by Harper Lin
Again, I felt my insides tighten. I wasn’t just some stranger. Aunt Astrid loved me like she did Bea. She had told me that a million times, and I’d never doubted her. If it was the last thing I ever did, I was going to punch this Cedar woman in the mouth.
“Cath might come if Bea does,” Aunt Astrid added.
“It doesn’t matter. If you want to invite her, you can. It’s always good to have a few extra numbers in case an extra body is needed. But remember, Astrid, this is really about you. You’ve been floating around without any direction. No real connection to the life of witchcraft and those who practice. It’s time we come out from the shadows, spread our message. And if people won’t accept us, well, they’ll end up like the people who lived in our house.”
The Gingerbread House? A murder-suicide? What had Cedar and the rest of them had to do with that poor newlywed couple?
“We just need to acquire two more homes. One is already just awaiting signatures. Then the last one, the one you’ll live in, it will complete the pattern, and there will be no stopping us,” Cedar continued.
“It’s a lot to think about, Cedar,” Aunt Astrid said with a yawn.
“We don’t have a lot of time. A decision must be made,” Cedar pushed.
I wanted to march up the steps and tell her to get off the porch, but I remained still.
“I’ll know tomorrow. I think it’s all that food. I need to rest,” Aunt Astrid said.
“But you can tell me now,” Cedar continued. “That way I can report back to the rest of the coven whether or not we are ready to proceed.”
“I can’t. I need to rest and talk with Bea,” Aunt Astrid said.
That reminded me: Where was Bea? I’d sent her home to find Aunt Astrid’s book and match the stuff we had seen in the yard to descriptions in Aunt Astrid’s book. That would be like finding a needle in a haystack.
“Fine! Rest! But Ethel and I will be back tomorrow morning when the sun comes up. You had better have a decision for us!” Cedar barked.
“Please don’t be mad,” Aunt Astrid begged.
This wasn’t like her at all. She was normally like a duck letting water roll down its back when it came to people’s opinion of her. Why was she worried if this blond bimbo was mad at her? She wasn’t even related to her like I was. She was technically nobody.
“I’m just putting you on notice, Astrid, that this is not an invitation that should be taken lightly,” Cedar said. “Okay, so you said you were tired. And I said Ethel and I will be here in the morning. You’ll see when you wake up that we’re offering you an amazing opportunity. Now, let me give you a sleeping spell so you’ll sleep well tonight.”
A sleeping spell? I listened to Cedar rattle off words in a language that didn’t even sound real. There was no Latin, no Greek, nothing that I even remotely understood. Now, of course, I wasn’t the most astute student, and I had probably forgotten most of my spell lessons from when I was a teenager. But this was a low, guttural language, and I didn’t like it. It sounded sinister.
“Now go to bed. Make sure you answer the door tomorrow morning.” Cedar huffed and stormed off the porch as if my aunt had stolen her bicycle. I watched her get in her car and drive away before I dashed up the porch steps and burst into the house. Thankfully, Bea was there, standing over her mother. Astrid had collapsed on the couch, already asleep.
“Did you hear all that?” I asked Bea. She nodded. “What do you make of it?”
“I think they’ve done something to my mother,” she replied with tears in her eyes.
“There’s no time to cry, Bea. We have to find out what it was she said to your mom. I’ll bet it’s in one of Aunt Astrid’s books.”
I started to go to the library but stopped.
“She put a sleeping spell on her. But, if I heard her right, it wasn’t for a deep or peaceful sleep. It was to keep her mind restless.” Bea sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.
“Why in the world would anyone do that?” I asked.
“I don’t know. That might be in one of Mom’s books,” Bea said. “Cath, she’s so pale. She looks exhausted.”
“Marshmallow, where are you?”
The big Maine coon came suspiciously down the hallway. She’d obviously been in the spare bedroom.
“I wasn’t going to risk that woman seeing me,” the big cat said. “She gives off a horrible smell. And I think she’s passed it along.” Marshmallow padded up to Aunt Astrid and carefully sniffed at her. “Yuck. It’s a sick smell, like something is dying or rotten.”
I was glad Bea couldn’t hear what Marshmallow was saying. “Can you do anything to help her while I search the books for something that might undo this spell?” I asked.
At the sliding door, I heard Treacle meow. That was exactly what we needed. I hurried over and opened the door.
“They must have all left the party when Aunt Astrid did,” he purred. “I just saw them all taking turns driving past.”
“What? All of them? That’s crazy.” I then asked Bea, “Is Peanut Butter here or at your house?”
“No. He’s all alone. Jake and Blake are working on those murders. They won’t be home until late,” Bea gasped. “I’ll go get him.”
“No way. You two stay here with your Aunt Astrid,” I said to the cats. “I’ll go get him.”
“Be careful. They are obviously keeping an eye out for someone. If I had to guess, I’d say it was you,” Treacle said.
I nodded, slapped off the outside lights, and told Bea to lock the door behind me. I slipped out the sliding back door and crept around the house.
Sure enough, there was a strange car parked at one end of the block and another parked at the other end. I stuck to the shadows as I had when I snuck up on my aunt’s house. I alternately crawled on my belly and ran from one patch of darkness to another and made it to Bea’s front porch unnoticed. I wasn’t sure why I was shaking. I didn’t know what these people had against me. I had never done anything to them except think they were weird. Maybe they could all read minds and were offended by that. If that was the case, then they should have known I was here. But not a single car moved.
Peanut Butter appeared in the window, looking at me with surprise on his face.
“I’m going to crack the door. When I do, run to Marshmallow’s.”
“Are we in trouble?” he asked through the glass.
“Yup,” I replied.
“Is it the people who have been walking up and down the street?”
“What people have been walking up and down the street?” I asked as my heart started to race. I could taste the dryness in my mouth.
“Those people,” he meowed, looking down the street.
Just then I saw Luann and Hannah stomping in my direction. Quickly, I opened the door, slipped inside, and quietly shut the door behind me. I snapped the dead bolt and slipped the chain into place. I put my finger up to my lips and looked at Peanut Butter, who remained in the window.
Luann and Hannah came up the porch steps and looked around as if they’d lost a contact lens or maybe an earring, feeling their way all over the porch. When Hannah looked at the window, she hissed at Peanut Butter, slapping a thick, meaty hand hard against the glass and making the poor kitty jump and meow. He hopped down and came to my side.
“What’s wrong with them?”
“They don’t like cats,” I replied. “And that says a mouthful about them.”
They searched and slunk around a little while longer. Then I watched through the peephole as they went back down the steps, down the sidewalk, and to the end of the block, where they stood and stared.
“So, what do we do?” Peanut Butter asked.
“You ready to run?”
“Sure.”
It wasn’t the greatest plan, but I thought the element of surprise might be enough.
“Okay. When I open this door, you just take off for Aunt Astrid’s place. Don’t worry about me; I’ll be right behind you. Go up on the roof if you h
ave to. Bea will hear you and let you in.”
“I won’t leave you by yourself with those cat haters.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle them if I have to.” I wasn’t sure what I actually meant by that, but it sounded good and tough and put Peanut Butter’s mind at ease. That was the most important thing right now.
On the count of three, I opened the door. Peanut Butter did as he was told and took off like a bullet in the direction of my aunt’s house. I slipped out and pulled the door shut behind me. I swear I made eye contact with Luann, who pointed at me like Donald Sutherland at the end of the remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open in a silent scream. My blood ran cold. I took off running for my aunt’s house. Although I am not the most athletic person—in fact, I hate exercise of any kind—I did sprint like an Olympic gold medal winner across the neighbor’s uneven yard and up my aunt’s front porch, taking two steps at a time before hurling myself against the door.
“Let me in! Bea, let me in!”
I looked over my shoulder, and sure enough, that cockeyed Hannah was pumping her legs as if I had stolen her purse. It would have been a hilarious sight, since she was wearing a strange black skirt with black tights underneath. But her face had transformed from plain ugly into a mask of hatred.
Before I could start screaming, the door opened, and I literally fell inside. As I pulled my legs up, Bea slammed the door shut and slipped the lock into place. I got to my feet and dashed upstairs to find Peanut Butter perched outside the front bedroom window, licking his paw.
“What took you so long?” he asked.
“Very funny. Get downstairs with the rest of them,” I ordered.
“That woman is scary. Wait until I tell Marshmallow how she pounded the window at me,” Peanut Butter said as he came inside the house and trotted toward the door.
I followed him back downstairs and went to Bea’s side.
“What was that all about?” she huffed. “Who was that chasing you?”
“Oh, that was just cockeyed Hannah. Yeah. She was at the barbeque. One eye is bigger than the other. You didn’t see her? I don’t know how you missed her. Yeah. She was staking out your house. And mine, too, I guess. Yeah. She was chasing me.”
“Chasing you? What for?” Bea gasped.
“I don’t know. I guess she doesn’t like me very much. None of the people in this coven do. They keep talking about Aunt Astrid and you, but I’m like the black sheep.” I scratched my head. “I can’t quite figure it out.”
“She’s probably jealous,” Bea said. “Is she still out there?”
I peeked out the window, and a shiver ran across my shoulder blades. “It isn’t just her. Luann, Ethel, and that blue-eyed witch Cedar are all standing on the sidewalk as well, two to the north and two to the south, staring at the house.”
“What?” Bea put her hand to her throat and walked to the window. “Oh my gosh! They’re like picketers. What are people going to think? They’re going to think that my mother has groupies or something. This is horrible.”
“Hey, as long as they are out there and we are in here, it’s not so bad.” I patted Bea’s shoulder. “How is she?” I pointed to my aunt, who was asleep on the couch. Despite all the noise and hubbub, she didn’t move a muscle.
“I guess she’s okay. Sleeping. But she keeps grumbling and fussing like a baby with the flu. It’s hard for me to watch,” Bea said. “I don’t think she’s going to be much help.”
“No. We need to find out about that spell that Cedar put on her and also about the symbols and carvings of things at the house. Plus, I’d also like to find out what kind of witches kill cats,” I said, unaware my teeth were clenched.
“Witches that kill cats?” Marshmallow asked, but all the cats looked up at me.
“That’s right. We’re dealing with a couple of real ladies,” I huffed as I walked to the library. “I want you guys to hold a vigil for Aunt Astrid until I tell you to stop. Hopefully, it won’t take us long to discover what they did to her.”
“Will she be all right?” Treacle asked as he took his spot to the right of Aunt Astrid and Peanut Butter took the left. Marshmallow sat at my aunt’s head.
“Yes. She’s going to be fine,” I said. “So long as everyone does their part. You guys hold the fort. We’ll be in the library. Anything happens, call me. Don’t leave her alone for a second,” I ordered, getting three simultaneous meows in response.
Bea and I scoured the library. It wasn’t until the sun started to come up that we thought we might have an answer to Aunt Astrid’s ailment. But just as we emerged from the library, Aunt Astrid woke up.
At least, it looked like Aunt Astrid.
13
Suspicious of Everyone
My aunt had been taking care of me since I was a kid. I had known my mother, and I knew what had happened to her: a literal monster under the bed took hold of her and dragged her under there with it while I watched, screaming. I had been too young to help but too old to pretend what I’d seen was some kind of bad dream or fairy story to cover the hurt of being an orphan.
My Aunt Astrid would never be my mother. Not because I didn’t love her; I loved her like crazy. But there had been something about my mom, something about her eyes and her perfume, that was specifically hers that could never be fully replaced. I had never thought my aunt felt slighted because I didn’t call her Mom. She wasn’t my mom. She was my beloved aunt who had raised me to embrace my gifts and remember that the name Greenstone was a name to be proud of.
So when Bea and I saw her start to stir from her place on the couch, sit up, and blink, we let out a sigh of relief.
But when she licked her lips, scratched her head, and then stared straight ahead with terror creeping into her eyes, we immediately knew something was wrong. Of course it was. Those witches had done something to her last night. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream.
“Mom? Mom, are you all right?” Bea hurried to her mother’s side and took hold of both her hands.
I quickly gathered the cats, and we hurried to my aunt, who was beginning to cry.
“Aunt Astrid, what’s wrong?” I asked.
Bea held her mother’s hands tightly. “Cath, she’s in trouble,” Bea whispered.
Holding her hand, Bea told me she could not just sense but could see that her mother’s aura was flashing like a Christmas tree. Something terrifying had seized hold of her.
“Aunt Astrid, can you see us? We’re right here. What’s the matter?” I got down on my knees in front of her with the cats all around me.
“Bea? Cath? I can’t see the other dimensions anymore,” Aunt Astrid gasped. “I can see you both without your beautiful auras, without the past and future overlapping. It looks so desolate. Everything looks dead to me.”
“What?” Bea muttered.
“It’s all gone. Everything is gone!” Aunt Astrid tried to stand up, but the shock of what she was seeing—or wasn’t seeing—made her go pale and nearly fall over. “It’s all so lifeless and lonely. How do you stand it? How can you stand looking at a life like this?”
“Mom, it’s going to be all right. I’ll make you some tea and—” Bea offered.
“Tea? What in the world good will tea do?” Aunt Astrid barked.
“All right, Aunt Astrid, you need to calm down and calm down now.” I stood up. “I’ll tell you what happened. You ate the food from the cauldron of those witches, who are really strangers, down the street, and they put the whammy on you.”
“Don’t you talk about them that way,” Aunt Astrid whined. “They are my friends. Do you know how long it’s been since I talked to women my own age? Women who truly understand me?”
“Cedar isn’t your age. She’s my age at most,” I griped. “And you are going to have a cup of tea and calm down.”
I looked up at Bea, who stared at her mother like she would an unruly child.
Aunt Astrid shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand. Cedar has
an old soul,” Aunt Astrid blubbered.
“Mother, you need to sit still and take a couple breaths. You are hyperventilating,” Bea said as she watched her mother’s face get red and her eyes bug.
“I’ve got to go talk to them. They’ll help me. They won’t criticize and judge me.” Aunt Astrid wasn’t even talking like herself. If there was one thing my aunt was not prone to, it was pity parties. I didn’t like this look on her one bit.
“Aunt Astrid, you aren’t going anywhere until Bea makes you a cup of tea. Bea, please make your mother a cup of that special tea.”
Bea nodded and stomped into the kitchen, where she quickly put on the kettle and grabbed a few special tea leaves for her mother’s condition.
“They told me you were going to be a problem. They said that you were going to find fault with them and not want to let me go.” My aunt looked at me suspiciously.
“Oh, did they?” I chortled. “Well, considering I’m family and you raised me, I guess they aren’t keen on your parenting skills. You made me love you as if you were my own mom. Boy, you suck at parenting.”
I rolled my eyes and hurried Bea along with the tea. My aunt was fussing, and the way she was looking around, I was sure she was trying to figure out a way to get past me and run out the door. But I could tell her new vision, or lack thereof, was causing her serious problems, because she was so used to maneuvering through a couple dimensions at least that she was probably blinded by simplicity.
“I don’t like your smart remarks, Cath,” Aunt Astrid replied.
“Well, take a number,” I replied and took the steaming cup from Bea. “Drink this. You’ll feel better afterward.”
“Thank you, Bea,” my aunt said as she took the cup. “This is just horrible. I feel like I’m looking into a desert. Everything is so plain and empty.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. It’s probably just temporary,” Bea soothed. “Do you remember anything that might have led to this? Anything from last night? It was late when you got home, and Cedar brought you. Did she say or do anything that might have caused this?”
