Ghostly Curse

by Cadie Snow

  All Jaime could offer was of a supernatural nature. Relaying images she had seen would only make her look crazy. Law enforcement couldn’t act on that kind of information, so wouldn’t be of much assistance. But Ian worked in the office, so might have data that could help.

  Ian was keeping a closer eye on her, since Elijah’s recent harassment. Jaime didn’t mind; she rather preferred it. When Ian invited her to breakfast, she accepted, prepared to tell him what she’d recently discovered.

  Ellen’s Café was in a long, low building. The building was painted green and white with a brown shake roof. The place had been there as long as the town. The prices were so low that Jaime wondered how they stayed in business. It had to be due to the locals who swarmed the place for breakfast and lunch daily.

  Jaime was behind in her bookkeeping, but she justified taking a few hours off work. It wouldn’t be good for anybody if the murderer struck again before she could stop him. And since she was his most likely target, the accounting had a greater chance of getting done if she took the opportunity to deal with this murder investigation.

  Ian was in uniform, since he was on his way to the department. He opened the door for her, reminding her of what a gentleman he was.

  “Many men don’t do that anymore,” Jaime said. “I like it.”

  There was a table by the window, so Jaime sat across from Ian, and they ordered their usual. Not many breakfast places served pancakes that were nearly larger than the plate, heaped with strawberry syrup and whipped cream. It was Jaime’s favorite.

  Ian ordered something heartier, an omelet with sausage and thick toast. He slid the menu back in its holder. “Anything new with you?”

  “That covers a lot of ground.”

  “That must mean that you have something to tell me.”

  Jaime took a sip of coffee. “I hope you aren’t in a rush, because this may take a while.”

  “At your service…”

  Jaime started by telling him that Iris had been murdered. She threw in a few details about her being dragged away and possibly knowing her attacker.

  Ian frowned. “And you know this how?”

  It had to come up; there was no way to convince Ian that a murder had occurred without relaying the images she’d seen the night before. “Wait until you’ve heard all I have to tell you before you dismiss my theory.”

  To Ian’s credit, he listened patiently. The waitress arrived with the breakfasts, but he seemed so spellbound that he didn’t start to eat—which was unusual for him.

  “I received the autopsy report,” Jaime said. “It confirms that death was a result of a heart attack. It appears she had been in the ditch for a while. I’m telling you that she was killed then dragged out there. Her murderer did the deed in such a way as to make it look like a heart attack.”

  “Only you don’t think that’s all there is to it?” Ian said.

  “I’m telling you that more was involved,” Jaime said. “The shock on my aunt’s face, the man in the black cloak. I don’t think we can rule out the supernatural.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “What?”

  “I was suspicious, so I went out to the crime scene,” Ian said. “Yes, I’m calling it that. I searched for any clues or evidence that might be useful.”

  “Did you find any?”

  “What bothered me about her death was that it occurred so far out of town,” Ian said. “It didn’t make sense. But if she was murdered, then it does. And I found burn marks close to where her body was discovered. Black searing etched some tree branches and a deep gouge was in the dirt. It reminded me of what it looks like when lightning strikes.”

  “So you believe me?”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Ian said. “But there are unanswered questions. I don’t have enough evidence to launch an investigation. Unfortunately, I can’t go telling the sheriff that you saw a ghost who flashed scenes of a murder before your eyes.”

  “Yeah, I don’t suppose you could.”

  “What I am going to do is look into this on my own time.”

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it,” Jaime said. “Anything you can find out will be a great help. I’m kind of on my own here.”

  “I’m concerned about that,” Ian said. “I don’t have to believe in witch covens to know that others do. And that means the murderer just might come after you next, like you say.”

  “I won’t make it easy for him,” Jaime said. “I’ll call a meeting of the coven, partly because I’m the new leader. But also, because I am obligated to tell them what I know about Iris’s death. I’ll have their power on my side. Trust me, the coven doesn’t look the other way when one of their own is attacked.”

  The next evening, the boys had finished their homework early and were fighting aliens on the computer, a game they couldn’t seem to get enough of. As they were occupied, Jaime took the opportunity to talk with Abigail.

  Since Jaime had encouraged Abigail to develop her abilities, she’d worked with her daughter in spare moments. The results had been promising so far. Further coaching in psychic mediation would be helpful. The door to the bedroom was open, so Jaime went in.

  Abigail had clothes strewn over the bed. She was trying to decide what to wear on an upcoming school field trip. “I’m sick of this blue shirt. What do you think about the sparkly pink top?”

  “It looks good on you, especially with the ivory pants.”

  “Yeah, maybe. I need to go shopping,” Abigail said. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Mama…you know I’m nearly thirteen. These are all baby clothes.”

  “Okay, loud and clear,” Jaime said. “We’ll go shopping soon.”

  That brightened Abigail’s mood. “I’ve been practicing what we talked about.”

  “The psychic meditation?”

  “Yeah, that, but I lock my door first,” Abigail said. “I need privacy.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And there’s something else,” Abigail said.

  Jaime waited, sensing that her daughter was ready to share.

  “You know how you have those dreams,” Abigail said, “the ones where you know about the future?”

  “Yes, we talked about those.”

  “I had one.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?” Jaime said, curious.

  “It’s a little…disturbing,” Abigail said. “I’m not sure what it means, but I think it is some sort of prediction.”

  “Go ahead and tell me what you saw in the dream.”

  “It was dark and cold out in the forest,” Abigail said. “I was alone and lost my sense of direction. I turned in circles, terrified of what might happen. It was so dark, without a moon or stars. Then there was this man; he wore a long black cloak.”

  Jaime froze.

  “I haven’t seen him before, but he looked mean,” Abigail said. “I hope he isn’t someone I’ll see in real life. But he was a bad man and was going to do something really awful.”

  “What was he going to do, Abigail?”

  “He didn’t speak in the dream, but it was like I could read his thoughts,” Abigail said. “It scared me, because he told me that he was going to murder someone.”

  Jaime tried to keep her cool. “That doesn’t mean it will happen. But it can be a sign of impending danger. These things are good to know. It’s very helpful, so tell me if you have any more dreams like that.”

  “Okay, I will,” Abigail said. “Are dreams with premonitions always scary?”

  “Not always,” Jaime said. “The dreams can foretell the future, or at least shed light on what might happen. But it could be good, too. Predictions don’t have to be about something bad.”

  “That’s good to know, because if they were, I don’t think I’d want to have psychic dreams anymore.”

  “I was wondering about the guy in the black cape,” Jaime said. “Did you see his face in the dream?”

&n
bsp; Abigail nodded. “He was ugly.”

  “Had you seen him before?”

  “No, Mama…why?”

  “I’m curious,” Jaime said. “If you saw him again, could you recognize him?”

  “Yes, I remember how he looked,” Abigail said. “If I saw him, I’d know he was the man from my dream.”

  “Okay, honey,” Jaime said. “That’s enough for one night. I don’t want you to worry. I’m here if you need me. Dreams can’t hurt you, remember that.”

  “No, but what if he’s a real person?”

  “We’ll have to find out more,” Jaime said, “learn what that was all about. For now, just tell me if you have another dream. We’ll figure this out together.”

  When Jaime left, she shut the door and leaned against it. Abigail was somehow involved. She had to be connected or she wouldn’t have a dream like that. It made sense that Abigail would have perceptions about the current situation, since she was Jaime’s daughter. The familial connection would be enough to elicit premonitions. That had to be the reason for the dream.

  The next morning after the kids went to school, Jaime put on a warm coat and went out to the forest. She was worried and needed to feel the connection with her mother. It was a cool day with a soft wind blowing. The grasses along the path bent in the breeze, and the leaves rustled in the trees.

  The sun went behind the clouds, and Jaime shivered and walked faster to stay warm. A rabbit raced across the path and scurried into the brush. The birds were quiet, as if hiding in the trees to avoid the cold. The brisk air made Jaime’s eyes water. She reached the rocks where she often sat, taking peaceful moments to commune with nature and tell her mother about what was happening.

  Jaime climbed onto a flat rock and pulled her knees up, huddling against the wind. She closed her eyes, knowing she was safe there. Nature surrounded her, and the quiet environment soothed her. The problems she wrestled with were weighty, and she was anxious to talk about them.

  Jaime closed her eyes. “Mama, I wish you were with me. I could use your advice. Things have gotten worse since we last spoke. I hate to tell you this, but…”

  Jaime told her mother that Iris had been murdered. She shared every detail she knew, and the concerns that she had—including that she might be next. It was a relief to share the burden, but she didn’t receive a reply. That was to be expected.

  It was up to Jaime to resolve the situation, to make sure that she was safe, and those she loved were unharmed. The responsibility had fallen on her shoulders, but she no longer resisted it as she had before. She wouldn’t turn away from protecting her family.

  Offering advice wasn’t her mother’s duty anymore. It was enough that she listened. Jaime was glad for that and steeled herself to be strong. She had the strength of witchcraft to help her and a family to support her. No matter the odds, she would overcome the enemy—or so she tried to convince herself.

  Jaime opened her eyes to see Dahlia hovering close. “Were you listening?”

  Dahlia’s white dress fluttered in the wind. Despite the short sleeves, she didn’t seem cold. But then, she was a ghost. “Do you mind? I won’t tell your secrets. I like to be around when you talk to your mother.”

  “I guess it doesn’t hurt anything.” Jaime had known Dahlia for years, so she was more like a friend than an intruder. “Have you been okay, out here in the forest?”

  “Yes, very,” Dahlia said. “And summer is approaching, so the weather will be quite nice. Although it’s very chilly today.”

  Jaime supposed that a ghost could observe and enjoy the seasons, even without feeling the temperature changes.

  “I saw something,” Dahlia said, her mood shifting.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “I think I should,” Dahlia said. “I don’t like invaders into my lovely forest. There was a man, one who doesn’t belong here. But I don’t think he’s a witch like you. And he’s not a ghost like me.”

  “What kind of man?”

  “He was tall, built strong,” Dahlia said. “And I didn’t like it that he lurked at the edge of the forest, then headed toward your house…or the direction you come from, anyway.”

  Jaime forgot to breathe. “You saw a man near my house?”

  “He’s been there twice,” Dahlia said. “I don’t know what he’s doing around here. He doesn’t belong in my forest. Will you make him go away?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Jaime said, alarmed. “I don’t want him disrupting your peaceful existence.” Or disrupting Jaime’s life—since she had no doubt that he was part of the threat against her. “I appreciate you telling me, Dahlia. Will you let me know if you see him again?”

  “If you return to visit me,” Dahlia said, her spirits lifted.

  “I’ll make sure to do that.”

  Olivia was on a lunch break when Jaime arrived. “I need to catch you up on what I’ve learned.”

  “You’ve been busy, it seems.”

  Jaime told Olivia what she knew, then asked to use the meditation room. “I need to try again, but I want to meditate where I’m not alone. My house doesn’t feel safe right now.”

  In the purple room, Jaime lit candles like before. But this time she held a crystal in her palm. She needed a power boost. Meditating while holding crystals elevated her mind to a higher vibration, as it came into alignment with the crystal. The right stone could assist her to predict the future.

  Jaime held arfvedsonite, since it was an aid to having visions that predicted the future. A novice wouldn’t use such a stone, but since Jaime’s powers were developed, she was able to. In the past, she’d gained extraordinary insights when getting in sync with the stone’s positive wavelengths.

  Stretched out on the narrow bed, Jaime closed her eyes and wrapped her hand around the crystal. She felt the powerful vibrations and relaxed into a meditative state. The difficult part would be breaking through the block on her powers.

  Jaime remembered an incantation that her mother had taught her. It was one she hadn’t needed in a while. It could break apart a force directed against her. It had limited use, as overpowering the opposing flow took a lot of effort, so didn’t last long. But it might be enough to allow the visions she sought to come through.

  Jaime softly chanted the words and opened her mind to the psychic vibrations. She perceived the wavelengths that had been designed to block her ability. If she carved through them, the originator would know she’d been alerted to the barrier, but she had to take the risk.

  The resistance fell away, and visions came through. Jaime peered into the future, not liking what she saw. Murder loomed, a killer on the loose. Jaime’s heart pounded. The man who murdered Iris appeared, but he wouldn’t show his face.

  Jaime felt threatened and watched as images of an attack floated through her mind. She allowed them in, wanting to see more. Jaime’s life was in danger, which made the coven vulnerable. But it was worse. Abigail appeared in the vision.

  Once Jaime was out of the way, Abigail was next in line to lead the coven. The power would flow to her, as the daughter. Jaime watched the image of her daughter to see what happened. Only she couldn’t tell. It was too far in the future, just beyond Jaime’s reach.

  Jaime opened her eyes and lay still. She’d perceived more than anticipated and had learned about the depths of evil that surrounded her. Fear made her heart flutter. The murderer would come after her, and then…would he go after Abigail next?

  Jaime told Olivia what she’d seen of the future and asked her to share it with Harper. They needed to call a meeting of the coven soon, so the family could unite against what was to come. Then she left to get back before the kids got home from school.

  As Jaime approached her house, she slowed, stunned at what she saw. Her front window was shattered; there was a huge, jagged hole in it, as if a rock had been thrown. But the worst was the words displayed on the side of the home.

  Witches! We don’t want you in our town!

  It was spr
ay-painted in red, screaming the obscenities at Jaime. She didn’t have to think long to figure out who had done this. Lester Thompson’s father ran the local bank, and his family had lived in the area for generations. The boy hadn’t mocked Andrew purely out of boyhood mischief.

  Jaime was certain Lester’s mind had been poisoned by his family’s views. It was well known that the Thompsons were not only doubters but harbored an inbred hatred for anything supernatural. They’d railed against Jaime’s family before, but the graffiti on her walls was a blatant attack.

  Jaime would have been furious if her fear for her children hadn’t taken over. She had horrible visions of bullying, name calling, and worse. This was just the type of thing she’d hoped to protect them from. Yet it seemed unavoidable.

  The images of witches widely diverged, but for the Thompson family, witches were evil, wart-nosed women huddling over a cauldron, or hag-faced, cackling beings riding through the sky on brooms. Some people watched too much television.

  The idea that a witch would be a woman with a family, a good person who fought against evil, was beyond conception. The Thompsons would stick to their antiquated versions of magic, afraid of what they didn’t understand.

  Jaime had been ridiculed before and would be again—if the Thompsons had anything to say about it. She could tolerate it. But her kids would be crushed to feel like outcasts at school, made fun of by their friends.

  It was just too much. Jaime put her forehead against her hands on the steering wheel. It was overwhelming. Her family meant everything to her. No matter how tough she had to be, no matter the strength it took, she had to dig deep and fight the enemies who threatened all she held dear.

  CHAPTER 11

  After Jaime took a breath, she called her cousin Ava and told her about the damage to the house. Since Ava’s husband was in construction, he would be able to help out. Repainting a house, even just one side of it, cost money—as did a broken window.