by Kater Cheek
“You don’t trust me, do you?”
“What makes you think the bindi has magical powers?”
Virginia backed towards the chair and sat down, nearly squishing a sleeping kitten. “You want the names of the museum committee? They’re written in my book.”
I still didn’t go back in the closet.
“I’ve been waiting thirty years to find out if that jewel had powers or not. Humor me.”
I stepped into the closet, slid the book out of the stack with one hand on the top of the pile to keep it from tipping, and walked back into the bedroom.
“Just like that, eh?” she commented, taking it from my hands.
“Just like that.”
“Can you see the Goodly Folk too?” For a moment she looked wistful, a young girl still hoping she will someday see a unicorn. “I haven’t seen a faerie in years.”
“Yeah, I see all kinds of things.”
“Well, I’ll be.” She tutted, then licked her finger to open the book. Her Book of Shadows, unlike Uncle Fred’s more prosaic one, was leather-bound and ruled with thin brown lines. The paper had yellowed around the edges, and a frayed scrap of red ribbon showed where it once had a tie to keep it shut.
“As far as I know, Sacred Grove was the first Pagan coven in this town. It was hard for us back then. You could sooner name yourself a communist than say you were a practicing witch. Everyone thought we were all about worshiping the devil.
“Even now they still don’t have half of it right. Of course, you’re probably more open-minded, since your brother James is one.”
“How do you know my brother is a witch?”
Virginia snorted, an unladylike sound that briefly shaved a few decades off her age. “How do you think I know? Freddie and I have been exchanging letters for thirty years. Do you think he wouldn’t have mentioned his favorite nephew at least once or twice? He adored that boy. Aha! Here are the names. Wouldn’t surprise me if they’re mostly dead now. Lot of that going around these days.
“One of them might be willing to take that jewel off your hands though, since you’re so keen on selling it. It’d be a shame if you did, with all Freddie went through to keep Monica from stealing it.”
“I still haven’t decided if I’m going to sell it or not. Can I borrow a pencil and paper to write this down?”
“No, take the whole thing.” She handed me the Book of Shadows, tucking the loose papers back inside.
Such an unexpected show of generosity left me speechless. James’ own Book of Shadows was his most treasured possession, except for the coffee shop, of course. Uncle Fred never even let so much as a photocopy of his book leave his house until he died. And yet Virginia didn’t even glance at the book once it left her hands.
“I’m not a witch. What would I do with it?”
“Give it to your brother. Freddie was my student, and this book should be passed down his line.”
“Are you sure you don’t need it?”
Virginia waved a hand to dismiss the notion, then tapped her forehead with an index finger. “There’s nothing in there I don’t have up here, and I’ll be dead soon anyway.”
How do you respond to something like that?
Virginia laughed at me. “Now you’re wondering if I’ve told my own fate, or if I’m just a kooky old woman. I’m old, Miss Melbourne. Don’t take much witchery to predict what’s bound to happen.”
The doorbell rang.
She pressed two fingers to her temples and frowned in concentration. “I predict that it’s a short, round, woman, with long dark hair in a ponytail, talking on her cell phone, picking cat hair off her pants.”
She winked at me. “Now, have I foretold the future, or have I just figured out that my daughter-in-law’s finally here to help me pack?”
Chapter Twelve
Blood stained the cement slab that bridged the ditch. Splatters splayed towards the edge as though an ankle had been pierced by sharp reptilian teeth. A smear marked where the other shod foot had slid in the wet blood, and another print showed the imprint of a shoe as the victim ran away.
It wasn’t a tennis shoe. It looked more like a loafer, or a man’s dress shoe.
People could get in trouble if their dog bit a mailman. What if their half-tamed kappa attacked someone? I hurried away from the edge of the ditch towards our apartment.
“You see it too?” Elaina was half out the door, speaking in almost a whisper. “I think the kappa got someone.”
“Did you see it happen? Do you know who it was?”
“No, but I was talking about it with Rosa upstairs.”
“She knows about the kappa?”
“Of course not! Don’t be stupid. I just told her I heard something, wanted to know if they’d had any trouble around here. She says there’s a drifter who used to come by. Once he got into someone’s basement and squatted there for a couple weeks before the landlady kicked him out.”
I came inside and closed the door. Elaina waved her hands in some gestures, then went into the kitchen.
“You’re not worried about this?”
“No. The drifter won’t come back now.”
“How do you know for sure it was the drifter?”
“Who else would it possibly be? Do you have a stalker ex-boyfriend or something?” Elaina reached under the counter and took out a saucepan. “I’m just glad that the kappa is doing its job. There’s a cucumber in the fridge if you want to give it a treat.”
“Give it a treat? Like, good boy, nice kappa, thanks for biting that nawsty widdle dwifter?” I mimed patting a creature on the head.
“You’re so weird.”
“Where’s the cucumber?”
“In the hydrator.”
“Where?”
“The vegetable drawer, no, the other one.” She frowned and pointed. “There. Goddess, Kit, don’t you know what a hydrator is?”
“Yeah, sure I do.” She thought I was weird? She kept vegetables in the beer drawer. I fished out the cucumber. “Be right back.”
Rosa and Phillip were in front of the house. Rosa smoked a cigarette and half-heartedly read a novel while she watched her small son fall off his scooter and determinedly get back on again. I tried to slip past them, but Rosa saw me, and waved.
“Hi, Rosa. How are you?” Crap. So close. I held the cucumber behind me, like snitched cookies just before supper.
“Fine. Phillip has another tooth now. Last night he cried for hours.”
“I didn’t hear it,” I said truthfully. When we left the windows open we had to endure our upstairs neighbors’ passionate arguments and equally passionate reconciliations. Now that it was cold enough to keep the windows closed our neighborly interactions stayed on the porch where they belonged.
“Oh, well, you know, he’s at that age.”
We watched Phillip’s attempts to run and walk for a few minutes, while Rosa told me every nuance of his development. I backed towards the kappa. Phillip was a cute kid. Elaina adored him, and when she first met him she made certain to warn the kappa of everlasting torment if it ever touched one of Phillip’s precious hairs. I made sure she included Phillip’s doting parents as well.
We needn’t have worried. As far as I could tell, the family upstairs knew nothing of the kappa’s existence. Phillip wasn’t allowed near the water, and the kappa never left the ditch.
Rosa talked long past my listening point, and my shoulder blades itched with the feeling of being watched. Only a few feet from the ditch now. Kishimoto-sensei said never to turn your back to an opponent. How hard would it be for the kappa to turn and attack me, mug me for the cucumber?
“I have to get something. Watch Phillip a minute?” Rosa asked.
“Sure.” About time. As soon as she entered the house, I sprinted to the ditch and leaned over the edge. “Hey, Kappa, you there?” I asked quietly.
“Yesss.” The kappa hid under the bridge, showing nothing more than wet fishy eyes glinting in the darkness.
“You b
it someone, didn’t you?”
“Yesss. Kappa fights.”
“Was it a man or a woman? Can you give me a description?”
“Human. Tasty.”
“Can’t you get more specific than that?”
“Human. Bargain. Bargain, tasty human.” It reached a webbed hand up and grinned, displaying sharp teeth.
“This is for our bargain.” The cucumber fell down into the water with a dark splash. A webbed hand reached out and grabbed it. “Now can you describe the—”
“What are you doing? Is something in the ditch?” Rosa asked, stepping onto the porch with a pack of baby wipes and a diaper.
“Nothing. Just looking at the water.” I brushed my hands on my pants, and faked a smile before scampering back to our apartment.
“Was it there?” Elaina wiped her hands on her apron and looked up the stairs at me.
“Yeah. Man, that thing is creepy.”
“It’s easier if you’re raised in a witch family. I’m used to the supernatural,” she said loftily, pushing her glasses up her nose again. “Do you want some seitan?”
“If that’s food, then yes I do.”
Elaina started opening cabinets and taking mysterious ingredients out. She had mixing bowls, oil, frying pans and more spices than I had ever seen. Having a roommate who could cook took some of the sting out of having to wait for the shower in the morning.
And the cucumber. What would happen if we didn’t have a cucumber on hand? Would the kappa crawl out of the ditch and decide to eat the tasty treats living in the basement?
A knock on the door made us both jump.
“I’ll get it,” I told her. “I’m expecting someone.”
Silvara stood there with a box of silk flowers and leaves. She wore a sky-blue kimono dotted with yellow ginkgo leaves, which wouldn’t have looked out of place on a geisha. The obi had been replaced by a slim belt, and Silvara’s hair flowed down her back instead of being piled on top of her head. The feathers of her gray wings fluttered slightly in the breeze.
“I thought I’d drop these off in person so I could see your new place. I have more boxes in the car. Can you help me unload them?”
“Sure thing. By the way, Silvara, this is my roommate, Elaina. Elaina, this is Silvara. She works at Tulipa, the shop where I commission my stuff. I don’t think you’ve met before.”
Elaina’s eyes widened. She gasped and put her hands over her face, like a teenage girl who had just seen her favorite boy band drop by for coffee. “I know who you are, that is, uh. I know you by reputation. It’s such an honor to meet you.”
“Blessed be,” answered Silvara benevolently. “Will you help with the boxes?”
Elaina jumped at the chance to help, and the three of us unloaded all the boxes in a few minutes. Elaina hovered like a pesky little sister while Silvara and I went over the order list.
“It’s a lot of work, Kit. This is most of the supplies I ordered. The rest of it’s coming in a few days.”
“The rest of it? This is already a ton of stuff. How much did you want me to do?”
“I suppose I wasn’t clear. This isn’t a little job. These need to be as nice as the ones you did for the Myrnsdale-Beckett wedding, but longer, at least twelve feet. And they said they want twenty, not fifteen. Are you sure you can have them done before Samhain?”
No. How on earth was I going to get this done? “Yeah, sure, no problem. Thanks for the work.”
“You’re welcome.” Silvara smiled and touched me lightly above the bindi. A gentle warmth spread from her fingertips, trickling down my spine. It felt like a shot of good brandy, pleasant instead of burning. “Take care.”
“Um, Ms. Holmes?” Elaina stopped Silvara before she could leave. “If it’s not too much trouble, that is, um, would you mind terribly? Um, would you bless our apartment?”
“Certainly.” Silvara didn’t seem surprised by the request. She walked slowly from corner to corner. At each corner, she raised her arms, closed her eyes, and glowed softly. This was a side of Silvara I hadn’t seen before.
“Oh, thank you so much. I really appreciate it. It’s such an honor to have you here. You’re welcome to come any time, I mean, if you want to.”
Silvara touched Elaina lightly between the eyes. Elaina bowed her head and closed her eyes to receive the blessing. It must have been profound, because it shut Elaina up for a whole five minutes after Silvara walked up the stairs and out to her delivery van.
Smoke poured out of the kitchen, so I turned off the burner, figuring the food was done cooking. The seitan was charred, but the sauce was tasty. I heaped a plate full and dug in. Pretty crispy, and with a distinct charcoal taste, not unlike that nasty tea that predicted my murder. Maybe it needed a bit more sauce.
Elaina was still star-struck. “Oh, my Goddess. Kit, do you know who she is?”
“She’s part owner of Tulipa, and manager of the Bromley branch.” And my good friend, which meant it would suck twice as much if the boughs weren’t done on time. Maybe James could cut back on my hours? Yeah, but then how would I eat? It wasn’t like I could afford to just quit.
“Didn’t you see her wings?”
“Yeah, she said she was the Avatar of the Goddess. It’s like being Homecoming Queen or something.” Was there any unburned part underneath the black shell? I started scraping with a fork.
“No, she’s like the Dalai Lama of Seabingen. She is the chosen representative of the Goddess. She represents the Goddess in our ceremonies because, in a manner of speaking, she is the Goddess.”
“She said it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“It is a big deal. I mean, the Goddess chose her!” Elaina finally looked down at her food and took a bite of the seitan briquette. “Ugh. This is awful.”
She saw my half-empty plate and raised her eyebrows.
“Tastes fine to me.” I took another bite to prove it. “Does the Goddess choose the male Avatar too?”
“The Holly King?” She sniffed. “No, he’s the Avatar of the God, not the Goddess. He’s voted in.”
“Was Silvara voted too?”
“No. The Goddess chose her. She has wings.”
“The Holly King has antlers,” I pointed out. I’d eaten most of the un-charred food, so I took my plate to the kitchen and scraped it into the garbage.
Elaina frowned, apparently not comfortable with the idea of a man being just as holy as a woman. “Yes, but she’s chosen for life. He’s just the Holly King until the Oak King is chosen at Midwinter.”
“So, who votes for him?” I pulled my utility knife from my pocket and slit open one of the boxes. This box contained fake apples, and small foam pumpkins.
“U.C.S. members. United Covens of Seabingen.”
“Right, the Halloween festival sponsors. The ones who are gonna pay me.” The ones I had to impress, in order to not let Silvara down.
“Pay you?”
I sliced open the next box, which held a spool of wire and a large bag of dried corn husks. “Yeah, Silvara subcontracted with me to make boughs for the festival.”
“Why you? You hardly seem like the crafty type.”
I gave her a chilly stare. “This is my job. This is what I do, and she hired me because she knows I do good work.”
“I thought you—”
“I only work at Ishmael’s to help James.” And sometimes vice versa. “I told you I needed studio space for my work.” The third box had floral tape and several spools of ribbon. Did she include light strings too? Yes. Gold and orange fairy lights. Perfect. “Of course, if you don’t like the idea of me taking over this area, I can use my bedroom for a studio and sleep out here.”
“No, no, that’s fine.” Elaina said this quickly, like she wasn’t sure if I was bluffing. “Just don’t let the mess creep past the stairs into the living room.”
I nodded and opened the fourth box.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, you got a letter in the mail.”
“Junk mail already?”
“No, a real letter. I’ll get it, hang on.” She got the stack of mail from the top step and sorted through until she found mine. “Here it is.”
It was a most curious letter. James had written me letters by hand back when I was still in high school, but they had been ballpoint pen on lined notebook paper. This was on thick parchment paper, yellowed like it had spent years in someone’s desk drawer. The looping cursive had lines that waxed and waned in thickness, as if the owner were using a fountain pen.
Miss Melbourne,
If you would be so kind as to meet with me Friday the seventeenth at ten p.m., I have some information about your jewel that would interest you.
Mr. G. Holzhausen
“So, what is it?”
“It’s an invitation.”
“For what?”
“Somebody wants to meet me.” I flipped it over. There was an address on the back. “Where’s 3317 S. River Front Drive?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll Google it on James’ computer.” But not before I had made some good progress on these boughs. I ripped open another box.
Chapter Thirteen
There are worse ways to spend an afternoon than making shoe rubbings. Fenwick had provided the crayons, the paper, and eleven shoes, all of them right, to try and match the print on the cement slab bridge. He took to this Nancy Drew stuff enthusiastically, and had spent twenty minutes with a yardstick, a magnifying glass, and a lot of “Hmmms” to figure out the obvious.
Someone had been bitten on the ankle as she crossed the bridge.
Fenwick held up my shoe to the tracing from the cement. “Whoever she is, this woman has big feet.”
“They aren’t that much bigger than mine, and I only wear a size nine. Oh, you know what? I think we have a hit here.”
Fenwick peered at the lime green rubbing of Elaina’s penny loafer. “That’s the closest we’ve come. Told you it was a penny loafer.”
“One spring does not a swallow make.”
“That’s ‘one swallow does not a spring make’, and you still owe me a Coke. She was wearing penny loafers.” He spread the shoe rubbings on the counter and compared them with the tracing. “That’s got to be a penny loafer.”
