Charlie snorted. “When she comes to the house to see Michael. I don’t want to push you, Melinda, but like you said earlier, you’re twenty-one. You should be out on the beach, partying, going on dates and getting into trouble.” He thought about that for a minute. “Okay, maybe partying lightly but... you know what I mean.”
“I’m trying, Charlie,” she replied in a small voice.
“I know, kiddo.” He saw the uneasiness in her eyes. “Just keep taking little steps and even though we give you a hard time, screw us! Just go have some fun.”
“Yeah, okay. Fun. It’s my top priority,” she said with fake enthusiasm.
Charlie didn’t push it further.
After a short while, William reappeared, with Michael tagging alongside.
“All went well?” Melinda asked William.
“Yes. As expected, no one realizes I am not a thirty-one year old man.”
Melinda nodded satisfactorily, and then turned to Michael. “You’re back sooner than I expected.”
“It was just a quick coffee and walking Emily to work at the bookstore.”
Charlie’s eyes lit up. “I have been meaning to congratulate her on taking over the place,” he admitted, apologetically. “Once Renee retired, Emily was the perfect replacement.”
“Yes. She is,” was all Michael replied to Charlie’s attempt to engage him in conversation.
“And how did she like your new haircut?” Melinda asked.
“What’s not to like?” Michael retorted, somewhat jokingly, somewhat seriously.
Melinda, amused, shot back, “Oh get over yourself!”
Although brothers, Charlie and Michael could not have been less alike.
Michael was wiry, yet athletic, with smooth, slightly flushed skin. He never had to shave. He was also slower than Melinda when it came to getting ready in the morning, even though his outfits consisted mostly of jeans, sandals and some kind of pullover shirt. However, the hours spent getting every strand of hair on his head into its perfect place, were too many to count.
Charlie, on the other hand, had enough hair for two men. His dusty brown locks were thick and disheveled, falling just above his shoulders, and his facial hair grew fast enough that he could shave twice in one day. More often than not, he had a couple days growth on his face. He found most shirts constricting, being that he was broad shouldered, and preferred on nice days to wear tank tops and khaki shorts. When the weather cooled, he simply added a flannel shirt, always with the sleeves rolled up carelessly.
The only similar traits they shared: dazzling blue eyes and a killer smile that knocked any girl’s socks off. Both traits inherited from their father, Jack Howard.
The kitchen phone rang loudly.
“That would be the Mack line,” Charlie stated, grabbing the phone, grateful for the distraction. “Have I even been home a full hour yet?” he asked no one in particular.
“Oh, I need to talk to Mack before you hang up, okay?” Melinda blurted out.
Charlie nodded that he’d heard her, while speaking into the phone, “Hello, Mack! How can we help the sheriff of The Demon Isle this morning?”
“Oh, you’re home, Charlie. Hope the fishin’ trip went well.” She gave him no chance to reply. “I’m actually calling for your brother. Afraid I need a death readin’.”
“Just say where and I’ll send Michael right over.”
Michael sighed, relieved at the sound of his name. “Any excuse to get out of here,” his muttered under his breath.
“The morgue,” Charlie spoke aloud. He asked Mack, “A local or tourist this time?”
“That’s what I’m hoping Michael can tell me, actually. You see, all we have are bones.”
“I see. He’ll be right over, then.” Charlie was about to hang up when he remembered that Melinda needed to speak with the sheriff. He tossed her the phone.
“Hiya, Mack,” she said. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate, but I’m afraid I have another job for you.”
“Anything you need, Sweety, you just tell me what it is.”
“There’s a back door at the Fishhook Seafood Company that’s broken. A lock keeps jamming and if they don’t fix it, in three days someone that works there dies because it won’t open.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. I’m on it!” Mack replied. “Just consider me your own personal dream killer,” the sheriff added with a haughty laugh. She then disconnected.
Charlie and Michael stared at Melinda, awaiting explanation.
“Yeah yeah. Another dream. I took care of it didn’t I?”
“You’re supposed to tell us when you have a dream, so we can help,” Charlie reminded gently.
“I did. I told William, and we decided it was best handled by Mack. What are we going to do? Walk up to the owners of the Fishhook and say, hey, Melinda, yeah that girl everyone already thinks is a freak, also has prophetic dreams and last night, she dreamt your broken back door would cause someone to die?”
“Point noted. They’ve only been on the Isle for a couple years and don’t know about us. However,” started Charlie, “how can we decide if it’s something we can or should handle if you don’t tell us? I trust William’s opinions, of course, but you can tell us too, Melinda. Just know that, okay.”
“Maybe she can make up her own mind,” Michael defended.
“This isn’t about you and me, Michael,” Charlie breathed out heavily.
“I’m just saying she’s not a kid. And who made you captain? What rule says we have to tell you every little thing that happens?”
Charlie closed his eyes, searching for a reply that would not make the situation worse. But all he wanted to do was grab his brother by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. An annoyed grunt slipped across his lips and he opened his eyes to see Michael leaving the kitchen in a huff.
“I gotta go. Job to do,” Michael spouted with mock enthusiasm.
“I think I’ll go with him,” Melinda said, frowning in displeasure. First, because she had just volunteered to leave the house, and second, that Charlie and Michael were no closer to ending their argument. She patted Charlie’s shoulder and followed Michael, hoping her voluntary departure from the house would help improve his mood.
After Charlie and William were alone Charlie let out a huge breath, as if he’d been holding it in. “The full moon is tomorrow night. It’s so much harder not to get angry, about anything or everything, the closer it gets.”
“And they know this, Charlie.”
“I’m going to go unpack, maybe take a cold shower,” Charlie decided. “Cool down.”
“I will be in my study, should anyone need me,” William spoke evenly.
However, Charlie didn’t leave, and instead, stared at the wall, rubbing his hand across his stubble-covered chin.
“Is there something else, Charlie?”
“To be honest, William, I don’t know. I’m not even sure how to explain it. Something about this approaching moon feels different. Harder to control myself than usual.”
“I will check if this particular moon has any unknown significance, just in case.”
“Thanks, William. The full moons in two nights, and I’d feel a heck of a lot better knowing I’ll still be me when it rises.”
##
Melinda followed her brother out of the front door, across the stone porch and down the steps of the Howard Mansion, stepping onto a cobblestone driveway. She froze for a moment, her feet suddenly unwilling to step forward. There’s so many people! Just people vacationing and having fun… she berated herself silently, fighting off the urge to run back inside the house.
She took the next step onto the street. Michael wrapped his arm around Melinda, securing her to his side. He could feel her panicked breaths and worried she would not be able to continue. Being early summer, they would have to fight their way through shopping, eating and bustling-about tourists.
“Okay?” her brother asked her.
She
nodded and shook it off. “Fine, let’s go.” She stepped away from him, leaving his side. Her thoughts screamed so not fine! But rather than turn and run home she sidetracked herself. Swallowing hard, she said, “You know, you shouldn’t be so hard on Charlie.”
“Don’t be too hard on Charlie!” he repeated incredulously.
“I know, I know. It’s just, you know how he gets around the full moon.”
“How he gets is irritating. Infuriating. And bossy! And it really doesn’t matter how close we are to the full moon.”
Melinda sighed. She knew what she said next would just make Michael angrier.
“He is kind of right though. You can’t leave, Michael. What would this town do without you? What would Charlie and I do without you?”
“And just because I’m a Howard, this automatically gives me a life sentence to live on this desolate, boring, stuck-in-the-last-century-island?”
“I know it’s not fair, but it’s not so bad either. You’ve got Emily,” she pointed out.
“We’re not officially dating,” he retorted haughtily.
“And whose fault is that?” she replied just as haughtily. “All you need to do is ask. That girl is head over heels about you! You’re her baby face,” Melinda’s voice mocked.
“This face is appealing,” he agreed, twirling his hand in circles around his face.
Melinda hit his shoulder in a humored reply.
“Really though, why start dating her now? I am leaving The Demon Isle,” he spoke determinedly.
Melinda bit her tongue. What would it take to keep her brother from leaving? Perhaps if she had another nervous breakdown, this would keep him around. She chastised herself again. That was not a place she wanted to go back to, ever. Having nothing else to say, she focused on making eye contact with the locals and tourists that hustled about the town. Many of the tourists were surprisingly polite, returning her gesture. The locals, however, just stared or ignored her attempts to nod or say hello.
“And the friendly locals are part of what gives The Demon Isle its charm,” she whispered sarcastically, remembering reading that line in a vacation brochure recently.
“Be patient with them, Melinda. Just give them a chance. They don’t all think you’re a freak,” her brother teased.
“That guy over there,” she pointed, “totally talking about me. It’s ridiculously obvious.”
“Well, what do you expect, Sis? They’re curious. You’ve hidden yourself away for the last four years, ever since your dreams started and Mom and Dad…” he didn’t finish. He was already arguing with Charlie, he didn’t want to argue with his sister, too. “Look, let’s just do this favor for Mack, and thanks for coming with me. I know how hard it is for you to leave the house, but you’re getting better at it every day.”
“There’s a part of me that wants to escape this place, too,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I know it won’t stop the inevitable dreams, which just get worse when I have actual contact with people. I really am trying.”
“I know, Sis. You are. You’re doing really well. I mean, you only pointed out one guy that was talking about you behind your back today,” he jested lovingly.
She hit him in the shoulder as they turned the corner to another street. It was lined with boutique stores, gift shops, pubs, grills, bars, café’s and even a company that organized tours of the Isle – anything from trips to the beaches, the National Park or even haunted tours through graveyards and old homes that were believed to be frequented by ghosts.
The end of this street curved, landing them on a section of the town nicknamed Fortune Alley. This section of town drew many tourists, eager to seek details about their future, or learn more about the Isle’s mystical background, or people that just desired to wrap themselves in fantasy for a day.
It was plotted with magic shops, comic book stores, book and movie sellers specializing in sci-fi, fantasy and the paranormal; fortunetellers, and herb shops, which sold touristy things like love potions. A regular geekdom fit for any fan of the supernatural, or in the case of the Howard Witches, a place to buy the necessary ingredients for potions they used in real life. It also happened to be the fastest way to get to the morgue.
As they walked through Fortune Alley, Melinda saw three psychics set up at the edge of the street, offering free, five-minute readings to passersby. It was a promotion store owners did often, in hopes of attracting longer, purchased readings, or to drag customers into their shops.
Melinda wondered if they had any true foresight. She also wondered how many of them were aware of the true supernatural side of the Isle, as typically, only locals that had lived on the Isle for many years knew the truth that magic did exist; a truth they liked to keep to themselves. Nevertheless, they did allow rumors to spread, stories to leak, and even the occasional photo to surface (but only if blurry enough not to prove anything real).
The only fortuneteller Melinda recognized was a woman known as Mystic Mona. She sat draped in long flowing scarves, mysteriously moving her tattooed hands over a fogged up crystal ball. She had told the Howard’s many years ago that she was a complete fake, but for some reason she was also the most visited reader on the Isle. She winked at the duo as they passed by her.
Near the end of the street, a light salty mist spread across Melinda’s skin. They were very close to the harbor. So close, she could hear the sloshing of the waves crashing up against the boats.
“I do love this air,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment. She breathed in deeply and upon opening her eyes, added, “The view isn’t too bad either.”
Michael took a glance and then looked at her as if to say No way in hell!
“What? He’s cute.”
“You’re afraid to leave the house, and yet the first guy you pick out of the crowd is the one on the motorcycle.”
“Well it’s not like I’m running over there and just hopping on. Geesh! I just thought he was cute. And look, he wears a helmet. Safe driver,” she argued.
Michael just continued toward the morgue, ignoring her argument.
Melinda watched the dark-haired young man get onto his motorcycle. He kicked the clutch and the bike roared to life. He pulled out, making a u-turn in the road. His eyes caught Melinda’s and he winked as he drove by.
Her cheeks turned rosy, a sudden feeling of self-consciousness washing over her. And the day I choose to leave the house I could not be wearing a more pathetic dress. It was baggy, old and fell to her ankles. It was also comfortable and hid the shape of her body well. She preferred to disappear under her clothes.
Besides, wink or no wink, there was no way a handsome guy like that would ever be into her, never mind that he was most likely a tourist and would leave town any day. She would probably never happen across him again.
She squeezed her fists in frustration. William’s dream had left her feeling worked up and unsatisfied. However, picking up a total stranger was not the answer to her conundrum, although as she thought about it, maybe it was exactly what she needed.
She squelched the thought. It was a bad idea. A stupid idea. Melinda Howard and strangers, even hot ones on motorcycles, did not mix.
“And we’re here,” announced Michael, interrupting her thoughts. He held open the front door of The Demon Isle Morgue, eyeing Melinda as if about to ask her something uncomfortable.
She worried he’d picked up on her frustrations, and before he could get out the words, she asked, “You ready to do this?” sidetracking him from topics she did not wish to discuss with her brother.
“Um. Never. But it’s my duty, isn’t it?” His voice sounded bitter again.
Mack, the town sheriff, met them just inside. She was a sturdy woman with keen eyes and sea-air worn skin that had never seen sun block. Her real name was Mackenzie Briggs. Most of the townsfolk called her Sheriff Briggs. But the Howard Witches had been assisting the local police since the Isle’s inception, plus, the sheriff had also been friends with the siblings’ parents.
“Ah, Michael Howard. You’re looking as scrumptious as ever,” said Mack, her eyes dancing in a playfully lustful manner.
“Good morning, Mack,” he replied, winking seductively as he passed by her.
“Yup. Scrumptious,” she mouthed, making a point to watch him walk by.
Melinda just laughed. She enjoyed how the sheriff taunted her brother. He needed to be put in his place now and then.
“Where to?” Michael asked, with less enthusiasm.
“Yes, to the business at hand,” Mack said, motioning for them to follow. She entered an examination room. “Always sorry to make you do this, Michael. But we’re stumped on this one.”
“You know I’m glad to help,” Michael said, doing his best to sound eager.
Mack locked the door behind them.
“I asked my deputy to leave. Told him I needed time to do my own investigatin’. Better to keep’em in the dark about this whole crazy supernatural thing as long as possible I figure,” she said. “New guys gonna work out great though. ‘Course, I said that about the last guy…”
Melinda chuckled. Michael stared at the examination table, which Mack stepped over to, gently lifting a sheet, exposing an intact skeleton.
Michael let out a little whistle. Melinda would have, but she had never really been able to whistle so she just replied with an astonished nod.
The skeleton was lying flat on its back, except for the skull, which was turned as if staring at the siblings, its mouth stuck open in a horrified silent scream. Even skinless, you could see the frozen fear from some terrified final moment of life.
“Sure is something ain’t it?” said Mack. “Called you guys ‘cause I’ve never seen bones come in as clean as these. At first, we weren’t even sure they were real. Sure enough they are. Looks like something came across the body and just plain sucked everything right off ‘em!”
Michael stepped closer. He’d never seen anything like it. Whenever Mack called on his services, it was usually someone recently deceased, that still had muscle and skin attached to the bones.
“Diver found these bones in an underwater cave in Bloodsucker Bay,” Mack explained further. “After initial examination we know it’s a male, and we found damage that seems to indicate some kind of trauma.” She pointed out the spot, just to the side of where the heart should have been.
Witches of The Demon Isle Box Set, Volumes 1, 2 & 3 Page 2
