Psychiatrist Kenny Lawson time travels from 2019 Philadelphia to 1955 Charleston to interview the witness to a murder. The witness reports seeing an entity dissolve a human. Kenny believes the killer was Lucas Mobley.
Lucas Mobley died in 1919 and his vengeful spirit was released from imprisonment in 1955. But Lucas is not simply a ghost; he became the dreaded thing that only moves at night and possesses people. He is a haint.
Back in 2019 Kenny learns that this killing was one of 55 Lucas would commit. Folklore around the murders has spread so far north some of his patients were exhibiting a paranoia about haints. Then he recognizes the broader social consequences of Lucas’ spree.
Because all of Lucas’ victims were white, Charleston assumed its black residents were responsible. The city strangled its black citizens’ activities and nascent civil rights movement. This allowed Kim Crow to spread through the country.
Kenny returns to 1955 to find and stop Lucas. Following the timeline of liquified bodies, he plans to trap him as he begins. This is the only way to prevent mass murder. But ensnaring a haint from 64 years in the past puts his own life at risk.
Psychiatrist Kenny Lawson time travels from 2019 Philadelphia to 1955 Charleston to interview the witness to a murder. The witness reports seeing an entity dissolve a human. Kenny believes the killer was Lucas Mobley.
Lucas Mobley died in 1919 and his vengeful spirit was released from imprisonment in 1955. But Lucas is not simply a ghost; he became the dreaded thing that only moves at night and possesses people. He is a haint.
Back in 2019 Kenny learns that this killing was one of 55 Lucas would commit. Folklore around the murders has spread so far north some of his patients were exhibiting a paranoia about haints. Then he recognizes the broader social consequences of Lucas’ spree.
Because all of Lucas’ victims were white, Charleston assumed its black residents were responsible. The city strangled its black citizens’ activities and nascent civil rights movement. This allowed Kim Crow to spread through the country.
Kenny returns to 1955 to find and stop Lucas. Following the timeline of liquified bodies, he plans to trap him as he begins. This is the only way to prevent mass murder. But ensnaring a haint from 64 years in the past puts his own life at risk.
CHAPTER 1
“How do you melt a person and not burn his clothes?” the wary, wide-
eyed Oscar Taylor asked from a bed in the corner of the room in the basement
of Reverend Booker Ashford’s church. The man’s South Carolinian accent
was thick, but his words were clear.
It was 1955 Charleston and Dr. Kenny Lawson had just arrived from
2019 Philadelphia. It was also the middle of the night. He had to not only
overcome his sleep deprivation, but refamiliarize himself with the local
accent. It was important he clearly understood the only person to have ever
seen a haint kill a human.
“I don’t know,” Kenny responded. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Hunkered in a near-fetal position with his arms around himself, Oscar
sat at the head of the bed with his legs folded under him. One shoulder was
lodged into the corner like he was trying to escape through the wall of the
room. His left ear looked fused to the wall, but his head was turned so he
could see Kenny. He looked afraid of anything or anyone approaching from
behind him.
Waiting for a response, Kenny asked, “You saw what happened, right?”
When Oscar didn’t reply, he regarded the man, but saw the same hyper-
vigilant expression. Now he was glad he’d sat in the center of the room. There,
he was as nonthreatening as possible. He’d learned this from his psychiatric
training and experience, but tonight he was especially glad to be closest to
the door for this interview. Oscar had a wild look in his eye.
“Yeah. I saw it ’cause they kicked me out of the Satin Club. All I did was
try to talk to one of the dolls in there, but she was taken. How was I supposed
to know Dapper Al had claimed her? It ain’t like they got signs on ’em.”
Kenny asked, “So how did you see it?”
“I was passed out. Those cats ruffed me up, and tossed me out the back
door. I was layin’ on the ground when I woke up and saw it.” He turned his
head to stare at the wall and stopped talking.
Kenny waited for him to finish. The silence was long and uncomfort-
able. He knew to let his subject articulate his memories and frustrations at
his own pace, but grew impatient. He had been awakened in the middle of
the night and he stifled the urge to demand a quick and concise description.
“What did you see?” he asked gently.
Slowly Oscar turned his head to look at Kenny with fear in his eyes.
He shook his head and began. “Th-th-there was this dark thing on top of the
guy. It stuck somethin’ on his face and started suckin’ on him. I’ll never forget
it. With all the noise from the club and the street, I remember that sound. I
thought maybe somebody come outside and was sucking the barbecue sauce
off his fingers or somethin’, but there wasn’t nobody else out there.”
“It was coming from the man and the . . . the thing on top of him?”
“Yep. The thing moved its sucker down to the guy’s neck, then his chest.
But it was still layin’ on top of him. When the sucker part got to the stomach,
the next thing it did scared the shit outta me.” The man became quiet again.
After a brief pause, Kenny prompted the man again. “I know this is
tough, but I can’t help you unless I know what happened. What scared you?”
“Th-th-the thing turned into a man. I mean . . . it looked like a man by
the time it was suckin’ from the guy’s stomach.”
“How could it suck from him and turn into a man at the same time?”
“I don’t know, but the thing was suckin’ from the guy’s belly button
by then.”
“Are you sure he wasn’t making it with one of the girls from the club?
Maybe she had on a costume?”
Oscar’s eyes widened, and anger filled his face. “Mister, I can hold my
liquor. And I wasn’t drunk that night. I remember it was one thirty in the
mornin’. I know ’cause I looked at my watch. The Satin Club usually has a
revue of new girls around one. It was one thirty. There was a whole buncha
hootin’ and hollerin’ from the club just about then. That’s how I know there
wasn’t nobody else outside. And that’s how I know it wasn’t one of the girls.
Everybody was busy inside!” He stared at Kenny like he was upset his version
of events wasn’t believed.
“And you still heard the sucking noise?”
“Hell yeah. I’ll never forget that sound as long as I live. It was like
somebody slurpin’ some good soup, and kissin’ real deep at the same time.”
“Kinda hard to do both, isn’t it?” Kenny felt free to project incredulity
now that Oscar was opening up. It would help the man clarify his statement
and, hopefully, challenge him to show consistency in his story. He’d made a
food reference during both descriptions, but added a sexual one during the
second description.
“That’s what I said! How can anybody do both them things at the same
time? Ever since then, I try to eat or drink quiet. If I slurp or smack my lips
like I used to, it reminds me of that . . . thing. I can’t kiss no girl neither ’cause
if I did that I’d think of that thing. I can’t sleep right ’cause I hear that noise
when I lay down. That’s when I think it’s in the room with me.”
“So you haven’t slept right in a week or so?” Kenny asked after making
sure Oscar was finished.
“Naw.”
Oscar’s tale intrigued Kenny. Was Oscar just a drunk needing a safe
haven to regain his senses before returning to his vices? Or was he an innocent
bystander who had witnessed the unthinkable? Maybe Oscar had fatigue and
delusions. Rather than let him wallow in both, Kenny shifted his approach.
“Didn’t the guy fight back?”
“Naw. He didn’t put up much of a fight. Maybe he was worn out from a
round with one of the girls out in the alley before that thing got ’im. But I’m
tellin’ you, this wasn’t no girl that was doin’ what I saw.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t one of the ladies rolling him?”
Oscar finished turning his body toward Kenny and sat with his legs
folded underneath him. He tightened his face and jaws and pointed at Kenny.
“You ain’t listenin’ . . . I said it wasn’t no lady! No lady looks like that. And
I said I wasn’t drunk. The goddamned thing finished suckin’ the life outta
him and stood up. It burped and turned around. Next thing I know it was
lookin’ right at me. When I saw them red eyes burnin’ right through me, I
screamed and shit myself. I thought it was all over. Wasn’t no place I could
hide and I couldn’t run!”
“What did it look like?”
Oscar stood up on the bed and gestured in the air. He shouted, “It
was as tall as me, and was naked. Skinny with no hair. It was black as tar so I
couldn’t see no mouth or nose. But the damned thing spoke. It talked like it
had hot coals in its mouth. Even then, he sounded like a local guy.”
“How’s that?” Kenny said, raising his eyebrows.
“I got Geechee blood in my veins, man. I know Geechee when I hear it.”
“So it saw you witness a murder. A murder it had just committed. Then
it spoke to you. Why didn’t it just kill you right there on the spot?”
“The thing didn’t want me. It said it didn’t have no quarrel with me,
and bid me a good night.” Oscar hesitated before saying anything else. He sat
down on the bed and backed into the corner. He looked around warily and
hung his head. “Then it flew away.”
Kenny looked at the man and waited for him to flinch or amend his
statement. Maybe Oscar’s delusion created a scenario wherein he could
escape a manifestation of his inner demons. Or maybe he had seen a rare
apparition known to those familiar with Southern folklore. A haint was a
spirit that traveled by night in search of a soul to possess. When Oscar looked
up, their gazes met. Despite locking eyes with Kenny, Oscar wasn’t pressured
by the stare.
Kenny asked, “He flew away? Are you sure about that?” Kenny pushed
Oscar to help determine if the traumatized man would be consistent from
beginning to end.
“I told you I wasn’t drunk! The thing lifted straight off the ground and
flew into the sky. I looked up and that sumbitch was gone into the night. The
scariest thing I ever seen.”
“It just floated off the ground, and . . .”
Oscar leaned forward and exclaimed, “It flew away!” He rested his
back into the corner and wrapped his arms around himself again. He looked
around the room as if he was being watched. “I didn’t know what to think. I
figured it had some rope or somethin’, but I never saw any. I got up real slow.
Then I looked around the alley to see if it had tricked me. That’s when that
smell got me.”
“What smell?”
“I don‘t know what it was, but man, it was foul. Right where it was
standin’ was the foulest odor ever. And I’ve worked on the big Davis farm
and the Overton slaughterhouse. When I looked down, the guy he attacked
wasn’t there no more!”
“But you said his body was—”
“There was somethin’ there, but it wasn’t no body. There was just jelly
inside his clothes,” Oscar interrupted. “I ain’t been in no war, but I hearda
people bein’ burnt to death in Japan when they dropped the bomb. That’s
what I thought happened to this guy. All that was left was some clothes filled
with jelly. But how do you melt a person and not burn his clothes?” Oscar
looked at Kenny with eyes that begged for an answer.
Kenny shook his head. “I have no idea.” He had heard enough.
“I couldn’t make heads or tails of it, so then I got drunk. I mean really
drunk. That didn’t work, so I got me some reefer. I figured if I got high, I’d
fall asleep, wake up, and forget all about it. But, when I woke up, all I could
think about was what happened that night.
“Do the United States Army have some new bomb they made after
World War II that creates monsters? Either that, or that freak is a hungry
vampire.” Oscar closed his eyes.
Kenny sighed and hunched his shoulders with fatigue. He looked down
at his lap so Oscar wouldn’t perceive his long stare to be judgmental. He asked,
“So, how did you end up at Reverend Ashford’s church?”
“I can’t get what happened outta my head. I been tryin’ to. I been
drinkin’ and smokin’ all day for a week, but I keep seein’ that guy and that . . .
that thing. Nobody and nothin’ could help me forget it, so I came here to the
church. I figured Reverend Booker can see some meaning in it all. It wasn’t
no dream, so maybe I saw the devil himself. Why the devil wanna visit me?”
Sensing an opportunity to probe from a different angle, Kenny asked,
“How badly do you think you’ve sinned?” The question didn’t strike Kenny
as out of bounds to ask a man who frequented whore houses and speakeasies.
“No worse than nobody else. I work hard and I play just as hard. I try
not to hurt nobody, but I like to have a good time. A lot of people in this
town are just like me. The whole city ain’t goin’ to Hell.” After a short pensive
pause, he asked, “Or is it?”
Kenny looked up at Oscar. “That depends on what you think is good
and evil. And if you believe in Heaven or Hell.”
“I believe in both of ’em. I ain’t sure which one I’m goin’ to, but which-
ever one I go to, Imma have plenty company. Anyway, I figured I needed to
talk to somebody that can talk to God for me. I told Reverend Booker what
happened, and he told me to talk to you.”
Kenny recognized that what Oscar had seen was similar to the effi-
ciently swift death Lucas Mobley had visited upon Gretchen Greeley’s family.
He could not recall any of his psychiatric patients ever revealing a similar
story. This death needed further investigation.
Convinced that Oscar’s account was internally consistent, Kenny
offered Oscar a smile.
“Thanks. Oscar. I’m gonna leave you alone now. You really helped.
The reverend and I will try to figure this out. I’m sure he’ll let you stay here
and straighten yourself out. I’m gonna do some investigating of my own,”
Kenny said.
“So, you believe me?” Oscar asked hopefully.
“I sure do. I’m gonna look into it more, but I do. You just rest and get
some food into you. You should stay off the liquor and reefer. You’ll feel better
after you clean yourself up.”
“Thanks, Mister . . . Kenny, right?”
“Yes. Kenny Lawson.” When Oscar sat up straight, Kenny stood and
walked to the bed slowly. He stretched his hand out.
Oscar regarded his hand for a moment, then looked up at Kenny. His
lips turned up just enough to suggest the beginnings of a smile. He leaned
from the corner and reached for Kenny’s hand. As their hands clasped, he
grinned and shook Kenny’s hand vigorously.
“I didn’t think nobody’d believe me. I seen it and I hope I never see
it again.”
“I hope you don’t either. I’ll let the reverend know we’re finished. You
take care of yourself, now. And remember you have to clean yourself out.”
“You a doctor or sump’n?”
Kenny paused for a moment. He didn’t want Oscar to get his hopes up
and seek him out as a personal doctor. Kenny had no intention of taking the
man on as a patient. Not when Kenny lived in 2019 Philadelphia, and Oscar
in 1955 Charleston. “Nope. I’m just the reverend’s cousin.”
“Where you from?”
“Philadelphia.”
“They got haints in Philadelphia?”
“If haints exist here, they’re probably everywhere,” Kenny
answered diplomatically.
“What do y’all do about ’em?”
“What we’re doing right now. Flush them out and try to catch them.”
Oscar tried forming his lips to make a word, but couldn’t. He sat with
lips pursed full enough to tell Kenny he needed to wait for the man to actually
articulate whatever question he was intending to ask.
“You know how to catch a haint?” Oscar’s eyes were as innocent as a
young child witnessing what he thought was a miracle.
“You’ve heard of haint bottles, right? You know, you put a bottle on a
tree by putting the end of a branch into the opening. Haints can only come
out at night. They search for a body to take over, but if they can’t find one,
they look for a haint bottle to hide in. If you put more bottles on a tree, you’ve
got more chances to catch them. When the sun rises, they’re trapped in the
bottles and the sunlight destroys them.”
“Hell yeah! My Mamma and Granny always had one in front of the
house. If I ever get a house, Imma have a haint tree in front of mine. That
thing ain’t gon’ ever get that close to me again!” Oscar’s face was excited and
his eyes fixed on Kenny’s. This Yankee knew about haints!
“That’s how we’ll catch him,” Kenny answered confidently. He felt it
was easier to give Oscar an explanation he was familiar with rather than
elaborate on his time travel.
Oscar sat back and let his lips curl up a bit more. His body relaxed and
he sat on the bed with his hands folded in his lap. There was no doubt his
curiosity about Kenny had been satisfied. To him, Kenny was an out-of-town
ghost hunter, and Reverend Ashford was a local one. Maybe the reverend sent
for Kenny because this haint was special. Kenny was reinforcements. Oscar
now felt safer than ever. He had made the best possible choice in coming to
this church.
Kenny sensed Oscar’s perception of him as a haint hunter for hire.
Hired by Reverend Booker Ashford. This realization could present a chal-
lenge or an opportunity. If Oscar told others about this, Booker could now
be seen by the locals as a haint hunter for hire. Given the propensity for the
truth about African American religious beliefs to be miscommunicated and
exaggerated, Booker might be labeled an exorcist.
Being called on to perform exorcisms might propel Booker’s repu-
tation, but only if it were in the realm of haints. With Kenny’s help, haint
hunting, aka “Hoodoo Exorcism” would be looked at in higher regard by
his parishioners. However, those who held contempt for Hoodoo practi-
tioners might consider his ability to reach haints as evidence of his ability
to commune with the Devil. Persecuting Hoodoo practitioners occurred
whenever some politician or candidate wanted to improve his stature among
white fundamentalists who abhorred any religious practice other than tra-
ditional Christianity. Kenny and Booker would have to manage his reputa-
tion carefully.
“I don‘t want you thinking the reverend is some kinda expert in this.
This is his first time doing this. Mine too. We have no choice but to solve
what you just dropped into his lap. We’re trying to help you, but if we catch
this haint, we help everybody.”
“That’s gon’ be a good thing.”
“Too much attention right now would just get in our way. So, it would
be good if you could keep this to yourself.” Kenny looked unflinchingly into
Oscar’s face and offered the man an incentive to be silent, “Mr. Taylor, you’re
the only one to see this haint and survive. If he thinks you told on him, he
might come looking for you.”
Oscar’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. His fear bordered on panic.
“Mister, I don’t want no trouble over this heah thing. I don’t wanna talk about
it no more. You ain’t got to worry ’bout me. No suh. I done tole you all there is
to tell and I’m done tellin’ it. People think I’m crazy anyhow.” Oscar retreated
into a simpler, more rustic speech pattern as his fear overtook his curiosity.
“People misuse the word ‘crazy’, Mr. Taylor, but I understand it better
than most. You’re right, though. If you tell your story to anyone else, you
might get locked up or committed. It’d be easier for that haint to find you,”
said Kenny. He was satisfied with Oscar’s response and felt his final comment
closed the last opening the man had for any justification to tell his story else-
where. “You get some rest, hear?” he said and turned around.
Oscar nodded, and watched Kenny walk to the door. Just as Kenny put
his hand on the doorknob, he said, “Hey, Mister.”
Holding onto the doorknob, Kenny turned with some hesitance.
Although he appeared to have earned Oscar’s trust, he had seen some inter-
views end with patients revealing they had fabricated their stories for atten-
tion. He hoped this was not the case.
“Yeah?”
“When you find that thing, you kill it. Hear me?” Oscar said, his
face tense.
“But it’s a haint. It’s already dead.”
“I don’t care. Kill it again. And again, and again! Kill it so it don’t come
back no more.”
Kenny felt a shiver. What did Oscar mean by “Kill it again and again”?
Was there something he knew about haints that Kenny didn’t?
Capturing Gretchen Greeley’s spirit hadn’t been easy. He, Delilah, and
his grandmother had trapped her in a distant suburb just before sunrise a
few days before. But she had only been a haint for an hour or so. Maybe she
hadn’t fully realized her powers.
Lucas Mobley had been dead for decades and was moving about
Charleston, hunting at will. Stopping him wouldn’t be as easy as captur-
ing Gretchen.
“I’ll do my best,” he said as confidently as he could.
“Do more than that!” Oscar bellowed.
“I will.” Kenny said, slowly backing out of the doorway and closing the
door softly behind him.
A good horror story is one that kind of shakes you. Michael Kennedy broke that ground with his 2023 debut novel, Time Conjurers. I reviewed the work, noted its similarity to Sci-Fi award-winner Octavia Butler's Kindred, and hoped he would give readers more about the Lawson and Love families that go through time in a labyrinth to fight against supernatural evil. That is why it was great to read Time Conjurers II: The Haint's Kiss. Fans of horror and African American culture will discover a tale they will never forget.
The supernatural and importance of family ties are central to the story that involves mystical aspects of African and African American spiritualism, such as haints (spirits) that interact with the living. Ghosts are a part of nearly every culture, but Kennedy takes readers into hoodoo, haint bottles (think genies' lamps) and protective powders as weapons in a pitched battle that smoothly flips between the near now and decades past.
Psychiatrist Kenny Lawson remains a key character along with his aunt Delilah Ashford, and her sister, Nana. Also, there are the haints, Lawson's dead brother Brandon and Lucas Mobley, who died in the 1919 Charleston Race Riot. Brandon threatens revenge on Lawson's twins Kiki and Kwame. Throughout decades, Mobley liquified whites in retaliation for racial oppression in the early 20th century South and the death of his wife in the riot.
Delilah's ability to contain the Mobley's spirit in a bottle leads her family to question her ability to control such a demonic power. Kenny, the consummate new-age, family man, is targeted by Brandon who blames him for his death. The psychiatrist is deeply involved with his wife Janet and the children more than his medical career.
The novel features spiritual battles, time travel, and issues related to the afterlife, largely set with a hospital as backdrop. A physician in real life, Kennedy stages much of this story to prod readers to grapple with questions of people's limitations and the mysteries that linger beyond human knowledge and power.
Time Conjurer II book would be great discussions in book clubs and college classrooms. The author promises another novel is in the works. Horror fans will find great chills and entertainment. Others can learn more about African American religion and culture.