by Etta Faire
James Hind tugged on his graying mustache, watching the housekeeper’s every move, his eyes darting around the room. He was about the same age as Henry, a good 30 years older than Richard and Feldman. He shook his head “no” to Mrs. Harpton when she offered to pour some whiskey into his cup, then as she was turning away added, “I guess a bit wouldn’t hurt.”
Henry laughed again. “Hurt? Just a bit will make us a bit more hospitable toward each other.”
Feldman took a sip of his coffee. It burned his bottom lip and tasted kind of like the way I pictured Windex tasting. But he didn’t seem to mind either problem. “A little more, my dear, and I don’t mean the coffee” he said as Mrs. Harpton poured more whiskey into his cup.
Twenty minutes later and no one was asking for coffee any longer. “I’ll just have a spot more of the hydration, please,” Richard said, making everyone laugh.
“So, tell us again why your nanny is sitting in on the proceedings today?” Feldman asked.
Eliza rolled her eyes and sifted through the papers, grabbing a blank piece from the stack.
Henry unbuttoned his vest and let himself take a deep breath. He looked a lot like Theodore Roosevelt. Same round glasses and thick belly. “She was my nanny in New York back when Marjorie and I had our first daughter, Henriette. I was away tending to business quite frequently, so Marjorie was thrilled to have her. In addition to being a very fine nanny…”
“A fine nanny that no one sees with any kids,” Feldman chimed in, making the others chuckle, which at this point in the hydration-cycle was pretty easy to do. I could feel the burn in Feldman’s eyes, the same stinging sensation I felt at the bar when he’d had too much to drink there as well. “Where are Marjorie and the kids, anyway?”
Henry tugged on the stiff hairs of his light brown mustache. “Visiting relatives in New York…”
“You would think Marjorie would’ve wanted her nanny with her for that,” Feldman said.
Henry went on like he hadn’t heard the comment. “Eliza stayed behind because she is also a very good secretary. And this is a very important meeting.”
“Shall we begin?” she asked, pen and paper ready.
“A nanny is going to take notes on this meeting?” Feldman said. He was slurring his words now. And the room had long grown foggy for us. “You don’t have to lie, Henry. We’re all here cause we know each other, straight down to the core. You’re James’s witness to the signing. Him being a bird and all, no bear’s gonna believe a word he says without having a human witness. And vice versa for my boy over here, the bear.” He motioned to Richard. “So why don’t you cut the crap.” He paused like he might be losing his train of thought, but managed to pick it back up again. “And tell us the truth.”
Eliza cut him off. “As the only sober person in the room, I am here to make sure all the conditions of this treaty are spelled out on paper and signed by all.” She licked a finger and sifted through the notes in front of her, finally pulling out a couple identical maps of Potter Grove. Her posture was much better than mine. She sat straight as a pin, legs properly crossed at the bottom. “This is the proposed splitting of the parcel known as Potter Grove. There is a copy for both parties. As you can see, it’s really quite fair. The main concern for the birds is that their Sacred Grounds be preserved. And the main concern for the bears is that all other terms of the past also be preserved. They won the war, fair and square so it would be good to avoid another one…”
“She’s pretty high falutin’ for a nanny,” Richard said, looking her over from head to toe, making me want to punch the man out.
“I think she looks like she’d be a fun girl. I like fun girls,” Feldman said, reaching across the coffee table to grab Eliza’s skirt.
She smacked his hand. “And I like respectful men with dignity.”
“Then what are you doing hanging around Henry Bowman?” Richie said. The way he said “hanging around” implied more than hanging around, and he elbowed Feldman to make sure he’d caught on.
“I’m sure you gentlemen are the top of your clans,” she said.
“They wouldn’t have sent us if we weren’t,” Richie replied. “Huh, James? Best and brightest.”
James shook his head at Richie and Feldman, obviously annoyed with the young “riffraffs” in the group. “Let’s sign this treaty and get this over with.”
“Of course a bird would be interested in getting this over with, but what about the bears? We are in a better position, my friend. So much so, I was sent here with one question. Why on God’s green earth would we want to sign a piece of crap?”
“Please stop being so obtuse. If we don’t sign, we risk another war,” James said, matter-of-factly.
“We ain’t the ones worried about that,” Richie said.
“With larger birds this time,” James went on.
“We destroyed some pretty large ones last time.” Richie lit a cigarette without asking if it was okay to do so, and Mrs. Harpton quickly came into the room, not to tell him to put it out, but to bring him an ashtray. Nowadays, she would have thrown both cigarette and smoker out the front door.
“And some more hooch too,” he said, motioning toward the bottle. Mrs. Harpton obliged without changing her expression, even though I could tell the woman was thoroughly annoyed.
“And Henry,” Richie said. “I heard through the grapevine that you weren’t exactly the upstanding businessman you claim to have been when you were back in New York.”
Henry steeled his eyes on the man and Eliza shook her head at Henry.
“She calls the shots a lot for a nanny. You know what I think? I think she was one of your girls.”
“What girls?” James asked, suddenly interested in something more than leaving.
“Oh you didn’t hear, huh?” Richie went on. “I heard Henry Bowman owned a lot of brothels in New York, houses of ill-repute, working girls that were worked to the bones, so to speak.” He got up from his spot on the couch and sat down next to Eliza on the settee. He scooted in closer, and she looked away. “But she don’t look so bony. She your favorite? I heard they used to dance too.”
Henry stood. “That’s enough. I have no idea where you got your information from but I can assure you, it is far from the truth.”
Richie looked to Feldman and James. “We know what’s what. And we want to see a dance. Don’t we, fellas? Right now. And if we don’t get it, we ain’t signing.”
“I think you’re pretty far from signing now,” Eliza said. She bent forward, gathered the papers together into a neat stack on the coffee table. “Perhaps another time when you’re not so well hydrated.”
“Order your nanny to do it, Henry, or I’m walking out right now. And I ain’t coming back. Now or ever.” Richie’s eyes were beady and red as they fixed on Henry’s.
Eliza stood and Henry nodded to her.
“Henry, you of all people know I won’t attempt to stop this. Indeed, you know very well I can’t stop you from going down a crooked path. But remember, all paths have destinations.”
Even James perked up when she said this, sitting on the edge of his seat. “Does that mean you are about to do this?”
“I will oblige, but only after you all realize what you are entering into. It will be a contract of a different kind. One you cannot back out of. If you go down this crooked path, you will not be able to return. You will be entering into a generational curse.”
Richie laughed heartily. James did too, only under his breath.
Eliza was not fazed. “Maybe I can explain it better with a fable. Perhaps you are familiar with the fairy tale from the Brothers Grimm about the dog and the sparrow? It was originally published in German, so perhaps not. Der Hund und der Sperling?”
They all shook their heads. “And if you make me listen to it now, I’m gonna need another drink,” Richie said. Eliza motioned to Mrs. Harpton who got up even quicker than when Henry beckoned her to do something.
It was like watching myself in a home movie,
something I was never comfortable with. My voice. My mannerisms. The awkward way my hand hung down when in a relaxed position. It was weird and uncomfortable.
Eliza’s face brightened, which actually looked just like my face, as she spoke about the fairy tale. “In the story, a dog and a sparrow became friends. The dog, having been mistreated by his master, was very hungry and needed food. The sparrow helped him find some. But in a most criminal way. They stole food from many shops, and the dog prospered from this immensely. When he was full, the dog grew tired and laid down to take a nap in the road. Not long after he fell asleep, a man driving a horse-drawn cart headed straight in the dog’s direction. Although there was plenty of room around the dog, the man in charge of the cart decided he shouldn’t have to move. He should be allowed to go wherever he pleased.”
The men all sipped their drinks, with bored chuckles.
Eliza continued. “Of course, the sparrow tried to stop him. She yelled to the carter, ‘Stop! Or it will be the worse for you.’ The carter looked at the sparrow and laughed. ‘What harm can you do me?’”
Richie leaned forward. “Look, lady, save it. I know you’re trying to tell us all about the power of birds, that birds can kill, or whatever. But the bears won the last war. And we will win any other wars. We’re stronger and smarter than the birds.”
James coughed, furrowing his eyebrows.
Eliza went on, her voice pleasant, cheerful almost. “You’re missing the point of the story. I’m merely reminding you that no one has control over your actions except you. I can only tell you what will happen if you continue on your crooked path. The path heading for needless death and destruction after you’ve been duly warned to turn away from it.”
“Yeah, Richie. You’re forgetting all about that curse.” Feldman smiled. I could tell by the way his lip spasmed just a little, he believed Eliza more than he was letting on.
Eliza continued. “But I’m not finished. Don’t you all want to hear what happened to the man in charge of the cart?”
Richie rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. The bird killed him.”
“I suppose in a way, she had a hand in it,” she said. “Because she kept warning him that ‘thy cruelty shall cost thee thou life yet.’ But once again, she had no control over the actions of others. In the end, the carter instructed his wife to kill the sparrow, and while the woman was trying, she ended up killing her husband instead.”
“A surprise ending. Great. And now that we’ve all been duly warned in the most random and pathetic of ways about something no one here knows what the hell it’s about, let’s get on with the peep show. Or I am quite certain this shall cost thee thy lives yet,” Feldman said, trying to make his voice sound ominous.
Eliza turned to us. Looking deep into Feldman’s eyes, like she was seeing right through them to me on the other side of his consciousness, she said, “Sometimes, when you think you’re in control, you’re not. And vice versa, I’m afraid. Never forget that.”
Was she talking to me?
Feldman’s lip spasmed again.
“Feldman,” I yelled in my head. “I don’t want to see the rest. I know what I look like naked, and I know what’s going to happen next. Take me home now,” I demanded in my most confident and controlling voice.
He didn’t respond.
“You have a camera, right, Henry,” the Feldman in the memory said. “ A rich man like you has to have a camera. I think this is a moment we’ll want to remember.”
I will not see the rest. I will return home now.
This time, I was telling that to myself, and not to Feldman. I was the one in control.
I focused in on Feldman’s breathing in the channeling. In and out. In and out, all the while picturing myself on the couch in my time, looking at my wallpaper. Finding my own breath, searching for my own clock noise.
I let my mind go blank as I searched for the familiar in a stream of darkness, of whiteness, of the flickering of dark and light that happened to my eyesight whenever I had hallucinations. I reached for that.
That’s when I heard it. My clock, softly ticking away.
I opened my eyes and blinked around my living room. It was dark now. The air seemed heavy and thick. Looking to my left, I saw Justin slumped over, asleep on the couch beside me, his phone timer buzzing in his hand. I turned it off and snuggled into him, sniffing at the faint scent of cologne along his neck, kissing him softly.
I was home. And I was back in control. Or was I? Sure, I had won one of the battles. I was pretty sure I could get myself out of the channelings now, but I needed to win the war.
I needed my ex- husband back at Gate House and Feldman out.
And I still couldn’t believe I needed that first part.
Chapter 21
Openings
I woke to the smell of eggs and bacon. Items I didn’t even know were in my fridge. I got up from the couch and shuffled my way into the kitchen where Justin stood over the stove, spatula in one hand and my “Kiss the Cook” apron draped across his broad chest.
I kissed the cook on his scratchy cheek then leaned against the island.
He motioned toward the pan. “My big apology breakfast. I’m not exactly sure what happened last night. I must’ve fallen asleep as soon as you did your seance thing.”
“Channeling,” I corrected him.
“I never heard my alarm, which is weird because I never have my alarm set to vibrate. And I never fall asleep right after dinner, not even on Thanksgiving.”
It wasn’t something I was going to try to explain to my skeptical boyfriend, but I was pretty sure it had been Feldman, stronger than I ever gave him credit for. He must’ve somehow put my boyfriend to sleep and put his phone on silent in an attempt to show me just how in control he was.
But he’d actually done me a favor. “So, you never saw me mumble or drool?”
“Darn,” Justin said, playfully snapping his fingers. “I missed the best part.”
He poured some scrambled eggs onto a plate and handed it to me. I grabbed a handful of bacon from the paper-towel-lined area on the side of the stove and sat down at the dining table, not even stopping at the sink on my way.
Normally, after a channeling I am so thirsty I just run the tap water straight into my mouth then hobble around in an achy state. And that thirst had grown even stronger whenever I’d channeled with Feldman. But not this time.
I took a bite of my eggs and moved my neck left and right. A little stiff in the shoulders, but overall, I felt pretty good. And not even a tiny bit parched.
Maybe in the other channelings I’d given up too much control, not knowing what I was doing with the ghosts. I was pretty sure that hadn’t happened last night. Or not as much.
Justin took the spot next to me, and again we sat in silence. There were so many things I wanted to talk to him about, like the meeting I overheard at George’s barbershop with what I believed to be bird shapeshifters. But then, he was a bear shifter, so I didn’t think it was an appropriate topic to discuss.
I also wanted to get his take on the Donovan-led task force to find Bobby. I had no idea what could possibly have been the motive behind that.
But, we never talked about things like that. Not a word about the grouse pin or if there were any leads on Bobby. I was just about to rip the bandaid off once again and point-blank ask him when he pointed to my answering machine.
“Light’s blinking,” he said, like he knew he should change the subject even though I’d only just opened my mouth.
With no cellphone coverage at Gate House, I had to rely on old-school technology to get by: a landline and an answering machine. Still, very few people called me here unless it was an emergency, or they were my mother. I hurried over and clicked the button.
“First unheard message,” the automated voice said before the beep.
“Carly, pick up. Where are you? Carly! Carly, pick up!” It was Rosalie, her tone unusually frantic. “Louis wore my special demon-protecting rings into the base
ment last night. He’s in the hospital now. Ohhhhh, damn it. I feel so damn guilty…”
She ought to feel guilty. Those rings weren’t meant to do anything except line her pocketbook, and we both knew it.
I grabbed my purse and fed my dog on the way out as Justin kissed me good-bye.
The hospital was right in the main part of Landover where businesses and shops still spanned out, most already displaying beach towels, anchors, and lighthouses in their window store fronts. Now that we were in spring and expecting our bread-and-butter tourists at any minute, we all needed to be ready to pounce on their money.
The hospital was a weird contrast to the rest of the area with its generic orangish red bricks and decor that was little more than a flag out front.
Just the kind of roach motel you’d expect to never leave from.
I tried not to think about that as I made my way through the sterile-smelling hallways that would always remind me of my grandmother.
In her last days, my mother and I visited her every day after she caught pneumonia. Funny, even as she laid there dying, machines doing most the breathing for her, I thought she was going to make it. That she’d be home soon, complaining to my mother about how it’s not good to put too much salt in everything, especially because it made her feet swell.
As a medium, I knew my grandmother was still here. All I had to do was ask her to come talk to me, and she’d probably hang out for a while.
Thing is, I never did this. I guess with some people it’s enough just having them there. Plus, I already knew I used too much salt. And my career was going nowhere. And I probably should stop “with the dead people, already.”
The hospital room was quiet and it smelled a little too much like pee mixed with the chemicals designed to mask the smell of pee.
Mr. Peters lay in the bed asleep, tubes all up his nose, his face half covered in bandages. Rosalie stood by his side, wringing her hands together.
“What in the world happened?’ I asked her as soon as I entered.
