Page 40 of Sins of the Fathers
“Fuck this.” Dawson laid the salt-filled pipe in the shallow trench and poured a thick layer of salt on the ground just behind it, double-sealing the gap. “I’m coming!”
He jumped over the barrier and picked up the fallen shotgun, sending a blast to Grady’s right into the gray cloud of spirits clustered all around.
“They can’t stand to touch and hold on,” Grady yelled as the ghosts knocked him from one side and the other. “I think it’s the charms.” A ghostly fist to the stomach doubled him over. The air around him felt like a meat locker, making him cold enough to shiver and raising goosebumps on his arms.
Dawson fired again, and the press of spirits dispersed. He jogged up to Grady and grabbed him by the hand. As soon as their skin touched, Grady felt a jolt that he saw mirrored in Dawson’s flinch. The ghosts drew back immediately, leaving them surrounded but with several feet between them and the spirits.
“I don’t know what’s in those protective charms, but it’s working,” Dawson said, keeping hold of Grady’s hand.
“Let’s edge our way back toward the pipe circle,” Grady suggested. “We might have to make a break for it at the end, but if you’ve put a Band-aid on the pipe, we can get back without them following.”
“Do it,” Dawson said, keeping hold of Grady with his left hand and the shotgun with his right.
They moved a step at a time, and the combined juju of the talismans they wore kept the ghosts about three feet away. When they finally crossed the lawn, that left them a yard away from the edge of the circle, with a half dozen ghosts between them and freedom.
“Ready?” Dawson asked with a devil-may-care smile Grady knew hid his fear.
“Born ready,” Grady snarked.
Dawson loosed another two shotgun blasts in quick succession, blowing away the ghosts who blocked them. They dove over the pipe, pursued by the other spirits which were brought up short when they hit the newly-reinforced invisible barrier.
“You okay?” Dawson asked, giving Grady a careful once-over.
“Yeah, you?”
Dawson nodded. “I didn’t get thrown around as much as you did.”
Grady dusted himself off, looking ruefully at grass stains that were unlikely to come out of his jeans. “The first ghost went for my throat but didn’t touch me. Something about the amulet kept them back, so they shoved and bumped but couldn’t grab.”
“That energy when I touched your hand was really weird,” Dawson admitted. “But the result was like ‘Wonder Twin powers, activate!’”
Grady looked at him, horrified. “Please don’t ever say that again.”
Dawson reached out and took Grady’s hand. “I don’t feel that strange surge.”
“Neither do I.”
“Maybe it just works when we’re in danger, and the amulet and mojo bag are working,” Dawson suggested. “As grateful as I am for the protection—and as much as it probably saved both of us an ass-kicking right now, I’d like to know more about how they work and what they do. I don’t want to guess wrong and get fucked over.”
When Dawson finished reinforcing the weak spot, he covered the new pipe with dirt and sprinkled more salt on it. “This needs a more permanent fix where the pipe is rusted through. I’ll tell Denny, and he’ll get it taken care of when he sends the priest.”
They were quiet for a while as they walked back to the Mustang, still jangled and alert from the ghosts’ attack.
Finally, Grady spoke. “The ghosts made me remember something I’ve been wondering for a while. Do you think what they say is true about the souls of the Kings coming back to the mountain, protecting us? And would that count for Dad and Grandpa Frank? Because they weren’t really Kings by blood,” he continued. “Sometimes, I think that adopting Dad brought bad luck to the family.”
Dawson stopped and turned to face Grady. He set his hands on Grady’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I will never believe that anything about what brought us together was bad luck.”
Grady felt Dawson’s grip tighten. “You and Aaron and Knox are Kings of the heart,” Dawson went on, “which is all that matters. As for spirits returning here, Denny says it’s not true. Been a rumor for probably as long as the Kings have been in these hills. Maybe some ghosts choose to come back, but the spirit of these mountains is something much, much older—it was here long before we came, and it’ll be here long after we’re gone. And if it decides to lend a hand now and again—or sing to you—I’ll take all the help I can get.”
He smiled at Grady and leaned in to kiss him. “Besides, I don’t need the ghosts of my ancestors looking out for me. I’ve got you and Denny.”
Grady cast a backward glance at the Cragmont, but the ghosts were gone, and all that remained was a ramshackle building. He shuddered and gripped Dawson’s hand tighter.
“With everything that’s been going on, have you gotten any visions? It would be kinda nice to get some cheat codes on how to deal with all the crap that’s been going on.”
Dawson sighed. “Nothing useful—just snippets. Didn’t mention them because I didn’t want to worry anyone. Maybe something else will give me enough context for the visions to be useful.”
“Tell me.”
