by Tegan Maher
Realizing I probably looked exactly like the afore-mentioned dingbat, I pushed up from the floor and gulped in a few lungfuls of cool air.
"What in tarnation was that?" Addy barked.
"Not to state the obvious," Shelby said, "but it looks like somebody wrote trouble on the mirror, and from the way Noelle was flopping on the floor and screaming like a little girl, I'm guessing it wasn't her."
I glared but couldn't really say much, because I'd been making fun of myself for exactly that. Rae pushed my bedroom door shut and handed me my robe while Addy ran her hand down her face.
"I reckon I don't have to tell you this is bad,” Addy said. “I think it's safe to assume this was done by the same spirit who showed up in the window and the picture, exceptin' now she's managed to get physical."
Shelby had no idea what was going on, so I filled her in.
"Holy cow,” she said. “That's definitely no bueno, sister. And you have no idea who this hippie chick is or why she'd be sending you a warning—or a threat—on a bathroom mirror? Do you, Addy?"
Addy shook her head. "She obviously had something to do with the courthouse shindig, but there were hundreds of people there that day. I might recognize her if I saw her, but with nothing to set her apart..."
"Well, I think it has something to do with that crystal," Rae said. "I don't think you should wear it anymore."
Shelby shook her head. "I've been studying crystals and that's not really how they work. At this point, the damage is probably done; the energy—or whatever—has already bonded with Noelle’s. I don't think wearing it or not wearing it is going to make a difference."
"I agree." Addy pointed at the pendant, which was lying on my dresser. "She didn't have it on in the shower when this happened. I'm afraid the horse is done out of the barn."
Rae didn't look convinced.
"Look,” I said, “if it makes you feel better, I won't wear it."
She nodded. "It would. Thank you."
People were going to start showing up in less than an hour, so Rae and Shelby headed to their rooms to get dressed—Rae was such a common fixture, that she'd had her own room since we were teenagers—and Addy went back outside to nitpick any last-minute details.
While I was layering on the makeup that would transform me from common everyday witch to sideshow psychic, I thought about all the work that had gone into this. It had been a trial by fire, but all in all it had been kind of fun.
After tucking the last few rogue curls under my turban, I stepped in front of my mirror, half afraid of what—or whom—I'd see. It was just me, though. I twirled around, watching the skirt billow out, and added a few more bangles and a couple of ankle bracelets before I made my way to the kitchen. The pendant would have been the icing on the cake, but I'd promised Rae.
I was plating the cookies when Anna Mae breezed in dressed like the Corpse Bride. With her pixie chin and big eyes, all she’d really needed to do to pull it off was add some white face paint, dramatic makeup, and black hairspray. She was wearing the lace wedding dress I'd admired in her shop window earlier. "Wow! You look great! You nailed it!"
"Aww, thanks, sugar." She gave me a quick hug, then pulled some sparkly black fabric and a huge pair of gold hoop earrings out of a box. "I had these layin' around and thought you could use the fabric for your fortune-telling table. Oh, and I found this"—she pulled out a rectangular game board—"in a box of miscellaneous junk I bought at an auction. I thought it might add some spook factor. What can I do to help?"
I sighed as I realized what the game board was: a Ouija board. Because, sure, that's the perfect thing to have around when there's a spirit lurking in pictures and reflections and leaving me creepy messages while I'm in the shower.
Not that we witches really believe the board has powers per se, but a person's intent when using one is to draw spirits, and intent is what really matters. Anna Mae was still fairly new to the whole supernatural thing, so—bless her heart—I didn't want to hurt her feelings. I'd explain later.
For now, I smiled at her. "You're so sweet; the cloth is perfect! If you don't mind spreading it over the table on the porch, that would be great. I'm going to sit there with my crystal ball and give out goody bags. It’s the perfect touch."
I took the earrings from her and put them on right away, so I wouldn't forget or do something goofy like lose them in the punch. That’d be my luck. I did a final check of the food. The Kool-Aid-filled rubber gloves were freezing fast enough that they'd be ready to use in the punch, and I had my head stuck in the fridge checking on the clear plastic cups of green Jell-O and marshmallow eyeballs when something clattered to the floor behind me.
I jumped so fast that I bashed my head on the freezer handle. Howling and grasping my head, I did the little holy-crap-I'm-in-agony dance and kept pressure on the spot until I was sure I wasn't dying. When my vision cleared and I realized I wasn't going to bleed to death—because I wasn't actually bleeding at all—I saw that Anna Mae had stacked the stupid Ouija board on top of some other things on the table, and the planchette had slid off the board onto the floor.
I snatched it up, scowling, and slammed it back on the table where it wouldn't fall again.
My head was still smarting, so I decided to step away until the urge to throw something dissipated. When I stepped out onto the porch, I barely recognized the yard.
The wagon for the hay ride was decked out in spider webs and lined with blanket-covered bales of hay, and Anna Mae was hanging a Cake Walk sign on a table under one of the screened tents. That table would soon be groaning under the weight of a dozen cakes baked by women vying for the honor of having their cake chosen first.
Hunter was standing over by the barn giving last-minute directions to a motley group of ghosts, teen-aged zombies, and chainsaw murderers. Only in Keyhole Lake would you find a football huddle like that.
Shelby slid a tray of the green Jell-O cups onto a table and elbowed me. "Looks pretty darned good, doesn't it?"
I could only nod as I took in all the tiny details I'd missed at first glance. There were games set up for the kids, all of which included candy. The trees were sparkling with green and orange twinkle lights, and the barn doors were locked and guarded by scarecrows sitting on hay bales.
Addy floated over to us, smiling and relaxed at last. "I knew you girls could pull this off."
I rolled my eyes but grinned; that was high praise, indeed. I glanced at my little sister, who was beaming with pride through her zombie makeup—as well she should. I was proud of her. Our relationship had been a little rocky as we’d settled into our new reality, but she was putting in the effort.
I hip-checked her. "Why don't you go hang out with Cody and the rest of your zombie friends? You've busted your hump for three days; you've earned it. Go scare some little kids and eat a ton of candy."
She actually gave me a brief hug—gasp!—before she ran off to be a teenager.
Rae came waddling toward us carrying a box of apples almost as big as she was. I rushed over and grabbed an end, and we hauled them over to the water-filled aluminum tub we were using to bob for apples.
Yes, we still do that, with real water. And no, we haven't had anybody dumb enough to drown doing it. Well, Atticus Boone had come close several years ago, but only because his wife had held him under when she found out he'd been bobbing for more than apples with the "floozy from the donut shop," as she'd so eloquently put it.
It was all we could do to get her to turn him loose, and he shaved his mullet soon after that. We were just glad she hadn't caught him while he was playing lawn darts. That was the year we put those in the shed for good; we figured that was our one pass, and decided not to push it.
Hunter had finished his pep talk and was making his way to my side, grinning—as Addy would say—like a mule eating briars. Speaking of which, something butted me in the thigh as Hunter leaned down to give me a kiss.
Our miniature donkey, Max, was scowling up at me. "How on earth am I suppo
sed to get any sleep with all this"—he waggled his ears like antennae, indicating the party area—"going on?"
Max isn't exactly your average miniature donkey. Several centuries ago, he was a lesser British noble and rakish courtier named Maximillian Beauregard Lancaster III. Apparently he was a bit too rakish, and scorned a spiteful Irish witch. She decided to match his appearance to his personality so he wouldn't cuckold another innocent woman. Ever.
How he came to live with us is another story altogether, but suffice it to say that we're stuck with him, and he has his own peculiar spot in our family.
"Oh, you're not going to sleep," I told him. "You're going to be nice and let the kids pet you and play with you."
"I shan't!" he said, outraged. If you've never seen an appalled donkey, I'm not exactly sure how to describe it to you. "I refuse!"
"Oh, yes, you shall," I told him. "And you're not going to utter a word, either. But buck up, big guy. I'm sure there will be plenty of candy and goodies in it for you." Considering he had a sweet tooth that put Willy Wonka to shame, that sweetened the pot—so to speak—considerably.
He was still grumbling as he trudged away, ears splayed out flat, but then he spotted the box of apples sitting on the ground. I rushed over and lifted them onto a table before he could eat himself sick, which earned me another scowl.
Hunter wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder. "Is there anything else we need to do?"
I shivered as his breath sent goosebumps racing down my arms. "Just bring out the rest of the treats—the popcorn balls, candy apples, and Jell-O eyeballs."
We meandered back to the house hand in hand, and I thanked my lucky stars again for sending me a man who didn't mind that I was a witch who lived with a smart-mouthed teenager and a bossy, living-impaired aunt. Considering he hadn't even known ghosts existed until he'd moved to Keyhole, that was pretty impressive.
The lights on the porch blinked on and off, and Hunter groaned. "I better check those before people start showing up." He squeezed my hand and kissed the back of it before heading across the yard to check the connections.
The house was stifling after the cool air outside, so I flicked my wrist and opened up a couple of windows. A nice breeze blew through the kitchen, fluttering the lace curtains.
Rae and Addy joined me, and we went through the checklist one more time. We were much more relaxed now though. Even if we'd forgotten something, we were past the point of no return; we'd have to do without. I loaded the last of what we needed to take outside into a couple of boxes and handed one to Rae.
"Is that everything?" she asked.
I looked around the kitchen. "I think so."
"Then let's get this show on the road."
At the last minute, I saw a sleeve of Solo cups sitting on the counter, so I balanced the box on my hip to grab them. A scratching noise sounded behind me, and I froze, afraid it was a rat. Living in the country isn't all peaches and cream.
After a moment, I realized it was too rhythmic to be a rat—but I did recognize the sound. "Umm ... guys?" I said.
Rae and Addy turned to look at me, then their gazes shot past me to the table. Their expressions confirmed what I already suspected, so I braced myself and turned around. Sure enough, the planchette was moving across the Ouija board on its own.
I slid the box back onto the counter. "I think we have a problem."
CHAPTER FIVE
"YOU think we have a problem?" Rae's complexion was the same shade as the zombies running around in our yard.
To say it was freaky to see the little plastic triangle zipping across the board by itself is the understatement of the century—any century. I froze and looked at Addy, not sure what to do.
After watching it for a few seconds, she took a deep breath and floated forward. "C'mon girls. Let's see what it is that our guest needs to say."
When we approached, the planchette stilled, poisitioning itself in the center as if waiting for us. Rae and I looked to Addy for guidance.
Addy waited for the planchette to move again, but quickly lost her patience. "Well, out with it," she barked, in true Addy fashion. "We ain't got all day, and you're the one who came to us. In case you didn't notice, we got us a party starting outside. Do you got somethin’ to say or not?"
The planchette shot over to Yes, but went a little too far and tipped off the board. It wobbled and moved backward, but one leg was stuck off the edge. A Coca Cola tumbler Addy had collected from one of the fast food joints fell off the counter and crashed to the floor.
Addy crossed her arms and frowned. "It took me eight weeks to collect that set. You've got our attention. Now mind your manners; you're a guest here, so act like it."
The planchette quivered but didn't move.
Rae huffed. She was used to dealing with difficult customers and had the patience of a saint, so she stepped forward to give it a shot. "Let's try it this way. We'll ask you some questions, and you answer yes or no."
The planchette immediately moved to Yes.
"Okay, then. Good. Are you the woman Noelle saw in the window and the picture?"
Again, Yes.
"Were you the one who tried to warn her of trouble on the bathroom mirror?"
The planchette shot to No and dashed over it three times, then paused. The Solo cups flew across the room as if somebody had thrown them.
I took a stab at it, seeing as how it didn't seem too pleased with Rae's question. "Let's cut to the chase, then," I said, as I heard a car pulling up the drive. "What's your name?"
The planchette moved deliberately, pausing over several letters. I didn't have to write them down to know what it was spelling: Trouble.
The planchette had just stopped over the last letter when Coralee, the owner of the Clip N Curl, came bursting through the front door with her grandkids. I almost screamed in frustration as the planchette moved back to the center of the board and stopped.
"Hey, ladies! Everything looks great. Is there anything left that needs doing?"
Coralee is one of the most vivacious, generous people I know, so I took a deep breath and tried to summon a genuine smile; it wasn't her fault we had an unknown spirit with the ability to move physical objects running loose when the farm was fixing to be overrun with people.
"Actually, Coralee,” I said, “would you mind taking that box down to the snack table? We'll be right behind you with the rest of the stuff."
"Sure thing, sugar." She grabbed the box and headed toward the front door.
As soon as she was out of earshot, I hissed, "What do we do now?"
Rae looked as frantic as I felt. "Do we need to cancel this? Send everybody home? Should we be worried about people gettin’ hurt? We don't even know if this thing is good or evil!"
The sound of the planchette whispering across the board caught our attention as it slid over No three times, then spelled out the word good.
"Well," Addy deadpanned as two more carloads of people pulled up, "There you have it. Surely a spirit that just broke my best Coke glass wouldn’t lie to me.” She sighed.
“We don't have much of a choice but to take it at its word for now, though. We'll hash it all out later."
Out of options, we put the board away and determined to do our best to enjoy the party.
Within a couple of hours, our side pasture was overflowing with vehicles. Thankfully, a lot of folks drove trucks and could turn virtually any spot into a place to park. Anna Mae kept me company and helped me hand out candy at the front door. She'd brought another couple of boxes with her, and it was a good thing, because we needed them. I read a few "fortunes" from my “magic” crystal ball, and we chatted with the parents as they sat on the porch watching their kids play.
When there was a brief lull, Anna Mae placed her hand on my arm. "Thank you so much for invitin' me tonight, Noelle. You and Raeann—and everybody, really—have been so kind to me since Hank passed. Even when you didn't have any reason to be. I've lived in this town most
of my life, and I've never felt like I actually belonged here ’til now."
"Aww, Anna Mae!" I gave her a quick hug. "Of course you belong here. You always have a place with us."
Call me horrible, but I tossed my thousandth thank you to the universe for taking her beast of a husband off our hands. I wouldn't be so greedy as to ask why it took so long.
Hunter came up to join me after a couple of hours, grinning like a kid at Christmas. I'd seen him bringing the wagon around at least a couple dozen times, and the kids climbed off laughing each time. Angus seemed to be having just as much fun as they were. He and Hunter had hit it off like two peas in a pod since he'd been able to come out of the gazebo, so to speak.
Anna Mae was off checking to see if her cake had been chosen from the cake-walk table yet, so I pulled her chair closer and patted it.
Hunter shook his head. "I'm good. I feel like I've been sitting for a week. I need to stand awhile."
I stood and stretched; I was tired of sitting, too. "Well then, would you like to go for a spooky stroll, Mr. Woods?" I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss, which earned us a chorus of ewws and grosses from the kids.
"I'd love that, Ms. Flynn."
He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and led me off the porch. I glowered when I caught a glimpse of Belle standing at the end of the porch looking smug.
We ended up going on the hay ride. Shelby was driving and seemed to be having a blast. I hadn’t been able to see this part from the porch, and had to admire their handiwork. I decided then and there to throw a cookout for everybody who had come together and helped to make this happen.
When we came back, Raeann had taken my place handing out candy bags, so Hunter and I did the cake walk a few times. I laughed when I saw that somebody had lugged in an extra table to hold all the cakes. That was good, though; the cake walk was fun, but it was also a way to raise money for the fire department.
With most country charities or fundraisers, it's traditional to donate the prize back to the cause but in this case, you risked losing an eye if you refused to pick a cake. Of course, if you're a clueless husband who can't tell one cake from another, you risk losing an eye if you pick the wrong one.
