Fatal Charm

by Linda Joy Singleton

  “What make of vehicle?” Grady asked.

  “It had happened so fast … I don’t know … white, four-doors, midsized, I guess. It was too dark and I didn’t see the license plate. Sorry.”

  “You have nothing to regret,” Velvet said kindly. “You were very brave.”

  “Foolhardy,” my grandmother criticized. “Sabine, what would you have done if you caught up with him? He could have hurt you! What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t, I guess … thinking.”

  “Well, I think you were wonderful.” Velvet squeezed my hand. “Thank you for trying, but I’m relieved you didn’t catch up with him. Anyone who could do such horrid damage is dangerous.”

  “This is awful,” I looked around at the destruction with a grim shake of my head. Broken cabinets, smashed candy, and shattered display cases. How could one person do so much damage—even with a bat—in such a short amount of time? And we’d been just a few rooms away! What if someone had interrupted him or he’d come after us?

  I wondered if this was random violence or the result of a grudge against Velvet. Was it revenge from a disgruntled employee, scorned lover, or ex-husband? I knew little about Velvet’s personal life. I had no idea if she’d been married, had children, or anything about her life before moving to Sheridan Valley. Her accent hinted at years spent in England, but she never mentioned any family and she lived alone.

  A sharp gasp startled me out of my thoughts.

  I looked up and saw Thorn pointing to the large front store window. The lovely painted design announcing Trick or Treats had been brutally scrawled over with large black Xs. And underneath the Xs dripped a bloody, red message.

  Just two words.

  Die Witches.

  Who could sleep soundly after a séance and vandalism? Not me.

  Spools of questions unraveled tangled knots in my head.

  Die Witches.

  I felt like I’d been raped with words.

  Vandalism was so vicious and senseless. All that destruction from hate—for what purpose? To spread more hate?

  Like that ever solved anything, I thought in disgust.

  I didn’t talk much about my personal beliefs, understanding that the things I experienced gave me a less-than-popular perspective on life and death. I’d found out what it was like to be ostracized and labeled a “Freak” once and didn’t want to go through that again. Besides I figured everyone was entitled to their own opinion—although it was hard not to get angry at close-minded people who considered séances evil. Our private gathering was as reverent as a prayer and hadn’t hurt anyone. It had been held in such secrecy that no outsiders should have even known.

  So how had the vandal found out?

  Had a member of the séance betrayed us?

  This thought was jarring and totally ruined any chance of my falling asleep. So I snapped on my lamp, found a notebook and pen, and then sat in my bed with the notebook propped on my folded knees. I glanced for reassurance at my night-light, an illuminated picture of a peaceful forest, and began to write names. There had been nine séance participants: Nona, Velvet, Thorn, Grady, three older women, a short man wearing glasses, and me.

  Well, I could cross myself off the list, and Thorn, too, because she’d told me she kept the séance a secret. Velvet might have invited some others who couldn’t attend, but I doubted she’d confide to anyone untrustworthy. Poker-face Grady would rather die than reveal any secret, so I eliminated him. That left the four people I didn’t know … plus Nona. I wanted to cross off my grandmother’s name, but how could I be sure she hadn’t told someone in a moment of forgetfulness?

  Looking at my list of names, all I saw were frustrating question marks.

  This was all Agnes’s fault, I thought angrily. If she’d come through tonight with the remedy for Nona, we wouldn’t have taken so long with the other spirits and finished soon enough to prevent the vandalism. Or we might have stopped him before he could do any damage.

  Why hadn’t Agnes come to help Nona? I’d been so hopeful, so sure that our ancestor would reach across time and worlds to save her great-great-granddaughter. But she’d let us down. There was little hope left, and Nona would ultimately sink into a slow death.

  I tossed aside the notebook and buried my face in my pillow. I couldn’t lose Nona … not in such a cruel way, the light dimming from her eyes as her memory slipped away. I’d done everything I could think of to help her, but it wasn’t enough. I felt so helpless. My dreams for her recovery were darkening into nightmares.

  If I couldn’t help the grandmother I adored, I sure couldn’t help a half-sister I didn’t even like. Douglas must be one crazy spirit. I was positive we’d never met—at least not in this life. If he wanted to get a message to Jade, he’d come to the wrong person. Even if I did want to talk with my half-sister (No way! Not ever!), I couldn’t ask her about rag dolls and knives. She’d think I was nuts.

  And she’d be right, I thought as I kicked off a heavy blanket. My pillow felt lumpy, so I pounded it with my fist, which felt really good. A punch for spirits that don’t show, for spirits that have impossible requests, for half-sisters that shouldn’t exist, and for fathers that lie.

  Anger exhausted to weary sadness. All I could think of was glass-shattered candy and the fleeing vandal. Who was he anyway? And why did he seem intent on destroying more than candy?

  Die Witches.

  Obviously not a Wicca believer.

  At first glance, I’d thought his message was scrawled in blood. But the gooey red liquid turned out to be cherry filling. He’d squished out his warning with a handful of chocolate-covered cherries—an edible death threat for the vandal in a hurry.

  When the police showed up, it was obvious they didn’t consider this a big crime. One cop even joked that we better not eat the evidence. They might have taken us more seriously if Velvet hadn’t washed away the Die Witches message. But before the police arrived, we’d discussed whether or not to tell them about the séance. As public record, the crime could be reported in newspapers or on TV and become really humiliating.

  The vote to wash away this telling piece of evidence had been unanimous.

  Then we came up with a story about playing an innocent game of cards in the backroom when the vandal struck. Even with my description of the scarecrow guy I witnessed running away, the police chalked it up to a kid’s prank and weren’t going to put much effort—if any—into bringing the vandal to justice.

  But this was far more than a childish prank. Hate this vicious didn’t go away. The vandal might do something worse next time. What if he attacked Velvet?

  Someone has to stop him, I thought.

  Only I couldn’t think of anyone—except myself and maybe Thorn. She was always up for a challenge and nearly fearless. But I wasn’t sure where to start or what we’d do if we did find the hooded guy. Without proof, the police couldn’t arrest anyone.

  I longed for advice—even confusing advice from Opal would have been welcome. But when I called out to her, there was no reply.

  Why wasn’t she answering? What was the use of having a spirit guide if she wasn’t around to guide me? She was probably off having fun—maybe hanging out with unreachable Agnes. While they were enjoying themselves, my life was falling apart.

  Thank you very much for nothing! I thought.

  Sinking farther under my blankets, I felt utterly alone. Why was everything so messed up? I’d thought my life would be perfect once I moved back with my grandmother. Instead things were all messed up. Nona’s illness was critical and now Velvet had a dangerous enemy. There had to be some way to use my psychic skill to help, but I couldn’t exactly hop over to the other side.

  Or could I?

  I remembered Velvet’s list of ways to contact the Other World: meditation, prayer, channeling, dreams, astral travel, and séance. Scratch off “séance” for obvious reasons. Meditating was great for relaxing, but even Opal didn’t come through that way. Prayer was more for giving gratit
ude, and dreams were too confusing. And forget channeling—after my scary experience with a haunted witch ball, I wasn’t going to risk channeling an unknown spirit.

  Some psychics could find answers in tarot cards, tea leaves, or even chicken bones, but I was still getting used to my psychic skills—like learning to ride a bike and wobbling on training wheels. While I understood concepts like astral travel (traveling in spirit form while your body sleeps) I wasn’t sure if I could do it. Still it couldn’t be that hard to make a quick trip over to the other side. I’d had a few experiences leaving my physical body and meeting spirits in neutral planes. I hadn’t gone all the way to the other side, but I’d gotten close. Each time it just kind of happened. Could I make it happen on purpose?

  One way to find out …

  I tried to remember what I’d heard about astral travel. First I needed to lie in a relaxed position and free my mind of earthly weight. Easier said than done! I closed my eyes and struggled to release negative thoughts.

  Don’t think of Jade or the vandal or Nona’s illness, I told myself. Visualize a wonderful, safe place on the other side.

  An image came to mind of a beautiful room bordered with colorful murals and comfy pillows scattered around a plush carpet as colorful as a field of wild flowers. A large picture window with an amazing view of a perfect green-blue ocean was open so I could hear the sweet lull of whispering waves. Complete peace and beauty, a place where there were no worries.

  Concentrating hard, I abandoned gravity and sailed away like an ocean breeze. I was filled with such a joyful sense of freedom. I wasn’t chained to a body, no longer weighed down by humanity. Lifting up, up, up, I floated to an edge of a steep cliff, as if pushing myself to make a choice to stay or go.

  I chose “go,” and I leaped forward. Instead of falling, I was flying! There were blurred places I didn’t know and dizzy images of shapes and others like me flying in soul. To stay focused, I thought of Nona losing her keys, Velvet’s smashed candy shop, and a red-haired rag doll pierced with a knife.

  There was a lurching sensation, as if I was tethered by a rope and jerked in a new direction; I swirled through air so fast I couldn’t think or feel anything except rushing movement. A high-pitched static surrounded me like a giant beehive. Then my momentum changed—spiraling downward, spinning and whirling, aiming right toward a solid wall. Only it wasn’t solid—or maybe I was the one without substance. Buoyed with curiosity, I slipped through the wall like vapor and hovered high in a ceiling above someone sleeping in a bed.

  Everything slowed, as if time hit a “pause” button, allowing my mind a chance to catch up with my senses.

  I was in a bedroom, weightless and lacking a solid body, floating above a girl whose head was half-covered under a pillow.

  Wow, this was cool—but scary, too. What if I was trapped in spirit and could never return to myself? I should go before it’s too late. Yet I kept watching the girl, fascinated by the faint rise and fall of her breathing. Such a familiar face … as if I looked at it every day in the mirror. Could she be me? Had I traveled so far only to arrive back at the same spot? How strange to be down there and also up here floating in the ceiling.

  Except the room didn’t look familiar—and there was no comforting glow from a night-light. So I had to be somewhere else, and the sleeper was someone else, too. She made a soft breathy sound, flinging an arm out and turning on her other side. The abrupt movement caused a pillow and cloth doll to tumble off the bed, landing down in shadows on a soft carpet. I could see the girl’s face now, and she did look like me, except the curl that fell across her cheek was red.

  Not blond.

  Startled, something seemed to snap my essence through the ceiling. Quicker than a thought, I swooshed through air—sucked upward by a giant vacuum. Static buzzed loudly in my ears and wisps of other souls flashed by in a kaleidoscope of colors.

  With a slamming force, I smacked into something solid. Gravity smothered me like a mountain of heavy blankets. I was back in my bed, trapped in a suffocating body. Gasping for breath, I bolted upright and grabbed a handful of my hair. Long and blond. Not red. I was in my own lavender room with a braided rug over the wood floor, a glowing night-light, and shades of lavender, not green and blue reflections of another personality.

  Even when things started to make sense, I could hardly believe it.

  I’d astral traveled over one hundred miles. But instead of finding Opal or Agnes, I’d found my half-sister, Jade.

  And I’d spied on her.

  Again.

  Nona slept even later than I did, so I didn’t see her before I left for school. I didn’t mind because avoiding any talk about last night made it easier to pretend it hadn’t happened. School was recess from my weird life.

  Josh met me at my locker and everything seemed okay between us. His dark eyes lit up when he saw me. Then he pulled me close for a “good morning” kiss. It felt comfortable being with him. He was so uncomplicated—things were either good-bad or right-wrong to him. It was tempting to lean against his dependable shoulders and pour out all my worries. But that would just complicate things.

  So when he asked how I was doing, I lied. Everything was fine—never better. When he wanted to know what I’d done last night, I shut out the memory of the “Die Witches” threat. I shrugged like my life was boring.

  “I played cards with Nona and some of her friends,” I said.

  “Your grandmother seems cool,” Josh said with an approving look. “It’s great how you hang out with her like a girlfriend.”

  “Nona doesn’t seem old to me,” I said with a wry smile.

  Josh smiled back. “I know what you mean. When I’m at senior centers, I get to talking to the residents and sometimes forget the age difference, they’re so interesting. Like this one woman told me all about driving alone to Alaska in an old jalopy before there were modern freeways.”

  I listened without saying much as I spun my locker combination. Josh always had something going on. It was cool how he could multitask so many activities: homework, school council, apprentice-magician meetings, and volunteer work.

  Today he was excited about a new project.

  “You know how I like to help kids?” he asked.

  I nodded, pulling two textbooks from my locker. When Josh was young, his older brother was in an accident, and Josh spent a lot of time in hospital waiting rooms. His only happy moments had been when the Amazing Arturo—a stage magician who volunteered regularly at hospitals—taught him magic tricks. When Josh’s brother died, Arturo took him on as an apprentice, inviting him into a secret society of professional magicians. Josh coped with his grief by performing some of these tricks at hospitals. Instead of wallowing in his loss, he used his new skills to help others—one of the many things I admired about him.

  “I just found out about a program where disadvantaged kids are paired with teen mentors on a weekend horseback riding campout,” Josh explained. “It’s called Hoof Beats in Moonlight.”

  “Very cool! Are you going to be a mentor?”

  “Yeah. It’ll be great to help with homeless and foster kids who have never ridden a horse or gone camping. Some live in terrible conditions and are lucky to get fed regularly. A weekend outdoors will give them a different outlook on life.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “A week and a half.”

  “Isn’t that Thanksgiving?”

  “Only on Thursday—and most of these kids will be celebrating in a shelter anyway. The campout is from Friday to Sunday. This will be an adventure the kids will never forget,” he added with shining eyes.

  When he was like this—idealistic and passionate—it was easy to get caught up in his energy. Emotions stirred in me, and I hoped this meant I loved him. I certainly loved being with him and I loved his excitement over helping others. He made me want to do good things, too; to be a better person. He was good for me—without the complications of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Lusted-After.

  “I d
idn’t know you rode horses,” I told Josh.

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he said with an exaggerated air of mystery.

  “Oh?” I raised a brow. “Like what?”

  “Magic stuff. You know I can’t tell you what goes on in our meetings.”

  “I’m not interested anyway. It’s probably the usual card and hat tricks.”

  “It’s way more than that. I’m learning illusions that would make you gasp. The society is all secret, but I can say it’s been freaking amazing. Grey has been teaching me some cool tricks. Some of the stuff is so unreal, I can’t figure it out.”

  “Maybe because it’s real,” I couldn’t resist saying.

  “Impossible. Magic is all illusion, and anyone who says otherwise is lying.”

  “Even the big stuff? Like when that famous magician made an airplane vanish?”

  “I don’t know how that was done, but Grey can explain any trick—usually science, clever machinery, or sleight of hand. Bodies aren’t sawed in half and people can’t really levitate into the air. Everything has an explanation.”

  I remembered Opal hinting she could tell me the meaning of everything. Maybe she could, but I was pretty sure that a stage magician didn’t have a clue. To hide my doubts, I turned back to my locker and rearranged stuff. Josh was still raving about Grey’s brilliance, and I was tempted to argue with examples of many things that defied explanation—ghosts, predictions, intuition, astral travel, and even love.

  But why shatter Josh’s beliefs?

  “If you want to practice riding, come over anytime,” I finally said with a slam of my locker. “Nona’s horses are kind of old but at least they’re gentle.”

  “Thanks. I may take you on up the offer—but not till I find out for sure.”

  “About what?”

  “If the campout is canceled.”

  “Canceled? How could that happen?” We fell into step, heading to the first period class we shared. “I thought the kids were eager to go?”

  “They are—but there aren’t enough teen volunteers. We have twelve kids to only eight mentors. Most people our age just don’t care.” He gestured around at everyone rushing through the hall; talking, laughing, and not noticing us.