Spirit Hunter 001: A Grimoire Dark by D. S. Quinton

Author:D. S. Quinton [Quinton, D. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Horror, upload
ISBN: 9781732772335
Google: 119ezgEACAAJ
Publisher: D.S. Quinton
Published: 2019-10-27T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 38

Wednesday

Mama Dedé woke the next morning drained of energy. After Frank and Armand left, she had spent most of the night trancing, determined to figure out what all of this meant. Even though she had warned Del of the danger, she didn’t think the girl fully understood or appreciated it. Hell, maybe she didn’t fully understand. The Egyptian story that Armand had laid on them was a new variable.

The trancing sessions always left her drained and invigorated at the same time. Her spirit could float free of its earthly bond, expanding in all directions. This left her mind ringing clear as a bell. Her body, however, bore the brunt of the trance, her energy stores tapped beyond capacity. She slept heavily after a trance, the knowledge of the universe settling into her mind.

After waking, she lumbered to the kitchen in a large robe and slippers. Del was sitting at the kitchen table gazing into her coffee.

“Watcha thinkin’, honey?” Mama Dedé asked, pouring herself a cup.

Del stirred her coffee and watched drops desperately cling to the edge of her spoon. They clung tightly, defying gravity for a surprising amount of time; tinsel strength far beyond her capacity. Regardless of their inherent strength, the drops fell and disappeared into the swirling black void anyway. She felt like she was each drop of coffee, getting smaller every time, weaker; a small black drop in a large cosmic ocean hurtling towards a giant, sucking void.

“Oh, just that I’m suddenly the target of a fairy-tale monster from a period of time I know nothing about. Just waiting for my prince charming to come along, give me a kiss and save me from the dragon.”

Mama Dedé chuckled. “That’s good, girl. You keep that sass. If this thing is true, you’re gonna need every bit of strength you can muster.”

“But how do we know?” Del asked. “How do we know if this is true, or just… just some weird coincidence and a couple of nutty old—although kind of interesting—men who like to tell spook stories?”

“Who, Frank and Armand? Heh, they nutty alright, but that don’t mean da story ain’t true.” She joined Del at the table and grabbed her hands. A more serious look had never been on Mama Dedé’s face.

“Listen to me now,” she said in a low tone. “I heard from Marie last night. It wasn’t very clear, kinda faded, like a T.V. channel that’s goin’ out, but it was her. She came to me early on in the trance. She knows that somethin’ is happenin’.”

Del tried to hide the disbelief on her face by looking into the void of coffee.

“It has somethin’ to do with that boy you know.”

Del’s spoon clanked into the bottom of her cup, sending angry drops cascading across the table. “What boy? Jimmy?” she said. “What’s wrong with him?”

Mama Dedé grabbed her hands, demanding her attention. “I don’t know for sure, but listen: there’s somethin’ you got to do. I don’t fully understand why jus’ yet, but you do what I tell you.

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