Page 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Next morning, I slept in. It was Saturday, and I felt both invigorated and yet, a little dazed. The light streaming through the window had an icy feel to it.

I curled my arm around Miss P. and gave her a hug—she’d been snuggling with me, on the pillow next to me. She opened one eye as I kissed her head, gave a little trill, then went back to sleep. Finally ready to face the chill, I slid out from beneath the covers, shivering.

I was wearing a thigh-high sleep-shirt with little snowflakes all over it, and the air hit my legs and arms the moment I stood up. I quickly slid on my slippers and pulled on my robe, then cinched the belt tight as I walked over to gaze out the window. I leaned on the sill, staring out at the wonder in white that spread over the yard.

We had at least three inches already, and the sky promised more. I pushed open the window and the smell of snow filled the air, along with a lot more chill. Quickly, I closed it again. Fresh air was good, but that was a little too fresh.

“Jeez,” I said, turning around to the now-awake Miss P.. “I don’t know why I thought that would be a good idea,” I added. She blinked. “Okay, a hot shower to start the day, I think.” I grabbed my phone and texted my aunt.

taking hot shower. will be down after that. are you making breakfast?

of course i am, she texted back. i’ll wait on yours till you get here. i thought pancakes, eggs, sausage, and mimosas would be good for brunch.

sounds good to me. okay, talk to you in about twenty minutes.

I tossed my phone on the bed and headed for the bathroom. After a luxurious, long shower, I dressed for the day. Striped leggings in purple and white, a black circle skirt with a cute little witch applique on the hem, a purple cowl-neck sweater, and a gold belt. Then, I brushed out my hair—I’d skipped washing it—and applied my makeup. I found a cute pair of Mary-Jane chunky-heeled pumps. Finally, feeling pulled together, I headed downstairs to breakfast.

Aunt Astra must have heard me coming because by the time I entered the kitchen, she was putting the last pancake on a huge stack of them. A platter with sausages and scrambled eggs sat already sat on the table, along with orange juice, and the espresso machine was primed and ready.

I kissed her on the cheek. “Morning.”

“How’d you sleep?” she asked, setting the tray of pancakes on the table. “Can you grab the butter and syrup?”

I pulled both out of the fridge. We used real maple syrup, not the sugar water that posed as it. After setting them on the table, I pulled three shots of espresso.

“I’m making mocha. Want one?”

“I’d love it,” she said. “Three shots, please. Extra peppermint.”

“Always,” I said. I’d developed my caffeine habits thanks to Astra. Sara had preferred tea. I pulled another three shots, then mixed the espresso with chocolate milk, some half-and-half, and peppermint coffee syrup, then nuked both till they were hot. I added a swirl of whipped cream, and handed one of the latte mugs to my aunt before sliding into the booth.

“What are you doing today?” she asked, spearing three pancakes and dropping them on her plate.

I scooped some scrambled eggs and four sausage links onto my plate, then added two pancakes, and drowned them in butter and syrup.

“Well, I’m due over at Brenda’s house at one. She doesn’t live that far away, so I’m going to chance it. And tonight’s the Midnight Hour Social Club mixer. Crystal and I are supposed to meet up there. We’ll see if they’re still holding it before we go. The snow’s really coming down out there. For once, the forecast was right on.”

Astra glanced out the window next to the booth. “Yeah, it’s going to pile up today. I can feel it. The earth is settling in for a long winter. La Nina can wreak havoc in the Pacific Northwest. They may say next week will be warmer, but there’s going to be enough snow that I’m not betting it will go away for a week or so.”

“What’s your itinerary for the day?” I added a couple more sausages to my plate.

“I thought that I’d start making some plans, since you’ve decided to stay. I want to clear out my sewing room so you can have a home office, too. So, the ritual room stays, but that still leaves the guest room, and I can double up with my sewing supplies in there—that’s not a problem.”

Astra loved to sew and quilt.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take away your craft room.” I finished eating and pushed back my plate, lingering over the mocha.

“All we really need in the guest room is the bed and a small dresser. The rest of the space should fit my crafting cabinet, sewing machine and work table.” She beamed and I realized that she was truly happy that I was staying. It felt good, knowing that she’d missed me.

“Were you serious about Crystal and me joining the Dark Moon Society? Do you think they’d welcome us?” I still wasn’t sure, but the thought of having so many friends who had so many resources felt good, especially if I ever encountered anything else like Marcus’s case.

“As serious as I am about my own membership. I think you’d both do well. I’m going to talk to Nightshade later today about it.” She leaned back and rubbed her hand on the table. “So, what do you think about taking out this booth and putting in a kitchen table with chairs? We could expand the kitchen and make it twice this size.”

I frowned. “Extra space would be nice, but I always loved sitting in the booth when I was a kid. It always made me feel like we were going out to eat. But if you want more space in the kitchen though, I’m good with it.”

“Well, I would like space enough to do some canning in the autumn—the apple tree I planted five years ago is brimming with apples now. Well, during September. And I’m really getting into breadmaking lately. Prices are crazy, and while we can get great vegetables from the Farmer’s Market, winter’s pretty sparse, so I might want to expand the garden and can and freeze produce.” She paused, then added, “By the way, I had my check up last week. Everything looks good, and my bloodwork is fantastic.”

My aunt was barely middle-aged at 78, but this was the time when a lot of witches began to show some of those maladies most humans faced at around their late forties or early fifties.

“I’m glad. I suppose I should go in and get a check-up. What with the fire and moving, I missed my annual. I’d better find a doctor.” I stood, stretching. “It’s almost eleven. I’ve got an hour and a half before I need to head over to Brenda’s. You want some help getting started on the sewing room?” She was right in that it would help me to have an office, and it was right next to my bedroom. Maybe I could open it up, put in a door or an archway so that I could easily go between the two.

“That would be lovely, dear. There are several empty boxes in the attic. Would you be a lamb and get them?” she asked.

I nodded. Truth was, I didn’t like going into the attic. It had always made me nervous, ever since I was a little girl. Not because I was afraid there was anything spooky up there—my aunts kept the house well-warded, but it was a small, dark place and I never knew whether I’d find a bat or squirrels or spiders there.

In reality, I’d never run into anything that had been remotely dangerous. It had been at least seven years since I’d been up there—the last time was one year I came home for Thanksgiving, with Dan. We’d gone up in the attic to bring down the Yule ornaments for Astra.

After brunch, I went out into the garage and brought back the stepladder. I returned, set it up beneath the crawl space, then climbed up to open the crawlspace door. After I was back on the floor, I moved the stepladder and pulled on the chain which brought down the folding stairs.

Once I was in the attic, I flipped on the switch, flooding the A-frame shaped room with light. I glanced around. Astra had moved the decorations to the garage for easier access. Now, the only things left in the attic were several trunks, a few overflowing boxes, and some boxes that looked like they’d never been used.

I pushed against a long cobweb that was hanging from the ceiling, stepping over a couple boxes till I was standing at the trunks. I recognized them from my childhood. One had belonged to my mother. As I knelt by them, I brushed a layer of dust away. The trunks weren’t locked. One was engraved with my mother’s initials: MLS. Marika Leann Svensson. The one beside it had Astra’s initials on it, and the third had Sara’s initials.

I opened my mother’s trunk and sat down on the dusty floor beside it. I lifted out a framed picture of my mother and smiled. She must have been in her twenties. She’d been so pretty, with those sturdy Scandinavian cheekbones and fair skin and blonde hair. I traced her features on the glass, then set the picture aside. I’d ask Astra if she minded if I hung it in my room.

The next thing were several yearbooks from the Starlight Academy, back in Eerie. I opened one at random to see the inside cover covered with signatures. As I read the usual ‘have a great summer’ and ‘so glad we took botany together’ posts, I tried to imagine my mother when she was young and carefree.

I set the books to the side, then went through the rest of the trunk. There were a couple dolls—Barbie dolls, and a rabbit plushie that was so loved it was missing most of its fur. A diary that, when I peeked inside, was filled with poetry in my mother’s handwriting.

Other trinkets filled the rest of the trunk, including a small jewelry box and inside, there were a few little pieces of costume jewelry. I had my mother’s wedding ring. It had been on her finger when they recovered her body. I looked down at my own wedding ring, thinking about Dan, again. I packed up the trunk except for the picture and my mother’s diary filled with poetry, then carried them—along with the empty boxes—down the ladder.

Astra was waiting for me. I asked her if she minded if I kept the picture and the journal.

“Whatever you like, my dear. I should have given you the trunk earlier. It’s yours, rightfully.” Astra smiled at the picture. “I remember the day we took that picture. It was taken the day after your mother got engaged. That seems like so long ago…”

I carried the picture to my room and hung it on the wall. Then, I sat down at my vanity table and opened my jewelry box. I took out my mother’s wedding ring and tried it on my right hand ring finger. It fit perfectly. As I held it out, it felt right. I smiled. It felt good, having a part of my mother next to me. Then, I glanced at my own wedding ring. I tried to imagine my finger without it, and slowly began to take it off, but halfway through, I stopped and slid it back on. Not yet, I thought. Not yet.

Shortly before twelve-thirty, the snow was still falling. We now had at least four inches. Given we were due for five to seven inches, I had the feeling the prediction might fall short of the reality. I slid into my jacket, then picked up my keys, my portable-magic kit, and my purse. I tossed a couple protein bars into my purse, then headed for the door.

“I’m leaving,” I called to my aunt. “I’ll text you when I get there!”

“Please do,” she called back from the guest room where she was rearranging furniture.

“Don’t try to lift anything heavy till I get back. I’ll help you later!” I closed the door behind me, shivering as a gust of wind rushed by. Cautiously, I crossed the porch and managed to reach the car without slipping. I scraped off the snow, then— as I waited for the engine to heat up—I turned my thoughts to Brenda.

While waiting, I texted her. you still good with me coming over?

of course, but take it easy. it’s slick out on the roads.

i’ll be careful. see you in a while.

I fastened my seatbelt, eased out of the driveway, grateful that I’d learned to drive on snow.

Brenda lived on a cul-de-sac about ten minutes drive away from our house. But that was ten minutes on a day where the streets weren’t covered in snow. I watched my speed, trying not to be so cautious that I caused a problem.

As I pulled into the cul-de-sac, I saw Brenda’s car. Her house was two-story, modern, and totally non-descript. I stepped out of the car, looking up at it, as I tried to sense what might be going on inside. A pall hung over the house, but when I tried to connect with it, all I got was a push-back. Whatever it was, it didn’t like me snooping.

Carrying my purse over one shoulder, and my tote over the other, I approached the door and rang the bell. A few seconds later, Brenda opened it and welcomed me in.

“I hope that you had an easy trip,” she said.

“Actually, it wasn’t too bad. Not many people are out on the roads, and that’s a good thing. The snow’s still coming down and it’s adding up on the streets.” I followed her into the living room. There, I set my tote and purse on the coffee table and took a seat on the sofa. The room was painted a pale sage, with eggshell accents. It was soothing, actually, and from the looks of things, Brenda had a minimalist aesthetic. Either that, or she was exceptionally tidy.

“You have a lovely home,” I said. But even as I sat there, I could feel something lurking around the corners. “So tell me, how long have you noticed the intrusive energy?”

She offered me coffee and I accepted. “Two sugar, please, and cream.”

As she handed me the cup—a large, teal colored mug—I sat back, crossing my legs. As I did so, I caught sight of something glimmering in the mirror on the far wall. I straightened, setting down my cup as I stared at the mirror.

“How long have you had that mirror?” I asked.

“I don’t know. My husband bought it. My late husband. He was the one who decorated this house. I don’t like the look, to be honest. Edgar said that my taste was gawdy, and he planned to teach me how to ‘acquire a pleasing aesthetic,’ as he put it. I have thought about changing things up over the years, but to be honest, it seems like a waste of money. Or, I’ll start planning out what I’d like the house to look like, and suddenly I get sidetracked or something happens and I need to pay for a major repair.” She let out a grumpy sigh.

“So, how long has the shadow been here?”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry, I went off on a tangent. Let’s see…I’d say…about three years—since shortly after Edgar died.”

The timing seemed awfully suspicious to me. “You said you were married for seven years. During that time, did you notice anything like the shadow?” My guess was that Edgar had left his mark in the house, but I couldn’t let myself jump to conclusions. And if it was him, and he was spurring on her dreams, why would I be in them?

She thought for a moment. “I don’t honestly know. It was always so hard—he was such an asshole to me. If there was anything else going on, I doubt that I would have noticed. He gaslit me, he constantly made digs about my looks and my manners… There were a couple times he slapped me around.”

I winced. The look on her face when she mentioned his abuse was painful. I could hear the memories in her voice, and it made me want to reach out to wherever he was to smack him a good one.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “No one should ever do that to their partner. Okay, so why don’t you show me around. I’ll need to poke and pry, but it’s because?—”

“Oh, I’m not worried about you being nosy. Of course you need to check everything out. I expected it. I’ve got nothing to hide.” Brenda stood, smoothing her skirt. “So, should we start with the upstairs?”

She led me up to the second floor. The house was a generic McMansion, as we called them around here. Cookie cutter houses, large in size on tiny lots, crowded together by developers out for every cent they could get.

Except here, in Midnight Point, there were ordinances against building houses too close together. So, while we had a semblance of the current trend, each house had a decent sized lot and looked less like a subdivision and more like a regular neighborhood.

The sage and eggshell theme continued upstairs, and I began to see how it didn’t suit Brenda’s personality. She was a sunny person, and it felt too pale for her—too neutral.

“You need to go through with your plans to redecorate,” I said. “This house is affecting you on an emotional level.” The moment I said that, the lights flickered and the energy grew thicker. I shivered, turning to Brenda. “Did you feel that?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I did. Whatever’s hanging around, it didn’t like your suggestion. Do you think it’s Edgar?”

“I think it might be, but I don’t want to say for sure because I’ve learned: never assume. Never decide something without investigation, because if you try the wrong fix for a magical issue, then you might make things worse.” I followed her into the bedroom, and reached out, looking for anything I could sense. Immediately, I felt a push back, like bouncing off a brick wall.

“Is something wrong?” Brenda asked.

I frowned. “I’m not certain, but something doesn’t like the fact that I’m here. Let me try again.”

Again, I reached out, pressing harder, and this time I had barely attempted contact when I was hit so hard by the repelling force that it knocked me off my feet. I went flying back onto my ass, landing outside the door. If I’d been standing just a few inches to the side, I would have slammed into the wall, and that could have given me a nasty concussion. As it was, I had a sore tailbone and the beginnings of a headache.

“Okay, then…” I said.

Brenda reached down, offering her hand. She easily pulled me to my feet, once again, reminding me that she was a bear shifter. Bear shifters were strong, a lot stronger than I was.

“Thank you,” I said.

“I’m so sorry. Are you all right?” she asked.

“I think so. But whatever you have here, it’s aggressive.” I headed back downstairs. It was obvious that whatever force that had taken up residence in her house was alert and physical.

“I know,” she said, her voice low. “I’m certain it’s what has been giving me those nightmares.” She looked over her shoulder. “I’m not even sure I want to discuss all of this here. I think anything we say is going to be overheard.”

She was right.

“All right, let’s go for coffee,” I said. “I want to ask some questions.”

She shrugged into her jacket and followed me out to the car. “There’s a little coffee shop about five minutes from here. We should be out of range there, I should think.”

Once we were belted in, I eased onto the street, then slowly began to drive through the snow. It was falling so heavily that I could barely keep that the windshield wipers could barely keep up with clearing the windshield. I was so tense that I had to force myself to relax my grip on the wheel.

I was just starting to feel comfortable when we came to the corner of the street with the coffee shop. As I made a left hand turn, on the light, a car from the opposite direction came slip-sliding down the hill, at full speed, swerving from side to side.

Brenda screamed and I desperately tried to steer out of the way. I managed to swing the rear end of the car toward the oncoming vehicle, but I couldn’t fully evade it, and before I knew what was happening, the shriek of metal on metal filled my ears as we were jolted across into the oncoming lane and went spinning against the curb and a tree that was close by on the sidewalk.