“What?”
I showed him my hand, and demonstrated how the ring clamped down around my finger when I tried to remove it. He tried, too.
“There’s strong magick on it, but I think its benign. Mom believes there might be a spell to remove it in her old Book of Shadows,” I said. “But I doubt we’ll ever find it in this place.”
Alex sighed. “I’m going to withhold my lecture for now, but I’m not happy you kept this from me. We may need to put up some witch bane to keep crazy Ella away, until we figure out how to get that ring off your finger.”
I smiled gratefully, at both his concern and the coffee that was steadily warming my insides.
“Now, I’m going to make some waffles,” he said. “They’ll be ready in thirty minutes. Try not to put on any more strange jewelry in my absence.”
“I think I learned my lesson.”
Once Alex left, Mother fizzled into view in the chair beside me, holding a wine glass. “I was worried, too. What were you doing out so late?”
“That’s none of your business.” I stretched my legs beneath the table, wriggling my bare toes. I hadn’t walked around barefoot in quite some time and I could understand why Kela found it pleasant.
“None of my business?” Mother’s chest puffed up, then deflated just as quickly. “I gave you life! I was in labor for twenty-two hours…”
“It’s up an hour since your last telling. “
“Twenty-two hours,” she repeated. “And for this. To be told ‘it’s none of my business.’” She saw my robe and audibly gasped at my appearance. “Why aren’t you dressed? What if you died today?”
“Then I’d be comfortable?”
“You’d wander eternity like that! Learn from my mistakes. Haven’t you heard anything I’ve been telling you?”
“I’ve heard everything you’ve said, Mother. Everything. And it’s always capped off by a warning to dress well in case I slam my truck into a tree one day, like you did. God forbid I pass without proper attire or fresh underwear. There are no malls in purgatory.”
Mother’s jaw dropped.
I stared at her and she stared back, neither of us knowing what to say.
In all my years, I had never spoken directly to her like this.
“I have to go,” I said, extracting myself from the table. Her eyes followed me out of the solarium and up the stairwell. Back in my room, I tossed my pillow aside.
The cloth from Carrie’s dress was still there. My dreams had revealed nothing of its origin, though perhaps they were dulled by the pills. I picked it up, massaging it in my hand.
Talking to my mother had sparked a thought. Spirits didn’t possess physical clothing, so they certainly couldn’t shed it. If they could, Mother would have dropped her wardrobe months ago.
I pressed the cloth between my palms once more. It smelled like rain and lavender soap.
It may have been worn by a spirit girl, but the fabric was very, very real.
My phone vibrated and Dave’s name flashed across the screen.
Chat?
Can you come over? Alex made waffles. I’ll share.
Luv Alex’s waffles! Be there soon.
I pulled my hair into a ponytail, donned a simple dress, sandals, and new white gloves, then added a dollop of lip gloss and two swabs of mascara. It did nothing to disguise the bags under my eyes, but hopefully it brightened the rest of me.
I bounced down the stairs, smiling as I waved to Alex, who was juggling a syrup bottle and an orange juice decanter in one hand. Mother was gone now, though the scent of her perfume still hung in the air.
“Nice dress,” Alex said, his eyes suspicious.
“This old thing?” I said, reclaiming my earlier seat.
“Yeah, that old thing. It isn’t work attire.”
“Its waffle attire,” I said, nodding towards the looming stack on the table.
“Its smartass attire,” he said.
“Then perhaps you’d like to put it on?” I smiled sweetly, deepening my dimples. My brother sighed and retreated back into the kitchen, knowing he’d get nothing further from me.
“You’re back!” Mother’s voice sounded behind me like a trumpet.
“Mom, you’re going to send me to the emergency room one day,” I said, turning to glare at her.
“Sorry. I aimed for your table but I ended up back here. And don’t worry, I didn’t come to ask for an apology for the way you treated me earlier. I have a message for your brother - tell him his cat is at that old witch’s house.”
“Ella’s? How do you know?”
“I was visiting her last night. I get bored when you’re gone. She probably nabbed him for one of her moon rituals. Pure black cats work better after September.”
Alex reemerged with tofu bacon, jam, and free-range scrambled eggs. I relayed Mother’s news and he growled.
“We shouldn’t have let her in. She was casing the place. She took your rings and now she took my cat.”
“We have no proof,” I reminded him.
Alex called out to the air. “Mom, are you sure?”
The sunflower on her table dipped twice. “I did that without touching it!” she said. “Who knows what else I’m capable of?”
Migraines? Nervous ticks? Sleep disorders?
The list was endless.
Dave arrived and presented me with a bouquet of store-bought yellow mums. The card read “Lovelies for the Lovely.”
“I thought you were a writer,” I teased, arranging the bouquet into the plastic vase on my table.
“Oh? Not good enough for your highbrow tastes? Let’s see what else I got - Pretties for a pretty cute-girl? Daisies because you make me crazy? Mums because you numb me? No good, huh? Dammit, Baylee. I’m a journalist, not a greeting card writer.”
“And Hallmark thanks you.”
Dave took the chair beside me. “You sleep okay? I was worried when you darted off so fast last night. Sorry if I came on too strong. I plead guilty, but only because I was dazzled by your charms.”
“I’m sorry. I was just so… tired. I think I slept well enough. I can’t remember a thing.”
“That’s usually a sign of a good night’s sleep.”
“Is it? It’s been so long, I don’t recall.”
“Remember how I used to put you to sleep?” Dave asked, a mischievous twinkle in his hazel eyes. “I could try that again, if you’re restless.”
“Davie Cullins!” I said, looking around for Mother. Her physical form had vanished, but she could still be eavesdropping. “You’re embarrassing me.”
He propped his chin into his palm, resting his elbow on the table. “You should never be embarrassed about anything you’ve done. Work it. Live it. Own it. And get your mind out of the gutter, Baylee Scott. I sang you to sleep, remember?”
“Oh! I forgot about the singing! Forgive me?”
“Don’t apologize. At least you remembered the good stuff.” He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it.
After an appropriate silence, I broached a new topic. “I think my mother’s old spell book is hidden in this house somewhere. There might be a spell that can remove this ring.”
“It’s just so hard to believe your mother was a real witch. She was an enchanting woman, but I can’t imagine her standing over a cauldron.”
“She never even learned how to use the stove,” I agreed.
Dave smirked, but his eyes shifted back to my hand. “I bet it’s in the attic. Your father used to complain that she spent all her spare time there.”
“She did. She claimed she was sewing, but we never saw anything she actually made.”
I chewed on my lip, remembering. Mother would retire to the attic to ‘sew’ with a bottle of wine in hand. When she emerged, the wine was gone and she was in a better mood, but as far as we could tell, nothing was ever sewn.
“I suppose we should look up there. But isn’t this all a bit crazy? Witches. Magickal rings. Lights over Lake Ogie and disappearin
g women. Why wasn’t Reed Hollow more exciting when we were kids?”
“I don’t know. I thought it was pretty darned exciting when we were kids.”
Dave finished his apple while I mulled over the innuendo in his words.
“You’ve spent your adult years studying the paranormal,” he continued. “By its very name, none of it is normal. Besides, you yourself have a gift. It shouldn’t be that farfetched for you.”
“I should have kept the gift receipt. These hands do nothing but get me into trouble.”
“A little trouble never hurt anyone, provided it’s the good kind of trouble.”
He drank a full glass of orange juice in one swill, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Ah! I’m fueled up now. Let’s go look in that attic.”
Though Kela had managed to carve out a space for her “band rehearsal,” the rest of the attic was a mess, stacked to the rafters with old trunks and sagging cardboard boxes.
There were boxes marked “Stuff,” boxes marked “Good Stuff” and several others marked “Stuff We Can’t Sell.”
Dave and I spent the afternoon sorting through a small corner of Mother’s horde. We might have made more progress had I not been distracted by all my finds. Mother kept everything - photos, school projects, stick figure drawings. There were boxes filled with math homework, reading assignments, report cards and even my old diaries.
“Look!”I said, showing Dave a photo of a family trip. Alex and I had matching pixie haircuts, courtesy of Mother’s hairdressing phase. “We went to school looking like this,” I said, grimacing. “Fortunately, Mom picked up a new hobby shortly after these were taken.”
And so it went.
Each new unearthing came with a story, and soon we were sitting in the midst of an even larger mess. I was staring at one of our vacation albums, when I noticed Dave’s hand over mine.
“You okay?” he asked. “You grew suddenly quiet.”
“I miss it,” I said, my chest tightening. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss my family.”
He put his arm around me and pulled my head onto his shoulder, the album still resting on my lap. “I know you miss your parents. They were good people, but you still have your brother and your cousin. Hold on to that.”
I sniffled. He was right. Plus, I technically still had Mother around, too.
Still, it was sad knowing I would never have another argument with my brother in the back seat of the car, Dad yelling at us over his shoulder, while Mother declared we weren’t stopping for restrooms.
I hated family vacations then, but now I’d give anything to be in the back of that minivan again. I allowed myself a moment to wallow in the nostalgia. It was a foreign feeling, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Dave tapped my shoulder. “Hey, look!”
“You found the spell book?”
“Nope.” He handed me an envelope. “But look who this letter is from!”
“Carrie Brighton!”
He pointed to the post date. It was written a few months after Carrie left Reed Hollow. The return address read Oakdale, a town twenty miles away. And it had never been opened.
“Why would Mom keep this from me?” I pulled myself on to a trunk so that I could see it better in the dim light.
Dave shrugged and found an overhead pull string. An old bulb buzzed uncertainly, sparking to life.
“Sure, Mother was overbearing,” I continued. “But she adored Carrie.”
I fanned myself with the letter, my mind reeling. Why would it be up here? And if Mother didn’t want me to have it, why hadn’t she tossed it out? I looked around, hoping she’d appear.
“Need some water?” Dave asked.
“No. It’s just…this is so unexpected. I should open it, shouldn’t I?”
Dave tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “It’s your decision. I just found it. I dug around, but there weren’t any others.”
What were the odds that he would find a letter from Carrie in this mess?
I had once believed in the magick of coincidences. I was starting to again.
I pressed the letter between my palms, hoping to get a feel before opening it. There wasn’t a trace of emotion on the envelope, though it smelled vaguely of burnt lavender and sage.
“Mother must have smudged this,” I said.
“Pardon?”
“Smudging is a smoke ceremony, used to get rid of residual energy. She used to smudge every piece of furniture that came into the shop. That should have clued me in that she knew a thing or two about witchcraft.”
I squinted at the faded writing on the front of the envelope. Even with the overhead light, it was still too dim to read. I tucked it into my pocket and slid down from the trunk, taking a final look around.
“I’ll clean up later. A pity we didn’t find the spell book, but this is something.”
“Can I buy you dinner?” Dave asked. “I think we’ve earned a few extra calories, after all our treasure hunting.”
“That sounds nice. I could use some company tonight, for sure.”
We left the attic and headed down the narrow stairwell, single file. Halfway down, my ring flashed, glowing silver beneath my white glove. I started to stumble, and Dave grabbed my waist to steady me.
“I’m so dizzy all of a sudden,” I said. “I feel like something’s about to happen.”
“You’re safe. I got you.”
Kela greeted us near the landing, handing me my phone. “You just got a text, Baylee. You know I don’t like to judge people, but this gives me the creeps.”
It was from Laura: “Time is short. I sense another abduction coming. We need to talk ASAP.”
“Who is that?” Kela asked.
I reread the message. “Karma.”
EIGHTEEN
An hour later, Dave and I were sitting in Chip’s Diner, the air conditioner blasting us despite the brisk temperature outside. Laura Price sat across from us, massaging a cup of black coffee. There were new worry lines carved into her face.
“It’s only been a couple of days,” I said, after the same waitress refilled our coffee. “How do you know there will be another abduction?”
Laura planted her cup on the table and leaned forward, the tendons in her neck taut.
“I had a dream. There was a bright light outside my window and I felt myself being carried away. Now I fear I’ll be the next woman from Reed Hollow to disappear completely.”
“You called Baylee here because you had a dream?” Dave demanded.
“I called her,” Laura replied coolly. “Not you. And I believe this was more than a dream. I think it was a real memory.”
“With all due respect, Laura, sometimes dreams are just dreams,” I said. I inspected her more closely. UFO abductees often had reddened skin, as if sunburned. Laura’s face was pale. “Did you notice anything else unusual last night?”
“Like what?”
I bit my lip. I didn’t want to cause her unnecessary distress, nor create scenarios for her mind to latch on to, but I had to ask.
“This might be uncomfortable but... did your dreams involve an operating room? Do any of your body parts ache?”
Laura’s tense face smoothed into a pained smile.
“Are you asking if I’ve been probed?” She laughed, then slapped her hand on the table. “Not that I’m aware of. But if the little monsters did probe me, I hope they at least cured my infertility while they were in there.”
Infertility?
I tried not to show emotion, though my mind raced. There were reports of women losing their ability to conceive after a close encounter; and just as many reports of infertility being cured. My ring throbbed as if nudging me, and I remembered that moonstone was also used in fertility rituals.
Dave shifted in his seat, drumming the table with his thumbs. “So you have nothing? Unbelievable.”
“Dave…” Having had premonitions myself, I understood that dreams could feel very r
eal. I turned back to Laura. “I’d like to hear more. Have you had this dream before?”
Her eyes rolled upward as she tried to remember. “I had them as a little girl, but I never told anyone. My family didn’t like talking about the supernatural. We didn’t discuss monsters or magic or things that went bump in the night. We weren’t even allowed to believe in Santa Claus.”
“Have you ever lost track of time?”
“Every Friday night!” Dave hit the table with a pretend pair of drumsticks.
“Dave, please.” I touched his knee lightly.
“Sorry.” He put away his imaginary drumsticks and fell back against the booth.
“Continue,” I said to Laura.
She clicked her nails against her coffee mug. “There have been a few instances when I found myself in a place I didn’t remember going. Sometimes I would ‘wake up’ driving along an unfamiliar road. No injuries, thank God, but terrifying nonetheless. These incidents happened a long time ago, when I was in my early twenties. There’s been nothing like that since.”
“This next question isn’t meant to scare you, but I need to ask for clarification. Have you ever woken up to find a presence standing over your bed?”
“Like a ghost?”
“Perhaps.”
She gave an involuntary shiver.
“Yes. I have seen things. In fact, I’ve seen a lot of things - strange lights, waking dreams, missing time, missing people… and boogeymen at the foot of my bed. I’m crazy, aren’t I?”
Laura flagged down the waitress for another refill. The waitress filled the cup without comment but rolled her eyes as she walked away.
“Don’t mind Missy,” Laura said, nodding at the young woman. “I’ve known her since she was a kid. Pretends she doesn’t care about things. Thinks that makes her cool. Don’t you, Missy?”
“Laura has alcohol on her breath,” Dave whispered, while the woman’s attention was still on the waitress.
I nodded. I’d already noticed the faint smell of bourbon coming off her.
“Are you feeling alright?” I asked Laura.
Touch of Light: A Baylee Scott Paranormal Mystery (The Reed Hollow Chronicles Book 1) Page 13
