by M J Waverly
"I know." I wiped my sweaty palms down my jeans. “I know. It’s important I find Nana’s Book of Shadows. It has spells and instruction on how to deal with spirits like the Blood Collector and how to maintain the balance between our world and the Void according to our town founder, Rudolph Clover.”
“You can see Rudolph Clover?” Laney flinched.
“Yes.” I leaned my head back and studied the clouds in the sky. The leaves on the trees were beginning to turn from yellow to orange.
“Rudolph conversed with your grandmother.” Uncle Joe adjusted his hat back on his shiny bald head.
“Sidney, you didn’t tell me,” Laney exclaimed.
“I’ve had a lot happening.” I gave a half smile, hoping Uncle Joe didn’t forbid from investigating the sorority sisters’ deaths.
He sighed and rubbed his chin. "After the forensic team finishes, I’ll search. I think I remember what it looked like from when I was a kid. It’s hazy. Seems, I remember a coven meeting here once or twice. Mom didn’t like them in the house.”
I stepped forward, heart racing. “Do you recall any of the coven members?”
Uncle Joe shook his head. "It's like a far off dream. Misty and fog-like. Why?"
“Dr. Smith was a member of a coven.”
Uncle Joe looked up with a shocked expression. “She was.”
I nodded. “So, was Alice Hartley, and the sorority sisters.”
Laney’s face paled. “Ghosts. Blood Collector. Covens. What was Nana into?”
I turned to my sister and patted her on the shoulder. "A lot more than conversing with ghosts, gardening, and cooking."
“I’ll get back to the station and start researching connections. Mom always kept that part of her life hidden from us. Sometimes it interfered. . .” Uncle Joe blinked and turned away.
"Who do you think did this?" I pointed back at Nana’s house.
"It could've been a coven member." He remained silent for a moment. "Or the Blood Collector. If the Void is growing stronger, he wants more power."
“I agree,” I said. I simply couldn’t just sit around and wait until the forensics team searched for fingerprints and clues. I had to do something. “I’m returning to work. Call me when you’re finished.”
“I need to get to the industrial park and set up the truck for the lunch time crowds.” Laney removed a pony tail holder from around her wrist and pulled her hair into a make shift bun.
“Save me some lunch,” I said.
Laney pointed at me. “You got it. Call me when you know something.”
As I was leaving, Uncle Joe followed. "Has any of the sorority sisters contacted you?"
“Yes.”
"Have you seen Jeannie Powell?"
"Yes. The ghosts appear as floating disco balls and then transform into themselves. I think their physical appearance is similar to what it was before they were murdered."
Uncle Joe toed the ground with his huge brown work boot. "Do they talk to you?"
"No. They’re under a spell of silence by the Blood Collector." I sensed Uncle Joe’s sadness.
He blinked several times. “Help them. They were good girls, who made a mistake, but they don’t deserve this evil fate.”
“I think Alice Hartley killed them.”
Uncle Joe sighed. “She’s been reported missing.”
I drove away from Nana’s house. Had Alice Hartley killed the three sorority sisters with the help of the Blood Collector? The blood drained from my head to my feet. Had the Blood Collector taken Nana?”
Sixteen
Returning to Hunsinger Automotive Jason waved at me from behind the counter. I trudged up the stairs to the Third Eye Investigations office. Cyrus and Todd weren’t in this morning. They’d had an event at the Civic Center to photograph a community event. I prepared coffee.
I pulled out the photograph of the historical society and studied Mary, Kara, and Jeannie and the younger versions of Alice Hartley and Dr. Smith.
I poured myself a cup of coffee as I tried to figure out who the other people were in the photo. There were four guys and three other women. Twelve people altogether. Enough people to make a coven.
Jason rushed up the stairs and bolted into the office. “Sidney, we need to talk.”
“Jason, look.” I flipped the photograph around. “Twelve historical society members.”
He shrugged and then grabbed the photograph. "Twelve historical members?"
“I think there are twelve members in a coven. What if these people, who are members of the historical society are members of the coven?”
"Ingrid said that they were put under a spell so that they wouldn't remember," he said.
“I know, but the sorority girls sent this to me after our astral visit last night.”
"Wait a minute." He pulled the photograph closer and strode over to his desk, and turned on the lamp. He leaned back in his office chair. "I can't believe this."
I poured another cup of coffee and handed it to him. “What did you find?”
He pointed. “My mom is in this photo.”
“How? When? What?” Shocked, I wasn’t quite sure how to react.
He ran his hands through his hair. "I knew Mom had connections with the magical community, but I had no idea she was involved with a coven."
Todd and Cyrus stormed through the door.
“Good Morning.” They both called out.
Cyrus stopped at the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.
Todd plopped down in his desk and turned on his computer. "We need to put up a video. Are we going to film, today?"
“Good plan. What are we doing today?” Cyrus asked.
Jason stared at the photograph.
My cell phone rang with the “The Good, the Bad, the Ugly” soundtrack ringtone. It was Uncle Joe.
I walked backward. "I need to get this. Ya'll talk among yourselves." Grabbing my phone, I scooted down the stairs and outside of the automotive shop. "Hey, Uncle Joe. Did you find anything?"
“No. The forensic unit came through and checked for prints and any other evidence. They’ll get back with me later.”
“I’ve been thinking. You’re confronting the Blood Collector, and who knows what else, you need your grandmother’s Book of Shadows. I’ll help you search.”
Relief flood me. “I’ll be right over. I’m calling Ava and Laney, too. I thought they’d like to help.”
“That’ll be great. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Bolting back upstairs, I leaned my head in the office. “I need to meet my Uncle Joe at my Nana’s house.
I parked in Nana’s driveway. Uncle Joe’s patrol car was still in the same place.
At Nana’s now righted breakfast table Uncle Joe drank coffee from one of Nana’s mugs she'd made in pottery class. My throat tightened. I remembered all the times I sat with her at this table.
“Any luck?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“The forensic couldn’t find any fingerprints, but they ran other tests and took photos.”
“How’s it going with Dr. Smith’s investigation?” I asked.
“Not well,” Uncle Joe sighed. “Because of my connection to the university through your grandmother, I have been pulled out of the investigation.”
“Maybe. But, I can’t talk about Dr. Smith’s murder,” Uncle Joe stared into his coffee cup.
“Can you tell me about the sorority sisters and the historical society?”
Uncle Joe sighed. “You think you’ve found the folks in the coven.”
“I think I’m onto something. Jason just discovered his Mom was in the historical society. I can only assume she was a member along with the sorority sisters.”
“Jeannie Powell was a member of the historical society,” Uncle Joe’s voice wavered.
“Who was she?” I asked. “A girlfriend?”
Uncle Joe shook his head. "We dated a few times. Sometimes, double-dated with Kelly Williams, and Hunter McAuliffe. Jeannie became frien
ds with Kara Ross and Mary Turner when they joined Delta Beta Alpha Nu They weren't the best influences, and they didn't think a lot of me."
“I’m sorry, Uncle Joe.” I patted his arm. “What do we do next? Do you think someone took the Book of Shadows?”
I stretched my hands out on the table.
“I don’t know.” Uncle Joe arched an eyebrow. “Start searching the house. Let the instincts guide you.”
An urge to search Nana’s desk overcame me. I marched to her office, almost as if a homing beacon summoned me. Her desk drawers overturned. The chair toppled over. Printer tossed onto the floor.
Nana always kept her lesson planning book in her desk. There it was on the floor. Light burst from my fingers and the planning book levitated and zoomed over to my hand.
I heard an ancient language whispered in my mind, and I repeated the words. The teacher's planner transformed from a spiral bound notebook to a leather bound book with a dragon carved on the cover.
Nana’s voice whispered in my ear. “Take it and do good things.” Tears filled my eyes.
Did this mean she was gone? She couldn't be. I didn't get to say goodbye. She had so many things to teach me. I opened the pages. Spells and incantations for dealing with ghosts and other spirits written in an elegant script. This neat handwriting wasn't Nana's but from another time.
Rudolph had said my ancestors settled in this area because of the energy sources. The Blood Collector had told me our families were always meant to be enemies. This information would help me prepare for my next encounter. However, I still needed to do some research on the historical society at the library. The answers to the Nana’s disappearance and to Kara, Mary, and Jeanne’s death were tied to the past and the present.
Today had been a yoyo day. To Nana's house. To Third Eye. To Nana's house. To Third Eye. Next to the library.
Jason worked downstairs in the shop busy with oil changes and tires. I worked upstairs in the Third Eye office. Todd and Cyrus had already left for some wedding photo gig.
I sat down at my desk and pulled out the Book of Shadows, which looked like a lesson planner/datebook and thumbed through it, allowing my instincts to guide me to the right spell or incantation.
I didn’t hear Jason enter the office. He cleared his throat and looked down at me.
“Is everything okay?”
Sadness swept through me. I blinked back tears “I think my Nana is gone. I think she’s dead.”
He came around, held me, and I cried into his shoulder until I couldn’t cry anymore.
Seventeen
I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. I held out my grandmother's Book of Shadows.
Jason frowned. "It looks like a day planner."
“It’s my Nana’s Book of Shadows. I opened to a random page and read in the elegant handwriting. “If a ghost possesses a willing human being, you must summon the light within you to drive out the darkness. Visualize a sunrise and allow the light to fill you. Your magic will respond.”
“Interesting.” Jason leaned forward. “However, if you’re in the middle of a ghostly confrontation, and you’re too afraid to visualize a sunrise, what then?”
I looked on the next page. “Nothing. It says to summon a friendly ghost in the time of trouble to protect your from darker spirits from the Void.”
He leaned over my shoulder, his warm breath against my cheek. I remained still and inhaled his clean soapy scent as I savored our close contact. It had been so long since I'd been with someone.
“I don’t see anything other than calendar dates.”
I inhaled. "I think it's magicked to look like a day planner to everyone who sees it, but it's a leather-bound book to me."
Jason grinned, and his dimples popped out. "That makes sense. No one else would know that it was a book of magic."
"I wonder if my mom had a Book of Shadows,” he murmured.
"She could have." I stepped back. "How are you doing?"
He sat down in his desk chair and held the historical society photo. "I can't believe I didn't know."
I walked over and studied the photo over his shoulder. I recognized Jeannie Powell, Mary Turner, and Kara Ross. "There’s your mother, Dr. Smith and Alice Hartley. Who are these other people?” I leaned in to get a better look.
“I wish I knew,” he said.
“Uncle Joe mentioned a girl name Kelly Williams, who had been a friend of Jeannie Powell.”
“Let’s see what we can find.” Jason entered the name Kelly Williams along with other information to narrow down the search.
He had several hits. I pulled up a chair and began reading. One was an obituary.
“Jason check that site.”
He did. We both read the article. Kelly Williams, daughter of Martha and Stuart Williams, died tragically in a car accident. The article explained that Kelly had been a member of Delta Beta Alpha Nu, the historical society, and the Student Council.
“Wow, she died three months before the sorority sisters,” Jason said.
"She's Martha Williams' daughter, the sweet lady at the library. She never mentioned she had a daughter who'd been a member of the sorority. I think she would be able to identify these people in the photo."
“Let’s go to the college library.”
Jason stood up and grabbed the photo. “I’ll drive.”
On our drive over to the library, Jason and I compare theories as to who would’ve killed the sorority sisters. I had been convinced it’d been Alice Hartley, but I had doubts.
“Call I help you?” A soft voice called out. Martha Williams rounded a bookshelf. Her white hair piled in a bun.
“Where is Ms. Hartley?” I asked.
“She took a personal leave. Can I help you?” Martha’s voice sounded grandmotherly, soft and caring as if she’d been baking cookies and would offer you one and a glass of milk.
I felt like I’d just won the library information lottery.
"We wanted to go to the Archives room and research the old sorority?" Jason interjected. "And any information on the historical society, too." I clasped the historical society photograph that the sorority sisters had sent me last night.
Martha lowered her glasses. “I can help you with the photo.”
“Do you know the identity of these girls?” Jason gave the photograph to Martha, who accepted with trembling hands.
“Those wonderful girls,” Martha said. “So, sad that they disappeared and no one knows what happened to them.”
“Who are the guys in the photo?” I asked.
Diamond rings sparkled on Martha’s fingers as the pointed. Fred Barnes and Hunter Powell were the “it” boys back then. They broke many a young girl’s heart.”
I swore I saw something red flash in Martha’s eyes.
"Look at Alice. Isn't she young and so full of hope? When she was selected for the sorority, her Daddy didn't want her having any part of it. She was quite the catch.
“Why not?” I asked in a shocked tone, hoping it would encourage Martha to reveal more.
“Her Daddy was a preacher. One of those hellfire and brimstone kind. Know what I mean?”
“I do.”
Jason nodded
Alice might have been motivated to kill if she’d gone off the deep end when her father wouldn’t let her join the sorority because he thought they were a group of sinners.
Martha nodded. “He was very strict with Alice, and he didn’t want her having any part of the sorority. He didn’t want her to attend college. Finally, he agreed to let her go when she told him she’d major in library science and history.”
Interesting information about Alice, but something seemed off.
“Who is this girl in the photo?” I pointed at the curly-headed girl with a big smile. She seemed happy. She was with the guy she loved and surrounded by her friends.
Martha's face paled. She spoke in a low voice. "Her name was Kelly." Her soft voice transformed into a rough, dry tone.
“Are you related?
You have the same last name.” I hated to pry, but I had to know.
“She was my daughter. She died in a car accident.” Martha wiped a tear from her eyes.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I am, too. My mother died in a car accident.” Jason pointed at his Mom in the photograph.
“I’m so sorry. It’s hard.” Martha’s rheumy eyes watered. “I can take you to the archives room, and show you the special files we have on the historical society.”
“That would be great,” I said.
We followed Martha, and she talked. "Jeannie Powell invited my daughter, and that's how she and Hunter came to be involved with the historical society. Then, Jeannie encouraged her to join Delta Beta Alpha Nu.”
We were at the Archives door, and Martha held on her hand on the knob. She turned around. “Kelly was on top of the world, so happy. I didn’t want her to join a sorority, but she did. My Kelly Girl was head strong.” Tears trailed down Martha’s face. “I can’t talk anymore about my daughter.”
She opened the door.
Snowball materialized and hissed at Martha.
"What is that cat doing here?" Martha's expression hardened, and horns erupted from her head.
“Whoa. Shit,” I said.
Martha's blue eyes transformed into red embers. Her practical skirt and blouse became a writhing voluminous cloak. Her face morphed into a man's face but retained Martha's softer cheeks and the pearls around her neck.
Jason pulled me closer. “Sidney, get back. I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s the Blood Collector.”
“I told you I would stop you,” The Blood Collector/Martha spoke in an echoing voice, reminding me of when Emma momentarily possessed Ava.
The Blood Collector exposed a skeletal hand from beneath the cloak. He pointed a bony finger, and a red flame exploded. Computer monitors, keyboards, and printers, along with books rose from the desk, whirled in the air, and then attacked.
Darkness, fires, voices crowded my mind as vertigo enveloped me. I clung to Jason, my anchor in this stormy sea of spirits and ghosts.
Something large hit me on the head, and I fell into unconsciousness.
