by Harper Lin
“Well, something surprised her.”
I repeated this to Bea.
“What happened?”
“It just sprang on her. Whatever it was forced visions into her head. She tried not to see them, but it wasn’t her eyes. It used her gift against her. She tried to get away. When I tried to touch her and help her fight, she tossed me in the attic and slammed the door shut.”
I was crying as I quietly repeated these words to Bea.
“That’s why she didn’t want me to touch her.” This was the only time Bea ever regretted having the gift of being an empath. She just wanted to hug her mother. She just wanted to be a girl comforting her mother. That seemed like such a simple request, yet Bea couldn’t touch her without feeling what her mother had.
We went downstairs.
Quickly, Bea brewed a special tea with chamomile, lavender, and neathrill, a magical herb that helped when witches experienced extreme burnout.
“It can’t hurt, right?” Bea asked as she poured the tea into her mom’s favorite teacup and added a slice of lemon. Just the way Aunt Astrid liked it.
We went upstairs and knocked on the bathroom door.
My aunt mumbled a thank you and asked us to leave the tea outside the door. She assured us she’d be okay and would be downstairs shortly. We were to get our homework done.
We sat at the kitchen table and did our work as the sun began to set.
Finally, Aunt Astrid appeared in a clean dress, her hair wet from a shower.
Her eyes were puffy from crying, as were ours.
“Bea.” She finally spoke. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, honey.”
Bea jumped up from her chair to run to her mother, but Aunt Astrid stopped her with her hand in front of her while taking a step back.
“No. You can’t touch me,” she instructed us. “If you do, I’m afraid you’ll feel what was there.”
“What was it, Mom? What did this to you?”
“None of us are experts at this, honey. I want you to remember that. We have these talents on loan from the Great Creator. And sometimes we get abused because of it. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t use them. It means we have to be more careful.”
Marshmallow had sidled up to me. I stroked her head.
“I had a vision, is all. No. It wasn’t so much a vision as it was an augury,” Aunt Astrid said as fresh tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t want it. I didn’t invite it. But it came to me, and now I have to figure out what to do with it.”
“What was it?” I asked.
My aunt shook her head. She never told us. Whatever it was, she kept it to herself. If she ever had a vision like this again, she never told us that either. But she took some serious steps to protect herself from this kind of attack.
We knew Aunt Astrid was as tough as nails. But what she had experienced back then wasn’t really a vision. She had visions and premonitions and could get glimpses of the future and past just sitting at the back table with a customer and reading their tea leaves.
I’d call what happened all those years ago an assault. But that’s just me. I had a paranormal parasite sucking the life out of me once. The world of witchcraft could be just as painful as this one could be.
Now, Bea and I were feeling like those confused teenagers again. After my attack, it was only logical to think something came after Aunt Astrid too.
“No, girls. Not like that.” She shook her head sadly and looked at me. “What I saw was something that could be used to our benefit. But it will require that we all agree to do it. If one has the slightest hesitation, we’ll need to find another way.”
“Aunt Astrid, I don’t mean to be rude, but could you just get to the point?” I was nervously shredding a red paper napkin I had grabbed from upstairs.
“Yes. Be patient with me. I have to go forward to go back. The Elderflowers are listed in The Catalog of Harbingers.”
The Catalog of Harbingers was what I’d imagine the royal family’s list of relatives for the past several centuries would look like. You’d have your Elizabeths and your Dianas, and you’d also have the lesser-known Hortenses and Thomasinas. You’d know whom they married, how many children they had, and whom those children married. You’d also find what they did for a living, what their level of witchcraft was, as well as every scandal there might have been carefully documented. Apparently, the Elderflowers had a slightly bent family tree.
“They are not witches. Due to an incestuous relationship back in the 1800s, the bloodline was skewed. Had things gone “normally,” we might have found ourselves with kindred spirits living just on the other end of town. But according to the catalog, their comingling sort of stunted the natural growth of sorcery.” She cleared her throat. “That’s as graphic as I care to get. Now, to go back to the beginning.”
My aunt sat down in the straight-backed chair that I had snagged from a thrift store for five dollars. “Cath, after you told me what happened, I went to find a description of the creature you described.”
I shivered.
“But before I even got past three pages, my vision started to blur. I thought it was typical eyestrain. Not uncommon for a woman my age, especially when I like candlelight more than reading lamps.” She chuckled. “I went to the bathroom to splash a little cold water on my face, and that was when I saw it in the mirror.”
“A shadow person?” I gasped.
“No. Evelyn.”
“What?” Bea’s mouth hung open.
Aunt Astrid nodded.
“Did she talk to you?” I asked.
“I don’t think the girl even knew she had shown up in my mirror. I think she was asleep. Just like we’ve been fretting over her these past couple of days, she has been doing the same with us. Whether it is some of that old Elderflower psychic energy forcing its way to the surface or just blind luck, she got a message across.”
“What was the message?”
“She’s trapped,” Aunt Astrid replied sadly.
“Trapped? I don’t understand.” I looked at Bea, who shrugged.
“I’m not sure what it all means either. But that little girl needs our help.” Aunt Astrid took a sip of water and cleared her throat.
“I don’t mean to sound selfish or anything, but any idea what that might have to do with the thing that came in my house? We still haven’t figured out what that was. Or have you, and you’re just not telling me? Because it was scary. I mean super-scary. Like scary.”
“Was it scary?” Bea teased.
“Poop-your-pants scary,” I replied.
“I found a shady character who not only fit your description but also was in line with our Gazzo theory.” Aunt Astrid sipped her water again. “We’ve got a spectral shylock, and he’s going to step in front of anyone who might get in the way of his getting paid in full.”
“He was at the Elderflower house. That was who I saw in the window.” I explained the shadowy figure looking at me just before I took off running.
“He saw your face, Cath. He’s going to be looking for you,” Aunt Astrid said sternly. “That means he’ll be looking for all of us. And bullies like him—if he thinks he can’t do the job himself, he’ll get backup. Fighting dirty isn’t a problem for our Gazzo.”
“But that doesn’t explain how the Gazzo got called.” Bea shoveled a forkful of spinach in her mouth.
“It wasn’t Evelyn,” I stated. “I’m sure of that.”
“Cath is right,” Aunt Astrid said. “It’s time we start looking at the other Elderflowers, starting with the sisters. I have a plan. But this has to be timed perfectly. I don’t want to tip them off. If that happens, we’ll all be getting a visit from the shadow people.”
I was up for anything if it meant never seeing that Gazzo-shadow person again. Too bad it didn’t work out as we had planned.
15
Circled in Black
“I just need you to fake a limp or something,” I muttered to Treacle as I pulled him from my car. “We aren’t looking to get you c
hecked in overnight. Just a simple exam.”
“Are you sure? Because I can fake a malady. You just say the word. I can do stomach cramps. I can do fainting. I can also vomit on command if you thought it might be helpful,” Treacle answered enthusiastically.
“No, Sir Lawrence Olivier. Geez, since when did you catch the acting bug? Just limp. This isn’t for an Oscar. It’s just to give me a chance to talk to the woman.”
Treacle and I were about to walk into Gail Elderflower’s veterinary clinic. She had been in business in Wonder Falls for a little over two years, according to what I’d researched. The same went for Fern and her dermatology office. Together, they had a little over four years in business.
“This is a lot fancier than your vet,” I said as I carried Treacle into the office. It was set up like a human doctor’s office. Except instead of regular health and financial magazines, we had our pick of Dog Fancy, Cat Universe, Critters, and Healthy Pets. There was a carpet-covered cat tower to the left of the waiting room. On the right side was a patch of green Astroturf. I assumed that was for the nervous canines that were too riled up to go outside.
The receptionist was wearing purple nursing scrubs and at least a pound of makeup.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, this is Treacle Greenstone. I’m Cath Greenstone. I called earlier for the doctor to look at my cat’s paw. He just started limping.”
“Fine.” The receptionist handed me a stack of papers attached to a clipboard without smiling. I took a seat and began to fill them out.
The waiting room was like a zoo. There were five dogs: a couple of mutts, one with a white circle around his right eye, and the other black with a gray muzzle; one very pampered Pekinese, which barked and yipped every few seconds; an American bulldog that was the equivalent of Arnold Schwarzenegger in the canine muscle group, sitting proudly and obediently next to his equally proud owner; and a feisty dachshund that tugged at his leash. He didn’t seem to have anyone he wanted to talk to in particular, but he wanted to be free from his leash.
There was one woman with a cat in a travel box. The cat seemed more annoyed than anything, although the few meows that came from the crate were pitiful sounding.
“It’s okay, baby,” the owner said soothingly. “It’s just your checkup.”
Treacle sat calmly in my lap.
Over the doors to the examining rooms were some strange symbols carved into wood. At first glance, I thought they read dogs and cats in Latin or Spanish or Chinese. But then I realized they were not a language but symbols.
Quickly, I reached in my purse and pulled out a blank check. I started to scribble the designs on it. I finished the paperwork about Treacle’s health history and handed it back to the receptionist. Now Treacle and I waited.
That was when I noticed one person was sitting in the corner at the farthest end of the waiting room with a white rat perched on his shoulder. He was lanky, had a gray beard, and wore a flannel button-down shirt with gray trousers and a pea coat.
The rat looked like a statue at first glance. Then it moved.
“Is that guy really here?” I asked Treacle.
“He is, and he isn’t. This is no ordinary vet office. Something else is here.”
“Is it ten feet tall with red eyes and a couple rows of jagged teeth?”
“Thank goodness, no. But it isn’t happy we’re here.”
“How come?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But I get the feeling we’re going to find out.”
As with any doctor’s office, we were prepared to wait. I spoke with some of the pets. The said they hated coming here. The mutts were the most articulate.
“She’s mean,” the gray-muzzled pooch said. “She doesn’t like animals.”
“How can that be?” I asked. “Do you misbehave?”
“No,” they replied together. “We behave. She still doesn’t like us.”
I knew not to take the dogs too seriously. They were such honest and dedicated animals that they might think Gail didn’t like them because she didn’t shower them with treats and kisses.
It was about forty-five minutes before Gail Elderflower stepped through the door and called Treacle by name. I waved and scooped Treacle back into my arms. He’d snuggled down on the seat next to me while I maneuvered the clipboard.
“What seems to be the trouble?” Gail asked pleasantly enough.
I gave her a quick description then began the plan Aunt Astrid had outlined for us.
“You are Marie Elderflower’s daughter. I wasn’t sure when I saw the name in the phone book, so I thought I’d take a chance.”
“That’s me. Don’t you have a regular vet?” she asked while looking over Treacle, who had become frozen like a statue.
“I do, but he’s on sabbatical. I didn’t like the replacement he had.”
“Of course,” she muttered. “Can I see him walk?”
I nodded, picked Treacle up, and set him on the floor. It was almost comical to see him hobble around. He was really hamming it up. But when Gail leaned down to pick him up, he swiped at her and hissed.
“How’s your sister doing?” I asked while she watched Treacle.
“She’s fine. Why wouldn’t she be?”
“Well, you know how teenagers are. They can be demanding, especially after losing a parent.”
“Oh, you mean Evelyn.” She practically spat the words. Then she looked at me as if she suddenly realized I owed her money for a bet I’d lost. “How do you know about that?”
“I’m sorry, Gail. I thought you remembered me. My name is Cath Greenstone. I was at the funeral for your mom. Your sister seemed, well, distant.”
It was as if a switch went off behind her eyes. Suddenly, Gail’s face didn’t relay bored repetition but hostility.
“Did she. I blame my mother for that. She spoiled the girl to no end. Wait a second. You were the woman at the coffee shop. The one feeding Evelyn stories.”
“What?” I might have been on an intelligence mission, but nowhere did it say I was supposed to get my behind handed to me. “Feeding her stories? I haven’t seen Evelyn since the funeral.”
Instinct told me to get Treacle. I reached down and scooped him into my arms.
“That’s a lie.” Gail glared at me and at Treacle. “I don’t know what kind of game you are playing with that brat, but you better take your cat and get out of here.”
“What about his paw?” I meekly asked.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Good day, Miss Greenstone. Don’t come back.”
Without another word, Gail left the office, mumbled something to the receptionist, and then disappeared down another corridor.
Without hesitation, Treacle leaped from my arms and trotted down the hallway.
“Treacle!” I shouted but made very little attempt to catch him. “Wait, kitty! Where are you going?”
“Great!” the receptionist snapped. “You need to keep control of your animal. He should be in a crate.”
“He doesn’t like crates,” I muttered. It was true. Treacle didn’t like crates. But he’d get in one if he absolutely had to. I wasn’t going to tell the receptionist that.
She jumped up from her chair to chase the big black cat as he darted after Gail. In the meantime, the entire lobby erupted into chaos. Dogs were barking and pulling on their leashes. Cats were swiping their hands out of cages and crates to snag anything that might come near them.
I pretended to be distraught and leaned on the receptionist’s desk. While she was occupied, I looked over things. The appointment book was full of patients to be coming in.
“Treacle!” I shouted. “Come back!”
I flipped through the desk drawers and found nothing of value. When I turned and headed down the hallway, I saw the receptionist with her back to me as Treacle was safely underneath a shelf with heavy bags of dog food stacked on it.
“I’m good, Cath! Keep looking! This is fun!”
; “Don’t get yourself hurt. Just give me two minutes!” I replied.
Just then, Gail came bursting out of a small office.
“What is going on?” she yelled.
“I’m so sorry. Treacle just bolted out of my arms!” I whined. “He’s hiding under that shelf! Oh, the poor thing!” I grabbed Gail’s arm. “Please don’t let him get hurt. What are we going to do? He won’t come out!”
Gail grimaced and clenched her teeth, pushing past me to get to the receptionist. That poor girl was on her knees, peeking underneath the shelf as Treacle hissed and swatted as if he were afflicted with rabies.
I quickly ducked into Gail’s office and looked around. There were strange symbols over her door too. I walked up to her desk and noticed a flat calendar spread out with just a few papers across it.
Funny that the day of her mother’s funeral was circled in black but nothing was written in it. Prior to that, the day Marie died was also circled, but nothing was written indicating why.
As I skimmed the remaining days of the month, I saw nothing but one mark. Three days from today, another date was circled in black. Nothing was written in the square.
“What are you doing?” Gail screamed. “Get out of my office!”
“I-I’m so s-sorry,” I stuttered. “I was feeling faint. I thought I was going to pass out, so I came to your desk to steady myself. Can I get a glass of water?”
I knew I was pushing it. So did Gail.
“You go and get your cat and get out of my office.” She pointed a trembling hand at the door.
Throwing my arm dramatically over my eyes, I staggered to the door. What was the worst she could do? As soon as that thought came to mind, I saw something swipe at me from the corner of my eye. When I looked, there was nothing there. Nothing that I could see. But I felt it.
“Here, kitty, kitty!” I yelled. Within seconds, Treacle was at my side, and we quickly made our way toward the red exit sign. That was when the rat man appeared. He stood in front of the door. The rat was still on his shoulder.
