Luther Cross Volume 1: The Reckoning



  LUTHER CROSS Part 1

  THE RECKONING

  By Percival Constantine

  Copyright © 2014 Percival Constantine

  The doorbell echoed through the large-ceilinged mansion, and a middle-aged maid came through the foyer. She turned the locks and pulled open the heavy door.

  Standing on the porch in the rain was a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black trench coat and matching fedora. His skin was the color of strong coffee with a dark goatee, and even though night had fallen and the rain was coming down, he still wore a pair of sunglasses. In one hand he held a leather briefcase.

  “Luther Cross to see Sylvia Bennett,” he said in a deep baritone.

  “Yes, please come in,” said the maid, her voice tinged with the remnants of an eastern European accent.

  Luther nodded a thank you and stepped inside, removing his hat to reveal his bald head. He held the hat out and the maid took it as Luther set down his briefcase. He unbuttoned his coat and slid it off his frame. Beneath it he wore a black suit with a red shirt and silver tie.

  The maid took his coat, draping it over her arm and laying his hat on top. She turned from him and motioned to follow. “This way, Mr. Cross.”

  Luther retrieved his briefcase and stepped after her. A pair of white French doors led from the foyer to a sitting room. Two couches sat on either side of a marble coffee table with a roaring fireplace across from the doors.

  The maid gestured to one of the couches. “Please sit.”

  Opening his suit jacket, he sat and placed the briefcase on his lap.

  “Would you care for a drink, sir?”

  “Scotch, provided it’s at least as old as a middle school student. Otherwise, nothing.”

  The maid nodded and gave a slight bow, then left the room with his coat and hat. Luther’s eyes glanced around the room with interest. The sitting room was kept in immaculate condition, perhaps too immaculate. He imagined Bennett never used it, except when company came calling.

  “Mr. Cross?”

  He stood on hearing his name, buttoning his jacket as he did. The maid was back and standing by her side was a woman in her sixties, wearing a dark dress and with make-up heavily applied to her wrinkled face.

  “Sylvia Bennett.” She held out her hand, palm down. Luther took the cue by lightly gripping her ring-adorned fingers and then laid a gentle kiss on the back of her hand.

  “A pleasure, Mrs. Bennett.”

  She smiled and cast a glance at the maid, who handed Luther a tumbler with a small amount of scotch in it. He sipped it and the smooth taste resulted in an approving nod.

  Bennett next said to the maid, “That will be all, Irena. Thank you.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Once Bennett sat on the couch across, Luther returned to his seat as well. “Thank you for coming here on such short notice, Mr. Cross. Things have been quite difficult since Jacob’s passing.”

  Bennett’s eyes drifted to the mantle above the fireplace where there sat several framed photographs. “He just retired last year and then to lose him so soon…”

  “I understand you’d like to communicate with him?” asked Luther.

  Bennett nodded. “I just want to know that he’s okay, and I want him to know how much he’s missed.”

  “I understand.”

  “You can really do this? Communicate with the dead?”

  “Mrs. Bennett, I have some specific talents.” Luther removed the sunglasses and Sylvia Bennett gasped. His eyes were a deep crimson, the color of freshly spilt blood.

  Luther folded the glasses and slid them inside his jacket’s front pocket. “Don’t be alarmed, madam. Just a by-product of my skills, nothing more.”

  Bennett put on a false smile, but Luther could tell she was still unsettled. Good, he thought. That would make things a lot simpler. He brought the briefcase to his lap and opened the latches. From the case, Luther drew out a small board and laid it on the table. Bennett examined the board and her first reaction was to scoff.

  “Is that…a Ouija board?”

  “Please, Mrs. Bennett. All I ask is that you keep an open mind.” Luther took a planchette from the briefcase and set it on the board. “This is far from the game you can find in stores. I made this board myself from beech wood, which is very useful for divination spells. And the ink used for the lettering was mixed with my own blood to increase the potency.”

  “I’m sorry. So we place our hands on the planchette?”

  Luther smiled. “Not quite. Just hold your hands over the board, but do not touch anything.”

  Bennett did as she was told and Luther followed suit. He took a deep breath and said, “Now concentrate on your husband. Picture him in your head. Feel free to stare at his photograph if it helps.”

  She nodded and looked at the photo on the mantle. Luther closed his eyes and began to speak.

  “I’m now reaching out beyond our realm. I beseech the voices of those who have passed through the veil. I seek to commune with the one whom in life was known as Jacob Bennett. Jacob Bennett, respond to my call.”

  Luther opened his eyes and Sylvia Bennett nearly screamed when she saw that his eyes were now completely white.

  “Stay with me, Mrs. Bennett.” His hands began to shake a little and the planchette budged.

  “What was that?”

  Luther ignored her question. “Jacob, can you hear me?”

  The planchette moved across the board, seemingly of its own accord. Neither Luther nor Bennett had their fingers anywhere near it to move it with their hands. It slid upward, until the point of the planchette was aimed at the YES written on the board.

  “J-Jake?”

  “Jacob, my name is Luther. I’m here with your wife, Sylvia. Is there anything you would like to say to her?”

  The planchette moved to the center and then back to YES.

  “We’re listening, Jacob. Please let us know your message.”

  Luther closed his eyes and the planchette moved some more. It passed over several letters.

  R-E-M-E-M-B-E-R.

  “Remember? Yes, Jake, of course I’ll remember you!” said Bennett.

  D-R-I-N-K.

  “Drink? Drink what, Jake?”

  Cross’ eyes snapped open and he looked at the board. Something wasn’t right here. He had to reassert control over the situation. He lowered his hands, staring at the board and concentrating. Still, the planchette moved about of its own volition and Bennett continued to read the letters.

  “O-V-A-L…” Bennett scrunched her eyebrows and set her hands on her knees. Once the planchette stopped, she looked to Luther. “Ovaltine? Remember to drink Ovaltine? Is this some sort of a joke?”

  Cross huffed. “Divination is hardly an exact science. Sometimes…spirits are confused. Especially when they first cross over. You said your husband just passed away last month?”

  Bennett nodded.

  “That might be the problem. He’s not able to fully understand what he’s saying. Perhaps we can schedule another appointment? In another month, I’m sure we’ll have better luck.”

  Bennett didn’t appear convinced. She stood, rubbing her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cross. Maybe this was a mistake. Perhaps you should just go.”

  Luther grunted and placed the board and planchette back in his briefcase. He picked up the tumbler and drank the rest of the scotch in one gulp, then returned the glass to the table. “Regarding payment…”

  “Payment?” Bennett spun on him. “Mr. Cross, you came into my home. You played on my emotions. I don’t know how you made that thing move, but clearly this is all some kind of elaborate hoax! I can promise you will not see a single cent from me!”

&nb
sp; The tumbler suddenly shattered and Bennett screamed. Irena ran into the room.

  “Mrs. Bennett!”

  “It’s all right, Irena,” said Luther. “Mrs. Bennett, you are free to refuse payment. But please remember that you’ve asked me to invite spirits into your home and I have not yet performed the proper banishment rituals. If you will not provide compensation for my services, then I see no reason to perform those rituals.”

  Bennett crossed her arms. She tried to remain defiant, but there was a slight quiver to her voice. “I’ll take my chances. Irena, please retrieve Mr. Cross’ belongings and then show him the door.”

  “As you wish.” Luther reached inside his jacket and took out a small gold case with the initials LC engraved on the surface. Clicking it open, he removed a simple business card and set it on the coffee table. “Should you change your mind, please don’t hesitate to call, day or night. I have a feeling you’ll see things my way.”