by Dana Davis
“Thanks.” Ignoring instincts to flee, she stepped inside. As Scarlet shut the door behind her, Zoey flipped her sunglasses to the top of her head.
The tiny foyer led into a small family room. A couch and two overstuffed chairs sat around a fireplace. The retro coffee table looked like it came from a thrift shop and seemed to fit perfectly here. Atop it stood a silver tray with charming teacups. But where were her cousins?
Those are their cars out front. I’m sure of it. Not many in the valley drove a 1965, mint green VW bus.
She spotted two purses on the dining table just as Bridgette said, “We’re here.” The witch sauntered in from the kitchen with napkins. She offered a smirk, while Daisy, who followed behind with a plate of cookies, gave a friendly smile.
Just like the last time she’d seen the witch, Daisy’s rainbow-colored aura pulsed so lively Zoey could hardly tell where one color ended and the other began, and she fought the urge to stare. Bridgette’s aura wasn’t quite as brilliant and contained more red. Despite similar auras, the two witches didn’t look related. Bridgette’s height and thinness more matched Zoey’s stature, though that’s where the similarities ended. Daisy, at least four inches shorter, had short brown hair a couple of shades lighter than Zoey’s and healthy curves in all the places men seemed to like.
Was I supposed to bring something? She had stopped at the ATM for cash, like Daisy had instructed. Her cousin hadn’t said anything about snacks.
Bridgette eyed her. “You’re fine.” On closer inspection, Bridgette’s aura also contained a slight infusion of brown.
The witches put their burdens on the coffee table and exchanged quick hugs with Zoey. She thought about reprimanding her telepathic cousin on that eavesdropping habit but decided against it. She didn’t know Bridgette that well. Yet, anyway. And the redhead probably had a very good reason for listening. She took in a deep breath as she glanced around again.
A tasteful cinnamon color decorated the walls that sported several desert landscape paintings. Watercolors, from what Zoey could tell. She wasn’t that into art. The initials S. M. stood out at the bottom left corner of the framed piece closest to her. Did Scarlet paint? A colorful throw rug partially covered the tile floor, and cheery light filtered in through the patio slider. Everything looked clean, warm. Inviting even. No skulls, crystal balls or hanging beads. The closest thing she saw to incense was a scented candle on an iron stand in the corner. Mostly she smelled coffee, and she hoped the medium would offer some.
“Surprised?” Scarlet’s dark eyes bored into her.
Zoey glanced down at the medium and smiled, trying to cover any outrageous thoughts. Scarlet wasn’t a telepath like Bridgette but she felt self-conscious anyway.
Scarlet chuckled and shook her head. “For a paranormal, you’re pretty sheltered, aren’t you?” One hand motioned to a chair.
Zoey moved to sit. “Actually, yeah.” She dropped her purse on the rug near her feet, as her cousins took the couch, both looking amused.
Scarlet eased into the remaining chair and studied Zoey with that intense gaze a moment before pouring the fragrant liquid into cups. “Hope you like coffee. I don’t drink anything else.”
It was Zoey’s turn to laugh, though partly out of nervousness. Just put it right out there. Say exactly what’s on your mind, Scarlet. She wondered if directness was a medium trait. No, not just mediums. She fought the urge to glance at Bridgette. “Hot, cold, doesn’t matter. If you could hook me to up to it intravenously, I’d take it that way.”
Scarlet smirked. “Good. Good.” She handed her guests each a cup and offered a generous display of sweeteners and flavored creamer packets in a silver bowl.
“Thank you.” Appreciative, Zoey took one chocolate and one hazelnut packet and poured them into her cup, followed by a sugar pack. No one spoke for several minutes. They simply sipped the liquid caffeine, giving Zoey time to slow her heartbeat and savor the delicious flavor. “This is really good.”
“Thanks. I grind my own beans.”
I should get a grinder. Why don’t I have a grinder? Hell, I don’t even use the one at the grocery store. Maybe I should try that sometime. Her thoughts threatened to take her brain on a swift escape and she reeled them back in. Scarlet set her cup on a sandstone coaster and tugged her sleeve down, but not before Zoey noticed the scar along her wrist, more prominent than the pale ones that ran across Daisy’s palms. So, being a medium is as unnerving as it sounds. She caught the woman studying her, probably waiting for her to comment about the scar or suicide or something. If I had her job, I’d probably want out too. Any way I could get it. “Really good coffee.” She took another drink.
The medium narrowed her eyes. “So, why’re you here, Zoey Vega? Daisy didn’t give me much, except to say you’re an important paranormal.” That sounded like an accusation, but Daisy simply watched Scarlet and sipped her coffee with a calm exterior.
Probably not a lot bothers her after kicking a skinwalker’s butt. Zoey began to feel very naïve with these three women. Two kick-ass witches and a scary-as-hell medium. Halloween should be so interesting. She let out a breathy sigh. “I don’t feel important. I feel—well—screwed.”
Scarlet offered a sympathetic smile. “You’re not a medium. I would’ve heard about you.”
“No.” Thank the universe for that little favor. She swallowed hard. Down to business. The Catcher box had no objections so she went ahead. “I’m a Dream Catcher. The Dream Catcher.” She prepared to explain what the title meant.
“That sucks,” Scarlet said.
Zoey froze an instant then let out a laugh, dispensing some of the tension in her body. Her cousins chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it. Shit, I don’t even know the half of it. I only found out a few days ago.” Had it been only days? From the way Connie talked, Zoey didn’t think anyone outside their jobs knew about them, even relatives. Daisy hadn’t known. I lived with one and didn’t know. “Guess the dead don’t keep many secrets.” Great for me. I hope.
Scarlet snickered. “The dead gossip like old women in a knitting circle.”
So that’s why the box didn’t object to me telling her. The affirmation sounded in her head.
Daisy snorted and leaned forward slightly, as if she were suddenly very interested in the medium. She leaned back again and said, “You got that right.”
That drew a smile from Zoey and she relaxed even more. Scarlet must’ve developed a very tough constitution over the years to keep a sense of humor after the things she’d seen, or heard. I still have no idea how a medium works. Guess I’m about to find out. Up close and very personal.
Scarlet smirked. “Mediums know a lot about paranormals, even those who try to hide.” Her amusement faded as she focused on Daisy. “Sorry I didn’t see that skinwalker fellow coming.”
The witch flinched before she waved a dismissive hand. “You were a little busy at the time.”
Scarlet’s eyes grew distant for a moment. “Yes.”
Zoey had a yearning to inquire about that but forced herself to mind her own business. She didn’t make friends easily, especially with women, so it was nice to have her cousins in her life. And she didn’t want to jeopardize this budding relationship. In fact, she regretted not getting to know them sooner. They had sent flowers when her aunt and uncle died. Daisy and Noah had attended the funeral and brought food, even though she hadn’t been hungry at the time. According to Daisy, witches learned to cook right from the cradle. An exaggeration, surely. But, boy, could that woman make delicious meals!
Scarlet sniffed. “So. You want me to contact dead Dream Catchers?”
No contacting certain relatives was a biggy over there. Made it too hard for the dead to move on or some such shit. Isn’t being dead moving on enough? Knowing the answer, Zoey still said, “I don’t suppose you can call on my Aunt Mena? My mom’s sister.”
“You’re a smart girl. You already know I can’t do that. What about a grandmother?”
“Yeah
. But first—” She paused in case the box had an objection. Again it ignored her. Interesting. “Have you ever heard of the Anguisher?” To her surprise, the medium nodded. Zoey explained her situation, while Daisy and Bridgette seemed content to simply listen. They both knew this part already.
Scarlet poured more coffee for each of them. Zoey might need several cups if the medium’s nervousness was any indication of how shocking things could get in the world of the dead. Or was she rattled by mention of the Anguisher? A cool breeze caressed Zoey’s neck and her heart did a back flip—a ten, if she were getting judged—and just for an instant, the image of a ghost touching her popped into her head. Until logic took over. Scarlet’s air conditioning had kicked on, the vent aimed at the seating area.
To cover her edginess, she took a long swig of coffee, savoring the rich flavor. It helped. “I need to know about the underworld, Scarlet. I need to know what I’m up against.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips, now half-barren of pink lipstick. “I work with the dead. But I’ve never seen the underworld.” Zoey’s shoulders dropped. She’d been afraid of this. “In fact, I wouldn’t want to see it.” Scarlet’s eyes glazed as though reliving some long-ago memory. A disturbing one from the frown that creased her forehead. She shook herself from her reverie and focused on Zoey again. “I can’t tell you much.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
A sympathetic smile crossed Scarlet’s lips. “You’re not a medium. There are things in this world—and others—I can’t speak of.” A hand stayed Zoey’s next protest. “Even to the Dream Catcher. I’ll contact the other side for you but I’m not promising anything.” She leaned back into her chair. “That’s all I can do.”
“Fair enough.” Fair enough? Shit. None of this is fair. Why do I have to be a fucking Pandora? Where the hell is my mother? She should be here doing this damn job. And training me. Stupid woman. Maybe I can wish her to come home. Her chest tingled as though a cobweb brushed against it. No. Not possible to put my will on others that way. I don’t have that kind of power. Bridgette’s gaze bored into Zoey’s skull, leaving no doubt she’d heard those thoughts. Amazingly, Zoey didn’t care. “Um, mind if I use your bathroom before we start?” She still had to pee and the coffee didn’t help.
“Down the hall.” Scarlet flipped a hand toward a doorway behind her.
“Thanks.” There was only one way she could turn in the hall, which explained why the medium hadn’t been more specific. She stepped in and shut the door. The narrow window let in plenty of light so she ignored the switch on the wall. It looked like any ordinary bathroom in any ordinary house. Except for the sheet that covered the entire mirror. She’d heard about the dead using mirrors to contact the living, a portal or something between the worlds. That served to creep her out, so she hurried to do her business and scooted back out to her cousins, where she felt a tad safer.
When she stepped into the family room, the women stood and began clearing the coffee table. She followed their examples and helped.
Daisy caught up with her in the kitchen. “You ready for this?”
“Yeah. I think. Yeah. I don’t have much choice.”
Those kind eyes found hers and Daisy smiled. “We’re right here with you. I promise not to let any spooks take advantage of you.”
That broke her sour mood and she smiled. “Well, if he’s a really cute dead guy…”
Bridgette strode up behind and put a hand on her shoulder. “That’s my girl.” Those thick lips twisted into a smirk.
All joking quickly aside, they moved back into the family room and settled into their respective seats. Despite Scarlet’s assurance that she could ward off a hitchhiker, Daisy and Bridgette cast protection spells. Zoey really didn’t want to know anything about hitchhikers. She had enough problems with the Anguisher. So she kept her mouth shut.
Anguisher. Hitchhiker. Where the hell did we come up with these titles anyway?
Bridgette snickered. Zoey gave her a sly smile before focusing on Scarlet. The medium sat with eyes closed and a frown creased her forehead. She uttered something Zoey couldn’t understand. Latin, maybe? Did anyone speak Latin anymore? Scarlet peppered the foreign language with Zoey’s name. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
After a moment, the medium’s head began to rock back and forth and her speech grew slurred. The blackness in her aura grew until it extended about two feet from her body and snaked out toward—something. Zoey couldn’t see what, but she guessed the afterlife. The sight unnerved her and she thought about running for the nearest exit. Bridgette glanced her way but she ignored the witch. The air changed, became charged with what she could only describe as major static, and every hair on her body stood on end.
Holy crap. What’d I get myself into? She studied the medium, who now looked as though she were sleeping, and jumped when those probing eyes opened.
“Incoming,” Bridgette uttered.
Zoey’s heart picked up speed as a figure, who stood about as tall as Bridgette, materialized in front of the television. The figure, a woman, wore a long riding skirt, a white linen blouse and cowboy boots. Her hair was done up in a loose bun and a straw hat hung down her back. A silver wedding band encircled the ring finger on her left hand. She wore no other jewelry and no makeup that Zoey could see. She looked just this side of thirty with a pretty face, prominent cheekbones and thin nose, similar to Aunt Mena’s features. She had no aura at all.
Well, now I know how to tell the dead from the living. That thought made her want to pee again and she shoved it away.
The figure crossed her arms a moment and scanned the room. No one spoke. Zoey held her breath. Gray eyes focused on her and recognition sparked a smile. “Hello, great-granddaughter. I hope you’re well.”
Zoey let out her breath and offered a nervous smile as she now recognized the face studying her own. Not her mother’s mother, but close enough. At least they had contacted the correct family line. What was this one’s name? She envisioned the family tree from Daisy’s book and a photo from her aunt’s old albums. Oh, yeah. “You look great, Grammy Helen.”
The woman slapped palms against her skirt. “Oh, this. Well, I was at a party.” In an instant, the young woman morphed into an elderly grandmother. Her riding skirt and blouse changed to a blue polyester pantsuit that smacked true of the 1970s. She’d lost a couple of inches in height and gained a bit of girth, as well as a pair of bifocals. She still wore her hair, though white now, in a loose bun. From what Zoey remembered of the genealogy chart, Helen would’ve been about a hundred years old at that time.
Relaxed a bit more now, Zoey smirked. “You still look great.” She hadn’t known this woman but already liked her. She began to wonder why she’d been so afraid of this whole contacting the dead thing. Then she glanced at the black aura around the medium and envisioned Scarlet’s covered bathroom mirror. There are more things in heaven and earth, Zoey Vega.
“I see Mena taught you to be polite to your elders.” Helen smirked. “Where’s your mother? I thought she’d change her mind and show.”
So, the dead did keep up with things on this side. “Sorry, Grammy. I don’t know where she is.”
Helen let out a string of curses that caused Zoey’s eyebrows to climb.
“That’s a mouthful,” Bridgette said with respect.
“I’ll say.” Daisy looked more amused than surprised at the old woman’s language.
Zoey had no idea women even knew such words back then, let alone a little old grandmother. Of course, her knowledge of the 1970s mostly came from television reruns. And Carol Brady would have never uttered such words. She smiled. Grammy must’ve been a real pistol, as Uncle Alex would say. In fact, Zoey was surprised she hadn’t seen a gun strapped to the woman’s hip when she’d appeared in her earlier youthful visage.
Helen’s eyes flamed in their wrinkled sockets. “I might just take up haunting your mother when I find out where she’s hiding.” Even in death, she revealed pow
er that had nothing to do with being a paranormal. Zoey certainly wouldn’t want to get on her bad side. “Might give her a tannin’ too.”
Zoey smirked. Definitely don’t want to get on Grammy Helen’s bad side.
In the time it took Zoey to blink, the old woman changed back into her youthful image. She stepped toward Scarlet and leaned down to study her face. She whistled. “So you’re the medium I’ve heard about. Mind if I keep you on speed dial?”
Scarlet sighed. “Sure. Just don’t go bothering me when I’m sleeping or in the bathroom. I hate that.”
Helen stood straight and crossed her arms. “I might’ve been raised on a cattle ranch, but I’ve got more manners than that, young lady.”
Zoey caught Scarlet’s strained smile just as Helen turned toward Daisy and Bridgette. “You two have been up to quite a bit lately.” She cocked her head to one side. “Anything new you care to share with me?” Despite her youthful appearance, Helen acted very much like a woman who had seen and done things in her life Zoey could only imagine.
“Just what have you heard over there, Cousin Helen?” Daisy said. “Been yackin’ it up with Gran?”
“You watch your tone with me, girlie. I was old before you were born. Hell, even before your mother was born, for that matter.” The glint in her eyes didn’t match the scolding tone and Daisy chuckled.
While this family reunion was nice and all, Zoey grew impatient. “Grammy Helen. I’d like to know about the box. Where did it come from? Who made it?” And why the hell did it pick me?
Grammy focused on her. “Well, no one knows exactly who made it, since it was so long ago. That information is obscured even from this side. But it’s been in our family for generations upon generations.”
Figures. Even when I’m dead I won’t get the answer. She fought a sigh.
The ghost turned her attention on Daisy. “Your mother is very proud of you, you know?”
The witch opened her mouth but didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she smiled. “Tell her I miss her.”
