. Her voice came to him again.

  “Jefferson.”

  “Mama!” His voice rang out in a way it hadn’t since his childhood.

  If he just walked back down the alleyway, he’d see her. He just knew it. His mother would hold him in her arms once more. She would kiss his cheek, and all the agony the priestess had put upon him would melt away, just like when she used to scare away the monsters in his closet.

  “Jefferson.”

  He waltzed back into the shadows, dancing along the brick wall, as he reminisced on his childhood memories of her. This ordeal with the priestess would all be worth it if he got to see his mother once more. He only had to turn that corner, and she’d be standing there, her hazel eyes staring at him. Jefferson could almost see her figure, almost…

  He wasn’t wrong. As he rounded the corner, there was indeed a figure there. But it wasn’t his mother. A menacing shadow loomed ahead.

  Jeff
erson swallowed hard, working up enough saliva to enable him to speak. “Who are you?”

  There was no immediate answer. In his scrambled mind, Jefferson couldn’t identify the shadowy individual, but they were definitely familiar.

  More shadows appeared on the brick walls, forming a line behind the person in front of him.

  “Where’s my mother?” Jefferson’s hands trembled. The cold night air swirled around him, causing him to shake even more.

  The figure tossed its head back, an eerie laugh snaking its way into Jefferson’s soul. Other shadow people mimicked the hollow, sinister sound. Inhuman noises filled the alleyway, growing louder as they bounced off the surrounding stone. So loud, in fact, that Jefferson clapped his chilled hands over his ears.

  “Stop! Stop it!” Jefferson squeezed his eyes shut, somehow hoping that would help drown out the sound.

  The ghoulish laughs only grew louder. It was as if the noise wasn’t emanating from the outside but bouncing around inside his brain. The more he pushed on his ears, the worse it became.

  Jefferson opened his eyes, only to find the shadow figures were closer now. He gasped, forcing his lids closed again.

  “No, no, don’t do this! Please, just leave me alone! I want my mama! Ma!”

  With their footfalls came an icy wind, and despite his closed eyes, Jefferson knew they were approaching swiftly.

  “Open your eyes, Jefferson.” The voice of his mother was clear in his ears again, unmuffled by his clenched fists. This time, it was apparent his mother wasn’t really here. But the comfort of her voice commanded him to obey.

  When he did, the shadows were a mere foot from his face. Their demon faces were clearer now. Empty black eyes stared down at him, with smiles that spanned from one ear to the other. Razor-sharp teeth gleamed behind each pair of dripping red lips.

  When Jefferson tried to speak, fear crept up his spine, his tongue drying out like a flower in the desert sun. Trembling hands moved to his mouth, but it didn’t help words to form.

  It wouldn’t have mattered because, before his heart could squeeze out another beat, the demons descended.

  Chapter Two

  Voodoo?

  What the hell?

  Detective Charlotte Cross still couldn’t believe that her sergeant had seriously used such a word in connection to a police case.

  Charli cleared her throat. “Excuse me?”

  “I asked if either of you believe in voodoo.”

  It still didn’t compute.

  Charli glanced around her office, wondering if she was being punk’d. “Why?”

  Sergeant Ruth Morris handed the official report to Charli and hooked a thumb in the direction of the door. “Get down to Bonaventure Cemetery and find out.”

  Two minutes later, she and her partner were in Charli’s car and pulling from the Savannah Police Department parking lot.

  “Hope you’re ready for a ghost of a time.” Detective Matthew Church peered at her from the passenger seat. Though he was clearly trying to be funny, a stiff smile was plastered on his face.

  Seems like Ruth might have succeeded in scaring her partner. Charli rolled her eyes. “Halloween isn’t for over a month, so it’s a little early for ghosts.”

  “Oh, come on.” Matthew tossed the report onto the dash. “You must think this is kind of spooky, right? Guy dies in the middle of a cemetery with a voodoo doll in his lap? It’s giving me the creeps.”

  Charli was tempted to yell “Boo” just to enjoy his response, but didn’t want her partner peeing on her little hybrid’s interior. “No, I’m not bothered in the slightest. This is just another case in a sea of cases we’ve had lately.”

  Frankly, if she had to pick one that rattled her, it would be the one with the teenage girls turning up dead in horribly gruesome ways. Nothing in the paranormal realm could shake Charli, not when real life was filled with so much horror. What some sociopaths were capable of doing to their fellow humans, that was the real terror. But voodoo magic? Absolutely not.

  “Don’t tell me you believe voodoo is real?”

  Matthew’s shoulders rose and fell with a quick jerk. “I’m not saying that necessarily. But I can’t say it’s not real. There are things in this world we can’t quickly explain with science and statistics, y’know?”

  No, Charli didn’t know.

  Facts were the basis of her life while statistics helped guide her belief system. There was nothing she valued more than getting to the truth, and that wasn’t limited to just her criminal cases.

  But there was no point in arguing with Matthew about this now. She already knew she and her partner differed heavily on their approach to the world. He didn’t use logic to ground him, choosing to rely on gut instincts and emotions to guide him through a case. His openness to the spiritual world seemed odd for a moment, but upon further reflection, it shouldn’t have surprised her in the least.

  Bonaventure Cemetery came into view, its bright green grass swaying softly in the morning breeze. Half of the grass was cut, the other half looking in need of a trim. The groundskeeper must have been in the middle of landscaping when he discovered the body.

  A Savannah PD car sat next to the entry gate. “Do you know who’s on scene already?” Charli pulled her car right beside it before parking.

  Matthew cupped his brow, an attempt to shield his eyes from the bright morning light. Squinting, he nodded toward an officer in the distance. “Looks like Trigg to me.”

  Charli wasn’t tall enough to see over the brick fence and couldn’t confirm Matthew’s observation until they made their way past the entrance and into the wet grass. Indeed, it was Officer Kenny Trigg, and he was scribbling in a notepad. As he wrote, he took small steps around the gravestones, jumping around like he was playing a slow-motion game of hopscotch.

  Matthew shot Charli a concerned glance before catching the officer’s attention. “You okay there, bud?”

  Officer Trigg morphed into the very definition of relieved. His shoulders relaxed, and the hand that was holding his notebook drifted to his waist.

  “You have no idea how glad I am to see you guys.”

  “What were you doing there? Walking all zigzagged, I mean.” Charli used a finger to mimic the motion.

  “Oh, uh, nothing. It’s stupid. My grandma always told me it’s bad luck to walk over a grave. I’ve been trying to stay between them, but they’re so damn close together and…” Trigg averted his eyes.

  “Cemeteries bother you, Officer?” Matthew grinned, wiping his sleeve across his forehead.

  “More than you know.” A gust of wind sent a couple of dead leaves skittering across the grass, and Trigg nearly jumped a foot. His face flamed in embarrassment. “I’d love to pass on the updated report and get the hell out of here.”

  What was the deal with these guys? Freaked out over voodoo and cemeteries? They had a job to do.

  Shaking her head, Charli grabbed her own notepad out of her pocket and set about focusing on the new case. “What’s going on?”

  “Got the call over the broadband police channel that somebody had found a dead body in the cemetery. At first I thought, duh, where the hell else should a dead body be? But I guess this one was sitting above the grass, on top of one of the gravesites.”

  Yeah…that was a bit weird.

  Charli waved a hand for the officer to continue. “Go on.”

  “I got here, and the guy is fully dressed, hair fixed, no blood, clutching some crazy looking doll in his hand.” Trigg visibly shuddered. “Doll looks almost exactly like him. The guy could’ve been sleeping if it wasn’t for the pale white skin.”

  Matthew stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Do we know who it is?”

  “I don’t have a positive ID yet. We’re working on it. Forensics is with him, taking some samples and photos. They’ll collect skin cells from his nails and mouth, but they agree it doesn’t look like there was any kind of struggle. Might be a medical incident, sudden cardiac arrest,
or something?” Trigg’s shoulders hitched up to his ears. “I dunno, being here in the daylight is already giving me a heart attack, so I can’t imagine what it feels like at night.”

  “And he was definitely in the cemetery last night, not early this morning?” Charli glanced up from her notebook.

  “Groundskeeper was here before morning light, so yeah, it had to have happened last night. Come on, I’ll take you to the body.”

  Trigg evidently wasn’t bothering to hide how disturbed he was, seeming eager to escape the scene. As he turned around, Charli and Matthew smiled at each other, both finding it amusing that this case could frighten the officer this much. Trigg was a burly guy, standing at six foot two. If he had a beard and a plaid shirt, you could mistake him for a lumberjack. Not exactly the kind of man you’d expect to be frantically pacing in a cemetery.

  When they reached the body, though, Charli understood why this case was so disconcerting. She wasn’t as fearful as Trigg, but there was something bizarre about the victim’s appearance.

  His face had lost all color, but the corners of his mouth were almost smiling, as if he was enjoying a pleasant dream. His light blue button-down shirt was perfectly pressed and tucked into his khaki pants. The man was on his back in a supine position, hands folded on his stomach.

  Charli’s gaze was drawn to the doll. Badly sewn with uneven stitches, the doll shared the victim’s jet-black hair and wore a similar outfit.

  “What the hell?” Matthew sucked in a breath as he took it all in. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Our victims are usually doused in blood or crumpled up in a heap. He looks untouched, but there’s no way in hell he got into this position himself. Someone had to have placed him like this.”

  He looked like a corpse minus the casket.

  “Unless he decided to lie down like this prior to his death.” Charli didn’t think this likely but wanted to list all the possibilities. She peeled her gaze away from the still form to concentrate on the forensic pathologist and her assistant bookending the body. “You got any information for us?”