by Morgana Best
Ruprecht rubbed his forehead, and when he spoke, his tone was solemn. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, Amelia, but you wouldn’t have believed us, if you didn’t see it for yourself. If only you had known Angelica. She would’ve explained everything. I didn’t think the house would change on you so soon. It’s only ever changed rooms before in the presence of experienced witches.”
I would have been flattered if I didn’t feel that I was barely hanging on to my last vestiges of sanity.
Ruprecht did not appear to notice my state, for he continued. “Now I must tell you that the house has two habits: firstly, it changes rooms in the presence of witches, and secondly, it frightens people it doesn’t like.”
“It doesn’t like?” I repeated with rising hysteria. “Are you saying that the house has its own dislikes?”
Mint and Thyme looked at each other again.
“The way it works is like this,” Ruprecht said. “If the house doesn’t like someone, the house will respond by closing its walls on its target. The only people who can see this happening however, are the victims.” He shot me a worried look and then added, “Well, ‘victims’ is too strong a word. They are unharmed, just frightened.”
“You mean scared to death?” I asked shrilly.
“Actually,” Ruprecht continued, “I shouldn’t have said the only people who can see it happening are the victims. If the house is really angry, we will see a hint of the walls closing on them, but not in a way that scares us. They, of course, will be terrified.”
I clutched at my head, and took a deep breath.
“I think she needs a brandy,” Mint said.
Thyme leaped to her feet and reached for an old, crystal cut glass bottle. She poured me a drink of the amber liquid. I snatched it and downed it in one go. My throat burned, and my eyes streamed. “What on earth was that?” I spluttered between coughs.
“Brandy, I hope. Right?’ Thyme looked hopefully at Ruprecht, who responded with something half way between a nod and a shrug.
My concerns about the house were now secondary to the awful scalding feeling in my throat. I was a wine person. I’d never had anything stronger than a dry white. “So you’re saying my house can just crush people with its walls if it doesn’t like them?” My voice seemed to come from far away, and was that two of Ruprecht I could see?
“No, it’s simply a scare tactic,” Thyme said, “but it will help us figure out which of the three men is the killer. The house should scare one of them and not the others.” She laughed, and I started to giggle. In fact, I couldn’t stop giggling.
Ruprecht, both of him, appeared to be speaking. “Yes, I believe our best bet will be to invite the three men to your home for what we’ll call a welcoming party. I’ll also invite a few of my own customers to make up the guest numbers.”
“Does that mean I have to cook?” I asked between giggles.
“No,” Thyme said solemnly. “It’s a party, not a witch burning.”
Chapter 15
Mint had given me a ride home, and when she left me at the front gate, I assured her that I was fine. I walked somewhat unevenly up the front path and managed to unlock the front door, and then turned to wave to Mint.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she yelled through the car window.
I waved in affirmation, and then shut the door behind me. I didn’t feel too well, so went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. I was light headed and dizzy. “I need some fresh air,” I said to Willow and Hawthorn, who sat looking at me, their heads on the side. “I’ll go for a nice walk around town. I think I’ve had too much to drink.” My speech sounded slurred, even to me.
The evening air was cooling, a fact that I noted, but did not register enough to take a coat. I had more trouble going down the front steps than I’d had going up them moments earlier. I sat on the bottom step and took a few deep breaths. The moon was rising in the east. It was full, and looked enormous coming over the horizon. I squinted and tried to focus my eyes.
I felt a little queasy, but nevertheless set off at a wobbly walk. I wouldn’t have liked to walk in the city after dark, not in the neighborhood where I’d lived, but everyone said that Bayberry Creek was a safe town. Most people didn’t even lock their doors. The town wasn’t safe for Brant McCallum, I thought, and I shivered.
I walked on and on, aimlessly. I didn’t feel any better, but then again, I didn’t feel any worse. I soon found myself in a more deserted part of town, right on its edge. Suburban rows of houses gave way to five acre lots, with the houses set well back from the road.
I now wasn’t sure where I was. I turned around and tried to head back to my house, but I wasn’t sure of the direction to go. It was darker away from the streetlights, and that didn’t help. I came to a football field, and cut across it.
There were thick trees on the other side of the football field, and they glowed with the lights of the town behind. I figured I must be heading in the right direction. I rounded a tree and saw a tall figure in front of me.
I froze with fear. I fought against the waves of blind panic that threatened to engulf me. The figure moved toward me. I was too scared to run, so leaned back against the tree, my hands behind me for support.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” a man’s voice said. “Are you lost?”
I was too frightened to speak, so I nodded. My breath was coming in short bursts.
The figure stepped closer to me and I cowered.
“Hi,” the tall man said. “I’m Alder Vervain. I’ve seen you around town. Amelia Spelled, right?”
“Yes,” I said, having finally found my voice. Someone who intended me harm would hardly introduce himself.
He stepped into the light, and a wave of fear washed over me once more. This was the man I had seen watching me at Angelica’s funeral, the same man I’d overheard Camino telling the others was parked in his car near my house one evening. Nevertheless, there was nothing threatening in his manner. “I’ll take you home,” he said.
I looked him up and down. Wow, he’s gorgeous, I thought.
Alder chuckled. “Thanks. Have you been drinking?”
Oops, did I say that aloud? I wondered.
“Yes,” he said with a smile.
I rubbed my head. That brandy must’ve been strong. I was saying things that I thought I was thinking. How embarrassing. “Ruprecht—or was it Thyme?—gave me some brandy and I drank it all in one go,” I babbled. “I feel a bit weird. I’m not much used to strong drink.”
He smiled again. “Obviously. Let’s get you home. You shouldn’t be out after dark.”
“Everyone says this is a safe town,” I protested.
“It most likely is,” he said, “but you should keep to the houses and the street lights. This is just out of town.”
I shivered, and he immediately took off his coat and draped it around my shoulders. His coat smelled smoky and sweet, of cedar and lime soap, masculine and attractive. I pulled it closely around me.
What was I thinking? Was I simply attracted to his overt masculinity? I was attracted to Craig, not to this stranger. Just then, I stumbled down the edge of the sloping road, and Alder caught my arm. He pulled me to him in an attempt to keep me on my feet. I was facing him; his arms were around me. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than for him to kiss me, and for an instant I thought he was going to. I raised my lips to his, just as his arms tightened around me, but then he pulled away.
I was mortified. I was lucky it was dark, as I was sure my face was bright red. Alder placed his hand under my elbow to guide me. His touch sent electric tingles down my body. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, and be against his muscular body once more.
What was wrong with me? If this was how I acted when I’d had too much to drink, I’d have to be careful from now on. Back to wine for me.
By the time we reached Salisbury Street, I felt almost back to normal. I expected that Alder would walk me to my door, so I was surprised when he stopped a few hous
es down. “I’ll wait here,” he said, releasing my elbow, much to my disappointment. “I’ll watch until you get safely inside.”
Was he afraid Camino would see him? Why didn’t he walk me to my door? I thanked him, and left, but with many questions that I suspected would be answered none too soon. I walked up my path, welcomed by the fragrance of the French lavenders and the buddleia trees, and perhaps, even the house itself.
As I fell into bed, ignoring the disapproving looks of Willow and Hawthorn, I realized that Alder’s coat was still around my shoulders. I smiled and snuggled into it as I fell asleep.
Chapter 16
Thyme and I worked to prepare the house for our guests. As it was spring, we were going to have the party out in the garden. Thyme had told me that the house could possibly take a dislike to anyone, and while the chances were remote that it would do so, we couldn’t risk it happening. At the same time, we had to lure the three murder suspects into the house. Apparently it was a given that the house would react violently to anyone who had committed murder.
I was growing somewhat accustomed to having a weird house. I was even growing accustomed to being a witch, although I still wasn’t sure what witchcraft actually involved.
I had not seen Alder since that night, and so had no opportunity to return his coat. I had been hoping he would come to fetch it. I did not like to ask the others where he lived, because they had spoken of him with mistrust. I was also somewhat embarrassed by my behavior that night.
Hawthorn ran over to me and purred. “What do you want now?” I said. “I’ve already fed you.” Willow immediately sat up from his perch on the windowsill and tilted his head, looking at me intensely. He then shot off toward the floor and ran right through my legs. I turned to see his tail disappear quickly around a corner. When I looked back at Hawthorn, I saw she hadn’t moved an inch.
Just as I switched the vacuum back on, Thyme walked out from the kitchen.
“How’s the food coming along?” I asked her, after I switched it off again.
She smiled. “It’s all going well. Ruprecht and Mint are outside with the first of the guests.”
Something occurred to me. “I know we want to keep them all out of the house, but what happens if they want to use the bathroom?”
“That’s fine,” Thyme said. “They can use the small powder room at the back of the house. I don’t think the house will mind that, even if the house doesn’t like them.”
“Great, that’s a relief,” I said, and then I realized I was talking about the house like I’d talk about a person. Oh well, that’s what Thyme and the others were doing. I shrugged.
“I hope you don’t mind that we said you shouldn’t invite Craig,” Thyme said. “Like we said, it wouldn’t be good if he saw a man running out of the house insisting that the house tried to crush him, what with him being your future boyfriend and all.” She laughed and gave me playful dig in the ribs.
I hurried to reassure her. “No, that’s fine.” How did I feel about Craig? He was good looking and nice, but I had never been overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. Perhaps that was simply because I hadn’t had a brandy shot first.
Ruprecht poked his head around the door. “Let’s go and meet your guests.”
We walked to the front of the house, where everyone was gathered and engaged in conversation. I didn’t really know many of the guests, not by name anyway. Thyme was passing around platters of food. As she passed us, she whispered, “Let’s see if we can separate the suspects and get them into the house.”
I nodded, and followed Ruprecht as he made his way to a tall, slender man with short black hair. “Amelia, this a customer of mine. Have you met Jason Mackay before?” he asked me, nodding toward the man.
“No, I haven’t,” I replied, shaking Jason’s hand. “Welcome to my home.”
“Oh, thank you,” the man replied in a gentle tone. He held a glass of wine in one hand and sipped from it happily. “So, how do you like the town?”
“It’s great,” I said. “Would you like to look inside the house? Ruprecht could give you the tour.”
“Thanks,” Jason said. I couldn’t tell if he really wanted to look inside the house or not, but he followed Ruprecht nonetheless. One down, two to go.
I took Thyme’s arm as she swept by with a food platter. “Okay, so Ruprecht is going to take Jason into the living room. Mint said she’s going to get Dermott Smith to discuss a book with her. We just have to get Bill Gafney in there,” I said.
Thyme nodded. “All in good time. Just mingle with the guests and try to act normal.”
“I’ll try to act as normal as I can,” I said.
I was engaged in conversation with an elderly lady, and trying to avert my eyes from Kayleen, the mail lady, who was doing a wild dance. At least, I hoped it was a dance. I hoped she wasn’t stripping. She was clutching one of the metal poles that held up the wisteria and gyrating around it. She seemed unconcerned that big blobs of purple wisteria had fallen into her hair.
Just as the elderly lady moved on to speak with someone else, Camino appeared beside me. “Who invited the mail lady?” I asked her.
“No one,” Camino said with a growl. “She always invites herself to parties.”
I was about to ask Camino if Kayleen usually stripped at parties, and what we could do in the way of damage control if she did, when there was a loud yell. All heads turned to the front door of the house. The door flung open, and Jason rushed out. Well, it actually looked like he had been pushed, and hard.
He tumbled headlong toward the stairs, and then did what liked like an impressive gym roll down them. He landed sprawled, face-first, on the lawn.
Camino and I rushed to him.
“What is going on?” he shrieked as he got to his feet, his eyes bulging.
“What do you mean?” I said in my most innocent tone.
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” he exclaimed. Gone was his gentle tone. “The walls tried to crush me and the doors were all locked!” he shouted. “What on earth just happened? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
I plastered what I hoped was a nonchalant look on my face. “Maybe you had too much to drink. Perhaps you just need some fresh air. Can I call a taxi to drive you home?”
“That’s a good idea,” Camino said, “but I’ll drive you home, Jason. Mustn’t drive under the influence, you know. You’ll be okay. The fresh air will make you feel brand new. Come on now.”
Jason took a deep breath. “Just hurry, please. I don’t know what happened in there, but I think something’s wrong with me.”
Camino took Jason by the arm, and he went with her meekly, clutching at his head.
Thyme ran over and pulled me to the side. “What happened in there?” she asked in a frantic tone. “Why did you bring him outside?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t. The house spat him out. My house really is haunted,” I said in a strained voice as I tried to rationalize the whole thing.
“No, of course it isn’t haunted!” Thyme exclaimed. “It just has a mind of its own.”
“Is he going to cause a problem?” I asked Thyme. “Though he does seems to believe that he had too much to drink.”
“No worries, everything will be fine.” Thyme smiled reassuringly as she stepped away from the window. She seemed awfully relaxed for someone who had just watched a house kick out a guest.
“How can you be sure?” I was not convinced. Getting closed in by a house like that? Suddenly finding himself locked inside? That seemed pretty hard to forget.
“Yeah. Like I said, the house has a mind of its own,” Thyme assured me with a wave of her hand. “The house will erase his memory. Many houses do that, but to a far lesser degree.”
I was shocked. “You’re joking, right?”
Thyme shook her head. “You know that thing where you walk into a room and totally blank out as to why you went in there?”
My jaw fell open. “You don’t mean…?”
“Yep. The
house’s doing. Whenever someone stumbles into something they aren’t supposed to, their house will erase their short term memory. Just like that! No matter how important it was a minute ago, it’s gone along with whatever else the house is erasing.”
“Seriously?” I couldn’t even bring myself to be surprised that Thyme nodded earnestly. I wondered if there was any truth to her wild claim. I had always wondered how I could completely forget why I had gone into a room. It never made sense to be after something important, only to find myself stuck wondering what I had been after. I had never imagined it could be the house’s fault.
Well, it had been a really enlightening day. My head was swimming with names and a blur of faces from the party. My house could pick and choose guests, and make me feel crazy. I didn’t know which was stranger. I was surprised that I wasn’t running down the driveway with my bag in hand already.
“On the bright side, we have our suspect,” Thyme said cheerfully. “That’s good, right?”
I nodded in agreement. No matter how unconventional this method was, it seemed to have done the trick. Jason Mackay had been expelled by the house. The house saw him as a threat. Perhaps this whole living house security system wasn’t such a bad thing after all. I could learn to get used to it.
“Ladies.” Mint peeked around the corner, waving us over frantically. “Could you join me for a minute?”
“Uh oh.” I frowned, wondering what had her in such a state. “Do you think someone saw something?”
“I hope not.” Thyme looked worried as we made our way back into the house.
“No kidding.” They were the only words I managed to say as I took in the scene in the living room.
“Oh dear.” Thyme gripped my arm, her eyes wide with dismay.
“Not good, not good, not good,” I stammered.
I looked with alarm at the slowly rippling walls and the shifting ceiling. What was going on? The house got rid of the bad guy, right? Why was it closing in?
I scoured the area, seeing both Dermott Smith and Bill Gafney. Dermott was pouring over the appetizers on the table, inspecting them one by one and setting them back down. Bill, on the other hand, was engrossed with his phone. He didn’t even notice the eerie creaking sound as the walls slowly buckled in his direction. I could almost swear that the creaking wood sounded like a low growl.
