A Pumpkin Potion Explosion

by Constance Barker

  The old schoolhouse was a ruined brick building that had stood on the outskirts of Goodsprings for over two hundred years. I had no idea when it had gone from schoolhouse to creepy old overgrown building, but it was absolutely crushing it as the latter. All of its windows had been shattered long ago—kudzu now spilled out from them like streams of tears from hollow eyes. A handful of determined trees had taken root beneath the foundation and now poked out of the roof like thin, twisted chimneys.

  Tessa stopped the car in front of the schoolhouse and turned off the headlights. We were plunged into sudden darkness.

  “Hold on,” Tessa said, “I came prepared this time.”

  I heard her searching through the back seat and had just picked up on the familiar smell of wood smoke when I was temporarily blinded by a flash of blue light.

  I blinked and saw Tessa holding up an old-fashioned lantern, its glass bulb filled with a swirl of magical blue fire.

  “Let’s go ghost hunting.” Tessa said, grinning.

  We got out of the car and walked a few feet down the road in the direction we’d come from.

  “Feel any black magic?” I asked.

  “Just this tree dripping on my head.” Tessa said. Somewhere above us, a bird began chirping.

  We kept walking, the blue glow of Tessa’s lantern our only light. We climbed over rain-slicked roots and stepped around puddles, making slow progress in the mud and overgrowth. The forest around us was still except for the occasional bouncing of leaves struck by raindrops.

  After ten minutes of walking with not so much as a whiff of black magic, we turned around and headed back toward the schoolhouse. A small bird swooped down in front of us, flashing in the lantern light and startling me so much that I fell back into a puddle.

  To her credit, Tessa only laughed for a few seconds before helping me up. I got to my feet, soaked from the waist down and caked in mud.

  “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry Sam!”

  Tessa and I jumped at the sound of the voice coming from the trees. The lantern flared hot and white, throwing the forest around us into sharp relief. I looked around wildly, searching for the source of the voice.

  Tessa nudged my shoulder and pointed upward. I looked up to see Mara, sitting cross-legged on a tree branch, looking sheepish.

  “Hey, y’all,” she said guiltily, pushing off the branch. She fell slowly, supported by a warm gust of magical wind that set her gently onto the muddy road. “Let me fix that.”

  The wind changed direction, nearly knocking me back into the puddle, buffeting my clothes until they were stiff and dry.

  “Thanks?” I said, peeling strands of windblown hair off my face.

  “Aren’t you supposed to, you know, not be doing magic?” Tessa asked, tapping the lantern. It dimmed back to blue. “And, follow-up question, what the hell, Mara?”

  “Sorry, sorry!” Mara looked distressed. “I just wanted to come with y’all. Ever since this whole magic infection thing started I’ve felt so useless! It’s driving me crazy...I had to come.”

  “That bird,” I said, “was that you? Were you in wild form?”

  Mara looked down and nodded slowly.

  “That’s a lot of magical effort,” Tessa warned, “especially for someone in your condition.”

  “I’m fine!” Mara said quickly. “Everything’s okay. I just...I think I’ll need to catch a ride back with y’all.”

  “Of course,” I said. “And I’m glad you’re here. Just...let’s be careful.”

  “Oh, and don’t tell your mom,” Tessa added. “I do not need to be getting on Naomi’s bad side.”

  Mara laughed and linked arms with us. It was nice to see her feeling better, at least.

  The three of us walked past the schoolhouse, going deeper into the forest. The rain started to pick up, pelting the treetops and drowning out everything but the sound of our footsteps squelching in the mud.

  “Still nothing,” Tessa said after a few minutes. “I think this lead’s dried up, ladies. No black magic here.”

  “Just a few more minutes,” Mara urged. “Let’s be absolutely sure.”

  I was about to make an argument for turning back and trying again in the light of day when I noticed that a strange new beat had joined the percussion of the rain.

  Clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop

  “Shh,” I whispered. “Do you hear that?”

  Clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop

  The sound grew louder. Mara’s eyes went wide.

  “Are those...hooves?”

  Clip-clop clip-clop

  The hoof beats stopped as suddenly as they had started. The road was dark and empty, with no sign of a horse anywhere.

  “It’s gone.” I said.

  “What the...” Tessa muttered.

  “Is it him?” Mara whispered.

  “Is it who?” asked a voice from behind us.

  Chapter 15

  Tessa sent a bolt of fire rushing toward the source of the voice before I’d even had a chance to turn around.

  “Oy!” a man’s voice cried. “Were I still living, perchance that would have been my doom!”

  The fire bolt zoomed, uninterrupted, in a straight line down the road. It took me several seconds to realize that I was watching its progress through a man’s torso. In fact the man or whatever he was stood right before me.

  “Begging your pardon, my lady, but would you kindly remove your head from my breast pocket?”

  “Oh, pardon me,” I said reflexively, jerking my head back.

  The speaker was a handsome, broad-shouldered young man with long, light-brown hair that had been tied back at the nape of his neck. He wore a high-collared white shirt and overcoat and was what I can only describe as slightly transparent.

  “Look at that,” Tessa said. “Turns out he’s real after all.”

  “Charles Alexander Harrington the Third,” the man announced, bowing, “at your service.”

  “You’re the Capless Cavalier?” Mara said skeptically, “You don’t look very...vengeful.”

  Charles Alexander Harrington the Third straightened, looking annoyed until the moment his eyes met Mara’s.

  “Whence is this radiant maiden, come to commune with my wretched soul?” he breathed.

  Mara frowned back at him.

  “Um...what?”

  “Art thou an angel, come to ferry me to my eternal reward?” Harrington continued, his eyes soft and searching. “Or perhaps some servant of Hades, made lovely to deceive my heart. It matters not, for I shall follow you to whatever end!”

  Tessa started to giggle. Mara’s frown deepened.

  “Are you...hitting on me?”

  Harrington flinched, clutching at the breast pocket where my head had been.

  “I would never deign to strike a lady!” he gasped, looking scandalized. “It would be beneath my honor as a—”

  “—Never mind, forget it.” Mara interrupted, holding up a hand.

  Tessa was now laughing so hard that tears were streaming down her face.

  “Might I be so bold,” Harrington addressed Mara, “as to ask that you grace me with your name, thou pulchritudinous nymph?”

  “I’m Mara Gale,” Mara sighed. “That’s Samantha Greene. The one in hysterics is Tessa Smith.”

  “Sorry!” Tessa gasped.

  “Mara Gale,” Harrington repeated in a hushed voice.

  “Mister Harrington?” I asked. “This may seem like a silly question, but...did you by any chance misplace a cap somewhere along this road?”

  “That I did!” Harrington cried. “I lost it when those foul ruffians ran me down the night before the great race. You see, I had won every—”

  “—We know your story, Mister Harrington,” I said, “and, as you are clearly a ghost, I am sorry to hear confirmation of your untimely demise.”

  “Tis the past, my lady,” Harrington said lightly. “Though I daresay it is the reason you find yourself on this lonesome road on a night such as this.”

&nbs
p; “You’re right,” I nodded. “We heard rumors that there was a vengeful spirit haunting Goodsprings. One called the ‘Capless Cavalier’.”

  “Capless Cavalier?” Harrington looked disgusted. “Is this what I am remembered for in death?”

  “Well, there’s that,” Mara said, “and word on the street is you’ve been riding around with a pumpkin for a hat. Killing people.”

  “Killing?” Harrington gasped, affronted. “A pumpkin for a hat? Lady Gale...I pray you do not believe such egregious lies?”

  “I’m not sure,” Mara said coolly. “The folks telling the stories know an awful lot about you...”

  “It is only during Harvest Festival that I can be seen by the living,” Harrington sighed. “I admit that I did once enjoy riding through town on these cool autumn nights, giving folks a fright...but that lost its luster after a few decades. Now I keep out of sight during the festivities...most years.”

  “Most years?” I asked.

  “I became curious!” Harrington said defensively. “I heard music...and celebrating...oh, how I miss Harvest Festival. I thought to take a brief look...but I fear I did not exercise proper caution. I believe I was seen by some of the drunken revelers.”

  “That would explain the stories,” Mara admitted. “And I’m not sensing any black magic on you. Sam? Tessa?”

  Tessa and I shook our heads. The Capless Cavalier was clean.

  “Black magic?” Harrington asked, eyes wide. “Do you mean...witchcraft?”

  Mara chuckled and shook her head.

  “That is a conversation for another day,” she said. “Thank you for your time, Mister Harrington.”

  “Must you leave so soon?” Harrington asked, pained. “Will you not tarry a while, Lady Gale? At the very least permit me to give you a token for remembrance. I do not have much, and certainly nothing worthy of your attention, but I do have...”

  He snapped his translucent fingers.

  Clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop

  An enormous, ghostly black horse materialized out of thin air, tossing its head and nickering softly. Harrington patted its nose fondly and felt around inside a saddlebag.

  “For you, Lady Gale,” he said, presenting a shimmering square of white cloth with a bow.

  Mara hesitated for a moment before picking it up gingerly.

  “Thank you?” she said uncertainly, holding up the handkerchief for inspection.

  “If you are ever in need of me, my lady, you have only to wave this token over your head and I will be at your side.”

  Mara grimaced, but tucked the handkerchief into her coat pocket and held out a hand.

  “Have a good night, Mister Harrington.”

  Harrington bent and kissed her hand.

  “Farewell, ladies,” he cried, leaping onto his ghost horse. “And, as you say...Happy Harvest!”

  He galloped down the road for a few moments before vanishing into the darkness.

  “What a nice young man,” Tessa said, wiping her eyes.

  Chapter 16

  Tessa dropped me off at Happy Blendings around two in the morning. Most of the Harvest Festival vendors had closed up shop for the night, leaving Main Street empty save for the litter left behind by the festival-goers.

  Cold, wet, and exhausted, I pulled my bike out from the alley behind Happy Blendings and began the ride home, dreaming of the warm bed, the soft pillows, and the cup of herbal tea that awaited me. I made it less than a block.

  Madame Mysteria, the strange woman who had offered to read my fortune earlier that week, was standing in the middle of Main Street, gazing up at the sky. I was about to ride past her when she whirled around and pointed a long, ring-laden finger at me.

  “You have not come to see Madame Mysteria. Why is this?”

  I skidded to a stop beside her.

  “I’m sorry, Madame,” I sighed. “It’s been a long week and I just want to get home.”

  “Madame Mysteria will read your cards tonight. There will be no cost. Come now.”

  She turned on her heel and began striding toward her tent.

  My desire to go home and collapse into bed fought briefly with my compulsion to be polite. I sighed quietly and followed Madame Mysteria into the fortune-telling tent, leaving my bike parked on the sidewalk.

  The interior of Madame Mysteria’s tent was dim and smelled overwhelmingly of incense. A number of clashing rugs covered the floor and there was a large, dark wood table set in the center of the tent. Madame Mysteria took a seat on one side of it and produced a deck of ornately-backed cards.

  “Shuffle the deck,” she commanded.

  I sat down opposite her and, just wanting this whole thing to be over with, and did as she said. I handed the shuffled deck back to her.

  “You do not believe,” she said bluntly, starting to lay the cards out in a diamond shape on the table. “This is good. A mind that is too open is empty.”

  She flipped the card at the center of the diamond.

  “This is you, the Page of Pentacles,” she tapped the card. “Determined. Dauntless. Dutiful. You bring joy, healing, and strength to your friends. Like a fruiting tree with deep roots.”

  She flipped over three more cards.

  “These are your counterparts. Closest to you is the Page of Wands. She is energetic and fearless. She gives you power and you give her strength. Keep her close and protect the light that burns within her. Next is the Page of Swords...ah, you see, the card is inverted...upside-down.”

  I peered at the card, which featured a woman flying among the clouds, holding a large sword aloft.

  “What does inverted mean?” I asked, genuinely curious now.

  “She is usually brilliant, beautiful, and unconquerable,” Madame Mysteria shook her head, “but right now she is challenged by some darkness.”

  She flipped over the card just above the Page of Swords.

  “See the Queen of Swords?” she tapped the newly-uncovered card. “She can command the Page. It is through her that the darkness will be overcome.”

  I inspected the card, which showed a seated woman in a flowing white dress brandishing a long sword. She looked resolute, ready for battle.

  “Your third counterpart is the Page of Cups,” Madame Mysteria slid the card toward me so I could get a better look. A young woman, dressed in blue, stood on the shore of a lake, holding a golden chalice.

  “She is life, balance, and serenity,” Madame Mysteria said. “But you must be open to her...or else you will never find her.”

  “How can I be open to her?” I asked. I would have felt foolish were it not for the strange feeling of familiarity I felt when Madame Mysteria described the cards.

  “You must stop looking,” she said briskly, “and start listening.”

  She turned over the card positioned just above the Page of Pentacles, the one she had said to represent me. It revealed the Queen of Pentacles.

  “The Queen is beloved by all, but her reign has ended. Her heir has yet to take up the crown and so her kingdom has fallen into chaos.”

  Madame Mysteria reached out to flip over another card, but was interrupted by the appearance of a large, black-and-white cat.

  “Jacques!” she cried, “Get off the table!”

  Jacques the cat sat down on top of the Page of Wands and began licking his paw.

  Madame Mysteria growled in frustration, picked up Jacques the cat and set him on the floor.

  “Apologies,” she said, “Cats do as they wish. Let’s see...”

  She flipped over a card, revealing a handsome, regal woman holding a sword and a set of scales.

  “Justice is on your side,” Madame Mysteria muttered. “A powerful ally. But there is an enemy that lurks just outside your vision...”

  She flipped over the last card. It depicted a shadowy, smirking figure hefting two swords. Three other blades lay on the ground at their feet and two people stood in the background, seemingly oblivious to the actions of the shadowy figure.

  “This enemy
will stop at nothing,” Madame Mysteria said gravely, “but they fear being pursued.”

  “Are you talking about the murderer?” I asked. Madame Mysteria gave no indication that she had heard me.

  “The Five of Swords is an ill omen,” she muttered. Jacques the cat jumped back up onto the table and mewed loudly, but Madame Mysteria ignored him, too.

  “The enemy is close,” she continued, her eyes darting back and forth across the table. “They hide in plain sight and wear the face of a friend.”

  “Who is it?” I urged. “What do you know?”

  Madame Mysteria’s looked up to meet my gaze, her eyes wide and fearful.

  “They return to the hunt tomorrow eve,” she whispered. “They will kill again.”

  Chapter 17

  I rode into town late the next morning, yawning and fuzzy from the few hours of restless sleep I’d gotten after leaving Madame Mysteria’s tent. It was a clear, crisp Friday morning and the Harvest Festival crowd had somehow doubled overnight. I gave up trying to ride down Main Street and detoured onto the side streets, reaching Happy Blendings from the back alley.

  It was chaos inside the shop. Dozens of tourists had crammed into my tiny shop and were all trying to shout over each other. Poor David was trying in vain to get them to form an orderly line.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late!” I called over the cacophony of voices, hurrying to put on my apron and bandanna.

  “Apologize later, blend now!” David hollered back, handing me a notepad scrawled with smoothie orders.

  “Aye aye, sir!”

  I had made sixteen Mango-Getters, eight Peach for the Stars, twelve Watermelon Whirls, and twenty-three custom smoothies when I realized that this was all wrong.

  “Hey, David!” I shouted over the whir of the blenders. “Let’s close up!”

  David looked up from the register and stared at me like I was crazy.

  “It’s barely ten in the morning!” he called back. “And we haven’t served half the people here yet.”