Southern Blood by Stuart Jaffe

Author:Stuart Jaffe [Jaffe, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B08FF2RTM9
Published: 2020-08-05T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

BY THE TIME MAX AND SANDRA got in the car and headed back through the city, four o’clock had come and gone. With the sound of his tires gritting along the late-night road, Max noticed the puffiness around his eyes and the soreness in his muscles. Adrenaline could only propel him for so long.

“You know what’s strange?” Sandra said.

“You’re going to have to be a heck of a lot more specific.”

“We went through another witching hour and nothing happened.”

“Doesn’t seem like a bad thing to me.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad, just strange. Every night, most people end up sleeping through numerous witching hours, and most nights it’s nothing but another bit of time passing by. Makes me think about certain hauntings — the ones that occur at specific times. I mean do these ghosts sit around the house watching the clock, waiting for the exact same time to scare a person in the house?”

As Max turned onto East 5th Street, he said, “When you’re dead and a ghost, you’ve got endless time. Waiting around for a specific moment might be the most exciting part of the day.”

Sandra pressed her knuckles under her eyes in a fast motion that Max knew she hoped he had missed. But even if he had not seen that much, he could hear the emotion in her voice. “I never got the chance to ask Drummond about that.”

“You will.” Max had a catch in his throat and wondered if Sandra had noticed, too.

He slowed the car as they came near the end of the road where it merged with Salem Parkway. On the left side of the street, the Winston-Salem Journal had its main offices. On the right side, another road curved down amongst several warehouses and industrial buildings surrounded by woods. A flooring company, a place that sold baling equipment for farms, and several warehouses for distributors — from the outside of the building, Max could not figure out what they distributed. Probably best not to know. The address they sought led them further back, all the way to where the road turned to gravel and reached a dead end. To the left stood an old brick building with no signage. The windows had been boarded over, and the wide double-doors at the front had a locked chain to prevent entry.

In the lot overgrown with weeds, two practical sedans had been parked. Max shut off his headlights and peered at the darkened building — no sign of light peeking through the cracks. He flicked the headlights back on, performed a three-point turn, and drove down two warehouses.

Parking in an empty, freshly paved lot, Max took a deep breath. “Make sure we have everything we’ll need.”

Sandra patted her bag. “How quickly you forget — I’m a mama now. I always have everything we need.”

Strolling toward the Brotherhood warehouse, Sandra locked her arm around Max’s. The cold night air and her sweet smell reminded him of moments from their youth walking to her door after a date.

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