by Harper Lin
“And what was the point of this stroll down memory lane?” I huffed.
“Well, I think they were just being nice. I think it was Cedar and Ethel’s way of making introductions. We witches have to stick together.” My aunt smiled as if she was not only trying to convince me but maybe also herself that there was nothing to this.
“Mike Warner’s mother was a witch. Don’t try and tell me we need to stick together,” I snapped.
The thought had barely formed in my head before it spilled out of my mouth. My ex-boyfriend’s mother had had many amazing talents and had used them all for evil as if it was a sport.
“Leave it to you, Cath, to see the negative first,” Aunt Astrid said, laughing and shaking her head. “Funny. Cedar and Ethel said you would. But they still invited you to the barbeque.”
“What barbeque?” Bea’s eyes lit up. She was totally thinking with her stomach.
“Cedar and Ethel and their family are having a barbeque, and they have invited us to join them,” Aunt Astrid said cheerfully.
“I’m not going,” I said.
“When is it?” Bea asked, looking from me to her mother and back again.
“This Saturday,” Aunt Astrid said.
“I gotta work that day. I hope they understand that we have a business to run.” I walked behind the counter, grabbed an apron, and proceeded to wrap it around my waist.
“Cath, don’t be silly,” Aunt Astrid said. “We are running in the black and have been for a long time. We can afford to close early one day.”
“I thought we were saving that closing-early day for Bea’s big day,” I said.
“We can do both,” Aunt Astrid said, patting Bea on the arm before diving into her receipts. “Bea, honey, go ahead and unlock the door. Cath, better get that coffee brewing. Bea, your tea, please. And could you make your mom a cup of the honey-mint?”
“Sure, Mom.” Bea looked at me. She didn’t like the idea of taking any extra time off when she had a little bundle on the way. Plus, it was not like her mom to just close the café for what was nothing more than a picnic with some people we barely knew.
I didn’t say anything more about it the rest of the day. Bea didn’t need stress around her. And my aunt looked as if she was getting back to her old self just as quitting time came around.
By the time I was in my house, the doors and windows securely locked and the air-conditioning humming quietly, I didn’t know what to think.
7
Fast-Forward
Treacle peeked at me from outside the kitchen window. When I walked into the kitchen, I heard the meow and saw the green eyes looking at me.
“Nice of you to come home,” I said as I slid the window open.
“There are some strange things going on in the world,” Treacle said as he slunk across the windowsill and hopped onto the counter, sitting patiently as I closed the window and went to get his dinner ready.
“Why do you say that?” I asked as I pulled down a plate and reached into the cabinet for a fresh can of cat food. “Just because there have been two strange murders on the same block, one of them in my Gingerbread House, and a couple of weird women chatting up Aunt Astrid doesn’t necessarily mean there are strange things going on.”
“Funny you bring up the Gingerbread House,” Treacle said as he watched me scooping his food onto the saucer. “While I was out, I watched an anthill grow to twice its size in the yard of that house.” He licked his paw.
“That sounds gross. What do you mean it grew?” I asked.
“It was like the ants were on fast-forward.” Treacle stood, turned to face me and his saucer of food, and slowly began to eat. “I know ants are busy all the time, but it was like something had prodded them to move even faster, so the anthill grew even faster. Do you understand what I mean?”
I shook my head and shrugged. “You watched this happen?”
“I was mesmerized,” Treacle replied as he licked his chops. “I stayed there until I heard the sounds. Then I didn’t want to stay any longer.”
“What sound?”
“Clicking and a screech like a barn owl.” Treacle then gracefully slid his front paws down the cabinet below the counter before hopping down to the floor to rub around my legs as his way of saying thanks for dinner.
“Interesting. What do you say we stay in tonight and watch an old movie and forget about the strangeness happening outside?” I pulled the freezer door open. “I’ve got some homemade chicken soup I can defrost. That sounds good. There isn’t anything that chicken soup can’t make better.”
“I’ll meet you on your bed.” Treacle purred and hopped up, making himself comfortable on my pillows while I popped the soup into the microwave and proceeded to get undressed, wash my face, and put on my jammies. By the time I found a good movie to watch, the soup was defrosted and ready. I put it in a mug, turned the AC a few degrees cooler, and pretended it was Christmastime in July.
Treacle and I watched some crazy Marx Brothers movie. I wasn’t sure which one, but I laughed nonetheless. Then there was a Montgomery Clift movie on that I’d never seen before, and when it ended, there was some gangster film I had never heard of. When I looked at the clock, it was a few minutes past eleven. I yawned and scratched Treacle, who was completely zonked and stretched out on the left side of my bed.
I took my soup mug to the kitchen and double-checked that I’d locked the front door. When I peeked through the curtains, I didn’t see anything out there that looked out of the ordinary. At least, not in front of my house. But just as I was about to let the drapes fall back into place, I saw two figures standing on the sidewalk in front of Bea’s house. And it was that all-too-familiar blond hair hanging down that made me pinch my lips together.
Part of me wanted to go out there and ask what the heck they were doing. But another part of me said I was outnumbered and maybe outgunned. So I slipped into stealth mode and grabbed my phone while I shut off the lights and dialed Bea’s number.
“What’s up, coz?” Bea answered.
“Is Jake home?” I didn’t want to alarm her right off the bat.
“Yes, he’s here. Why?” Bea asked, but then I heard her talking. “He said to tell you to give your lips a break. Blake had to stay at the station. He had a lead on something and was going to follow up.”
“Let me talk to Jake,” I said quickly.
“I’m sure Blake will call you,” Bea said. “You know how cops are.”
“I do. And I’m sure he will. That’s why I would like to talk to Jake for a minute.” I was about to start yelling, and then the snoopers outside would probably hear me.
Finally, Jake took the phone from Bea. “Cath, he’s at work. All he does all day is sit quieter than usual with a look of sheer happiness on his face since you guys got together. He’ll call when he’s done and—” Jake teased before I could cut him off.
“Jake, I didn’t want to alarm Bea,” I whispered loudly. “But there are two women standing outside your house staring at the place. They are the ones who drew that symbol on your sidewalk.”
“Really?” Jake instantly became Detective Jake Johnson.
“Yeah. It might be nothing. But I just thought it was something you should know.” I let out a deep breath. “If you want me to go and shoo them away, I will.”
“That won’t be necessary, Cath. Thanks, though. I’ll take it from here,” he said.
“Okay. Call if you need backup.”
I didn’t hear Jake chuckle as I’d expected him to. I had worried him. But it was better to let him know what was happening than to worry Bea while she was in her delicate condition. And there wasn’t anything Jake wouldn’t stop with his bare hands, if necessary, to protect her and the baby. I thought I had made the right decision in calling him.
“Thanks, Cath. You too.” Then there was a click.
I watched as the lights in Bea’s house started to go off. The porch lights came on bright and strong, as did the backyard floodlights. No one was going
to ambush them, that was for sure. I went to the kitchen for a glass of water. When I returned, the women were no longer in view. They had either left, vanished, or been abducted up and away into the mother ship. Still, I double-checked my doors and windows.
When I finally climbed into bed, I looked at Treacle.
“Wake me up if you sense anything,” I said as I snuggled beneath the blankets.
“Of course,” he replied. He remained on the pillow opposite my head, his head raised majestically as his eyes narrowed to green slits.
Even though he was napping, Treacle—or any cat—was better than a home alarm system. Especially when the intruder might have the ability to walk right through the walls. And I was afraid Cedar and Ethel might have that very power. I shivered and wished I hadn’t turned the AC up so high.
8
Hair
My eyes popped open when the sun was just starting to rise. Treacle had moved, stretched out as if he’d been on a bender and had just made it to the foot of the bed before passing out. I scratched his belly before I got up and hit the shower. The previous night’s excitement had dulled slightly after a good sleep. I was sure that if anything had happened at Bea’s place, Jake would have called, or I would have heard the police cars that would have rushed to the scene.
When I stepped outside, the air was already warm. The smells of dew and sunshine filled my nose, and I thought it was a beautiful morning. I’m usually not that cheery in the morning, so I should have known something would go wrong.
Treacle slipped out the door before I pulled it shut and headed off into the bushes, where he disappeared.
With the house locked, I skipped down the sidewalk in the direction of Bea’s house. But before I made it across the street, I heard wild laughing and chatting as if a party had just cleared out. My heart stopped and lodged in my throat as I saw Cedar, Ethel, and Aunt Astrid coming out onto her porch.
I stood in the middle of the street, watching. None of them noticed me. Before any of them could look in my direction, I pulled my feet from the spot they’d stuck in and hurried to Bea’s front porch. It was like being in high school and trying to hide from a group of mean girls who were shopping at the same store when I was out with my mother. I pressed my back flat against the siding of the house next to the front door. When it opened and Bea stepped out, I quickly shushed her with my index finger in front of my lips.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Those Moonies are at your mom’s house. They just came out the front door,” I replied as Bea carefully peeked in the direction of her mom’s house.
“That’s weird,” Bea whispered. “I think they are leaving.”
“Are they coming this way?” I asked, my eyes wide.
“No. It looks like they are heading the other way,” Bea said, waving me forward.
“If we get to the café and they’ve opened the place up, I’m going to have a coronary,” I said as I joined Bea and we slowly walked to Aunt Astrid’s house. “There is something just plain wrong about those women.”
“If they are witches, that’s probably true. We shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” Bea said as she waddled next to me as we made our way up Aunt Astrid’s sidewalk.
“What do you know? These days, you’ll follow anyone who promises you a burrito and a bowl of salsa,” I teased while I scanned the front porch of my aunt’s home for any unusual drawings, trinkets, or symbols. As far as I could see, the coast was clear.
Bea went up the steps first, took hold of the doorknob, gave it a twist, and nearly smashed her face against the glass.
“What the heck is this locked for?” She banged on the door, annoyed. When Aunt Astrid opened the door, Bea and I stood and stared.
“Hi, girls,” she said as if there was nothing wrong.
“M-Mom? What did you do to your hair?” Bea stuttered. Her long hair had been cut.
“Oh, don’t fuss,” Aunt Astrid said. “I had been wanting a change, and this isn’t even that big a change.”
“Mom, about five inches of your hair is missing. It just barely falls over your shoulders,” Bea said. “It’s just a shock is all.”
I looked past my aunt into her house for the trimmings to indicate where she’d gotten her hair cut. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t see Marshmallow, either.
“Excuse me. Too much coffee this morning. I like it, Aunt Astrid. I bet you feel lighter,” I babbled as I skirted past her into the house.
If I were to tell the truth, I’d have gently told my aunt, who had been the only woman in my life who could come close to my own mother, that whoever had cut her hair had taken lessons from a third grader. But I was more interested in finding where all her hair had gone. There were so many reasons this was bad that I hardly knew where to start.
I dashed upstairs into the bathroom and saw not a single stray hair on the floor or in the small trash can. I went from room to room, hoping I might find a circle of hair on the floor, but no luck. As I eased back downstairs, I quickly hurried around the staircase to the library, the downstairs bedroom and bathroom, through the kitchen, and finally around the front-room furniture and still didn’t see a single strand. In the kitchen, I peeked into the trash, but nothing was there either except a few spent tea bags. Three teacups sat in the sink.
Finally, I saw Marshmallow, and she was sitting patiently on the back deck, staring into the house through the sliding glass door.
“What happened to you?” I asked her.
“That’s what I’d like to know. One minute I was warm and cozy, the next I was wrapped in a sickly-smelling arm and being tossed outside,” Marshmallow replied.
“What did they put you out for?”
“Probably because they knew I would have scratched their arms off had they laid a hand on my person. There is something wrong with those people. And they left a horrible stench in the house. Do you smell it?” Marshmallow sneezed.
“I don’t. But I believe you.” I stroked Marshmallow’s fur. “Stay close to her, and if anyone else comes to the house and they put you out, come to the café.”
“Ugh, it’s bad enough the house smells, but now I might have to venture out of doors like a common alley cat.” She stretched.
“All right. Go to Peanut Butter. Stay close to him,” I replied and got a deep purr in response.
“Aunt Astrid, what happened to your hair?” I asked innocently, pointing to the floor as I stood up, leaving Marshmallow to find a place to sit and listen.
“I got it cut. Just a trim. Please explain to my daughter that it’s no big deal,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I just thought it might be fun.”
“I think it looks fine. Especially if you like it,” I soothed. “But where are the strands? The hair that was cut off—where did it go?”
“Oh, Cedar and Ethel must have cleaned up,” Aunt Astrid said casually. “Now, before you girls go off half-cocked, Cedar and Ethel asked if you could each bring a side dish to the barbeque. I said of course you could. They left some of their soaps here. Would you like some? They don’t smell too bad.”
Now it was getting serious. It was one thing for Aunt Astrid to do things like let strangers into her house or let them cut her hair, but it was another to offer my culinary talents to people I didn’t know and who didn’t know me. And when I say culinary talents, I mean I have none. Cheez Whiz on saltines. Pretzels poured in a bowl. Those are what I call party sides.
Bea looked at me as I snapped my mouth shut and grimaced. “Don’t worry, Cath. I’ll make something for both of us,” Bea said before I could utter a single squawk. “Come on, Cath. Let’s open the café. We’ll meet you there, Mom.”
“Oh, I might be in late. Cedar and Ethel were here so early. I might lie down for forty winks,” she said as she not-so-subtly pushed us out the door. “See you later.”
I was about to protest when the door shut in my face. I whirled around to face Bea, my mouth hanging open as if my jaw had been snapped and my eyes bugging out of my he
ad.
“This is weird,” Bea whispered as she took my hand and we walked off the porch and headed to work.
“Weird. There isn’t a single strand of her hair in the house. They took it. You know what that means?” I hissed.
“No.” Bea squeezed my hand.
“Well, it means that they are a couple of freaks who convince older people to let them cut their hair and then they collect it,” I huffed. “There has to be a reason they took it. We need to look in your mom’s library. As much as I hate to say it… we need to do some research, and we need to do it without her knowing what we’re doing.”
“Why can’t we tell her?” Bea asked, her forehead wrinkled with worry. “If she’s in trouble, shouldn’t we tell her?”
“She doesn’t seem to be all that worried. Cedar and Ethel have convinced her they are normal and just looking to build a support group of witches,” I huffed.
“Maybe that’s all they are?” Bea said without much conviction in her voice.
I looked at her as I pulled the key from my pocket and slipped it into the lock on the front door of the café. “Then why are they skulking around at the corner, staring at us?” I said as I nodded toward the end of the block.
Standing there, just staring at us, were Ethel and Cedar, her icy blond hair blowing slightly in the breeze and her icy eyes staring at us.
9
Pillsbury Doughboy
The day of the barbeque, I watched the hours tick by one minute at a time. Attending was the last thing I wanted to do, and I felt like we were all willingly walking into some kind of trap. Aunt Astrid had given me a bar of the soap Cedar had made. I didn’t think it smelled good at all. It was sickly, as if it had been made with rotten meat or baked garbage with a squirt of cheap air freshener over it. I tossed it soon after Aunt Astrid gave it to me and didn’t think twice about it.
