by N. M. Howell
“You didn't fall asleep, did you?”
I laughed. That was the least of my problems right now.
“Uh, Bailey,” I said. “Do you think you could come home for a bit?” The spirits watched me as I spoke into my phone, and I stared back up at them in silence.
“River, what's wrong?” The tone in Bailey's voice immediately changed. I could hear the laughter and music in the background grow quiet after she said it.
“Well,” I began. “Momma Cat seemed to have had another kitten.”
Bailey squealed through the speaker, and I had to pull the phone away from my ear. I could hear her announce the news to everyone else she was with, and excited squeals echoes through my phone.
When the excitement quieted, I managed to speak again. “And there are two ghosts at the foot of my bed.”
Silence.
“Wait, what?” Bailey said.
I exhaled a deep sigh. “New kitten. New ghosts. Anyone able to come home for a little backup, here?”
“I'm on my way. Don't spook them.” Bailey hung up, and I placed the phone on my bedside table for easy reach.
“Don't spook them,” I repeated to myself quietly, as I attempted a weak smile to the two ghosts in my room.
“So, uh,” I said, scratching the back of my neck as I tried to think of a game plan. “Who did you say you were?”
After long minutes of more silent staring, I spoke again. “Really, you have to say something. You can't turn up in my room and not say anything.”
The male ghost finally nodded. “I don't know.”
He glanced to the female beside him who shrugged. “I don't know, either.”
“Oh, well,” I sighed. “That's super helpful, thanks.”
I checked the time on my phone and hoped Bailey would hurry up. I twiddled my thumbs as I waited, sitting up awkwardly in bed avoiding eye contact with the spirits who seemed determined to stare down at me, unblinking.
Finally, after about fifteen minutes, I could hear Bailey running up the stairs and down the hall. She burst into my room, her hair disheveled and a worried look spread across her face.
“Are you okay?” she asked. She was heaving deep breaths, leaning against my doorway as she took in the scene. I saw her glance at the two spirits, but then her attention immediately turned to the cats on my bed.
“Oh my gosh, Momma look at you,” she exclaimed as she ran over and jumped on my bed next to me. She scratched Momma Cat behind the ears and cooed over the new fuzzy baby. “Look what you did! No wonder you were so fat. I thought maybe you were stealing cookies, like River.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Okay, more important matters at hand,” I said, gesturing toward the two spirits at the foot of my bed.
“Right, yes,” Bailey said. She sat up and turned toward the ghosts. “Who are you, and what are you doing in our house?”
When they didn't answer, I rolled my eyes. “Alright, so much for that.” I crawled out of bed and put on a sweater to warm myself from the chill. The house we lived in was beautiful, albeit a little run-down, but the windows were drafty and now that the weather had cooled and snow had fallen, my room felt like an icebox.
“What are you doing?” the female ghost asked.
I laughed. “I'm cold, so I'm putting on a sweater. What are you doing?”
She stared back at me and didn't answer.
“Figured as much.”
Bailey narrowed her eyes at me. “Do you recognize them at all? Any idea why they're here?”
I shook my head. “No, no idea.”
“Have they said anything else?”
“Er...” I began. “Well, they said I was next.”
Bailey's eyes went wide. “Next? As in, next to become a ghost?”
“Sounded like it. But seeing as they won't say anything else useful, maybe they meant I was next in line for the lottery. Or for a surprise. Or maybe they were going to sing me a Christmas carol.”
“River, this is serious,” Bailey chastised me as I began laughing to myself at the absurdity of it all.
“Yeah, I know it is,” I said. “But, really, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
I turned to the two ghosts and waved my hands in front of their faces. “Yoo-hoo, anything else important to add?”
The woman looked worried. “You're next, that's all I know.”
I sighed. “Next for what?”
She looked down at herself, all translucent and hovering above the ground. “For this. I'm sorry.”
I blinked. “Wait, so you mean I'm actually next to die?”
She nodded solemnly.
“Oh, great. What a way to cheer me up just before the holidays.”
Bailey held her hand over her mouth, and her eyes were wide with worry. “River, what are we going to do? We have to call Mrs. Brody. We have to inform the mayor and Sheriff Reese.”
I sighed. “Because some strange ghosts seem to think I'm going to die? How do we know they're not joking, or confused? They don't even seem to know who they are.”
“Do you remember anything else?” Bailey asked them.
Both spirits shook their heads.
“I'm sorry,” the man said. “I don't remember anything, apart from the fact that River Halloway is next.”
I blinked again. “You know my name?”
“Of course we do,” the woman replied. “That's why we're here. To warn you.”
I sighed. “This is fantastic. Merry Christmas to me.”
Bailey immediately brought out her phone and began hammering away at the buttons, texting God-knows-who.
“Bailey, don't bother anyone else with this until we have the facts. It's Christmas Eve. Why don't we go back to Mrs. Pots' and celebrate, and we can figure this out later? No one will come for me if we're all together, I'm sure of it.”
I wasn't nearly as frightened as Bailey seemed to look. Two ghosts appeared in my room, so what. They won't even remember who they are, so how can they be sure of what they're saying? The thought made sense to me, and I really wasn't worried.
“Let's go,” I said a few moments later when Bailey ignored me and continued typing away on her phone.
I moved towards the door, but both ghosts immediately blocked my way. Well, in theory, anyway. I could easily have stepped around them or right through them, even, if I really wanted to.
“Please, don't,” the woman said.
“We came to warn you. You're not safe. That's all we know,” the man added. “Please, stay. It's not safe for you out there.”
Momma Cat meowed loudly.
I glanced down to the cat then back to the ghosts. “So, what do you expect me to do, stay locked-up inside for the rest of my life? Who are you? Who's after me? I don't understand. Please, try and give me at least something to go on.”
The ghosts shook their heads and held their silence.
“The gang is on their way back. Mrs. Pots is bringing the party to us. Let's go downstairs to Mrs. Brody's, and we'll all figure this out together.”
I sighed. “Fine, but we're bringing the cats.”
Momma Cat meowed again, and I walked over to scratch her ears. Her kitten was adorable and was all black with light blue eyes. The kitten was sleeping all curled up next to Momma.
“Where's Agnes? And Soot?” I asked, glancing around my room. I couldn't remember if I had locked them in with Momma Cat before I went to bed or not.
“Doesn't matter, let's get downstairs,” Bailey said. “Mrs. Brody will know what to do.”
Bailey carefully scooped up the newborn kitten and led the way downstairs. Momma followed closely behind, howling the whole way as she was very clearly unimpressed that someone was making her move.
The two ghosts followed as well, keeping their silence. I glanced back at them as we walked down the stairs to Mrs. Brody's basement apartment, and their faces gave away any number of emotions. Fear, worry, confusion, curiosity, to name a few. I had to admit, this was the last thing I expected to h
appen on Christmas Eve.
A crowd had gathered in Mrs. Brody's apartment, and I could smell the sweet scent of Mrs. Pots' baking as we came into the room.
Rory squealed at the sight of the kitten in Bailey's hand, and the two went to sit down in the corner of the living room by the warmth of the fire that Mrs. Brody was setting up. Momma Cat followed and curled up next to Bailey and the kitten. A loud meowing came from the back door, and Soot and Agnes came to join the crowd.
Four cats. We now had four cats. For someone who really never considered herself a cat person, I seemed to be becoming quite the crazy cat lady.
“There,” Mrs. Brody announced as the fire began to roar behind the ornate fireplace. “That should keep up nice and toasty. Now, first thing's first. Who would like a rum and eggnog?” She was quite the sight, as per usual, with her messy blue hair and long brown nightgown. I'm not sure if she changed into it just now after getting home, or if she has been wearing it at Mrs. Pots' bakery. I wouldn't put it past her to do the latter.
I raised my eyebrow and glanced back and forth between the spirits and Mrs. Brody. “Really? That's what's first?”
“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Brody said as she scurried into the kitchen. “We'll deal with your new friends in a moment.”
I laughed. “Well, at least someone's got their priorities straight.”
At least I wasn't the only one who didn't seem too concerned. The holidays can be a very stressful time for people, and the spirits were probably just lost and confused. That didn't explain how they knew my name, though. It didn't explain why they were in my bedroom to begin with, either.
I eyed the spirits wearily but sat on the couch and waited patiently for my eggnog before even attempting to explain the situation to everyone.
Jane and Mrs. Pots were chatting away on the other side of the room. Something to do with catering a New Year's Eve soccer party? Jane was really sporty and played for a few casual local sports groups. I suspected they spent more time socializing than actually playing any sports, though, from how tipsy Jane would seem after coming home late from her so-called games.
The room was warm and everyone had smiles on their faces. I couldn't help but smile as well. It had been a long time since I had a cozy family Christmas. Being a student in New York City was fun and all, but I did miss out on the holidays a lot. Everything seemed so nice and normal. Apart from the two spirits in the corner, that was.
I sighed loudly and accepted the large glass of eggnog from Mrs. Brody as she came back into the room with a floating tray of drinks.
“Oh, how lovely,” Mrs. Pots beamed as the tray floated towards her. “How spectacular.”
Mrs. Pots didn't have any magic of her own, but she was a good friend to us witches and had had magic in the family at one point. She was a good ally to have, and not just because of her endless supply of cookies.
The two ghosts observed in silence as everyone bustled about the room, cozying next to the fire, sipping on eggnog, and settling in the living room for a group chat.
Mrs. Brody set down the floating tray and went back into the kitchen to rummage through her cabinet.
The room was silent apart from the crackling of the fire and the soft meowing and purring of the cats next to the hearth. We all waited in silence for Mrs. Brody to return with whatever it was that she was searching for.
The girls watched the spirits as they stood near the door, fidgeting with their fingers and glancing nervously about. It was clear that they were both uneasy, and I really hoped we could get to the bottom of this soon. It was late, I was tired, Christmas was tomorrow, and I didn't want to spoil the holidays for the rest of the group.
Finally, Mrs. Brody returned with a large hard-cover book and sat down in the large armchair next to the fire.
She cleared her throat and set the book down in front of her.
Finally, she smoothed out her nightgown on her lap and looked up at the two spirits with a stern look on her face.
“Alright, then. Who are you? Why are you here? And what do you want with our River?”
3
The spirits paced the room for a while, trying desperately to remember anything they could about who they were.
Mrs. Brody was flipping through her book, trying to find something that would help them remember.
This whole thing felt like an entire deja vu. Why was it that I was constantly having to help jog a ghost's memory? Since moving to Brimstone Bay this past summer, it seemed as if confused ghosts flocked to me at every chance they got.
This was different, though, as these ghosts were here for a purpose. They were here to warn me about my impending doom. Merry Christmas to me.
It was getting late, and we didn't seem to be getting anywhere. The only thing the ghosts remembered was that I was going to be next. They couldn't even remember how they knew, or who had killed them.
I yawned loudly as the clock above the mantle chimed 1 o'clock.
“We're not getting anywhere with this,” I said. “Let's just go to bed and deal with it in the morning, okay?”
Mrs. Brody looked concerned but then nodded. “Fine. Sleep, then we'll get to the bottom of this first thing.”
I sighed. “Alright, great.”
“But you're all sleeping down here tonight,” Mrs. Brody added. “So I can keep an eye on you lot.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Seriously?” Rory complained. “But my bed upstairs is so comfy. It's calling to me!”
Mrs. Brody crossed her arms. “That's just too bad. If whoever did this to our guests is planning on finding our River next, then we all have to stick together.”
“How many charms do you have placed on this house already?” I asked Mrs. Brody. “I doubt anyone would be able to come in even if they tried.”
“We can't take any chances. Not until these two remember anything useful.”
I sighed. “Alright, alright.”
“Nancy, you better stay too, dear.”
Mrs. Pots looked ecstatic. “Oh, how fun! I love a good sleepover. It's been decades since I've had one.”
I laughed at her enthusiasm. Leave it to Mrs. Pots to see the silver lining in any situation.
“At least we're well-stocked with goodies,” Bailey said.
I looked over to the dining room table and noticed piles upon piles of cookies and cakes all scattered on top of each other.
“Wow, you really weren't kidding when you said you're cleaning out her Christmas supply,” I said.
Bailey laughed. “It's tradition, every year we go and help. Isn't that right, Mrs. Pots?”
She beamed. “Absolutely. Wouldn't want these treats to go to waste, now, would we?”
Well, I couldn't say that it was shaping up to be a very normal Christmas. Not that I knew what one of those was, anyway. But, given our track record for weird things happening during holidays, I'd say we were just about on track.
I settled in on the couch and watched the spirits pace the room. They walked right past Mrs. Pots, who didn't seem to notice at all. She had always claimed to be able to speak with spirits, but it was becoming plainly clear that she over-exaggerated that statement. She had proven to be somewhat sensitive to them in the past, but then again, many people with any form of distant magic in their family line often had an affinity for the supernatural.
The spirits kept shifting their gazes back towards me, but I pretended to ignore them. Until they could offer me any more information, I wasn't going to give them the time of day. Or night. Whatever.
I must have dozed off because I was rudely jolted awake when the sound of a shattering plate echoed in from the kitchen. Soot had curled up on my lap but jumped off when he was interrupted by the noise.
“What was that?” I sat bolt upright, my heart beating heavily in my chest.
“I know who they are,” Jane said. Apparently, she hadn't gone to sleep but furiously set about searching for clues on her laptop about the identity of our two spirits.
&
nbsp; I ran over to her in the kitchen, and the rest of the room jostled awake, as well. Jane seemed to be the only one who hadn't fallen asleep.
I went to sit down next to her and yawned. “Don't you ever sleep?”
Jane shook her head. “Too much coffee. Look, here.” She pointed at her screen, and I blinked through the fuzziness in my eyes after just having woken up.
There, staring right back at me from behind the laptop screen, were our two ghosts. Only, more solid and human-like.
“Oh, hey look! It's you, two,” Bailey said as she joined us in the kitchen.
“Who are they?” I asked.
Mrs. Brody dutifully set about making coffee, while Mrs. Pots cleared room on the dining table for us all to sit around.
“Peter Darlington and Sarah Greene,” Jane read out loud. “Missing from their homes in Portland since November 15th. No knowledge of their whereabouts, dead or alive.”
Bailey whistled. “Dead. I guess we know that part, now.”
I nudged Bailey with my elbow. “Don't be insensitive.”
Bailey shrugged. “It's not as if anything we say will change the fact.”
The spirits approached the table and were listening intently to our conversation. They kept looking at me with expressions of concern and fear on their faces, but they seemed easily distracted by Jane's discovery.
I looked up at the pair. “Peter Darlington and Sarah Greene. Do those names sound familiar?”
The woman nodded. “Yes, they do. I'm Sarah. This is my boyfriend, Peter.” She smiled half-heartedly at him as he squeezed her in a one-armed hug.
I was mesmerized by their actions. I didn't know ghosts could interact like that. Maybe it had to do with who they were in life, or if they died together, perhaps.
That last thought made me pause. “Do you remember how you died?”
They both shook their heads.
I sighed. “Still nothing, hey? No more ideas about why I'm next then, either?”
They shook their heads again.
“Fantastic.” I turned back to Jane who was clicking away at her computer. “Any more information about them?”
