by Harper Lin
“Well, all I can say is that Mom has been very busy today. When she came home, I thought it was going to be a day of unwinding balls of string and perhaps a sprinkling of catnip.” The cat looked at me with a serious face. Her tongue stuck out to lick over her pushed-in nose then retreated back into her mouth. “There was no fun at all except for the different pages I got to sit on all day. That has been fun.”
I smiled and petted her gently so as not to disturb the stability of Marshmallow’s book perch.
“You girls look a lot more like your old selves,” my aunt said, barely looking up at us as she picked up a huge book I’d never seen before.
“What in the world is that?” I asked.
The book was about two feet long and six inches thick. It was so dirty and worn that I could barely make out the lettering and symbol on the front.
“It’s the Gloklad,” My aunt said, hoisting the mighty thing on top of her dining room table, which was already sufficiently covered with a number of puny books. “So far, it’s the only book that has anything remotely like a solution to our black-eyed children infestation and their pet land kraken.”
“We saw them.” Bea moved some books to the floor and sat on the very edge of Aunt Astrid’s cozy loveseat. “They were checking us out at the café. But when we looked away for a second, they were gone.”
“I don’t know. They’re kids,” I said. “Maybe all they need is a good spanking and sent to their dimension without any souls. Maybe that will teach them not to be so nasty.”
Okay, yes, it was corny, but part of me couldn’t help but feel we were being punked by a couple of prepubescent, multi-dimensional juvenile delinquents.
“So, they thought they’d pay us a visit, did they?” Aunt Astrid asked. “I think we’ve really poked a hornet’s nest by going to that house.”
“We had to, though. Right?” I asked. “I mean we couldn’t just let them continue, could we?”
“Absolutely not.” She flipped the big book open and began to run her finger down the columns of descriptions, which were written in the most extreme calligraphy I had ever seen. “Now, what this says is exactly what I thought. Our little visitors are a type of vampire. Except, instead of sucking the blood of the living, they feed on fear—terror to be exact. There is something about that particular human response that they will break through the dimensional barriers to get, especially at this time of year.”
“And what about the creature in the basement, secret room thing?” Bea asked, a shiver going through her body.
I would still be shaking if I had been in her shoes. She nearly dove into that thing’s lair and looked right into its face, whatever that might look like. Her hallucination could have killed her. I wondered how close one of those tentacles had come to wrapping around Bea’s ankle. Now I was the one shivering.
“That is the gatekeeper,” Aunt Astrid said. “And whoever built that house originally invited that thing to take up residence there.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Because, according to this book, that creature can only become flesh if it is summoned. Otherwise, it drifts through dimensions much like it would if it were a real octopus grasping food as it drifted alone.”
“Why would anyone want that thing in their house?” Bea asked.
“When they called on the darker forces for help, that was what answered. People just assumed it would get them what they wanted. But, what so often happens with people blinded by that kind of greed, they didn’t realize there would be such a heavy fee. And even suicide won’t guarantee the person will be paid in full.”
“That makes me mad,” I said. “So because of that, we now have to risk our lives to close the door they opened? That hardly seems fair.”
“But just think of Mrs. Roy,” Bea said. “She lost her husband because of those ‘children.’ I almost lost Jake to that. Mr. Krueger was just a guy. They almost got Min, and who knows what kind of damage was done to that Shawn Eshelman fellow. He lived there. It was probably only a matter of time before he did something.”
My aunt searched through her book until finally she found what she was looking for. “It isn’t fair. But we have to stop this. If we don’t, then you can bet every year around this time, Wonder Falls will be plagued by a rash of suicides. Those beasts will go unchallenged, and their powers will grow. Then, any hope of ever stopping them might be gone for good.”
Bea and I looked at each other. This was serious.
“We need to gather our strength,” Aunt Astrid said. “I’ve found an ensemble of spells that combined, I think, will give us the best chance of defeating this evil. But…”
“Oh, jeez. Of course there’s a but,” I said. “But what? Do we have to drink blood or cut off all our hair or sacrifice a pinky toe? What?”
My aunt had stopped searching in her book and looked at me with her eyebrows pursed together as if I had just suggested we all soak our feet and heads in a bucket of water at the same time. “The process will take us about three days to prepare.”
“Three days?” Bea asked. “What about the café?”
“We’ll have to run it in shifts. I’ll open, you take the noon shift, and Cath can close,” Aunt Astrid said. “We’ll just have to do the best we can.”
“Do we need any supplies?” I asked.
“No. I have everything we’ll need. I think it would be best if we got started right away.”
I really had all the faith in the world in my aunt and her plan. But something inside me tugged hard, and the following words spilled right out of my mouth before I could arrange them tactfully.
“But you put a protection spell on us before and, well, Bea almost did the swan dive into a bottomless pit. And I saw…well, um, I saw it all happen. What makes you think this one will be different? I mean, what if they can see through it and do the same thing?”
The look my aunt gave me was not harsh or hurt. Instead, it was as if she knew something, the same terrible something I had seen but hadn’t admitted. I blushed.
“You’re right, Cath. That didn’t help us too much.” Her eyes had a way of letting you know she wasn’t just looking at you, but she was seeing half a dozen other things around you. But her smile was just for me. “However, now that I’ve seen it, I know what it is. And I can tell you, the shift in the astral plain has already begun. I can see its fear in a thousand different ripples in the dimensions. I can sense its anger. And any being that exudes that much negative energy must be scared of something. It can only be us. And that gives us the upper hand.”
She went on to explain her plan. Fasting. Chanting. Smudging. There was a whole list of things we each needed to do at certain times of the day and night in addition to running the café as if there was nothing going on.
Not Human
That first day went off without a hitch for everyone except me. When I came into the café to relieve Bea, I found Darla sitting at the counter in my favorite spot where I liked to look out the window and people watch when things were slow.
Bea saw my shoulders slump the minute I saw Darla. She gave me a look that said, “Sorry, but what could I do?”
Pretending I didn’t see Darla, I stepped around the counter, grabbed an apron and a rag, and started wiping down the empty tables.
“Hi, Cath.” I heard a voice and looked all around to see who said it. “It was me,” Darla said meekly, waving at me as if we weren’t sworn enemies.
I could have just said hello back and smiled, taking the high road. But I didn’t. Instead, I looked at her as if she had just handed me a toad from her purse.
“Can I get you a refill?” I asked, letting annoyance drip from each syllable.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you,” Darla said. “It’s kind of important.”
It was a setup, I was sure. But curiosity killed the cat, and satisfaction brought him back, so I set my dirty rag down next to her designer purse and folded my arms in front of me.
“I know
we haven’t always seen eye to eye on things, Cath, but…”
Haven’t seen eye to eye? I couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. This may have sounded harsh to someone who wasn’t bullied in high school, but if only those black-eyed children could have found their way to Darla’s house, they would have been angels in my book instead of scary little devils who needed to be exorcized.
“…do you think you can introduce him to me?” Darla was asking.
“Introduce who?” I snapped back into this surreal and awkward reality.
“Blake Samberg. He’s your cousin’s husband’s partner, right? I mean, since Jake Williams is married…”
“Not that that has stopped you before.” For a moment, I felt horrible those words had tumbled out, but then I didn’t.
Her eyes narrowed, and I saw a flash of the old Darla I had known since high school. This was an act. “I was hoping you could introduce me to him.”
“Introduce you to Samberg?” I felt myself start to choke. “Why would I do that?”
Darla rolled her eyes as if I had just asked the most unreasonable question ever uttered.
“Because I asked you to? Because I’m an old friend, and we’ve known each other for years? Maybe that’s why?”
I looked over at Bea who was busy untying her apron, looking down. I could tell by her body language that she was trying not to laugh.
“Oh, is that why? Well, let me think for just a minute when I’ll see the detective.” I picked up my rag and went back to wiping down the tables.
I heard Darla mutter something to Bea. Bea muttered something back, but I didn’t turn around until I heard the jingling bells over our front door as it opened and closed.
Whipping around, I snapped my hands to my hips and looked at Bea. “She’s got some nerve,” I hissed, watching Bea shake her head in disbelief.
Darla represented a part of my life that Bea was all too familiar with, and she knew full well that unless I had a gun pointed to my head, I wouldn’t jump to help Darla out. I especially wouldn’t help her sink her fangs into Blake. She wasn’t his type at all.
“She definitely asked the wrong person about Blake Samberg,” Bea said, quickly stepping around the counter, smirking.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” I asked, my cheeks turning red.
“Good night, cuz. I’ll see you this evening at Mom’s.” And out the door she went without a second look at me.
Thankfully, the afternoon and evening rushes were lighter than usual. It was just a few days before Halloween, and I assumed people just weren’t in the mood for coffee or pumpkin spice lattes.
I took out a couple of our paper placemats, turned them over to the blank sides, and began to doodle to help pass the time. Kevin was busy like he always was, whistling while he worked, and keeping to himself as he began to prepare for the next day’s menu.
For a second, I thought of going back to talk to him. But the few times I had tried, he’d just smiled happily and gave me yes and no answers to my questions. I got the feeling he may have thought I was lonely so he tolerated my chitchat. The truth was I just didn’t want him to think I was rude. Like Jake says, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. So I left Kevin in the back while I drew a picture of Treacle.
As if on cue, I heard the back door open and close. Kevin left it open to keep it cooler back there. The ovens were intense and heated most of the restaurant when the temperatures started to dip. But we didn’t mind him leaving the door open for some fresh air.
Treacle slinked his way through the door and hopped up on the counter.
“Where have you been?” I asked, scratching his head.
“Just around. The mice are heading indoors. It’s making me mad.”
“Well, if you’d come home more often, I’m sure you’ll catch some in the garage or in the basement.”
He sniffed the air, looking toward the door. “What is that smell?”
“Darla was here. Maybe that’s the stink you’re picking up on.”
“No.” He began to tense. “It’s not human.”
Before I could ask him another question, he arched his back and hissed at the glass café front door.
There they were. They weren’t across the street this time. They were right up against the door, staring in. Two little black-eyed children with plain clothes and pasty skin.
“Let us in,” one of them said in a weird voice that sounded more like an echo than the voice of someone right in front of me.
It was like a spider creeping up my spine as I watched the children just staring in at Treacle and me.
“Let us in for eating,” the other one said.
The words bounced around in my head like some low-frequency vibration, making the fillings in my mouth throb.
“Cath,” Treacle said. “The back door is open.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head, and just then I realized I didn’t hear Kevin whistling anymore.
Treacle jumped off the counter and stood at the front door. He hissed and growled deep in his gut as if daring them to set foot inside the café. I ran around the counter and burst through the swinging kitchen doors to find Kevin standing at the back door with his arms raised as if in surrender.
“Kevin!” I shouted as I ran and grabbed him by the collar of his T-shirt, yanking him back into the hot kitchen.
“What!” he shouted as he lost his balance and fell backward, reaching for a stack of plates and pots that came tumbling down with a crash.
I didn’t look at him until after I had slammed the door shut. “Outside!” I said breathlessly. “The kids!”
“What kids?”
“The black-eyed ki… the kids in the neighborhood.”
“What about them?” Kevin asked. “Jeez, I think I broke about ten plates here!”
“Oh, uh, they’re coming to the doorways of some of the businesses and throwing eggs.”
“Really, Cath? I thought you were taking a grenade explosion for me. Yikes.”
“I’m so sorry.” I reached down to help Kevin up.
He smiled that same kind smile he always did. “No worries. I’ve got a good bit of padding.” He patted his gut.
“Oh, no. I’m sorry I scared you. Look, it’s so slow. Uh, just let me check the front door, and you can head on home. I’ll clean up this mess.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, just wait here one minute.”
I went to the front of the door and saw Treacle casually licking his paw. “They are gone,” Treacle said. “I don’t think they like cats.”
A deep sigh of relief came out of me, and I went back into the kitchen after grabbing my share of tips from the tip jar.
“Here.” I handed Kevin the few dollar bills I had gotten. “It’s not a lot, but it’ll fill your tank with gas. Maybe get you some fast food.”
“That’s not necessary, Cath.”
“No, it is. I guess I just don’t know my own strength,” I said, trying to chuckle.
“Well, I would have never guessed a tiny thing as pretty as you had that kind of muscle. Remind me not to get on your bad side. But if I ever need a bully put in their place, I know who to call.”
This was the most conversation I had ever had with Kevin. I started to laugh as I walked him to the front door. Treacle stepped out of the way as I opened the door.
“See you tomorrow, Cath,” Kevin said cheerfully.
“See you tomorrow, Kevin.” I locked the door behind him but waited to make sure he made it to his car, had the lights and engine on, and was pulling away before I went back into the kitchen.
I looked at the broken plates and toppled-over pots and pans. “Thank goodness the stoves weren’t on,” I muttered. “I could have really gotten him hurt.”
“But you didn’t,” Treacle said. “Just a few broken dishes. I’ll help you clean.”
Treacle’s way of helping me clean was hopping into one of the big stainless steel pots and making himself comfortable as he w
atched me clean up the broken glass.
After about twenty minutes, I was finished. There were no traces of the chaos that had just taken place, and with the exception of one pot that would need to be washed after my cat had sat in it, everything seemed back to normal.
I locked the café up tight, and with Treacle snuggling happily in my arms, I walked to my Aunt Astrid’s house, happy the work day had come to an end.
“You know you’re in for a bumpy ride if going home to plan for a paranormal attack sounds like more fun than the day you just had at work.” My comment earned me an affectionate head butt from my companion.
The sun had set yet still left an orange glow just above the horizon. The trees, barer today than they had been yesterday, were black, cracked lines that looked like an abstract painting depicting the contrasts between light and dark, color and blackness.
I listened and heard cars driving, the wind blowing, wind chimes echoing from front porches, and my own footsteps.
Somewhere I had read that people automatically started to count their steps when their mind stopped running on all cylinders and for a few seconds, they were just in the moment.
One… two… three… four…
“Do you hear that?” Treacle interrupted as I tried to ignore the world for just a few paces.
Five… six… seven…
“It sounds like something is gnawing on a bone. A really big one.”
Eight… nine…
I was at Aunt Astrid’s house, barely noticing how quickly I had begun to walk. I stood on her porch, safe within her protection spell. I listened. Yes, I could hear the chewing sound too.
I walked quietly to the edge of the front porch. Peeking around the corner, I saw the same two black-eyed children that were at the café. Scratching and clawing with their hands and biting with their teeth, they appeared to be trying to get past my aunt’s protection spell. But when they saw me, they hissed like feral cats and ran off into the darkness.
Psych Ward
For two days, we Greenstone witches had kept up our vigil.
Managing the café in shifts was difficult. With just one of us handling the influx of people morning, noon, and night, and poor Kevin nursing a sore elbow, we appreciated each other all the more.
