Potions and Pastries

by Bailey Cates

  “Katie . . .”

  “Is there?” I demanded.

  “Yes, there’s a woman who we use sometimes. But I don’t think—”

  “Just give me her name,” I grated.

  He sighed. “Dr. Alexandra Borlof.”

  “Alexandra Borlof. Thank you. Have a nice evening,” I said, and hung up.

  Declan came over and took the phone from my hand. “What did he say?”

  “The short version? My mommy called to complain that the mean detective wasn’t being nice to me, so I tried to explain, and now Quinn thinks I’ve gone completely nuts.” I went over to the bookshelf and grabbed a piece of scratch paper. “However, I have the name of a hypnotist, and she’s bound to be reliable if the police use her.”

  “Good idea,” Lucy said.

  I marched over and picked up the calming potion. “That man agitates the heck out of me. Even if I hadn’t almost wrecked my car, I’d want this now.” I downed the liquid in a few gulps.

  It hit me like a sledgehammer. As I staggered into the bedroom, I heard Declan ask Lucy and Jaida what else they’d put in it.

  “Nothing dear,” my aunt said. “Hedgewitches are naturally more sensitive to the herbs they work with. Oh, and our incantation was a doozy, too. Now, I’m going to call that hypnotist and make an appointment for Katie tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s a good idea, but what if she’s booked?” Declan asked.

  “Don’t worry. I can be very convincing when I want to be,” Lucy said.

  Before my head hit the pillow and it was lights out, I did manage to text Quinn the number my phone had captured.

  Prank call, indeed.

  Chapter 18

  Whatever Lucy had said, it worked, because when I awoke the next morning, I had an eleven forty-five appointment with Dr. Alexandra Borlof. I also had orders from Lucy not to come into work that morning, which was good because I slept in until the ungodly hour of eight o’clock. I didn’t remember ever sleeping that long. The closest I’d come was when Lucy gave me some magical seven-layer bars, again containing agrimony, but even then, I’d slept only seven hours.

  I took a leisurely shower. We ate a brunch of fruit salad and shrimp with grits on the back patio, and I read the Savannah Morning News. The whole thing. I didn’t get to do that very often, either. Steve Dawes had written his Downtown Savannah column on the gallery opening Bianca and Randy had attended, and I got a hint of what she might have paid for her “piece,” as she’d put it.

  It was a lot.

  “Cookie called after you went to sleep last night,” Declan said, turning a page of the sports section. “She has a place she wants to show us tonight.”

  The familiar feeling of loss bloomed in my midsection. “Okay.”

  “Only if you’re up for it. She didn’t know about what happened, and was going to pick us up at the Honeybee. I said I’d call her back if you weren’t feeling up to it, or if we wanted to go from here.”

  “Nah. We can meet her at the bakery,” I said, reaching for the comics. As I did so, I saw Declan watching me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You look nice,” he said.

  I glanced down. For once, I wasn’t wearing my work uniform of simple skirt and T-shirt. Instead, I’d donned linen slacks the color of caramel and an ecru silk-blend blouse that draped off my shoulders like a dream. It would have been terrible for trying to knead dough or roll out pastry, but seemed just the ticket for wearing to a hypnotist’s office. I wanted to look like someone she could take seriously, not some paranoid wacko who thought a mysterious hypnotist was out to get her.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “How do you feel?”

  I thought about it. “Kind of fuzzy.”

  He frowned but didn’t pursue it. We went back to reading the paper until it was time to leave for my appointment.

  • • •

  Declan insisted on driving. Sitting in his ginormous truck was like being on top of the world, looking down on the other cars around us. However, that was the only way in which I felt on top of anything. The episode the afternoon before had rattled me, and despite Lucy and Jaida’s tea knocking me out for several hours, I’d had bad dreams. Twice I’d awoken to find Declan sitting beside me, watching me like a hawk.

  No wonder he looked tired.

  Now he was taking me to see a bona fide therapist, and in my discombobulated state I felt apprehensive at the prospect.

  “Maybe we should just skip this,” I said. “I mean, I feel fine. Muzzy from that tea, but fine otherwise.”

  “Katie, you need to do this.”

  “I’m not so sure—”

  “Please. For me. I can’t be wondering whether you’re suddenly going to hear a whistle and drive off a cliff.”

  I was silent for a few seconds as that sank in. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Dr. Borlof’s office was in a friendly professional complex with a large open lobby. No one else was there, and we settled in to wait. The retro blue chairs looked like they could have furnished the set on a sixties sitcom. The pale pink walls first struck me as kitschy; then after a few minutes I realized how calming the color was. My level of agitation had halved by the time a woman opened a nearby door and came out.

  Her shoulder-length hair had been expertly colored and blown dry. Mascaraed lashes framed calm hazel eyes. She was dressed casually in jeans, a light mock-neck sweater, and desert boots. The smile that bloomed on her face when she saw us was warm and welcoming, and my anxiety ratcheted down another notch.

  “Are you Kate?”

  “Katie,” I said. “Katie Lightfoot.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Right. Sorry. I’m Alex. Let’s go into my office.”

  I took a deep breath and followed behind her.

  When she saw Declan coming with me, she paused. “I think we’ll be fine on our own.”

  “I want him there,” I said.

  She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it and nodded. “All right.”

  The office itself was small. The soft cream walls were covered with cheerful modernistic paintings in bright colors. There was a small desk in the corner, a sofa and an easy chair, and a table with a lamp, a clock, and a box of tissues.

  Declan and I sat on the sofa, and Alex sat in the chair. She held a small hardback notebook, but hadn’t opened it. A pair of half-glasses hung on a lanyard around her neck, and now she perched them on her nose and looked over the top of them at me.

  “I understand you got my name from Detective Quinn.”

  “Yes. He said the department works with you sometimes.”

  She nodded. “Mostly I work with the victim advocate, but I’ve also helped a few people remember hazy details from events they’ve witnessed.”

  “With hypnosis?”

  “Yes. Though mostly I use hypnosis in my practice in other ways. Habit reduction, stress management, improving focus—things like that.” She settled back. “Now, tell me exactly why you’re here. Your aunt said it was an emergency when she made the appointment.”

  I glanced at my fiancé. He gave me an encouraging nod, and I started with my story. I didn’t tell all of it, of course. I knew that if I said I’d nearly rammed my car into a cement buttress, it would sound like I was potentially suicidal. Which, of course, I wasn’t. And I couldn’t really tell this woman who knew nothing about me that I was pretty sure someone had hypnotized me, but that I had no idea who it was. Or that I suspected that the same person might have used hypnotism to kill Orla Black. So I stuck to the fiction Declan and I had talked about on the way over.

  “An acquaintance of mine was fooling around with hypnotizing a few of us. Like a parlor game, you know?”

  She frowned but indicated I should continue.

  “It was all very silly, and I didn’t think it had worked. At lea
st not on me. Then later that day, I found myself doing things that I don’t normally do.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “Like driving really fast. Reckless, really. I’m usually a very careful driver.”

  “She is,” Declan said. “Buckles her dog into the seat, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Anything else?” Alex asked.

  “Well, I meant to drive to work, but I ended up in another part of town. And I could kind of, you know, see what I was doing while I was doing it, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.”

  The therapist looked skeptical. “You think you were operating under some kind of posthypnotic suggestion?”

  “Exactly. So I thought I should come to an expert and get things sussed out. In my brain, you know? I don’t want that to happen again. It was scary.”

  A frown creased her brow. “I dislike it when people play around with hypnosis and don’t know what they’re doing. It can be such a useful tool. However, for the most part it’s harmless. Despite what you might have seen on television, you can’t hypnotize someone to do something they wouldn’t do anyway.” Her lips twitched. “It’s sure interesting to see what people would do anyway, though.”

  “Guess you’re a closet race car driver, hon,” Declan joked.

  I shot him a look. He offered an apologetic moue in return.

  “Let’s put you under and see if there’s anything to worry about,” Alex said in a brisk tone as she rose and dimmed the lights. She sat back down. “Close your eyes.”

  Panicked, I grabbed Declan’s hand.

  “It’s all right,” he said, and I heard a tiny lilt from Connell in his voice as well. For some reason, I found that comforting.

  Letting go of his fingers, I placed my hands in my lap. “No swinging pendulum?”

  She shook her head. “Afraid not.”

  I closed my eyes and waited.

  Alex began to speak very slowly. “Breathe deeply. In. Out. In. Out. That’s right.” Her tone was smooth and calm. “Allow my voice to wash over you. Allow yourself to relax deeply into the sofa cushions. Be aware that you are safe and at peace. You can open your eyes if you want, or you can keep them closed. You are in control over your own actions. You control what suggestions to take, and how they will benefit you.”

  Aware that Declan was sitting right there beside me, I let the tension flow out of my body. I felt myself drifting while at the same time anchored. A part of me acknowledged that this felt different from when I’d been driving the Bug like a madwoman. I knew I could stop whatever was happening to me at that moment if I wanted to.

  “Are you relaxed now?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Now we’re going to look for any hidden suggestions that have been left behind. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “All right. Do you sense anything? Can you see anything that might be a remnant of another time you were hypnotized?”

  “I don’t see anything.” I felt myself frown.

  “That’s okay. It’s possible there isn’t anything. Don’t force it. We’re just checking.”

  “Okay.” Then: “Wait. There is something.”

  Vaguely, I felt Declan shift beside me.

  “What does it look like?” Alex asked, still slow and calm.

  “It’s . . . it’s a box.”

  “Describe it.”

  “It’s small.” My hands came out in front of me, about six inches apart. “But it’s heavy. I can barely lift it.”

  “That’s fine. You don’t have to lift it. Just look for the latch.”

  I felt my hands moving. “There’s no latch.”

  “Is there a keyhole, maybe? Or another way to take off the lid of the box?”

  I shook my head. “There’s no lid. But there’s something inside.” I shuddered. “I can tell. It’s . . . not nice.”

  There was silence for a few seconds. “You’re sure there’s no lid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, we’re going to get rid of that box. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s a garbage can by your right foot. I want you to lift that heavy box and drop it into the garbage.”

  I lifted the box. It took some effort, but I managed to hold it out and drop it.

  “It’s in the garbage can now?” Alex asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Nicely done. Now I’m going to take the garbage away and put it out on the curb. I’m taking it away now.” A pause. “And now I’ve put it out on the curb. It was just in time, because the garbage truck is coming. Here it is. It’s stopping.” Another pause. “Okay, the men have loaded that heavy box into their truck, and they’re taking it away. Can you hear them leaving?”

  I nodded. The receding sound of the garbage truck was clear in my imagination, but I also knew there was, of course, no actual truck. That part of my mind completely understood what the doctor was doing, and I approved. Whatever that metaphorical box was, whatever it held, I was glad to be rid of it any way I could.

  “Is there anything else like that box that you can see?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I checked again. “Yes.”

  “Are you ready to wake up?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to count to five, and when I get to five, you will open your eyes and feel alive and refreshed and energized. One . . .”

  When she reached five, my eyes popped open. Declan was watching me with frank curiosity.

  “How was it?” he asked.

  I blinked. “Good.” I looked at the therapist. “I think it worked, too.”

  She smiled. “I think so, too.” Then the smile dropped. “Tell your hypnotist friend to stop playing around. And if they try to put you under again, just walk away.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, standing. “I will. Do I need to come back?”

  “Not unless it happens again.”

  I thanked her profusely and promised to sing her praises to Detective Quinn the next time I got a chance. Once we were back in the truck, I asked Declan if we could pick up Mungo and then go to the Honeybee.

  “Cookie’s not going to meet us there until four,” he said.

  “I know. I just want to check in on things. Make sure Iris mixes the sourdough levain right.”

  He rolled his eyes but turned toward the carriage house. “She knows that stuff by now. Plus, Lucy is there. I think you’re entitled to a day off once in a while.”

  “I’ll take one soon,” I promised. “Maybe we can go away for a few days.”

  His eyes cut sideways, then back to the road. “I’d like that, but I know better than to think that could happen while you’re in the middle of one of your investigations.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Sorry. I guess that sounded like I’m complaining,” he said. “I’m not. I get it.”

  I flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

  “So . . . what happened in there?”

  “It was actually quite pleasant. Like being in a calm trance.” I shuddered. “But that box was weird. I didn’t expect that.”

  “Yeah, the therapist looked pretty puzzled when you said there was no way to get inside of it.”

  I turned in the seat. “Really?”

  He nodded. “I think she made up the garbage thing on the spot.”

  I sat back. “Hm. I think it worked, though. I feel . . . lighter? Certainly like I got rid of something. But there are a couple of things that really disturb me.”

  “What she said about how hypnotism can’t make people do something they don’t want to do anyway?”

  My chin dipped. “Yeah, that’s kind of freaky. I mean, I’m glad. Otherwise you could have a bunch
of hypnotists getting ahold of politicians or making people commit random acts of crime.”

  “Like in The Manchurian Candidate.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Do you think something happened to you—and Orla—besides hypnotism?” he asked.

  My brow knit as I thought. “Actually, I think something happened in addition to hypnotism. Something that made it stronger or overcame that natural barrier people have against doing things they wouldn’t normally do.”

  “Something magical?”

  I shrugged. “The travelers, like other Gypsy clans, are said to have magical traditions. For all I know, they could augment a simple suggestion in a way that makes it an imperative.”

  “Like your Voice,” he said.

  I looked sideways at him. He didn’t bring it up much, and I was very careful about using it ever since I’d accidentally stopped his heart and breathing with a single word.

  “Yeah. Like my Voice.” I moved on. “The other thing that bothers me is that I remember every second of what happened in Dr. Borlof’s office, but I have no idea what happened at the Black compound. One minute I’d walked out of the O’Clearys’ door, and the next I was in my car. Whatever happened in between is still a complete mystery to me.”

  “Maybe that’s what was in that figurative sealed box you threw away.”

  “I imagine so. Now I kind of regret not trying harder to get inside. I’d have all the answers I need then. As it is, I can guess that one of the Black family tried to kill me with a posthypnotic suggestion, but I don’t know which one.”

  “Or maybe which ones.”

  I sighed. “Right. Heck, it could be all of them.”

  Declan put his hand on my leg. “Well, even if you don’t remember, I’m glad this trip to Dr. Borlof was successful. I couldn’t go through too many more nights like last one.”

  Weaving my fingers into his, I leaned against his shoulder. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

  He kissed my hair. “Only for the rest of our lives.”

  Chapter 19

  Declan was right, of course. Iris had the sourdough well in hand, and everything was operating smoothly. So at the bakery, I made a couple of sandwiches and poured sweet tea and grabbed Mungo’s leash. Then my fiancé and I spent the next three hours strolling through the historic squares and eating a picnic in Forsyth Park. It was a rare treat, especially after sleeping in, and when we went back to meet Cookie, I felt rejuvenated. Even Declan looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.