Haunted part 2

Creed gazed at his dead father across the room, silently trying to make sense of it. Nelson met his gaze, his brown teeth clenched in rage.

“Ya see me, don’t ya boy? Ya hear me. Ya recognize me. I died before you were born, but ya know damn well who I am. And it ain’t just from photos is it? You’re the one who killed me. I know it was you. I don’t understand the how and why of it, but I know it was you.”

Alysa and Jake took turns looking at Creed and the blank wall in front of him. They could see he was going pale and fixated on something, but they couldn’t tell what it was. Alysa was the one who spoke first, “Creed! You good?” Nelson looked at her and back at Creed.

“That little colored girl don’t see me. Your friend over there don’t neither. Looks like it’s just me an’ you.”

Creed shook his head and brushed it off, “Thought I saw something.” Alysa gave him a concerned look, but quietly went along with his reassurance. Creed shook Jake’s hand, “I’m gonna go meet my contact and hand off the money. Hopefully, we’ll get the new documents and everything ASAP, set up your new life. In the meantime, there’s beer and sandwich stuff in that mini-fridge. Help yourself.”

“Thanks again, man. I owe you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Creed turned to Alysa and silently motioned for them to leave. They climbed up the ladder to the ground floor of Stagger Lee’s and as he did so, Creed could see movement out of the corner of his eye. His father was levitating up the ladder alongside him and with the way Nelson’s head was turning in confusion, it didn’t seem voluntary for either one of them. They made their way up to the office of Stagger Lee’s and placed a rug over the hidden door. Once they made it through the hallway to the bar area, Creed noticed Cassandra approaching.

She threw her arms over his shoulders, pressing her body against his before giving him a kiss, “Hey, Killer. Gonna be up when I get off work?” And as he kissed her back, Creed could hear the ghostly voice of his father.

“Ya like them big titties, don’t ya boy?”

He let go of her, but continued to play it cool, not letting on how disgusted he was with his father’s comment. “Sorry, Cassie. I gotta meet my contact tonight. I think Jake should be outta here in a week.” She smiled at him, oblivious to the leering ghost hovering nearby, “I understand. He’s free to stay as long as he needs.”

As they spoke, Alysa quietly raised her palm and mystically searched for any unseen spirits following Creed. It was apparent he saw something in the basement but was refusing to speak on it for the moment. She concentrated, reaching out with her mystic senses to find what she was looking for. It wasn’t long before she realized something was standing next to her. She tried her best not to let on, but caught herself glancing in that direction anyway. Not knowing what was following them made the dread worse.

Outside, a high-end motorcycle came to a stop, the rider scanning the area before spotting Creed’s motorcycle and Alysa’s car nearby. Quickly checking the parking lot once more to make sure he remained unseen, he raced to Creed’s motorcycle with a magnetic device in his gloved hand. He quickly secured the device under the tail pipe and rushed back to his bike before moving down the road. A second later, Creed and Alysa exited the bar, unaware of the tracking device.

“Creed, what’d ya see back there?” Alysa asked once they were a good distance away from bar patrons.

Creed stopped next to Alysa’s car and checked the parking lot before speaking in a hushed tone, “You know somebody’s here, don’t ya?”

“Yeah,” she turned in the direction of the invisible figure next to them, “I can sense it, but I don’t see it. What’s going on?”

“What’re ya talk’n to her for anyhow? Little black bitch needs to mind her own damn business.”

Creed continued to ignore Nelson, “Listen, I’m gonna tell you a name and I know that, once you know a name, you can use a spell to reveal any hidden spirits and shit. I ask that you don’t do that. Trust me, you don’t wanna know what he’s saying.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He sighed, then spoke reluctantly, “It’s Nelson Creed.”

Alysa’s eyes widened and she once again looked in Nelson’s direction, “Your dad’s here?”

“Appears that way.”

“That’s right, I’m here boy! One way or another. Ya thought you might’ve been rid of me, shoot’n me like a coward! Not a chance!”

Alysa spoke, not realizing Nelson was shouting over her, “Does he know how he got here?”

Creed shook his head, “Doesn’t seem to. ‘Course, he just showed up about five minutes ago, so it’s not like I’ve asked any questions.”

“What’s the matter? Scared to look your old man in the eye even after you killed ‘im? You’re just a mealy-mouthed pussy. I guess your mom raised you to be a little cocksucker, huh?”

“What’s he saying?” Alysa asked.

“Nothing good.”

“An’ I’m just gonna keep com’n, boy! I don’t know how the hell I’m here, but I’m gonna ride your ass till the day you die! You hear me talk’n at ya, boy? Ya ain’t gett’n rid of me! Not by a damn sight!”

Alysa leaned against her car to think about the situation, “Okay, so obviously, you’re being haunted. Your dad wouldn’t be able to do this on his own, would he? I’m guess’n he never had books on magic?”

“The guy doesn’t even know how to read.”

“Then someone put ‘im here. Now, my guess is maybe Queen Faith. She didn’t seem to mind getting Eleazar to work for her. Maybe she learned the Shadow Way?”

“Or maybe it was Eleazar himself?”

“You said you buried him.”

“I did, but the guy wasn’t dead even after all I did. He might still be causing trouble somehow.”

“I can go to the place where you buried ‘im and see what he knows.”

“Sounds good. In the meantime, I gotta meet our contact. I guess I’ll have to ignore this floating asshole during the meeting.”

He could hear his father cackling as he got on his bike and rode off. Unseen to both Creed and Alysa, the dark rider waited in a nearby alley, gazing at a GPS device. Using the magnetic tracker on Creed’s bike, he noticed movement. He started his own motorcycle and quickly followed.

At a diner on the other side of town, a line of motorcycles stretched along a parking lot. The riders all sported leather vests depicting the same logo, a skeleton walking through flames – the insignia of the Hell’s Trespassers. Dex Simpson, the president of that chapter, sat on his bike to address what was left of his gang. After the FBI raid a week earlier, some of the members had been arrested or killed. The agent responsible for the sting operation was dead, but there was a lose end. Jake Markham fled during the melee and they believed he had something to do with it (Dex was the sort of man to jump to conclusions).

“Here’s a recap of what we know,” Dex told his men, “Jake was friendly with that piece-of-shit federal agent and he cut and ran the moment everything went to hell. We know he took all the money he had and left town without telling his people where he was going. The trail went cold for a while, but we know he was from Winghaven and has a buddy that’s supposed to be a big-time private investigator. In fact, the guy almost joined the Trespassers back in the day. They call ‘im Creed. This is a good place to look next.” He turned to his vice-president, “So now, Mikey’s got a few ideas he wants to share.”

Mikey held up his phone, displaying a police scanner app, “I’m using a scanner to listen for the cops in the area. If the feds are protecting Jake or if they’re coming for us, there’s a good chance the local cops are helping. We gotta stay one step ahead.”

“So that’s it,” Dex told his crew, “Everyone fan out and try to piece something together. Ask around for Jake or this guy named Creed. Let’s go!”

Meanwhile, at the abandoned train depot in town, Creed waited for his contact with an envelope of money in his hand and Jake’s drivers license. He wondered if his father would get lost during the motorcycle ride, but he had no such luck. Nelson didn’t fly alongside him, but appeared to hover in place as he had been doing, despite Creed’s speed.

“So what’s with this guy you’re paying off? Doesn’t look like it’s on the up-and-up, so maybe you ain’t as far removed from your old man as ya think! Don’t you forget, you still got my name. Ya still got my blood pump’n through your body.”

Creed still had nothing to say to Nelson, so they stood in silence. When the contact showed up in a white van, Creed focused on paying him and setting up the next meeting. “I’ll meet you in a week when I have new documents for your friend,” the contact told Creed, “You can pay the rest then. And remember, I can set him up with a new identity and a place to live, but if the bikers or the authorities catch up to him, he’s on his own.” Creed gave an understanding nod and turned back to his bike.

“Look at ya, hiding out and handing money off to some punk. And you think you’re better than me?”

Since the contact was already in his van and no one else was around, Creed finally decided to address Nelson, “I’m doing what I can to make sure nobody kills my friend. You were just a bully. You stole cattle and cigarettes from people who couldn’t fight back. We ain’t the same.”

“Oh, now ya got someth’n to say. What do ya gotta say about kill’n me, huh? Your own dad? Your own flesh n’ blood? Still not even sure how that happened since you wasn’t even outta your mama’s belly yet.”

Creed got on his motorcycle and kickstarted it, “I ain’t explaining shit to you, Nelson.”

Just then, another bike pulled up and Creed recognized the black, reinforced armor and helmet of the rider – the Horseman. The vigilante wasn’t known to operate in that part of the country, but they had met before and it wasn’t civil. The night was already bad enough and he didn’t want more problems. “Shit,” Creed muttered and quickly pulled away. “Farrell Creed!” the Horseman called after him as he gave chase.

The two bikes turned onto a busy street, getting the attention of a few drivers. They swerved in and out of traffic, their engines roaring loudly. Once again, Creed noticed Nelson seemingly standing next to him despite going near 100mph. What was even stranger was that he heard his father clearly despite the rushing winds.

“Runn’n like a pansy! Your mom really did make ya soft, boy! Too bad ya had to kill me when ya did, I woulda made a man outta ya!”

“You think I’m scared of that asshole?” Creed sneered, “Lemme show you how ‘soft’ I am!”

Creed drove straight over a residential lawn, digging a trail through the grass and dirt before coming to a tire-squealing stop at an intersection. The owner of the house angrily looked out the window before calling the police. Meanwhile, the Horseman calmly circled Creed at the intersection before stopping. Creed angrily got off the bike and raised his arms in defiance, “Whadya want?”

The Horseman checked his surroundings as he spoke, “Who’d you meet up with tonight? Looked like some money was exchanged.”

“You ain’t a cop. In fact, far as I recall, you’re a wanted man. I ain’t tell’n ya shit!”

The Horseman ignored him, “Recently, an FBI agent was murdered by some Hell’s Trespassers. Namely, a chapter president named Dex Simpson and his vice-president. There was a witness to all this, a guy named Jake Markham, who apparently has a connection to you. I’m hoping to find Jake so I can get some answers.”

“Can’t help ya.”

As Creed spoke, he could hear his father loudly.

“Is this you being a tough guy? All I see is a lot of flapping gums! Open ‘im up, boy! Prove to me you ain’t soft!”

Horseman tightened his armored gloves, never realizing the spectre shouting in Creed’s ear, “This isn’t the first time you’ve lied to me but it’s gonna be the last.”

“Don’t let this queer make no threats!”

Every muscle in Creed’s body clenched with barely-concealed rage, “We know what this is really about, Collins. You’re still salty about what I did to Rex Robinson.”

The Horseman’s face was concealed behind a helmet but his body language showed that he was seething with anger. He remained quiet.

Creed continued mockingly, “Yeah, I guess you never got to meet your hero, but I did. Ran his ass over with his own flying bike or whatever.”

“The hell are you talk’n about boy? You ain’t ever done nothing to nobody. And that’s what you are! A nobody!”

The Horseman calmly placed a hand on the gun holstered on his belt, “Last chance to tell me where Jake Markham is.”

Creed flashed a deranged smile, “Yeah, Rex wasn’t shit. And neither are you. I know Cavalier kicked your ass a few times. Maybe I’ll do the same tonight.”

“Don’t just kick his ass! Kill ‘im! Don’t be a pussy and kill ‘im!”

The Horseman said nothing. Instead, he unfastened the guard of his holster.

Creed pointed at the gun, “Gonna stroke that thing all night or ya gonna do someth’n with it?”

Red and blue lights reflected off their surroundings, cutting through the tension. Down the road, they spotted a police cruiser approaching, giving a few warning blares of the siren. “You got lucky tonight, Creed,” the Horseman quickly retreated to his bike and by the time the officer pulled up to the intersection, he was riding away. Creed opted to stay behind and it seemed the officer decided to speak to him as opposed to chasing down the Horseman. Once the car stopped and the driver got out, Creed saw that it was chief of police, Charles Meyer.

“Cops! Don’t talk to ‘im! Especially not Winghaven cops!”

Creed had bad history with the police, Meyer in particular. But because Nelson told him not to speak to him, he decided to make an exception that night. He happily smiled at the officer, “Hey, Meyer. I guess we made a lot of noise, huh?”

“Goddammit, what’d I tell ya! Don’t say nothing!”

Meyer gave Creed a curious look, “What the hell are you smiling for, Creed?”

“I dunno. Guess you finally caught me in a good mood.”

“Yeah? Suppose you put your good mood to some use and tell me who that was just now?”

“Don’t say it, boy!”

“Believe it or not, it’s the Horseman.”

“Son of a bitch!”

Meyer looked off in the direction Horseman fled, “The Horseman? Damn. What’s he doing out here?”

“Something about the Moon Landing. I dunno. The guy’s nuts.”

Meyer shook his head, “Some of my guys at the station think he’s a hero. We got enough to worry about in this town, we don’t need no vigilantes.”

“For once Meyer, I think we can agree on something.”

Down the street, another motorcycle parked next to the curb. The vice-president of the Hell’s Trespassers watched Creed talking to Meyer. Mikey heard a report on his police scanner concerning a pair of motorcyclists chasing each other and coming to a stop at that intersection. He decided to investigate, believing it had something to do with Jake or Creed. Once there, he saw a man fitting Creed’s description talking to a police officer. He came to his own conclusion and quickly sped away.

In the woods, Alysa parked her car on an old road and got out. Creed previously told her where he buried Eleazar, the mystic who practiced the forbidden art of the Shadow Way, blurring the lines between life and death. Creed dismembered and decapitated him, and yet, he still lived, so Creed buried what was left in the dirt. Alysa pushed through the bushes with light emanating from her palm, hoping to find him. Once she came to the location, she found a hole had been dug in the ground with no sign of the man that was supposed to be inside. “Damn,” she muttered.

Epilogue:

A week earlier, a follower of Iseda entered a tent in the desert, the outside winds blowing sand around. His priestess, Queen Faith waited for him, her damaged eyes covered by a blindfold. Next to her was a pillow and a wreath of fabrics propping up a severed head that was somehow alive. Eleazar watched as the man placed a bag in front of the pair. The man didn’t like that his priestess allied herself with the exiled mystic. Like many followers of Iseda, he hated the Shadow Way and all practitioners, but he wasn’t going to defy his priestess.

“I took the soil from Nelson Creed’s grave,” he reported, “I hope this is satisfactory.”

“It is,” Eleazar answered, “Now Faith, before we begin, I want you to be sure of a few things. First, to complete the ritual, you must do exactly as I say and when I say it.”

“Of course,” Queen Faith answered.

“Next, as I said before, this ritual is meant to bind a dead soul to the nearest living blood relative. Are you sure Farrell Creed is the nearest blood relative of Nelson Creed?”

“As far as I know, Farrell Creed the only blood relative alive.”

“And remember, this ritual is meant for the living to seek solace or wisdom from a dead relative. It’s not meant for revenge. Are you sure this is going to torment Farrell Creed?”

“Nelson Creed was a notoriously violent and cruel man from all I’ve learned. The father’s reputation haunted him throughout his life and now, the father himself will haunt him. It won’t kill him, but it will push him over the edge eventually.”

“Very well, let’s begin.”

Continued…