"It's twisted," he said. "His self-centered excuse to justify himself. Although, in a way, he might be right."

"How so?"

"Growing up without my dad forced me to learn a lot when I was a kid. I had to learn how to fend for myself, think through things, set goals, take risks. My mom was supportive, but she couldn't teach me everything, especially about how to be a man. I had to learn a lot on my own. It's made me self-reliant, and maybe I'll need that in order to do ... well, whatever I'm supposed to do"

"I see your point," she said. "But think of how much stronger you might be if your father had been there for you"

"Honestly, I think my dad knew he wouldn't make a good father. He was too self-centered to take care of a family. It's better to have no dad around than to have a dad in the house who makes your life a living h.e.l.l."

"Good point." She nodded. "But what I want to know is, what are you supposed to prepare for? What's going to happen?"

"Pearl just wouldn't say, claimed she didn't know." He patted the ill.u.s.trated Bible that lay beside him on the seat. "I'm hoping that when we see Franklin tonight, he can help me piece together some things. He's a big history buff, you know."

"Too bad he won't be able to help me, too"

"What's wrong?"

"Remember the guy who stalked me in Houston? Mr. Morgan? I think he's out of jail. He's called me twice."

"You're kidding."

Her eyes were haunted. "He said that he knows where I live."

"d.a.m.n," David said. "You think he really does? Maybe he was only trying to scare you"

"He found out my phone number, which is unlisted. Why not my address?"

"Have you called the police?"

"What could I tell them? I can't prove that he's the one who called me. I don't have any solid proof of anything, not yet"

"There has to be something we can do" He guided the SUV across the road. The Bennetts' house was ahead. Since they lived across the street from him, he parked in his own driveway.

"I could stay with you, let you protect me "" She smiled. "Okay, that was a joke"

"Good to see that you're keeping your sense of humor."

"If I didn't, I'd scream. Seriously, I don't know what I'm going to do, David. This guy scares the s.h.i.t out of me ""

He took her hand in his. "I won't let anything happen to you"

"I'm not the only one dealing with drama here. What if something happens to you?"

She had him on that one. His own situation was as bad as hers-perhaps more so, because it was deeply strange and disturbing.

He couldn't bear to think about it any longer. He kissed her quickly on the lips.

"Come on, Nia, let's go eat"

At Franklin's house, they had a dinner of tossed salad, grilled rib eye steaks, baked potatoes, and corn on the cob. They took their meal outdoors on the wooden deck, sitting on wicker patio furniture.

The evening saw a welcome decrease in the temperature and humidity that had tormented them all day. A refreshing breeze carried the robust scent of freshly mown gra.s.s mingled with the aroma of Ruby's flower garden. A couple of torches designed to repel insects burned on the patio railing.

Although Franklin and Ruby were nearly forty years older than David and Nia, David didn't perceive any of the awkwardness that sometimes stifled discussions between members of different generations. Their conversation flowed, touching myriad subjects: current events, politics, sports, music, movies, travel, and more. The Bennetts had not settled quietly into their golden years and allowed themselves to be cut off from the outside world. They were active and well-read, frequent travelers, and full of fascinating insights.

After dinner, Ruby served red velvet cake and smooth Jamaican coffee. Both were delicious.

David sipped the pungent java, then said, "Franklin, when I first moved here, you promised to teach me about the town's colorful history. I've been waiting for my lesson."

"Oh, you've done it, David." Ruby made a mock grimace. "Don't get Professor Bennett started"

"The young man desires instruction," Franklin said. "Do not rebuke the curious mind."

"I'm curious, too" Nia placed her fork on her plate. "I've lived here my whole life, but everything I know about the town's come from hearsay and gossip."

"Which, interestingly enough, often contains kernels of truth," Franklin said. He cleared his throat. "Any discussion about this town must begin with its founder, Edward Mason."

"You've told me a little about him before," David said. "He started a plantation here"

"Correct," Franklin said. "Edward Mason moved here from Virginia, in eighteen forty-one. His vision was to establish the grandest, most prosperous plantation in Mississippi. A cotton kingdom, if you will. He had his stately mansion built on a hill that overlooked the thousand acres under his dominion. He owned three hundred slaves, to work the land from dawn till dusk.

"Mason was a strict, cruel master. He had slaves beaten severely for minor infractions: resting a minute too long, arriving late to work, tarrying too long when drinking water or eating. A slave was killed if he violated Mason's code one too many times. Mason believed that disobedience was inimical to his mission to maintain a plantation that functioned with machinelike efficiency.

"In the beginning, his punishments were fairly standard, as such things were on plantations-lashes with a whip. In time, however, he grew more s.a.d.i.s.tic and imaginative in his tortures. He once had a disobedient slave tied to the hindquarters of a horse and dragged throughout the countryside. On another occasion, he doused a man in kerosene and set him aflame. Then he had a woman hung from a tree by her ankles, and left there for days. Another time, a teenage slave had fresh meat hung around his neck and waist, and was forced into a pen of dogs.

"In eighteen sixty-one, the Civil War broke out. Edward Mason had no intention of surrendering to Union troops or perishing at their hands. He quickly made special preparations. He'd already had a mausoleum built at a cemetery, especially for his family. Well, now he had a concealed pa.s.sage built into the crypt. The pa.s.sage led to a deep shaft that gave access to an underground hideaway. His plan was to seek refuge there whenever Union soldiers approached.

"Alas, Mason never had the opportunity to use his hideout. His slaves, emboldened at the idea of a war that would end slavery, and hearing accounts of slaves escaping bondage to fight for the Union, launched an insurrection. They set the plantation on fire, and they hung Edward Mason from a tree that still stands to this day in the front yard of Jubilee. Many of the slaves were killed in the uprising, but a few of them escaped and crossed the lines to fight for the Union. My great-grandfather was one of them"

"Amazing." David shook his head, and Nia looked equally astonished. "Is that how you know so much about the history of Edward Mason?"

"My great-grandfather was a member of the inner circle of slaves who worked in the Mason household," Franklin said. "His name was Samuel Bennett. Sam was a 'house n.i.g.g.e.r,' reviled by the slaves who worked in the fields, for they a.s.sumed that his lot was better than theirs, his burden easier to bear. In truth, Mason treated the house slaves worse than he treated anyone else, and subjected them to brutalities that I cannot even tell you. When the insurrection hit, Sam was the one who wound the noose around Mason's neck"

"Jesus," Nia said.

"Sam told the story to his son, who in turn told his son, and so it was pa.s.sed down, eventually falling to me," Franklin said. "I've verified virtually every detail of which my ances tor spoke. For instance, the mausoleum that Mason had constructed stands in Hillside Cemetery, just off Main Street. I have not, however, ventured inside to find the subterranean hideaway. Edward Mason's corpse, ravaged as it was, was interred in his tomb, and his family lies with him.

"In addition, many of the survivors of the slaves who worked on the Mason plantation presently live in Dark Corner. Our chief, Van Jackson, is the descendent of a slave who escaped with my great-grandfather. Nia, your late father, Thomas James, was another descendant"

"I remember Daddy telling me," Nia said, wonder in her eyes.

Franklin nodded. "David, you too have an ancestor who played a role as well: William Hunter."

"I remember hearing stories about him, as a kid," David said. "He was some kind of freedom fighter, right?"

"Yes," Franklin said. "William Hunter was a free man who roamed throughout the South. He frequently a.s.sisted slaves in fleeing North on the Underground Railroad. Although he was free himself, he helped to plan the insurrection at the Mason plantation. According to Sam, my great-grandfather, William Hunter was the bravest-and most cunning-man he had ever seen. Sam believed that Hunter had witnessed something, as a younger man, that gave him the fort.i.tude of ten men. But Hunter was secretive about his past"

"I don't know much about him, either," David said. "I never learned much about my father's side of my family. Mostly everything you've said is new to me ""

"Doubtless, the ghost stories would be, as well," Franklin said.

David's heart skipped a beat. Nia shifted in her chair. Ruby watched her husband thoughtfully.

"Ah, your reactions tell me that you're more than pa.s.singly aware of the ghost stories connected to Jubilee," Franklin said. "Since the slave revolt, people have reported stories of hauntings at the estate. Some claim to see apparitions of slaves huddled under the trees that surround the house. Others said they have seen the ghost of Edward Mason himself, floating through the rooms in a dark suit, his face blue and eyes bulging, presumably from his death due to hanging."

David reached under the table and found Nia's hand. She squeezed his, gratefully.

"The house has been vacant for most of the hundred forty-odd years that Edward Mason has been dead. On rare occasion, someone will move in and attempt to refurbish the estate. I recall an ambitious couple who wanted to restore the mansion's period detail and turn it into a tourist attraction. They lived there for only a month and left in haste, the restoration project abandoned.

"Jubilee has been perhaps the one constant in Dark Corner. Throughout world wars, Jim Crow, the booms and busts of the economy, the Civil Rights Movement, and so on, up to the present day, the mansion has stood, inviolate, an unchanging landmark. Townsfolk despise what the house represents, and they fear the ghost stories, but in spite of that, we've let it stand-a bit like a scar that serves as a reminder of a fight that we've won. You can only understand how far you've come when you understand that from which you came."

"Someone's living in Jubilee now," David said, thinking of the tall man dressed in black whom he had seen a few days ago. "I visited the house"

Franklin put his coffee mug on the table. "May I ask why?"

"I need to tell you about this." David looked around the table at his friends. They watched him expectantly. "I saw a ghost a few days ago. It was my grandfather."

"Lord, have mercy," Ruby said.

"There's much more," David said.

He told them everything.

"It requires a leap of imagination to believe that your father's death was a hoax," Franklin said. He stared thoughtfully into his mug. "Possible, I suppose"

"It would be terrible, if it's true," Ruby said. "All the pain he's caused so many folks, especially you" She touched David's arm.

"Well, it's only a theory," David said. "I don't have any solid proof. But I do have some evidence of the other stuff I mentioned."

He unzipped the backpack that had been lying beside him on the deck. He pulled out the old Bible and handed it to Franklin.

"Ali, yes, this is an artifact." Franklin carefully opened the Bible.

"The ill.u.s.trations were done by my great-grandfather, James Hunter," David said. "He was an artist, but you probably already knew that"

"But I never realized he did work like this." Franklin pushed up his gla.s.ses on his nose, leaned closer to the book. "My G.o.d"

"What is it?" Nia said.

Franklin put the Bible in the center of the table. It was open to one of the drawings David had seen before: a pack of dogs guarding the mouth of a cave, and a group of men nearby, crouched amidst some trees.

Franklin's eyes were bright. "The young man who cuts my gra.s.s, Junior. He was recently asked to do some work at a cave in this very town, by the man who moved into Jubilee. Digging. Junior and his cousin did the work late at night, about a week ago. They saw the stout, bald-headed man who'd requested their a.s.sistance, and a tall man dressed in black."

"The guy who wears black is the same man I saw when I visited the Mason place!" David said. "There was something strange about him, too. He seemed a lot older than he looked."

Franklin nodded. "After Junior and his cousin finished the work of breaking a pa.s.sage into the cave, they were dis missed. However, being curious, they peeked inside. Junior claims that he saw a heap of skeletons, with rags clinging to their bones. And the man in black saw Junior and his cousin and ... well, used a supernatural force to throw them against the wall."

"Okay," Nia said. "Now you're creeping me out"

"Me, too," Ruby said.

David, too, felt a cool dampness at the nape of his neck.

"That is what Junior told me," Franklin said. "He's a simple man, without guile. I wasn't completely convinced of his story, of course, but David, you've confirmed the existence of the mysterious character in black. Also, these depictions of the cave are highly suggestive. It must be the same one. Only fools believe in coincidence."

"But those drawings must've been done decades ago," David said.

"Indeed" Franklin paged to another ill.u.s.tration. This one showed men inside a cavern, facing a legion of savages.

"What does it all mean?" Nia said. "Can you figure it out, Franklin?"

Franklin contemplated the Bible, silent.

Around the table, David, Nia, and Ruby anxiously awaited his response.

Franklin's head snapped up. He pointed at David.

"You are being summoned to perform a task, David. A task that deals with this." He tapped his finger against the sketch. "This is your family history here, lucidly portrayed"

"How do you know it's my family's history? What if it's just a bunch of drawings of some fable, some tall tale-"

"No, no, no!" Franklin hammered his fist against the table. "This is history here, I can feel it in my old bones. Your great-grandfather was almost certainly telling a visual story of an episode from Hunter family lore."

"But what am I supposed to do?" David said. "That's what I can't figure out"

"Whatever is required of you, which will become clear in time, as Pearl advised," Franklin said. He looked at each of them, somber. "Let's not lie to ourselves. We are facing something unearthly."

"Stop it, Franklin," Ruby said. "You don't know that yet"

"I know what I feel, and I have an inkling of what David is feeling. He is seeing ghosts; psychics are relaying messages to him. I doubt that he is being prompted to perform a task as mundane as replacing the plumbing in the Hunter residence. His mission is obviously as strange as the signs that he has received thus far. It only makes sense"

David had a chunk of red velvet cake remaining on his plate, and the coffee was still warm, but his appet.i.te was gone. Franklin, as he had hoped-and feared-had confirmed, in no uncertain terms, that a grave responsibility awaited him. And he had made their next step clear, too.

Nevertheless, David asked, "What should we do?"

"I believe you know the answer to your question," Franklin said. "My friends, we are going to embark on a field trip tomorrow. To the cave"

Shenice Stevens loved the night.

As a child, she'd loved to sit on the porch with her mother and gaze at the stars that were scattered like diamonds across the sky. "The stars are G.o.d's eyes, sugar," her mother would say. "He's always watching you to make sure you're safe"

When she grew older, her love of nightfall and silvery moons stayed with her. She especially loved night in Mississippi. There, the darkness seemed purer, deeper. Without the harsh lights of a big city-like Memphis, where she attended college-washing out the gloom, she could soak up the blackness as though it were water and she were a sponge, letting it fill her up with tranquillity.

Probably the only thing more comforting than the night was her boyfriend, Trey. His presence soothed her, no matter the time of day.

They were at a park, sitting on the cool hood of Trey's car. They sipped a chilled, peach-flavored wine from plastic gla.s.ses, the half-full bottle propped between them.

She was a junior at the University of Memphis, and had come home to Mason's Corner for the summer; Trey, a grad student at the same school, drove from the city every weekend to visit her. They spent many nights like this, sitting outdoors talking, sometimes sipping a sweet wine, and listening to soulful music. They had been dating for almost a year and Shenice was sure that they would marry after she graduated. Trey was the kind of man who was all about business and knew what he wanted out of life. She was a free spirit, a good balance for him. They complemented each other.