The Scariest Tail (A Wonder Cats Mystery Book 4)

by Harper Lin

  “No. Not totally. Remember that movie with the thing in the trees hunting those people in the jungle, and it reflected the light around itself to give the illusion of being invisible? That’s what we’re doing, except it’s more on a fifth vibration level instead of our normal planet-Earth, three-dimensional level. Get it?”

  I looked at Bea, who was nodding her head in agreement.

  I looked back at my aunt. “You may as well be speaking in calculus, Aunt Astrid. I’ll just take your word for it.”

  We also brought our felines to the house for added strength. Treacle had a sense that something strange was going on at the house but had been at Old Murray’s animal shelter being pampered and fed for the past twenty-four hours.

  After I had seen those black-eyed children peering in my house, I was worried about him. But before I could call out to him telepathically, he was calling me. I told him to stay where he was until I knew it was safe. He knew exactly where to slink off to.

  Now that all six of us were together at Aunt Astrid’s house, it was time to do what we had planned. The sun had yet to come up, but the sky was a beautiful gray with pink undertones. The wind had picked up, making the thinning tree branches wave their bony fingers a little to tug off any remaining leaves.

  Halloween was just around the corner, and people were decorating for the season. Some embraced fall with pumpkins, scarecrows, bales of hay, colorful gourds, and corn. Others went in the opposite direction with zombies crawling out of their flowerbeds and bloody ghosts hanging from trees.

  The more gruesome decorations didn’t bother me like they did some people. I knew regular people liked to be scared. The problem with being a witch was that I knew the things lurking in shadows were far worse than any rubber mask, but I couldn’t say anything to anyone. Like now. Sure, I could tell my aunt or I could confess to Bea that I was terrified to go to that house. And they would totally understand as they took my hand, and we went together.

  Just once, I would like someone to say don’t go or I don’t want you to go. I’m afraid you’ll get hurt. I’m sure I would go anyway, but it sure would be nice to hear someone say they were worried about me as much as I was worried about myself.

  “Okay, ladies. Are we ready?” Aunt Astrid asked.

  I looked at the coffee mugs on the counter. Each one was different. I took the one in the shape of a black cat, his tail forming the handle. I smiled as I looked at my feline, who jumped up on the counter and head-butted me some affection.

  But that went away quickly when I took a whiff of the dark concoction inside of my mug. “Oh, this doesn’t smell good at all.”

  “Well, you aren’t supposed to bathe in it,” my aunt replied. “You’re supposed to drink it.”

  “Gosh, Mom. I’m with Cath on this. I don’t know if I can choke this down.”

  “Fine.” Aunt Astrid raised her mug. The words Head Witch in Charge were written across it in cute lettering, above which was a svelte witch with big cat eyes riding her broom. “You girls don’t have to drink it. We’ll just go on over to that house and take a peek like we did yesterday and…”

  As if we were two children who had been told Santa wouldn’t come unless we ate our vegetables, Bea and I threw back the smelly liquid, gagging and choking after we swallowed it down.

  “Yikes.” Bea hacked. “That was horrible. Anything that tastes that bad has to be powerful.”

  “I think it was foot-flavored,” I said.

  Aunt Astrid drank hers just as quickly but didn’t complain nearly as much.

  “Now, you each need to put these on.” Aunt Astrid handed Bea a brooch made of dried wildflowers and small seed pods with a sterling silver swirly symbol on a mother-of-pearl base. She quickly pinned it to her shirt.

  She gave me a necklace with an opaque black stone that looked like an onyx in the center, surrounded by a plain silver frame.

  My aunt also had on a necklace that contained a large silver ball with etched swirls on it. I could hear it jingle slightly when she moved. There was something inside it, but I wasn’t sure what.

  “Okay, girls. Clasp hands. One last thing.”

  We did as we were told with our cats each at our sides as my aunt called to the four winds, to the elements of fire, water and earth, to the spirits of the trees, and our spirit guides from the other dimensions to come to our aid and protect us as we went on our journey to cause no harm and in turn, to not be harmed.

  We repeated her words. Then we each made a promise to the universe to leave things as we found them without disruption, corruption, or pollution. In return, we asked for the blanket of protection to allow us to pass easily from the Butternut house back home again.

  I had never heard this incantation before. But when we were finished, I felt the universe had accepted our terms and was going to allow us a safe passage. This was, after all, just a trip to look around. No harm in looking.

  It all sounded good on paper.

  Fleur-de-Lis

  “I hope we didn’t miss her,” Bea said as she pulled into the cobblestone driveway. “It’s only 6:37, and I don’t see her anywhere. She wouldn’t leave after seven minutes, right?”

  “Maybe she’s up by the gate,” I suggested, pointing ahead of us.

  Bea nodded and drove up to the wrought iron fence, but there was no one there. She parked the car, and we all sat there quietly, looking around.

  Within seconds of our arrival, a set of screeching tires and a loud honking horn tore up the driveway behind us.

  “That must be her,” Aunt Astrid said.

  We all turned to see a spotless white Cadillac come to a jerky halt. Without shutting off the engine, a woman as polished as her car climbed out.

  “I’ll go talk to her.” I quickly climbed out of the back seat.

  “Hello.” I extended my hand to shake. “You’re Chelsea, right?”

  Chelsea Plysberger was about my aunt’s age but at the other end of the style spectrum. She wore a very expensive tan pantsuit, her nails were impeccably manicured, her hair was a perfect shade of blond, and she wore a lot of makeup. Her lipstick indeed matched her fingernails. She smelled of a spicy perfume that was quite pleasant, and had we met under different circumstances, I would have enjoyed talking to Chelsea Plysberger.

  “Yes. You must be Miss Greenstone. I must apologize, Miss Greenstone. I have somehow overbooked my schedule.”

  She was rattling off her words at record speed, and I could barely keep up. Before I knew it, she was shaking my hand good-bye, handing me a key, practically jumping behind the wheel of her car, and backing out of the long driveway in what could have only been described as an almost hysterical manner.

  “What in the world was that?” Aunt Astrid asked, climbing out of the passenger side of the car.

  “Okay. We have the keys to unlock the gate and the front door.” I shrugged. “Mrs. Plysberger had double-booked her schedule and forgot she had a closing she absolutely had to be at and in fact was already late to. She said to leave the keys in the mailbox at the end of the driveway when we’re done.”

  My aunt and cousin were as shocked as I was.

  “I don’t think she likes this house,” I said.

  Bea and my aunt got back in the car as I unlocked the wrought iron gate. Flecks of orange rust came off on my hands. The heavy chains clanked loudly as I unwound them from the bars and set them off to the side along with the padlock.

  The gates screamed out a rusty croak as I pulled them open, indicating they hadn’t been opened in quite some time.

  Waving Bea through, I climbed back into the backseat of the car.

  “Okay. Here we go,” she said, slowly driving.

  From where we were, we couldn’t see the house. We drove a good distance along the winding cobblestone driveway and over a quaint wooden bridge that thankfully looked in good enough condition to support the weight of Bea’s Chrysler.

  “The cobblestone on this driveway alone had to cost a small fortune,” Aunt Astri
d mumbled.

  “I had that exact same thought myself,” I said.

  Finally, we saw the house. It wasn’t at all what I had expected.

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I was expecting a castle with a moat or something and Christopher Lee, peering out at us as lightning flashed across the sky,” I said.

  Bea chimed in. “Me too.”

  “I’m surprised,” Aunt Astrid said pensively.

  The house had a circle driveway, allowing us to easily turn around and head back the way we had come. In the middle of the circle was a beautiful fountain. It wasn’t working and had grown dingy from neglect. It featured a majestic lion head and the fleur-de-lis design at the top.

  But it was the house that was truly breathtaking.

  It was all white with four pillars across the front. Large floor-to-ceiling windows flanked each side of the massive dark wooden front door. The second-floor balcony stretched the entire length of the front of the house, and four sets of floor-to-ceiling windows divided it up.

  “It’s pretty,” Bea said.

  “Jeez, it sure is.” I shook my head in disbelief. “And Mr. Eshelman had to think he was the luckiest guy in the world to get this whole place for six hundred per month. My gosh, you’d be stupid not to move right in.”

  We both waited for Aunt Astrid to chime in, but she didn’t. She was studying the architecture as if she were looking for something. And indeed she was.

  “There.” She pointed up to the middle peak of the house. Etched in the molding was the image of an octopus. It was barely visible unless I was looking for it. “That shouldn’t be there. Not if this were just an ordinary house.”

  We walked up to the grand door. It was made of dark, thick, beautifully distressed wood that would be impossible to kick open. The knocker was also the image of an octopus.

  “Seems to be a reoccurring theme.” I pointed to the brass design. “What exactly does it mean? I mean, we know little black-eyed children didn’t build this place. So who did?”

  “Yeah, and what were they trying to do?” Bea asked.

  “It’s funny you girls ask. The records about this house drop off after the last two owners. Both of those people bought the place sight unseen. All the transactions were done electronically. It’s a very mysterious thing. Elroy Nabiski is currently paying the property taxes. He is a lifelong resident of Palm Beach, Florida.”

  “What connection does he have here in Wonder Falls?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” my aunt said. “When I tried to get a hold of him to ask him about the property—I mean, it is for sale, right?—he never returned my calls. You’d think someone trying to unload this piece of land for as long as he has would be jumping at the phone if they knew it was a perspective buyer.”

  “That is odd.” Bea looked around the property. “Look. Another octopus.” She pointed to the fountain I had admired when we’d first pulled up. I hadn’t even realized it, but octopuses were entwined all along the border of the design.

  I didn’t say anything else but looked at the keys in my hand. “You guys ready?”

  They nodded.

  Stepping up the cobblestone to the front stoop, I went to unlock the door. My hands were shaking just a little. “Aunt Astrid, I’m afraid your potion might be wearing off on me.”

  “It wasn’t a potion to remove fear, honey,” my aunt said. “It was a potion to enhance courage. Being afraid isn’t a weakness. It’s an alarm system. One that is very important.”

  Nodding, I turned the key, heard the giant click, and turned the knob. With the help of my shoulder, I leaned against the door and pushed it open. It groaned like the gate had, and some spiders were disturbed as their webs were destroyed.

  We all peeked our heads in. A collective sigh escaped us.

  I don’t know what we expected to find as we looked into the grand foyer. I knew in my mind, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see headless bodies or bloody entrails all over the floor. But we all shook our heads in shock at the beauty and brightness of the room. Beautiful mosaic tiles covered the floor, and the stark white walls were accented with dark wood crown molding. The stained glass designs on the windows gently fractured the light, leaving pretty designs on the walls and floor. On a sunny day, they would probably be prisms.

  “So, should we check out the whole house or just look for the heart?” I asked. My voice bounced back to me from the open, empty room.

  “I’d really like to explore this place,” Bea said. “I’m just so surprised at how beautiful it is.”

  “I am too. But no, Cath is right. We need to find what we came here for and then get out quick.” Aunt Astrid pulled a small dowsing rod from the side pocket of her skirt, held it up, closed her eyes, and whispered. Neither Bea nor I could hear what she was saying, but the rod lowered itself and began to pull her.

  Her eyes remained closed, yet she was sure of every step she took. She had no hesitation at all. She saw alternative dimensions and time periods at the same time when her eyes were open. I could only imagine what she could see when her eyes were closed.

  We followed her through what probably used to be some kind of receiving room. Past that, toward the back of the house, was a family room. The same floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto a back patio that showcased a vast array of beautiful trees. Even though they were void of all their leaves, they looked majestic and noble.

  “Those would make perfect climbing trees,” I said. No one answered me.

  I followed behind my aunt and cousin as the divining rod continued pulling us all toward what looked like a pantry. It stopped pulling there.

  My aunt opened her eyes.

  “This is the heart?” I asked, looking around the small room. “The gallbladder, maybe. Appendix? Possibly. But I wouldn’t call this the heart.”

  Bea pointed to the wall opposite us. “What is that?”

  “That’s called a wall, honey.” I bumped her with my hip. “This is like a pantry, except the kitchen is on the completely other side of the house. This doesn’t make sense.”

  “I see it, Bea.” Aunt Astrid took a few steps forward and put her hands against the wall. As she pushed hard, we all heard the click. And there it was.

  “A secret passage? No way.” I was shocked. “Good eye, Busy Bea.”

  It popped open, and we looked inside. I felt Bea’s hand in mine and was glad she took it.

  “That smells like your mom’s potion tasted,” I whispered to Bea, who nodded.

  “This is the heart. And it is black.” The words from my aunt did not sit well with me.

  I wasn’t sure if it was the potion or my own will, but I followed behind her as she stepped into the darkness. Again proving she was prepared for just about everything, my aunt pulled a flashlight from her pocket. When she switched it on, we saw stairs that led down.

  “Of course,” I grumbled. “Because we can’t have the heart of the house just be a walk-in closet on the second floor or even maybe a powder room in the main living room. Nope, it’s got to be way down deep in the dirt and dark underneath the house.”

  “Be thankful it’s cemented,” Bea said, squeezing my hand.

  “Yeah, I guess.” I listened intently, trying to hear if anyone was coming up behind us. The door we had just passed through stood open with daylight coming in. I took a couple more steps and looked back, expecting to see some terrifyingly deformed creature or a half-man half-mutant standing at the top of the stairs, glaring at us. But even in this weird crawlspace, if I listened hard enough, I could hear the birds singing outside.

  We continued with my aunt leading the way. I brushed my hands across the wall as we carefully went down the stairs, and I felt something familiar. A light switch. I flipped it on, and the greenish glow of an overhead fluorescent light brought an eerie illumination to the stairs.

  Both my cousin and my aunt jumped as they turned around to find me with my hand still on the switch.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.
” I looked up at the ceiling and around at the walls.

  “Well, I can’t say I’m not glad you found that,” my aunt said as we continued to inch our way further and further down.

  “How far down do these steps go?” Bea wondered out loud.

  They wound around and around in a spiral until finally, we saw the bottom. I almost wished we had given up before then and headed back up.

  At the bottom of the stairs was just a plain cement floor. There were no windows, no water heater, or boiler, or furnace, or fuse box like other basements had. That was because we were not in the basement. We were in the heart of the house. And right smack in the middle of the heart was a grotesque hole that also led down.

  “Don’t get too close to the edge,” I warned. “Aunt Astrid, what is that?” I pointed to the gaping maw in the ground. It looked sickly, if a hole in the ground could look sickly. But to me, it did. A crusty-looking gunk around the edges of the hole looked like spoiled cottage cheese. Where that spread out, there was black, wet-looking mossy stuff growing from it.

  The hole in the center was a darker black than I had ever seen in my life, as if I were looking into outer space, devoid of stars. The deepness and vastness of that darkness was almost as dark as this well or pit in the root cellar of the house.

  “That’s where it’s coming from,” my aunt said, cringing. She stood back against the wall, studying the room and whatever else it was that she saw.

  “It? What it? I thought it was them. You remember? The black-eyed kids? Them?”

  “Yes, I remember, Cath. But it is what lets those creatures in and out, a gatekeeper of sorts. And it is in there.”

  “So what do we do now?” Bea asked, inching her way closer to the hole.

  “Maybe I’m being paranoid, but Bea, could you please not get any closer to the edge?” I asked. “Bea?”

  She either didn’t hear me or just ignored me because she stood with one foot almost at the lip of the hole and the other planted behind her.

  “Come on, Bea.”

  Ignoring me, she leaned over and looked in.