“I have no idea,” I replied feeling dumbfounded.
Chapter Three
Becky and I didn’t have the opportunity to muse over Hazel’s strange mood. Work was busier than it had ever been before. Not due to tourism like you would expect from a Civil War museum, but because the town was throwing itself a party. The 150th year anniversary of the town's founding was coming up quickly and that meant a really big celebration, which was being hosted at the museum where both Becky and I worked. I personally felt like it was a foolish use of town resources and didn’t see the point of celebrating it, but I was a minority in that respect. Everyone else was incredibly excited.
“How are the decorations coming? Oh, I bet it’s beautiful!” Amber had cooed at us as Becky and I tried to extract ourselves from the diner. We gave her enough details to satisfy, but not enough that she would try to bud into the party planning. Not that Becky and I had any control whatsoever over the party. We were simply the unfortunate museum employees who were responsible for making the dream a reality. I was definitely more talented at giving relatively dull tours than I was at event work.
“I don’t know how much more I can take,” I groaned, dramatically banging my head against the steering wheel once both Becky and I were in the car. She laughed at me, some of her lightness returning. Not only had Becky continued to worry about finding her parents whilst mechanically gluing buttons, she was also brought down by Hazel’s unexpectedly dark behavior. Becky was greatly affected by the emotions of those around her, and I could tell that Hazel had done a number on her while we were in the diner. Almost as soon as we left she seemed fuller, more like herself.
“You can and you will,” Becky said. “Amber means well, you know that.” I withheld from scoffing and rolling my eyes at her. Becky was so much more forgiving than I was and always saw the best in everyone. It almost made me embarrassed to be as petty as I was sometimes.
“What do you say to swinging by my house and picking up a certain cat to bring to work with us?” I asked her, knowing that the answer was an unequivocal yes. Becky adored Moody as much as Moody pretended to only tolerate her. I felt bad about what I had said to Moody earlier and knew that she would appreciate being included. Most of the time when she joined us at the museum she made herself useful as a rat trap. Recently, with the urging of Becky she had stopped killing the mice and started a capture and release program of sorts.
I didn’t wait for her to vocalize her answer before I started to drive in the direction of my home instead of the museum. The place would have to be mouse free if the town's finest would be in attendance. The celebration seemed almost like an adult prom, another very good reason for me to dislike it. Prom sucked the first time around, I had low expectations for the second. I let Becky choose the radio station to listen to as I didn’t want to subject her to my taste in music.
*****
“So you’ve decided to care about me now?” Moody purred as I unlocked the front door to the house.
“Believe it or not, I never stopped caring!” I said in faux dramatics, faking emotional tears. Moody hissed and turned away from me so all I was looking at was her nub of a tail. She was always one for actual dramatics.
“I regret to inform you that I cannot be in attendance of your work today,” Moody said, sounding a little dejected. I realized then how much I had genuinely upset Moody with my comment about her being a pet.
“I’m sorry,” I said without agenda. Moody turned to face me once again, she looked like she wasn’t quite ready to forgive me. Regardless she waddled past me towards the car. Becky opened the door for her to hop in and sit on her lap for the duration of the drive to the museum. I took pause and watched them greet each other happily. At once I felt both elated and devastated. Elated that both Moody and Becky were making connections. Devastated that it had been so long in both their lives to make this kind of connection, but also because something told me that it was not going to last. I shook the ominous feeling away and got into the car.
It didn’t take long for my feeling sorry for Moody to dissipate. After a few choice words about my weight and finding out that she had watched a few episodes ahead of me in our soap opera I could no longer bring myself to feel sorry for her. Becky delighted in our rhetoric the entire way to the museum. I suppose there was something charming about a human and a cat in perpetual arguments, but maybe only from the perspective of an outside observer. I think that Becky enjoyed it so much because she could feel the lightheartedness at the heart of it. In truth, the way Moody and I argued was not dissimilar to how I argued with Fern. We were a family and anything we said to each other was easily forgiven and forgotten.
“Do you want to check in on the ghosts?” Becky asked with a gleeful smile as we got out of the car.
“You can, I have some mice to attend to,” Moody said before racing past us to wait at the entrance to the museum. She paced back and forth in front of the door looking back at us every couple seconds. I could tell that she was trying to will us there faster.
“Looks like no one is here yet,” I said looking around the empty parking lot. “So, I say we check in on them.” Becky practically gleamed. Though she had been able to see them since she first moved to Stillwater, she had only just began conversing with them. Since she was in hiding when she first come here, she didn’t want to give herself away by openly talking to ghosts. It was too risky. Since Gareth died and she was no longer scared, she loved getting to know them better.
Conversing with ghosts was a novelty to Becky. She told me that Colonel Augustus, Mary Jane and little Timmy were the first that she had ever formally met. In the city she only glimpsed them from time to time. "They're just shy," she had said to me. I couldn't help but wonder it that was the truth though. City ghosts had to deal with the human population a lot more than our small town ones. From my understanding, that turned a lot of them mean. If that didn't do it, then the change did. Our trio was lucky, they died on a historic battlefield where their history is preserved. For a ghost in the city that was rarely the case and often the place where they passed and all the places where they lived had been destroyed. That would be enough to make anyone go mad.
"Finally!" Moody yelled as I opened the door for her.
"Shush!" Becky shouted. Both Moody and 1 looked at her stunned. Neither of us had thought her capable of even raising her voice, let alone shouting. Realizing this she reddened. "I'm sorry. Oh, Moody, I didn't mean it." She looked distraught at the glowering feline. "I'm just not used to not having to always be careful."
"It's okay," I assured her. Anyone would have residual issues after the life that she had to live. I eyed Moody so that she might show the same understanding.
"No one is around, I always make sure," Moody replied with more compassion than I ever anticipated. "I am not a fool," She finished more characteristically. Becky opened her mouth to respond, the apology already written on her face, but Moody had darted off. I hoped that the mice wouldn’t fare too bad just because Moody was in a rotten mood. She and Becky had struck an agreement that she wouldn’t kill them, only run them off. I imagined that some of them might not be so lucky today.
“Honestly, don’t worry about it,” I said to Becky who still looked apologetic and ashamed of her outburst. Her blow-up was nothing compared to some of my legendary tantrums. I could barely even think of it as a real outburst it was so tame.
“For a second there I thought, what if Gareth saw that,” Becky said, her eyes darkening. I nodded and put my arm around her. I hugged her shoulders and led her into the museum. “Logically I know he is gone, but I was running for so long.”
“I know,” I said, even though I could never fully understand what she wen through. In Stillwater I used my powers in my home all the time, and Fern used her power of vision to help her solve the crimes in the town. We weren’t exactly open about it, but the worst thing that would happen if people found out would likely be some odd stares, a lot of favors asked, and maybe even a celebr
ation. Stillwater was obsessed with witches and the Civil War, and it had a rich history in both and used that history to build a thriving economy. If the citizens found out about Fern and I, I’d be willing to bet they’d exploit us for all we are worth. If Becky had been found out, she’d be dead by now. “Let’s go check in on the ghosts.”
When we arrived at the battlefield, our trio of ghosts were in, dare I say, jovial moods. Colonel Augustus, a man who I had seen smile only a few times and only at Mary Jane was beaming. The corners of his mustache twisted up with his grin. Mary Jane was twirling around holding the edges of her dress up and Little Timmy was banging some sort of passable tune on a piece of wood.
“Have you heard the wonderful news?” The Colonel asked with a bright smile.
“What piece of wonderful news are you referring to?” Becky asked. She had broken into a smile as soon as she witnessed the pleasant sight of the ghosts enjoying themselves. Becky had a power that allowed her to feel the emotions of those around her...it was strongest with animals, but sometimes people’s emotions were strong enough to impact her as well. Their mood was infectious though. I myself was even beginning to feel it effects.
“The ball, of course!” Mary Jane said with small laugh.
“The celebration of this fine town's establishment nigh on one hundred and fifty years ago,” The Colonel clarified. “It has been fifty years since the previous celebration and we look forward to it each time.”
“You attended the last one?” I asked confused as to how they would even attend a ball considering they were dead and all.
“Of course!” The Colonel said before grabbing Mary Jane and pulling her into a goofy looking traditional dance. Little Timmy laughed and began to play his piece of wood once again.
“How?” Becky asked. I was grateful that she asked and not me. Whenever I asked simple questions like why and how, I couldn’t help but sound accusatory. She just sounded curious.
“Fifty years is a special amount of time passed,” Mary Jane said as she was spun by the Colonel. “When fifty years pass on the anniversary of the town's founding, we are able to become corporeal again. It only lasts a short period of time, but it is enough to enjoy ourselves.”
“You mean you come back to life?” I asked astonished. The Colonel let out a large guffaw at me.
“No,” He said shaking his head. “There is no magic that can do that, but we become more solid. We can touch and feel things, people can see us. Last time they believed us to be actors posing as Civil War veterans and they seemed to enjoy us very much.”
“Yes, they thought we were simply wonderful,” Mary Jane said wistfully. “I enjoyed that. It is so nice to be seen – not that it is not nice that you see us. I fear we would fare dreadfully without your company,” she added hastily fearing that she had offended me or Becky, even Fern although she wasn’t there. Her politeness and fear of offense was nothing more than a direct result of being alive in the mid 1800s. She had mentioned more than once how much she admired the way that women’s roles in society had changed so drastically, but she was still a product of her own time. Most often than not she deferred to the Colonel and even on occasion Little Timmy to speak on her behalf.
“I had never heard of such a thing before,” I said ignoring Mary Jane’s stammered and unnecessary apology. “How long does it last?” I asked.
“It is not on a time table. Sometimes it has lasted a whole day, others only a few hours. I believe that this year it might last the longest, though,” The Colonel said confidently.
“Why might that be?” I asked. There was a glimmer of mischief in Colonel Augustus’ eyes. They already seemed as though they were being energized and brought back to life in a way, and it felt like it was more than just the prospect of a party. I could sense their personalities shining through. The Colonel was usually a stiff and formal man, who grumbled about the fashions of today. I could see through all that now. He must not have been much older than myself when he died, and the look in his eyes made me think he must have been a pleasant man to know when he was alive. Little Timmy appeared less hollowed out, more substantial in a way. His youth shining through as he beat an erratic tune.
“One hundred and fifty is powerful,” Becky said quietly. I turned to her surprised, and she smiled at me, happy to share her knowledge. “Every hundred and fifty years or so a comet passes through the earth's atmosphere. This one is special and bears magic enhancing powers, so each time it comes around everything of the paranormal is heightened. We will feel its effects soon enough. The comet is one of the reasons why Stillwater was settled. The witches of the time had been on the run since Salem times, always moving around before they were caught and start another panic. Not that most of the women who were hung in the trials were even real witches, but it was a good idea to try and keep heads down. Anyway, the comet came through while they were camped here and it made them so powerful they decided to stay,” Becky finished in barely a whisper.
“Wouldn’t the comet have effected power everywhere?” I asked wondering how Becky had learned all of this in the first place. I felt almost like a stranger in my own hometown listening to her speak about the history Stillwater so knowledgeably.
“No, for some reason it stayed localized to the area,” Becky said. I nodded worried about what that would mean for us when the comet arrived. “I imagine that means trouble.”
“Trouble,” The Colonel said with a glimmer in his eyes. “Oh yes, I am certain that trouble is coming,” He laughed and pulled Mary Jane to him and began to dance once again. Although he was jovial, his words had chilled me to the core. Becky and I shared a look and I knew we both had the same feeling of dread.
Chapter Four
I had a fitful night of sleep that night. It wasn’t just me either. I finally decided to give up on getting any sleep at all and went into the living room only to find Moody and Fern awake on the couch.
“No invite for me?” I asked sleepily. They were watching whatever late night infomercials were on at four in the morning. Moody was awake but curled into the crook of Fern’s arm. Fern had the remote in her hand as though she were contemplating changing the channel but too tired to actually make the effort.
“No invite needed,” Fern replied groggily.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” I asked as I lifted her feet off the end of the couch to sit underneath them. She shook her head no.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about the ghosts and the comet,” Fern said and passed me the remote. “How did Becky even know all that?” I shrugged in reply.
“I asked her that too, but she hardly seems to know herself.” I had been curious and had pressed Becky on how she knew a history that neither Fern nor myself had ever heard about the town we had spent most of our lives in. “All she said was she remembered reading it somewhere when she was very young and the story stuck with her. She said it was another reason why she came to Stillwater in the first place.”
“I don’t feel good about this,” Fern said biting her nails. This was an old habit that I hadn’t seen her do in a long time. “I can’t focus on the impending comet power surge and the campaign at the same time. I mean what if my powers go haywire again and I can’t control the visions?” She looked scared and I couldn’t blame her. Not long ago her visions almost debilitated her. I didn’t know if she could survive another stint like the last. I was nervous about things like this too, but I felt an overwhelming dread that surpassed all my other concerns. I felt like something was coming, something dark. Something evil.
“I can’t say that I do either,” I sighed picking at the cuticle surrounding my thumb.
“I’ll feel a lot better if you two would stop cutting into my television time,” Moody said with only one eye open still nestled in with Fern.
“Your TV time?” I asked. “You watch infomercials?”
“Yes, I like the videos of the fools who can’t do simple tasks,” she answered as her mouth turned into a wicked smile. I rolled my eyes, beca
use of course Moody’s television of choice was something foolish like that.
“Wait, are you up every morning this early then?” I asked her, surprised.
“It’s usually the only time I can get peace and quiet around here,” she said with a cheeky look in my direction.
“I guess that explains why you're always so grumpy then,” I replied, sticking my tongue out at her. Even Fern gave a laugh at that one, to Moody’s annoyance. She couldn’t have been too upset though because the three of us remained on the couch with the television flickering in front of us until a more acceptable hour came around. In the end, the three of us must have actually dozed off. A theme song of a morning cartoon blasted from the television and woke us all up, though we were each in a groggy state for the majority of the day.
Moody tried desperately to come with us to the diner again that morning. I wondered why she was suddenly so clingy. Even though she was closer with Fern it was still odd that Moody had remained practically in her arms throughout the entirety of the night. Especially when we had teased her. Any other day she would have sauntered off to be alone. She would never say it but it seemed that being away from us was making her anxious. I thought it must have something to do with the comet returning, perhaps she was feeling the same sense of dread that I was. I didn’t plan on pressing the cat about it anytime soon though, there was very little chance that she would respond without sarcasm.
Amber had already called Fern three times before we had even gotten ourselves into the car (Fern insisted on taking her’s this time). She was like a drill sergeant and a pageant mom rolled into one. I wanted the election to come sooner just so we wouldn’t have to deal with her so directly all the time. At least not interact with her in a context where she felt she were in charge somehow.
A Whole Lotta Witchin Goin On Page 2
