Spirited Blend

by Kennedy Layne

  Right, right. I don’t own a catnip farm in Alaska. I don’t know what I was thinking. Actually, I wasn’t thinking. I probably had a memory blip, like you’re always calling it. Yeah, that’s it. By the way, ignore that voicemail on the home phone from that commercial realtor. Solicitors and all that. Can’t live with them, can’t set them on fire.

  “What’s the plan?” Liam asked once we’d walked back down the porch steps. “You and I both agree that no one should be aware that I have knowledge of the supernatural. I don’t think it’s the best idea to go with you to talk to Rye.”

  “First, I think it’s safe to say we found the object in question that has been allowing the spirits to come and go as they please,” I said in reassurance, grateful that I wouldn’t have to locate some other rare artifact. Almost everything was pointing toward Rye and the Ouija board he’d confiscated from Gertie. “You’re right, though. I also know that you wanted to check in with all the shop owners to make sure they were set for tonight. You go and take care of that while I go have a chat with Rye. Whatever he may have done to the veil, the two of us will be able to fix, especially with Aunt Rowena’s help.”

  I forgot about the Wicked Witch of Windsor. You know, this heartburn is only getting worse. I know you love me and wouldn’t want to see my fur catch fire, so I’ll just head on back to the tea shop and make sure that your mother isn’t mistreating my BFF. I wish you the best of luck, my dear Raven. Witchspeed.

  Chapter Twelve

  You would have felt really bad making me come with you had my fur caught on fire from my heartburn. Why did you let me eat those treats after I specifically told you that they give me heartburn? You know that old biddy only buys generic kitty treats.

  “You know that, too,” I countered, not taking blame for Leo’s uncontrollable eating habits. “You’re just lucky that those nibbles didn’t contain the red dye that you’re allergic to.”

  We were standing outside Rye’s two-story house that was located in the back of one of the older neighborhoods. I’d opted to drive instead of walk, just in case I found out that he was on a jobsite and I had to track him down. Either way, at least I’d get a chance to speak with Aunt Rowena while I was here.

  Don’t change the subject, Raven. Did you know that there wasn’t any red dye in those treats? Or did you let me eat them without knowing, waiting for my face to explode as I swelled up like a baboon? That’s attempted murder, you know. I hold you totally accountable.

  “Oh, would you stop being so dramatic,” I chastised, walking up the thin walkway to a beautifully crafted porch that was void of any Halloween decorations whatsoever. Rye was one of the few who hadn’t gotten into the spirit of the holiday. I guess being a bachelor gave him a pass in the eyes of the residents. Me? I knew for a fact that he was a warlock, so the least he could have done was carve a pumpkin or something traditional. “If Aunt Rowena doesn’t answer the door, you might need to pop on inside and take a look around to see if the Ouija board is laying out in plain sight.”

  And risk the chance of finding the Wicked Witch of Windsor dancing naked around a cauldron of boiling children? I don’t think so, Raven. Right this minute, I could be back at the tea shop eating my favorite premium edibles and spending time with my BFF. This was not how we were supposed to spend this year’s All Hallows’ Eve.

  “I’m in complete agreement on that sentiment.” I gingerly walked onto the newly-built porch, wondering how much Rye would charge me if I were to add a screened-in version of this onto the back of the cottage. The design really was beautiful, and his craftsmanship was superb, bar none. “Unfortunately, it falls on our shoulders to keep this town spirit-free.”

  Why does the resident warlock get a pass in that burden? Or our local werewolf, for that matter? And we’re forgetting my good friend, Ivan. I don’t mean to throw him under the bus, sickle and all, but he’s only doing half the job. I wonder if his boss knows how slipshod his work has gotten.

  I rang the doorbell, listening closely for any sign of life behind the front door.

  “Do you think that this Ouija board is the object that’s causing the spirits to come and go as they please?” I whispered, still trying to decipher if anyone was walking around inside. “I mean, what if it’s something else and we’re just wasting time? I’d say this could be postponed until tomorrow, but tonight at midnight is when the weave is at its strongest.”

  I rang the doorbell again before looking over my shoulder to see if anyone was around. The leaves had begun falling to the ground earlier this month, painting the yards with my favorite autumn colors. A light breeze carried a few of the dried leaves across the driveway, which was when I made note that Aunt Rowena’s vehicle wasn’t parked in the street.

  “Leo, you need to—”

  No. I’m beginning to wonder if that particular word was left out of your personal dictionary.

  “Aunt Rowena isn’t here, unless she parked her car inside the garage,” I said, trying to reason with Leo. “Come on. Just go and take a quick peek inside the living room to see if the Ouija board is in there.”

  Don’t we already know that the ghost-summoning contraption is inside? Just call the resident warlock on your phone and demand that he hand it over. Bust him and don’t let up. At least one of us can feel satisfied.

  I walked over to the window, presumably the one that gave a view into the living room. The curtains blocked most of the interior, leaving me even more frustrated at Leo for making this situation difficult.

  “Leo, all you have to do is—”

  “What on earth are the two of you doing snooping around here?”

  At the unexpected sound of my mother’s voice, Leo completely panicked and disappeared, leaving orange and black strands of fur floating in his wake. I was no better, spinning around from the window and cracking my elbow against the wooden frame. With my hand over my heart, I somehow managed to hold back my scream of alarm.

  “Mom! Why would you sneak up on us like that?”

  “I think the better question is why are you sneaking around and looking in Rye’s window? How would you feel if he drove out to the cottage and was sneaking around like some peeping Tom?”

  Don’t answer that, Raven. She’s trying to get you to admit to being a peeping Tomette. And just for the record, I didn’t panic. I simply did as you asked and took a look around the resident warlock’s living room. See? No overreaction here. You really should stop projecting your fears onto others, Raven.

  “Rye has a Ouija board, and I think he’s the reason why spirits have been roaming around town,” I blurted out, not able to come up with any believable excuse as to why Leo and I did look like peeping Toms. “Rye has been trying to contact his ancestors, and he might have succeeded a little too well.”

  Way to go, Raven. Where is Heidi when we need her?

  Heidi was definitely a better liar than me, by a landslide. Unfortunately, she was still at work. She didn’t have the luxury of taking time off during the middle of the day to go ghost hunting.

  “Honey, what on earth would make you think that Aunt Rowena would ever allow such a thing to happen?” my mother asked, expertly putting a hole in my theory. She certainly had a way of making me doubt myself. Leo had been spot on when he said she was a master manipulator, though she wasn’t a bad person. It was just her nature. “Wasn’t that the very reason Aunt Rowena had Rye leave the coven in the first place? On top of that, she definitely wouldn’t have allowed him to use such a device to summon spirits right before All Hallows’ Eve.”

  I hate to admit this, but your mother does have a point. Maybe that’s why the Ouija board isn’t here, because the resident warlock doesn’t want the Wicked Witch of Windsor to know that he’s been moonlighting as a medium.

  “Mom, what are you doing here?” I asked skeptically, watching her closely for any sign of deceit.

  You could stare at your mother until the cows come home, but she’s a pro when it comes to the art of the con. You’d think that
Ivan wouldn’t want that type of person at his poker table, but we are talking about my good friend who can’t tell when a warlock is counting cards. Hey, you don’t think our local grim reaper is defective, do you?

  “I became curious as to why Aunt Rowena would have renovations done on her house on the exact week of All Hallows’ Eve,” my mother reluctantly admitted, finally displaying her distrust of our aunt. “I figured I’d pay her a quick visit to gauge the situation. Now that you told me about Rye, I’m wondering if that isn’t why she’s here.”

  In a weird way, that actually makes sense. That alone makes me skeptical. I really don’t like it when your mother has a good explanation for things, because it never turns out well.

  I remained silent for a moment, taking the time to consider my mother’s theory. It did make sense, but there was a tiny hitch in her assumption.

  “Gertie saw her old high school flame earlier today,” I revealed, unsettled that the residents hadn’t connected the dots. Although, Elsie had convinced Wilma that Merle’s spirit had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination. Eugene thought he was just getting old and senile. I’m not sure about Candy, but Gertie might actually truly believe that she’d seen Mr. Nickelbaum. “If Aunt Rowena did come here to stop Rye from contacting his ancestors, I’m not so sure she succeeded in that endeavor.”

  “Has Leo bothered to share with you that our powers become stronger on All Hallows’ Eve because the veil becomes somewhat blurred between the living and the dead? It allows our ancestors the ability to help us should we have need of their powers.”

  I’m relatively sure your resident helicopter mother just insulted my teaching abilities. Now you listen here, you MILK—Mother I’d Like to Kill, in case you were wondering about the acronym.

  “Yes, I know all about the history of All Hallows’ Eve,” I replied wryly, trying to avert another argument between the two. Besides, I might have just figured out what had gone wrong with the cleanup. “If Rye had used the Ouija board earlier this week in an attempt to take advantage of the thinning veil while curtailing a massive fallout, would Aunt Rowena even be strong enough to basically hold back the entirety of the afterlife?”

  My mother seemed to ponder my question. I hadn’t even considered that maybe the reason Aunt Rowena hadn’t stopped by the tea shop was due to her trying to rectify Rye’s mistake. With that said, Rye certainly hadn’t seemed as if he’d unleashed the afterlife during our conversation yesterday morning.

  The resident warlock deals seconds, Raven. I wouldn’t put anything past his poker face.

  “I’ll take one for the team,” my mother said matter-of-factly, digging inside her purse for her phone. “One call should clear this up.”

  I wasn’t aware that your mother was a part of our team. Did I miss the memo? I’d like to abdicate my position. Do you require a two-week notice?

  “Stop that,” I admonished, grateful that my mother was willing to handle the Aunt Rowena part of this problem. “We’re going to need to find out where Rye is this afternoon if Mom can’t get ahold of Aunt Rowena.”

  Is it possible to receive a hall pass for abject job dissatisfaction?

  I purposefully didn’t reply to Leo, not wanting him to think he could skate on this spirit invasion crackdown. Thinking back over what we’d discovered these last two days, Mom’s theory made sense that Aunt Rowena had found out about Rye’s wanting to use this devout holiday of the supernatural to summon his ancestors in order to find out where he’d come from and why he’d been abandoned at such a young age. That type of magic was like a human’s Black Friday right after Thanksgiving. I couldn’t imagine any spirit wanting to miss an opportunity to speak to a loved one on this side of the veil. No wonder Ivan hadn’t wanted to get involved. It must have sounded like a stampede as they all tried to fit through the so-called curtain.

  Mom had stepped off the porch to place the call to Aunt Rowena, and her expression as she made her way back up the handcrafted steps told me that she was about to deliver some bad news. She was already dropping her cell phone back into her purse.

  “Aunt Rowena isn’t answering my call.”

  Hopefully, she had an appointment with Ivan…you know the kind I’m referring to.

  “That’s fine,” I said, having already accepted that today wasn’t going my way. “I’ll go find Rye, and then we’ll get to the bottom of this. Whatever he’s done in attempting to reach out to his ancestors in hopes of finding out who his biological parents are, it can be corrected.”

  My mother arched that eyebrow of hers at the perfect angle.

  “Don’t give me that look, Mom,” I said in warning, pulling my cell phone out of my skirt pocket. If Rye didn’t answer, then I’d simply have to drive around town until I saw his truck. “You were the one who always said that any mistake made could be corrected if you went about it the right way.”

  And you actually listened to her? Heaven forbid! Raven, I’m beginning to understand where everything went wrong. We’re not taking her with us, right? I call shotgun!

  Chapter Thirteen

  I should have known that Rye wouldn’t have been that easy to track down. First, he wasn’t answering his phone. Secondly, he was nowhere to be found around town. A part of me had a sneaking suspicion that maybe he’d actually managed to carry out a successful séance and had been able to speak with his ancestors. Had Rye finally located his biological parents? Had Aunt Rowena been trying to stop him or was she helping him? I wasn’t sure about a lot of things, but it was becoming clearer and clearer that the veil between us and the afterlife had basically become an open window.

  “…something in the coffee,” Cora said to Desmond as the couple walked past the open door of the tea shop. “I mean, it’s a good thing I didn’t have a hair appointment today. I overheard Maude say that the poor woman had a tremor in her hand all day. Speaking of Maude, did you know that she swears she saw her dead brother? I’m telling you, it’s as if someone put drugs in…”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see my mother roll her eyes at Cora’s assumption that there was something in the coffee or the water over at the diner that was making the residents of Paramour Bay see their deceased loved ones.

  Not to perplex you further, but don’t you find it odd that my beloved Rosemary hasn’t paid us a visit? Let’s not forget Mazie or Lucille. It would also be nice to get ahold of that irritating gnat of a fairy to find out how to take this glitter bomb off my paw.

  Beetle was standing right next to me as we finished positioning one of the high-top tables right outside the tea shop’s door. I did my best not to show a response to Leo’s question. I guess I hadn’t put too much thought into it, but Leo had a point. Why hadn’t Nan stopped by to visit if the veil had been pierced or parted?

  “Raven, dear, you better get home to change into your costume,” my mother urged as she began to open the bags of candy that I’d be handing out to the children in about an hour. “I’ll keep trying to reach Aunt Rowena. It’s quite possible that she and Rye drove up to Windsor to check out those renovations of hers.”

  I’m no longer offering up my catnip farm in Alaska. I’ve decided it’s too valuable, but I’d like to go on record that I don’t believe for a moment that the Wicked Witch of Windsor nor our resident warlock left town. They’re up to no good and may be using the holiday to focus their powers somehow.

  I completely agreed with Leo, but it wasn’t like I could say anything in front of Beetle. My mother hadn’t left his side since I’d returned to the store, so I’d had to rely on Leo to get my point across several times. Needless to say, Leo wasn’t as diplomatic as I would have been.

  Look, your mother already has a golden ticket for the express train to Hades. There’s no reason to sugarcoat anything anymore.

  My mother pasted a smile to her face with those painted red lips of hers, probably doing her best to bite her tongue, thereby preventing herself from giving Leo a scathing reply. Leo’s needling for the past couple of
hours was wearing on her nerves.

  I’m stuck here with you until this entire ghost invasion is taken care of instead of making sure that the squirrelpocalypse doesn’t commence, so I deserve something to keep my mind off the end of the world.

  “Delicious,” Beetle exclaimed, having snuck one of the candy bars from the bowl my mother had filled with various types of treats. “Simply delicious! That reminds me…”

  Beetle patted his cardigan sweater where the pocket of his dress shirt was located directly beneath the fabric. He began walking over to the display window, causing the strands of his white hair to sway with every step.

  “Here you go, my friend,” Beetle crooned, slipping his fingers inside his sweater to pull out a small foil packet of premium organic catnip. Leo had been sunning himself on his cat bed with his paws up in the air while we waited for Rye to call back, but he scampered as quickly as he could into an upright position. “It’s Halloween, and everyone deserves extra treats today.”

  I love him, Raven. I just love him so much.

  “You’re up to something,” I murmured, having taken advantage of Beetle’s distraction to speak with Mom. “I can tell, so you better spit it out now.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” my mother replied haughtily, moving the wrapped treats around in the bowl as if she were rearranging flowers inside a vase. “You saw me try to call Aunt Rowena. She wasn’t answering, so just how is it that you believe I’m up to something, dear?”

  “Maybe because you called Ted after Beetle told you about the unexpected ghost visitors,” I pointed out, connecting the dots that there was more to this supernatural event than met the eye. “Ted dislikes you, Mom. You know that, so why would you call him if it wasn’t to garner information and use it to your benefit?”

  You two are making it very hard to enjoy my delicious treat. My taste buds deserve to savor this tasty edible gift from the gods. Your bickering sours my stomach.