Who Do Voodoo?
Day 3
Dean dozes a bit in the front seat of the car, though he doesn't mean to. It was a long night, and though the ghost had very little success with her attempt at killing him, Dean wonders if it actually tired him some.
By the time he comes to it is almost nine, and he has probably slept a good two hours.
There's no indecision left in his mind now. The ghost is gone, and Sam still hasn't called to say that he's found anything.
The angel hunt is on. Dean turns the Impala's key, ready to be on his way.
But it takes him less than a minute to realise that he still hasn't gotten any idea on where or how to find an angel. With Sam preoccupied, Dean supposes that means research-duty for him.
The local library is nothing fancy, but he decides to try it anyway. Perhaps there is something (anything) on angels walking the Earth, some myths, legends, whatever. If nothing else, Dean can use one of the, probably old and slow, computers. The internet might have something worthwhile.
Whether or not there is anything to be found on the internet, Dean is left to guess. The computers with unlimited use doesn't actually connect to the world wide web, but only to the library's own database and, more interestingly, the old newspaper archive.
Gravette appears to be a city proud of its history (Dean doesn't think that is warranted). Newspaper articles over a century old has been digitalised and stored in the database. Dean clicks the first for fun, but when he comes across the notice about a simple slave girl found drowned on Horne's grounds, he can't help reading it through. There is almost nothing there. The girl, "with the mind of a child" is presumed to have wandered off in a fancy and fallen in the shallow stream. There was no signs of its being anything but an accident (Dean represses a snarl). The girl was 14.
After this find, Dean cannot help trying to dig up something else on Horne House. Half a year after the notice about Yaa's death, is another notice, a warning this time, to be on the watch-out for a burglar. Reported stolen is some silver cutlery, a vase, and one female slave, carrying a child.
Dean finds the slave's name. It is given as Louise, also known as Lumusi.
He stares at the screen, not seeing it. Stolen. A human being. That is bad enough in itself, and then it's not even true. She was murdered. Her bones made that glaringly obvious to his keener senses. Dean wonders, and then remembers both ghosts' words about the Master of the house.
He closes his eyes and pictures the old bones against the dark earth. No wonder he couldn't identify all the small parts of the adult's skeleton. They'd been bones belonging to a second skeleton in the same grave.
Almost in a trance, Dean continues through the old clippings. Something tells him, that there is more to be found, and he learnt to trust his hunches long before they became an actual thing.
Horne House is mention again exactly one month after the supposed break in. This time it is an article in remembrance of the revered Mr. Horne. The Master of Horne House dies of food poisoning the night of the 2nd of September. Foul play is out-ruled; Mr. Horne's widow assures that they dined of the same dishes, and that the slaves had no access to any of the food after it was served. Mr. Horne's son and heir comes of age in spring and will take over the running of the plantation. The widow consoles herself with prayers to the lord and her painting.
It's past midday when Dean leaves the library. His head is buzzing with the old articles. He really shouldn't care, but he almost feels sorry for Lumusi the ghost. He kind of wishes that it had been the old man, haunting the place; that it could have been him Dean got to torch. Even if the monster (and human monsters are always worse in Dean's opinion) had gotten what he deserved, Dean doesn't think an accidental poisoning was enough.
Dean pauses. Actually, dying is only the first step. If Dean's assumptions are right, then he knows full well where this guy was going and then, he supposes, Mr. Horne might just be getting all that he deserves after all.
Dean's phone pulls him out of his contemplation. The caller ID tells him it's Sam, and just like that, he has forgotten anything about ghosts, slaves and human monsters.
"Sam?" he actually sounds a little breathless to himself.
"Hi Dean, how's it going on your end?"
His brother shouldn't even be asking. If he has something to say, it takes precedence over any- and everything Dean is doing in Gravette. "Fine. Ghost's gone."
"Good, that's good," Sam pauses.
"Sam," Dean snarls at him, just as he reaches the Impala. Then he stops. Kibwe is walking down the road, and he has obviously seen him.
"Look, I've got something, alright? But I'm not entirely sure... I'll have to go through some of the index. Shouldn't take too long. But perhaps, if you're done, you could start heading back?"
"I'm on my way."
Dean turns away from Kibwe and climbs into the Impala. He revs the engine, and pulls out, just as the dark man reaches the door.
Dean's wasted enough time. It's time to help Cas.