The Witching Hour

[Part 8] Marvin's Investigation

Marvin wasn't keen on working on Sundays, but this Sunday, he was forced to make an exception. His team of investigators worked late into the evening the night before, but only managed to clear the broken floorboards and debris left behind by the fallen excavator. It was just enough to finish excavating the body and send it to the medical investigator to be identified. The next task was to finish clearing the dirt and debris and collect any evidence they could from inside the cellar. Marvin knew it was going to be a grueling task.

Luckily, his team was ready and eager to begin when he arrived, no doubt fueled by curiosity. They made quick work of cleaning the remaining broken floorboards, but the dirt was tricky. It piled in through one side and spilled across the entire surface of the cellar floor. Any evidence they would find would likely be buried. They had to move the earth with the utmost care and precision. They started slowly at the highest point of the pile and gradually emptied the chamber except for about a foot of loose debris.

By this time, the team was beginning to feel wore out. The smell still lingered, rancid and strong, as if a corpse were still freshly decaying inside. Some members of the team had to take frequent breaks for fresh air. Everyone worked in eerie silence, feeling uneasy, as if something heavy hovered around them. Even Marvin felt goosebumps prickle his flesh as he dug deeper into the cellar. Finally, after hours of careful digging, the details of the cellar emerged, and they began to find objects.

"Dewitt, you might want to take a look at this." Roberto, one of Marvin's rookie detectives called out. He was hunched over what appeared to be a thick rectangular stone, about knee height, brushing dirt off several objects surrounding it.

"What did ya find?" Marvin asked approaching him.

The young man held up two glass jars. One appeared to be a dark liquid, thick and congealed, and filled almost to the top. The other contained about an inch of a yellow-brown liquid, whole stem herbs, hair, and what looked to be dried organs of some kind. Both jars were too dirty to determine exactly what was inside.

"What the heck is this?" Marvin asked, his face crumpling in disgust.

He stooped down and helped Roberto unearth more strange objects. Together they dug up rodent remains, bird remains, several candles that were almost completely melted, a filthy knife, a machete, a ruined leather-bound book, an odd-looking necklace, broken pottery, and a blood-stained cloth. They also found two photographs that were too dirty to examine, and a very long lock of black hair that had been braided, twisted, and tied in an unusual ball-like shape. Attached to the lock were bones, a pendant, and other undeterminable small objects.

"Brujeria..." Roberto whispered, shock masking his face.

"What'd ya say?"

"Witchcraft," Roberto repeated in English, "As a kid, we used to visit family in Mexico every winter. My Grandma and my aunt are both brujas, and when I would go with them to the Mercado de Sonora, I would see stuff like this sometimes."

"Do ya know what this stuff's for?"

"Well, it's not anything good. My family only practices good hechizos, you know, like cleansing, love spells, prosperity, stuff like that. We never went into the stores with stuff like this in there. They always told me it was dangerous."

"How's it dangerous?" Marvin asked, his stomach turning.

"They said it was for maldicion, and satanismo. Curses, and devil worship."

Marvin was speechless. In all his thirty-five years of policework, he'd never come across something like this before.

"I don't like this." Roberto said, after he finished placing the objects in a neat row on the ground.

"Let's just bag the evidence an' finish clearin' out the dirt." Marvin said, reaching for evidence bags.

"Sir, if you wouldn't mind, I'll just keep digging. My family told me it was bad luck to remove cursed objects from their alters. I just have a bad feeling."

"Bad luck how?" Marvin asked, hesitating, his hand hovering above one of the jars.

"I don't know for sure, and I don't want to find out." Roberto's face was drawn into a pained grimace, his eyes wide in fear.

"So ya want me ta take the chance instead?"

"You go to church. You have better odds than me." Roberto defended.

Marvin wasn't sure if there was any truth to Roberto's warning or not, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to find out either. However, seeing the pained look on Roberto's face was enough to let him know that this boy really believed the superstitions, and that was more than enough reason to give the rookie a break. He allowed him to finish digging while he carefully bagged the evidence.

He did so as quickly as he could manage, trying not to handle the objects more than necessary. Marvin, being a Christian man, understood that there were unseen forces in the world that were beyond comprehension and explanation. He hoped that his faith would be enough to shield him, if this really was evil they were playing with.

"Oh my god-" Shanda, a female officer gasped aloud.

Marvin turned to see her shining a flashlight beam onto a wall in the shadows, a few feet away from the alter. A large pentagram was drawn approximately three feet in diameter, accompanied by Spanish words scribbled and almost unreadable. Everything was written in blood.

"Shit." Roberto muttered, stepping back.

Marvin was dumbfounded and frightened. It seemed that Robert's explanation was making more and more sense.

He wondered to himself, "How am I 'sposed to explain this in the report?"