The Spirits of Six Minstrel Run

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Copy, Nate.”

  He hopped out and ran over to Weston, taking a knee and looking him over. His nose appeared broken and he had a nasty cut over his eye. “Pastor, hang on. Don’t try to get up. Medics are on the way.”

  The man wheezed, nodding.

  Nate glanced over at the Jeep. Minor damage to the bumper, grille, and hood. Couldn’t have been going that fast… still set off the airbag. He brushed the man’s wispy grey hair away from his face and shone a penlight in his eyes. Dilation response appeared normal, if a touch slow. “What happened? Black out? Do you have any chest pain?”

  “No pain.” Weston coughed. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, then shot a dark glower off to the left. “Nah. Wasn’t a heart issue. Rabbit darted across the road. Tried to swerve.”

  “Right.” Nate surveyed the woods between here and the house in the distance. “Little rabbit in a nightgown?”

  Weston’s eyes bulged, then relaxed with a guarded sense of agreement.

  “Gotta watch out for them rabbits.” Nate pulled a handkerchief out and dabbed the blood from the pastor’s face. “They always jump out at ya when you least expect it.”

  26

  The Pool of Life

  Thursday, September 6, 2012

  The winding forest road led deep into the woods southeast of Spring Falls, past beautiful houses, small ponds, and a rocky cliff dappled with moss and trickling water. While pastoral, the dinky dirt trail consisted of little more than two ruts in the understory. Mia clutched the wheel, scowling at the useless Garmin, which showed her simply in the midst of a featureless green area.

  Worse, whoever had made this road never imagined people would drive anything near the size of a Chevrolet Tahoe on it. Leaves scraped both sides and the roof for the past six minutes. Mia stopped where two trees flanked the road, so close she didn’t think she could fit through.

  Ugh. Why did Wilhelmina want to meet at her ‘cabin in the woods,’ not her house? She lives less than a mile from us. What’s so special about this cabin?

  She hopped out and walked around to fold the side mirrors in, then got back in. Jaw clenched, she eased the truck forward, a long, soft squeal leaking out her nose. The Tahoe fit with inches to spare on each side.

  “Please don’t let anyone come from the other direction… we’d both be stuck.”

  A few minutes of driving past the trees of doom, she reached a sharp bend in the trail to the right. She considered stopping and going home, but something told her to continue for Robin’s sake. Setting her nerves aside, Mia sat high in the seat in an effort to see the ground better.

  “This is too big, but the Nissan would never handle this road.”

  She glanced down at the glowing light on the four-wheel-drive switch. Driving a brand new truck she’d had for less than four months off-road didn’t seem like a great idea. One wrong move and she’d be in a ditch, or wedged between trees, or scrape thousands of dollars’ worth of body damage into the side. Adam wouldn’t call this ‘off-road.’ He’d make some remark about there being nowhere near enough mud or rocks for it to count as true ‘off-roading.’

  As far as I’m concerned, any time there’s dirt under the tires instead of pavement, I’m off the road.

  After a few more close calls with trees, she found the end of the trail, a grassy clearing ringed with knee-high weeds. Five other cars—three Jeep Wranglers, a small pickup truck, and a little Kia—sat parked around the edges with their front ends toward the woods. She recognized the grey Jeep with all the beads and stuff hanging off the mirror from the diner’s lot. That’s gotta be Wilhelmina’s.

  The back end of the building stood a half-story taller than the near end, the roof a straight angled surface that probably dumped all the snow onto the rickety deck in front of the door. The woman had said ‘cabin,’ but the rectangular structure looked like an enormous version of a crazy bomb maker’s shack. Lights glowing inside plus all the cars made it feel somewhat safer than a psycho’s retreat.

  A blonde woman in her mid-to-late twenties wearing a beige turtleneck and jeans emerged from the back door, squinting at her headlights.

  Mia parked in an open spot near the deck by a pile of firewood. The scent of the forest and wood smoke flooded her senses when she got out. Though she’d only driven about eighteen minutes from home, it seemed like she’d gone way out into the sticks to go camping.

  “Hi,” called the woman. “You must be Mia. I’m Lisa.”

  Without the truck’s headlights facing the deck, Mia couldn’t see much of anything but the general shape of a person waving at her. She approached a wobbly set of stairs, little more than wooden planks, and made her way up, crunching on old fallen leaves. Lisa had no jacket or shoes on, but didn’t seem the least bit chilly.

  “Hello. Yep. That’s me. Sorry I’m late. That road was… interesting.”

  “It’s only scary the first few times.” Lisa opened the door for her, grinning. “Even with that huge thing you drive.”

  “Still not really used to its size. I’ve only had it for a few months.”

  Mia entered a narrow hallway with an uneven floor covered in mismatched swaths of linoleum. A door to the right led to a plain room containing a twin bed that touched the walls on three sides and a battered dresser missing half its drawers. Another doorway on the left led to a room empty except for a few stray power cords lying on the worn brown carpet.

  The end of the hall opened into a large space with a vaulted ceiling of exposed beams. To the left, it had the trappings of a living room: two recliners, sofa, tiny TV on a stand next to a fireplace, and a doorway into another bedroom two steps down from the floor level. The right quarter of the room had a fridge, counter, and sink beside the smallest bathroom Mia had ever seen.

  Wilhelmina and three other women sat around a table that started in the kitchen and ended in the living room. Various odd items had been arranged in front of them including candles, knives, little jars of unidentifiable substances, bundles of herbs, bowls of feathers, twine, and so on. It looked more like she’d walked in on them doing an inventory of witchy supplies than she’d interrupted a ritual.

  “Mia!” Wilhelmina stood from her chair at the living room end and hurried over into a hug. “We’re so glad you could make it!”

  “Easier to find than the Pinecone. I mean… you’ve basically got your own private road.” She managed a weak smile and waved at the others.

  She shifted to stand next to Mia, an arm around her back. “Let me introduce you. I see you’ve met Lisa Donovan.”

  Mia nodded.

  Lisa waved at her again and plopped into a chair, likely where she’d been sitting before the Tahoe’s headlights lit up the back hallway as evidenced by a cup of tea already there.

  “This is Linda North.” Wilhelmina gestured at a late-forties woman, her black hair liberally streaked with silver. “I’ve known her for years. Sometimes babysat for her, too.”

  Linda looked up as if to say hello, but froze, staring at Mia. “Oh, you’re right. She does look… umm… in need of help.”

  The woman seated next to Linda appeared to be in her mid-thirties and wore her dark brown hair in a bob. She glanced at Linda with a note of confusion, but dismissed it, stood, and offered a hand. “Rebecca Todd. Nice to meet you.”

  “Hi.” Mia shook hands.

  “And finally, Cheryl Murphy.” Wilhelmina gestured at a starkly pale woman with straight jet black hair. She had to be the second youngest in the room after Lisa and Mia, probably teasing at or just past her thirtieth.

  “If you call me Murph, I will throw things at you.” Cheryl grinned. “If you call me Cher, I will bite you.”

  “Okay…” Mia blinked at the odd greeting, but the woman had a humorous tone to the threat, so it didn’t come off as anything more than a joke.

  Wilhelmina ushered Mia to the seat at the kitchen end of the table. “Tea?”

  “Sure.”

  Three of the women mostly smiled at her, waitin
g for Wilhelmina. Linda, however, kept looking at Mia the way one might study someone who closely resembled a minor celebrity, trying to figure out if they’d met the actual person.

  Wilhelmina set a cup in front of her and poured it full from a large kettle, already containing brewed tea. She made the rounds refilling everyone’s cups, then replaced the kettle on the stove.

  Mia returned nervous smiles to the other four women, then sniffed at the steam rising from her cup. The tea smelled vaguely fruity, though she couldn’t identify exactly what kind. She eyed the stuff all over the table, wondering exactly what she’d gotten into. A deer head mounted to the wall on the right roughly at the point where the giant space changed from kitchen to living room, felt as if it stared at her. It hung over another doorway that led to a room as long as the main one but only half as deep, packed with small beds. Except for the overwhelming aroma of herbs and incense coming from the table, the rest of the place mostly smelled like wet dog.

  “Welcome to our little sanctuary,” said Wilhelmina while settling back into her seat at the opposite end of the table.

  “Thanks. Umm… This isn’t exactly what I was picturing.”

  Cheryl laughed. “You were expecting what then? A hidden crypt under a graveyard? Skulls all over the place? Black cats? Or maybe a big bonfire with us dancing around naked?”

  “It’s too chilly for that now.” Lisa sipped her tea. “But if the fire’s big enough, I’m game.”

  “She’s always game. I swear the girl’s a dryad. Any excuse to fling off her clothes,” muttered Cheryl with a big smile.

  “I can’t wait for it to warm up.” Rebecca stretched.

  Linda kept glancing over at Mia. Wilhelmina appeared to notice and nodded once.

  Mia blinked, then blushed, having the distinct impression they really did dance naked around a fire.

  The women smiled or laughed at her reaction.

  “So you’re a psychic, huh?” asked Lisa.

  “Apparently.” Mia explained some of the things she’d seen and picked up on at the house, including her dreams of Evelyn meeting a deputy in the courthouse who gave her a weapon.

  “Ooh. I knew the police helped her.” Linda snapped her fingers. “What did he look like?”

  “Umm. Evelyn was staring down, I only saw his face for an instant when he cut in front of her. Young… Twenty-five to twenty-seven. Black hair.”

  “That could’ve been a few different people.” Wilhelmina tapped a finger on her chin.

  “Weren’t you a kid then?” asked Mia.

  “Six,” said Linda. “I knew Robin, but we only played together a couple times.”

  Mia gave her a sorrowful look. “That’s… ugh. Sorry. I meant how would Wilhelmina remember any of the cops from back then. She was like thirteen.”

  “I was. However, my mother brought me to the trial. The prosecutor was planning to question me about what I saw in the house while babysitting the girl.”

  “Oh.” Mia blinked. “Wait… you were there when she shot Vic?”

  “In the building, yes. I’d been attending the trial for a few days. The day of the shooting, a bailiff instructed my mother and me to sit outside the courtroom until we were called in.” She shook her head. “I’m sure they all knew what was coming and didn’t want me watching it at that age.”

  “So, what do you do, other than see psychic stuff?” asked Rebecca.

  Mia rambled a bit about working for the museum restoring fine art. That led into chatting with the other women about their jobs. Linda didn’t work in any official sense, as her husband—a lawyer in Syracuse—made plenty. She sold craft stuff online and also represented one-third of the Spring Falls Historical Society. Due to the town being so damn small, they tended to also preserve information of historical significance for the surrounding area as well.

  Rebecca worked as a dental hygienist, lived with three cats, two daughters, and a husband and a half. Presently, married to the father of her younger daughter, she still had ‘baby daddy one’ around all the time, though nothing romantic existed between them anymore. The men got along quite well and even went fishing together.

  Mia smiled outwardly but couldn’t help but think that beyond strange.

  Lisa waited tables at a TGI Fridays in Syracuse, being the least motivated of the group. She’d joined the coven at sixteen originally to piss off her parents (and Weston) but it clicked with her and she wound up resonating with the traditions. She mentioned Wilhelmina taught an elective class at the university about pagan spirituality, and Lisa sometimes helped her with it.

  Cheryl had waited tables, played guitar in a band that never got anywhere, did a two-year stint as a cable internet tech before getting tired of going into people’s houses and having her ass grabbed. She presently worked in Syracuse doing phone technical support.

  As minutes stretched into an hour or so of banal conversation about cats, kids, husbands’ annoying habits, and irritating co-workers, Mia’s slight awkwardness at being around four complete strangers evaporated fast.

  Her phone beeped.

  Everyone paused to watch her read and respond to a text from Adam. He wanted to check in, make sure all was well. He’d stayed home to do some paranormal investigation of the attic and basement, since Mia wouldn’t be there to get creeped out. She replied, telling him the girls were a fun group.

  “Something important?” asked Wilhelmina.

  “Just Adam letting me know he’s still alive and wanting to know if I am.”

  “Relax, dear,” said Cheryl. “We only sacrifice virgins.”

  Mia laughed, as did the others.

  “Well, I told you about my kids,” said Rebecca. “Let’s hear about yours.”

  “I’m not sure I’d call her my kid, but yeah okay… I guess I’ve started feeling this odd need to protect her, especially from that Weston guy.”

  The women all groaned.

  “Do you think she’s more than she seems, maybe influencing me? Weston thinks so.”

  “That man is a pain in the ass.” Linda frowned. “I wish he would just leave us alone.”

  “You’re the psychic.” Wilhelmina sipped from her third cup of tea. “What do you think?”

  “It doesn’t feel wrong to me but would it if I’m the one being affected?” Mia also drank from her tea, still unable to identify the specific fruit in it.

  The women discussed that, seeming to come to the conclusion that she probably would have doubts if the protectiveness hadn’t been genuine.

  “Has anything happened to make you worry?” Lisa got up to grab the kettle. She yanked it off the stove into the air in a comically exaggerated manner, then sighed. “Damn. Empty.”

  Mia bit her lip. “Well… one thing freaked me out pretty bad, but we’re okay now. I kinda yelled at her and she promised not to do it again.”

  “What happened?” Wilhelmina leaned in, curious.

  “I was in the bathtub and my hair drier launched itself at the water.”

  Everyone froze, staring at her.

  “The bathroom sink is right behind the end of the tub. I just happened to look up at it within a second of the thing jumping into the air. Managed to swat it aside. At first, I thought it might’ve been Vic. Then, I wondered if maybe Evelyn’s ghost became jealous of me since Robin had gotten so clingy.”

  “Doubt that,” said Linda.

  “Hmm?” Mia looked at her. “Why?”

  “Umm.” Linda hastily sipped tea. “Only that no one’s ever said anything about Evelyn haunting the place. What you’ve seen of her past was all in dreams. And dream visions usually come from…” She waved about as if trying to grab words from the air.

  “Psychic imprints,” said Wilhelmina.

  Linda slouched, relieved.

  “Evelyn released a massive amount of emotional energy into that house when she found Robin’s body. It doesn’t surprise me that you pick up scraps here and there.” Wilhelmina gestured at Lisa as if to say ‘go on, proceed with making
more tea.’

  Mia suspected the group—or at least those two women—left her out of something. She trusted Wilhelmina, but couldn’t help but be annoyed. I’m not one of their witches yet so maybe I don’t have top secret clearance. She swirled half a mouthful of tea around her cup, trying to come up with a polite way to sidestep the witchcraft thing if they tried to invite her to join. Not that she had anything against them, but despite having come to accept the truth of being a psychic, she couldn’t quite believe that magic worked. Wilhelmina and her friends weren’t that different from Weston. The names and rituals changed, but they all believed in stuff because someone else told them it existed. But at least witches didn’t threaten people who refused to join them with an eternity of burning. And, Wilhelmina hadn’t asked her to join at all, merely meet them on friendly terms.

  “So, anyway… I was storming around the house yelling at Vic. Robin came out and admitted she’d tried to ‘make me a ghost’ so she could hug me.”

  “Aww,” said Lisa, eyes wide. “That’s murderously adorable.”

  “You need therapy, girl.” Cheryl pointed a finger gun at her. “Those two words should not be used together.”

  “I basically scolded her like she was any ordinary kid who made a huge mess. Told her if she did anything like that again, I’d leave. Also promised that I’d stay no matter what if she behaved herself.” Mia gestured at the air with both hands as if holding a giant beach ball. “From the moment that hair dryer tried to zap me, the whole house felt ominous, like it wanted me dead. As soon as she promised not to try and kill me, that dread went away. I can’t tell if the energy in the actual house changed or if I somehow sensed the threat to my life, which stopped when she decided not to kill me.”

  “Interesting.” Wilhelmina tapped a fingernail against her cup.

  “She told me something else that kinda had me and Adam confused.”

  “Oh?” Wilhelmina raised an eyebrow.

  The other women leaned in close to listen.

  “Well, we’d been talking about your scrubbing the place, and that we didn’t want to do anything to Robin. However, if we could get rid of Vic, we would. She became worried, said something like if Vic went away, she’d go away, too. Adam thinks that Robin might be trapped there because of him somehow. He also suggested we might not have a little girl and a shadow man in the basement, but one entity pretending to be a kid as a means to play with our heads. I don’t believe that. She feels genuine to me. Adam’s kinda stuck on the whole heaven/hell thing. He said a real child’s spirit who’s innocent wouldn’t hang around as a ghost. They’d just move on right away.”