Page 6

CHAPTER SIX

As I unlocked the door, Miss P. greeted me, twining around my feet. It occurred to me that she had gotten so used to Dahlia, that when we found our own house, she might be lonely. I had occasionally considered adopting another cat, but back in Seattle I had been out of the house so much until Dan died, that I didn’t think it was fair to have a pet. But once he died, I started spending a lot more time at home.

Miss P. had magically appeared in my life, showing up as a tiny stray, only a few months old, who would have died if I hadn’t rescued her. The vet said she was pure Maine Coon, so she must have escaped from some breeder. I had put up fliers, just in case, but there had been no answer, and so she became part of my life and home. Now, even though I had my own business here, I could make my own hours and that made a big difference.

I set the groceries on the counter and began putting them away after I hung up my coat and took off my boots. Miss P. jumped on the counter and sat there, watching me.

“ How would you feel about having a little brother or sister?” I asked.

Miss P. let out a purr and languidly batted my hand as I reached out to rub her tummy.

I had decided on macaroni and cheese with crab for dinner, and had splurged on a Dungeness crab that was precooked and cleaned. As I cracked the shell and separated out the meat, Miss P. gave me the side eye that told me she wanted a bite.

“Oh no, not this. I didn’t pay twenty bucks to feed this to you, you little thugette. Tell you what, you can have shrimp flavored kitty food for dinner.”

I set the crabmeat aside and then thought about cooking down the shells for a stock, but decided it was too much trouble, and one crab shell wasn’t enough to make a proper broth, anyway. I glanced at the clock.

Five-thirty. It was too early to start cooking the actual dinner. I refrigerated the crabmeat container, grabbed a diet root beer and a bag of Fritos, and headed for the living room.

Astra’s house was comfortable, but it felt empty without her. She was the heart and soul of this home, and I realized how quickly I had fallen back into the family routine with her. As I curled up on the sofa, Miss P. joined me and I turned on the TV.

“What shall we watch?” I asked. My aunt subscribed to every streaming service you could think of and they were all tied to her television. Not only did we have hundreds of shows at our fingertips, we could also record live broadcasts.

Miss P. purred.

“You say you want to see the new episode of Promise At The Altar ? I can go for that.” I selected the newest episode and we settled back to watch the couples who had barely met decide whether they wanted to sign up for life at an extremely staged wedding. It was schlock TV, but I liked it.

An hour later, my head filled with the latest drama of the six couples, five of whom had decided to go through with the experiment, I headed into the kitchen to start dinner.

As I put the water on to boil for the noodles, and began to grate cheese, my thoughts returned to Brenda.

Nobody was more surprised than me that she was meant to be with a star witch. Shifters and witches did hook up together, but when you were dealing with the more conservative shifter types, it wasn’t nearly as frequent of an occurrence as some people might think.

Bear shifters tended to be among the most conservative, along with wolf shifters. Although, I thought, some of the wolf shifter packs were starting to move into the modern age. As the world grew smaller and people from all walks of life interacted more, it was bound to happen.

The water was boiling at a brisk rate, so I poured the elbow noodles into it, added a splash of oil and a spoon of salt, and put the lid on, turning the heat down enough so it wouldn’t boil over. I loved my pots. The lids were made of glass and metal, and the nonstick pots had lips on them. The lids fit down into the pan securely, and on the sides, the lids had a self straining capability.

I grated a mound of cheddar, added some gouda to give it a smoky taste, and took out a skillet. I placed it on the burner, turning the flame to medium. Adding a good dollop of butter, I stirred it with a whisk until it melted, then sifted in enough flour to make a roux. I paused to stir the noodles to keep them from sticking, then began to whisk in half-and-half to the roux.

As it bubbled up, I added the cheese, salt and lemon pepper, a little dried parsley, and half of a teaspoon of paprika. I drained the noodles, poured them into a casserole dish, stirred in the crab and then poured the cheese sauce over the top. After that, I added a layer of cracker crumbs and popped the casserole into the oven to bake.

I opened the bag of salad and poured it into a bowl, then diced a pint of cherry tomatoes and added those to the mix. I had bought a lemon streusel for dessert, so everything was about ready.

Right on time, the doorbell rang. I went to answer it.

Crystal was standing there, a large flower-power tote bag over her shoulder.

Where I was short and curvy, Crystal was tall and athletic. She was wearing a pair of distressed blue jeans and an oversized lavender turtleneck sweater. And, as a nod to the weather, she had stuffed herself into a parka.

Crystal’s hair was ashen brown, and she kept it pulled back in a braid. It set off her deep blue eyes, and she looked like the quintessential country girl.

“I brought wine and chips for later,” she said, holding up the tote bag.

I stood back so she could enter. “Dinner’s almost ready. I made macaroni and cheese with crab, salad, and we have a lemon strudel for dessert.”

She licked her lips. “I’m hungry, so I hope you made enough. You know I eat like a linebacker.”

“That’s probably because you work out more than anybody I know.” I tried to keep in shape enough to where I could do a day hike without wheezing, but Crystal had muscles .

“I love the gym. I love hiking. I’m amazed that I actually decided to open a coffee shop, because I always thought about being a physical trainer. But I like interacting with my customers, and I love coffee.” She shrugged off her coat, hanging it on the coat rack. Then, she carried her tote bag into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of red wine, along with two bags of corn chips. She sniffed the air. “That smells incredible. What can I do to help?”

“Why don’t you get out the dishes and silverware, while I take the casserole out of the oven. We can eat in front of the television.”

We worked in silence for a few minutes, readying our dinner. Finally, we served ourselves and carried our plates into the living room, setting them on the table trays that my aunt kept around. As we settled on the sofa, ready to eat and watch a movie, Miss P. began to pace back and forth in front of us.

“No, mooch. Silly girl, I gave you your dinner,” I said.

“She’s so pretty,” Crystal said. “I remember when we were kids and you use to beg your aunts to let you get a cat.”

“Well I finally have one, and you know the funniest thing? Astra adores her.” I paused, then said, “I don’t think my aunt wants me to move out. I think she likes having me here.”

“Do you think you might stay?” Crystal asked.

“You know, I’m considering it. I love having my own house, but since Dan died the house has been awfully empty. I wish we’d had more time together.”

“You two really loved each other, didn’t you?” Crystal’s voice was gentle.

“Yeah,” I said, staring at my dinner. “Dan loved me for me . And I knew that he always would. No matter what I looked like, no matter if something happened where I got hurt or gained weight, or even aged naturally, he would be there.”

“That’s a keeper, for sure.”

“Dan was the type of man that I always dreamed of marrying.” I let out a long sigh. “I keep telling myself I should be grateful because I had that wonderful, immersive love that so many people dream about. But sometimes…” I stopped, not wanting to voice the next thought.

But Crystal could tell when I needed to get something out. “Go on. You know you can say anything to me.”

I nodded. “Yeah, and thank you for that. It’s just…Sometimes I get so angry because he was stolen away from me. And it wasn’t an accident. I know I sound horrible, but the one comfort I have is that the stinking drunk who killed him, died in the accident too. He didn’t get away with it and he didn’t get a slap on the wrists. Karma won out this time. I feel vindicated.”

“You feel what you feel. I would have been angry, too. I’m surprised you didn’t sue his insurance company.”

“I did,” I said, looking over at her. “I got a large settlement, which I tucked away for the future. I haven’t touched it since I bought a new car, given he totaled Dan’s and mine was on its last legs. But I didn’t tell anyone. On one hand, it feels like blood money. On the other, I know I may need it some day. So, it’s there, as a safety net. I think Dan would have approved.” I shook my head, biting my lip. “All right, let’s switch away from melancholy subjects. What do you want to watch?”

Crystal knew when I needed to stop. She shrugged. “I’m good with whatever.”

“I think there’s a Hitchcock marathon on Mysteries Unlocked,” I said, flipping to that.

Both Crystal and I had been obsessed with thrillers and mysteries when we were teens, and we’d discovered Alfred Hitchcock. Sure enough, the Mysteries Unlocked channel was running a movie-marathon, and Rope was on—what I considered Hitchcock’s best.

The movie was commonly thought to be filmed in one continuous shot, stopping only to change the film in the cameras. However, it was actually ten shots, edited so that it appeared to be one magical shot. Regardless, it was a fantastic movie based on a gruesome murder that had taken place in the early twenties, when a couple of arrogant college kids decided to try for the perfect murder, back in the early twenties.

As the movie sucked us in, I noticed the room was getting colder. Frowning, I paused the streaming service. “I’m going to check the thermostat. It’s feeling awfully cold in here.”

“I noticed that,” Crystal said. “I know it’s cold outside but I didn’t think the temperature was dropping that fast.”

The thermostat was on the kitchen wall. As I headed toward it, I walked through an icy patch where the temperature felt about ten degrees cooler.

I froze, looking around. One of the signs of a haunting was a cold spot—a place in the home where the temperature dropped for no obvious reason. I stood there, looking around. Nothing obvious jumped out at me, but the hairs on my neck were standing up and I felt like I was being watched.

“Crystal! Come here,” I said. My voice seemed to reverberate against the walls.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, entering the kitchen, but her voice dropped away and she let out a gasp, pointing.

I turned, following her direction. There, against the other side of the wall, was a floating mist. It boiled up from the floor, swirling in loops. The mist was a pale green color—pretty, but there was something dark about it that made me uneasy.

“What’s that?” Crystal asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said, but I had the feeling that it was very much alive. Or at least, sentient. “Maybe a ghost?”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s something else, but it’s not just some fog that got lost and wandered into the house, I can tell you that.” My alarms were screeching loud and clear—whatever this was, it wasn’t friendly.

“Do you think it’s one of the Unliving ?” Crystal asked.

According to the spirit shamans, there were several types of dead. Most spirits could be categorized under one of those types. But I truly believed that there were other forms of entities that straddled the spirit world and other worlds—and those weren’t necessarily under control of the spirit shamans.

I slowly walked toward the fog, hands out, trying to get a feel for what it was. My entire body felt electrified. I glanced over at Crystal, shaking my head. “Not good,” I mouthed.

The mist began to take form, solidifying into a column that reminded me of a coiled snake. In fact, it made me think of a king cobra, rising up, ready to strike. I stopped outside of what I hoped was its range. As I faced it down, a hiss came from the doorway and I glanced back to see Miss P., her back arched. She hissed again and turned to run out of the room.

“What are you?” I asked.

The mist swayed back and forth, just like a snake, then it opened its mouth. Ready to leap should it attack, I braced myself.

“ What are you? ” I put force behind my words.

Again, it didn’t answer, but let out a long hiss that felt like wind passing through my hair.

“I don’t trust it,” Crystal said, her gaze glued on the creature.

“Neither do I, and I’m done asking questions,” I said. “Watch it, I’ll be right back. Yell if something happens.”

I eased away from it, dashing out of the kitchen and back to my room. I grabbed my dagger, and found my crystal necklace that amplified my powers and draped it over my head. Then, stopping to find my Binding Powder, I hurried back to the kitchen.

As I entered the room, Crystal backed away. I opened the jar of powder and tapped out a handful, then—dagger in one hand, powder in the other, I approached the apparition.

“Whatever you are, it’s time to leave,” I said. I pointed the dagger at it.

“Creature unknown, invader of space,

I banish you forthwith from this place.

Be banned, be blocked, be banished, be gone,

From dawn till dusk, from dusk till dawn!”

I threw the Banishing Powder on it and carved a pentacle through the air, then focused all my energy on the mist.

The “snake” let out a loud shriek as the powder hit it, then began to lose its form, returning to mist in a roiling cloud. A bright flash overhead formed on the ceiling as the column of mist began to stream out of the kitchen, and then…it was gone and the portal on the ceiling vanished.

“Fucking hell,” I said. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Crystal said, returning to the kitchen. “I thought your aunt warded her house.”

“She does. And she’s a powerful witch. For whatever that thing was to gain access… Either something managed to punch a hole through the wards, or it was stronger than she was. I have no idea what it was. It felt like a spirit, but I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” I shivered. “Come on, help me build a patch in the wards. I don’t want to chance it breaking through again. Then, I suppose we’d better check all of her wards.”

“Let me look at it,” Crystal said. “I’m good with protection magic. I use it in my cooking a lot.” She pulled a chair beneath where the portal had opened up and stepped up on it. She put her hands on the ceiling and closed her eyes. After a moment, she caught her breath and her eyes flew open.

“Crap, the wards are there, all right, but whatever that was literally punched a hole through them. It’s strong, that I can tell you, because Astra’s wards are strong enough to keep out almost anything,” Crystal said.

“What do we need to fix it?” I asked.

“I’ll need a bottle of War Oil, a small paint brush, and your help. We need to weave the strands of the wards back together and I think if we both work on it, the result will be stronger.”

Crystal ran her hands over the area where the portal was and I could suddenly see the strands of energy. She had a gift for exposing magic to others, though neither of us knew where it had come from. By the Aseer’s evaluation, she was mostly a kitchen witch, and kitchen witches were usually oriented toward creating magic through food, scent, and drink.

“I’ll be back.” I headed toward my aunt’s ritual room. As I opened the door, it was like being hit with a ton of bricks—the energy was so strong.

I poked through the bottles on the shelves and found her War Oil. Not sure where to find a paint brush, I grabbed one of my clean makeup brushes, and then headed back to the kitchen. Crystal had dragged a tall console table below the area where the wards were broken, then placed two dining room chairs atop it.

“We sit up there?” I asked, staring at the set up with trepidation.

“Yeah. It’s easier than trying to stand on a chair.” She clambered up without a problem, then reached down to give me a hand. I dragged over the stepstool, stood on that, and then scrambled up beside her.

Once atop the table, I could sense the broken wards much easier. If you pictured a grid, formed of triangular pieces to create a dome—like a geodesic dome—over the house, and then imagined that one of those triangles had been broken, it was easier to envision.

Immediately, I understood what she wanted to do. We’d weave the ends back together, then seal it with the War Oil. I took my seat and she took hers. We’d played with energy together more times than I could remember. This wouldn’t be any different, except that our focus was on re-weaving strands of energy together, rather than creating new ones.

“All right, I see what we have to do,” I said. I set the War oil on the table, near my feet, along with the paint brush.

Crystal held out her hands, then took hold of the broken strands of energy on her side. I reached up and cautiously grasped the strands on my side of the hole. The magical threads tingled in my hands, spreading through my body. I closed my eyes and examined the pattern that my aunt had used.

“Can you see how she originally wove them?” I asked.

“Yes, I do. Crossing knots, in a web-like pattern. Ready?”

“Let’s go.” I began to braid the strands, trying to match my aunt’s pattern, weaving them over and under one another, tying off knots here and there, re-energizing the broken ends. Crystal was doing the same on her side, and as we worked in unison, we finally met in the middle. I touched my strands to hers and they took, merging and blending, forming the last of the patch. Then, as she kept hold of the patch, I retrieved the War oil and opened it. I dipped the paint brush in, and then began to coat the strands with the magical oil, infusing it into the patch to seal it and strengthen it. Another moment and we were done.

I reached for her hands and she placed them in mine.

“Magic dark, magic bright, magic of the night and stars,

Weave a net, weave a light, weave a web of strength and war,

Those unwelcome find no place, those unwelcome leave this space,

Those who would seek to invade, Find no space to betray.

By the powers of this spell, those unwelcome, we strike and repel.”

As the energy of the spell sealed over the portal, the uneasiness began to dissipate. I took another breath, then slumped back in my chair, exhausted. Working magic wasn’t for the weak—it took laser focus and strength, and required patience and the willingness to try and fail over and over.

“Well, it’s repaired,” I said. “Whatever that thing was, I don’t think it can get back in. At least not now.”

“I didn’t expect to be doing magic tonight,” Crystal said. “But then again, nothing is ever quite what it seems, is it?”

I laughed, feeling certain that we were protected for now. “No, but I want to know what that thing was—and what it was doing in my aunt’s house.”

As we went back to our TV show, my thoughts kept returning to the mist, and what it could possibly mean. I needed to ask my aunt if this had happened before—and if not—then we needed to figure out what the hell was going on.