“Do you walk on the road?” Rosemary pressed. “How do you and Cloda get back and forth?”
“Cloda don’t go nowhere, so Miss Fancy don’t get her fine clothes dirty. She ain’t been down off that mountain in near thirty years. As for me, I take the path.”
Drew asked, “Would that path be passable in this weather?”
“That path ain’t passable for nobody, not for the likes of you anyway.”
That phrase again, Kaye thought in bemusement. The likes of us.
“That’s all right,” Rosemary said to her team. “We have GPS, we could just track upward. It’s not hard to find the top of a hill.”
Ardelia found this idea comical. “I reckon you could, if you take a sturdy walking stick with you, and a rifle, as you might run straight into a mountain lion, or some bears, or Razorback himself.”
“Razorback?” asked Rosemary, her face lighting up with excitement. She fairly begged their hostess, “Who - what - is Razorback?”
“You wouldn’t believe me, if’n I told you.”
Greg was on Rosemary’s wavelength at once, and just as excited. “Do you have a mountain monster?”
“Well I tell you what, young man,” Ardelia said with a sickening grin. “Why don’t you take yer cameras out there and find out. While he’s eating the flesh off your bones, I reckon you can get some good pitchers.”
“What is it - a Bigfoot, a Sasquatch?” Greg asked. “A mutant animal?”
Ardelia’s desire had been to frighten them, of course. Kaye said to the old woman, “You’ll have to do better with this group. Give them a mountain monster, and they’ll stay an extra week just to catch it on film.”
But Ardelia wasn’t giving up. “I thought y’all was supposed to know about witches and other such devilry. Don’t you see? Cloda don’t want just anybody comin’ up her mountainside unawares. She’s fixed it so you can’t. You can’t walk up there.”
Once more, this failed to damper the interest of Rosemary or Greg. “Really?” Greg asked just as Rosemary said, “Ooo, how did she do that?”
“Where’d that little runt of a fella go?” demanded Ardelia, as rudely as she could manage.
Rosemary jumped in to answer, lest anyone take issue with the word runt, which they all did. “Judge is resting in the men’s bedroom.”
That answer was too satisfactory for Ardelia’s pleasure. It must be quite dull up here, if she was looking so hard to pick a fight. “Far as I see, it’s the road or nothing, so there you have it. Looks to me like you won’t be meeting Miss Fancy Cloda after all.”
Rosemary was unconquered. “This is not a problem. I’ll call the car rental agency and have them deliver an off-road vehicle to us.”
Miss Ardelia did her trademark sniff of disapproval, the puckered lips making almost a full circle of distaste; she looked like a foul-tempered cow chewing a foul-tasting cud. She said, “I have supper to see to. Remember, I ain’t cooking for you.”
Rosemary offered, “We’ve got some excellent hoagies from a St. Louis deli, if you’d like to join us.”
“No, thank you, I don’t need any Jew food.”
“Wow,” said Rosemary in spite of herself. All of Kaye’s young friends were shocked by the racial insult; they weren’t used to that kind of talk. Miss Ardelia moved just out of sight to begin slamming things in her kitchen. Kaye saw Rosemary look to Greg, making a motion that always meant: are you filming this? Greg displayed the small camera he rarely put down. His thumb had been discreetly covering the green “recording” light. Rosemary smiled in gratitude. As usual, they did what they liked, and asked permission later. Kaye supposed they would assume she disapproved of such a method. Not so. Years on hospital committees had taught her that this was, often, the only way to get things done.
“For a good Christian woman, she’s awfully nasty,” Rosemary said in a hushed tone.
“But Cloda invited us,” said Kaye tersely. “How ridiculous.”
They all kept their voices low as they spoke. It seemed unlikely that Ardelia would hear them anyway, as much noise as she was making while preparing her supper, in addition to the ceaseless noise of torrential downpour outside.
“Maybe Ardelia’s afraid that we’ll get Cloda in trouble,” offered Stefan.
Kaye couldn’t agree. “Seems to me that Ardelia would enjoy that.”
Stefan replied, “She might disapprove of her sister’s witchcraft, but that doesn’t mean she’d want Cloda ostracized or criticized. You know how it is: ‘You can’t talk about my sister that way; only I can talk about my sister that way.’”
Kaye was aware that Greg had discreetly turned the camera to watch this exchange. She had just about gotten used to the fact that anything she said on a Shirley Jackson weekend could possibly wind up on the show. So when she answered Stefan, she did so with some formality. “I would agree with you, if outing Cloda as a witch would have any repercussions. But witchcraft is positively fashionable. It’s more likely that we’d increase her business. And you can hardly ostracize a woman who already lives alone at the top of a mountain called Eyeteeth.”
Hopeful Sally said, “Maybe she’ll feel better in the morning, and she might explain what’s wrong. You know that people almost always end up talking to us.”
“Maybe not in this house,” remarked Drew. “All our usual tricks are getting us stabbed in the head.”
As they tried to make themselves comfortable on the difficult, dingy furniture, Rosemary used her cell phone to call Kansas City; there was no trouble getting a signal. They had learned their lesson in Colorado when their communications had been cut off, and now kept a hotspot in their van to ensure that regardless of where they went, they’d have a satellite signal close by.
She paused between her sentences to listen to Tricia, their secretary manning the office in Kansas City. “Tricia, big favor here at the end of the day, I know. We need a rental vehicle delivered to us in Slope. I need an off-road vehicle, something that can climb a muddy mountain with no paved roads. The best we can get. Whatever it costs, I don’t care. Heavy storms in the area. If we could get it tomorrow morning, even better. Because we barely made it up here in the van and the truck. We crawled the last ten miles and it was scary as shit. Sure thing. Thank you. You’re awesome” With the matter in Tricia’s hands, Rosemary turned, reporting, “She’s awesome.”
Chapter Four
Othernaturals Season 6, Episode 5
Slope, Missouri; June 2015
In about an hour, though it was early for dinner, boredom and the smells of cooking meat (which Kaye said was deer meat) drove Stefan and Drew out in the rain to get their cooler of hoagies and drinks, and sacks of groceries from the back of the van. Since Miss Ardelia was eating noisily in the kitchen, they stayed in the front room. Judge came out of the bedroom, a bit bleary-eyed but hungry, even though he made a face about the smell of “all that weird meat” in the air. Everyone gathered ’round the cooler. They handed around napkins and wrapped hoagies, and cracked open soda cans and passed around a bag of chips, and then another bag of chips.
Sally opened her laptop to entertain them while they ate. She cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. “Since we’ve already heard about how you guys almost managed to destroy the Perkins Institute for Paranormal Studies in less than three days, I thought you might like to know what Stefan, Kaye and I were up to. We had more fun, I’m certain, and nobody came anywhere near death or starting a Biblical plague.”
“I was under duress,” said Judge, with more good-naturedness than one might expect, considering the near-death and Biblical-plague problem he’d had just the day before.
Sally started the slideshow of photos she’d prepared specially to show the highlights. Of course there were numerous photos of Stefan and Kaye in their steampunk costumes which had drawn the crowd hungrily to them, some of Sally in her virginal white garb, which resembled a sort of wardrobe cross between a shepherdess and a toddler, and plenty of the amazing and gory
things they had seen.
“Your costumes are awesome!” cried Judge with obvious envy. “Rosemary, when do we get to dress up like that!?”
“When will your book be finished?” Rosemary asked in return. “Stefan wrote a book, he gets a fancy costume.”
Judge had a non-fiction book in the works, a loose idea that he’d write about the tricks of “talking to the animals,” but it seemed like the book deal itself might have been more about Judge getting into bed with a particularly attractive book editor who had a soft spot for shelter pets.
“I’m collecting research,” answered Judge defiantly. Referring to the pictures in Sally’s slideshow, he said, “Kaye, you’re a smash fox. What are you doing with this Old Man on your arm?”
Kaye put a hand to her heart. “Are you asking me out, Judge?”
Stefan interjected dryly, “Be sure to get this on film. Should be hilarious.”
Judge backed down. Apparently Stefan was correct, and Judge knew when he was doomed for failure. He shook his head. “Ah, Kaye, you’re way out of my league. I’m just jealous.”
“Speaking of jealous,” said Greg. Here were photos of Stefan, Kaye and Sally with various cosplay characters from favorite horror films, and with a variety of Cthulhu merchandise that made Judge and Greg both groan with desire. “The cookie jar!” cried Greg, as if wounded because such a thing existed in the world and he didn’t own it.
Stefan said, “Be good this year. Santa Claus may have a surprise for you.”
Pictures of Sally with fake tattoos on her cheek and around her eyes, the black lines slicked across her skin making a sharp contrast to the white costume. “I look like kind of a badass, don’t I?” Sally asked. Confirmations all around, that Sally looked like a badass.
“Look, everybody,” interrupted Stefan, “These are the pics with Princess Vampessa!”
They saw pictures of a rather red-faced Stefan posing with an older woman in heavy makeup and a deeply-cut black dress, sporting a sleek black wig of curls. A crown with fake blood-red rubies topped her head, an equally huge teardrop ruby dangled between her impressively large breasts. Although she was in her sixties, she was glorious in her campiness, and smiling with honest warmth. Sally had liked this woman an awful lot - maybe because Vampessa had made a career out of being the cheesecake and come out of it with her dignity not only intact, but radiant.
“Jesus,” said Greg. “That’s what I call a woman-and-a-half.”
“Was she a movie star?” asked Drew.
For a moment Stefan seemed offended that someone didn’t recognize his idol, but Drew didn’t watch TV or movies, and they had to make allowances. Stefan explained, “She had her own late-night show when I was a kid. She introduced horror movies. When I was about ten years old, I was planning on marrying her. If it hadn’t been for Kaye, I’d never have dared to talk to her, but, you know, Kaye’s amazing.”
“Guilty as charged,” said Kaye. “Vampessa was the sweetest woman, truly. I bet if we asked nicely, she’d guest on an episode of the show.”
Rosemary straightened, drawing in a breath. “Are you shitting me? Do you really think she would? The actual Princess Vampessa. Don’t kid about things like that.”
“I’m not kidding. She adored Stefan and was completely—”
“Stop it. Stop it this minute.” A fierce-faced Miss Ardelia stood in the doorway, radiating fury from her near-bald scalp to the ratty house shoes that had replaced her mud-caked galoshes. The men stood awkwardly, out of politeness, which was beginning to seem pointless. Shrilly Ardelia accused them, “I’ve never heard such talk. In a Christian home! I asked you to watch your language and it’s all I hear, swearing and cussing, and such talk, I’ve never heard the like.” She pointed at each of them in turn. “You don’t take the Lord’s name in vain in my house, you hear?”
Rosemary stammered, “Did we—”
“I heard you, I reckon it was one of your pretty boys, took the name of my Lord Jesus in vain and you ain’t to do it again, you hear me?”
“I apologize, ma’am,” said Rosemary.
Greg raised his hand. “It was me. My apologies too.”
The old woman seethed at them, her chin wobbling. Was she about to cry? Rosemary spoke kindly. “Miss Ardelia, I beg your pardon, but you seem very unhappy to have us here. We understood that you’d agreed to board us, and I fully intend to pay you for the use of your house.”
“We’re paying for this?” Kaye asked in amazement, then put her hand to her lips and rephrased, “Of course we’re paying, sorry.”
Rosemary continued, “And I’m afraid you’re stuck with us for the night. I’m not taking my team back down this mountain on roads in this condition, with visibility like it is. However, in the morning, I can probably make arrangements to get us out of your house.”
“Cloda said you was to board here and that’s the way it’s gonna be.”
“But it’s obvious you don’t want us here.”
“Well it ain’t up to me, is it, little missy?” Ardelia glared at Rosemary fiercely. “Cloda said you’d stay, and it’s a pretty day when I get to tell Miss Fancy what’s what. It’s Willie’s house anyhow, he’s the one what built and paid for it. So here you stay. But one thing I won’t tolerate is taking the Lord’s name in vain under my roof. I won’t have it.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Rosemary told her with one of those warm smiles that were so hard to resist.
Ardelia seemed more confused by the agreement than anything else, and she eyed them all suspiciously.
“That venison you prepared smells wonderful,” said Kaye, as if Ardelia hadn’t just shrieked at them. “My father used to bring home a deer every season. I’d almost forgotten how it smelled.”
Rosemary’s phone buzzed loudly and she snatched it up, setting her sandwich aside. “Hi, Tricia! Okay, great – you’re a miracle worker, as usual. Yes. Got it. Yes. Well – no, or that is, I guess – I mean, it’s just like driving the truck, right? Sure it is.” For a while Rosemary was silent, listening carefully, and then she said, “Be sure to keep track of your overtime, right? I’ll text you tomorrow when they show.” She finished the call and said, “Well this sounds cool. Tomorrow some nice people are going to deliver us a Mercedes Benz G500 all-terrain vehicle with three kinds of something-or-another that makes it go better off-road because of the axles or something – I lost track after she said Mercedes.”
“Ooh, can I drive it?” asked Stefan just as Andrew said, “I want to drive it!” and Kaye said, “I’d like to try driving it.” This caused some laughter and Rosemary warning that everyone had to take turns “or I will turn this Shirley Jackson weekend around and take us straight back home.”
“You ain’t going up the mountain,” insisted Ardelia. “For what? To talk with some crazy old witch who does nothing but damage? Of all the foolish notions.”
Sally stared wistfully at Rosemary, who had adopted the most kind-hearted expression, projecting a patience and empathy that, whether or not they were genuine, made her heart-shaped face radiant. Rosemary told their hostess, “Don’t worry, Miss Ardelia. This is all going to be just fine. You’ll see. And we’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”
Ardelia gave each of them a withering look in turn and then her eyes lifted to the grimy windows of her house. They followed her gaze. Approaching the town, they saw a line of flashlight beams moving through the forest.
“The rocking chair factory closed up half an hour ago,” replied Miss Ardelia. “They’re all a’coming home.”
“Rocking chair factory?” some of them repeated. Mesmerized, Sally rose with her friends to go outside once more, to crowd under the shelter of Ardelia’s wet porch, to watch the returning workers hiking obliviously through the dreadful weather. Ardelia squeezed in behind them, a scowling tour guide in their introduction to the other thirteen citizens of Slope. The sight was strange, ethereal in the deep blue dusk.
From the forest came thirteen people, shuffling thei
r way through the trees, shabby wet shapes all of them with rain pummeling their heads and their shoes sinking in the thick mud. In their hands they held weak flashlights aloft to light the path, except one young man who seemed to hold a tattered box. He stopped to let the workers move by him, and distributed something to each person as they passed.
Through the curtains of rain, the Othernaturals watched the strange parade amble their way through the tall weeds toward the lopsided houses, breaking apart in groups of three and four to mount the rotting steps of the shacks on Slope’s only street, rotten doors creaking in agony as they went inside.
Strange. No lights shone in the windows of the houses even after all the doors were closed again and everyone home – but perhaps the windows were so dirty, light could not escape.
“That’s odd,” said Drew.
“They been that way since last autumn,” Ardelia announced from behind them. “Back and forth every day in a line, rain or snow, ice or what-have-you, and got not one friendly word to say to me, ever. Good riddance, says I. Bunch of gossips and hard-hearted no-goods.”
“Wow, you really don’t like your neighbors,” said Sally.
“Ain’t no neighbors of mine, not after what they done.” Ardelia opened her mouth to say more, but her words were interrupted by thunder. But wait - this was not the same booming thunder from the clouds they had heard all afternoon. This was new, this had a gas-powered scream to it. The porch trembled under their feet and great beams of light swept through the forest, heralding the roar of a ridiculously overpowered engine, as into the Slope clearing burst the biggest pick-up truck Sally had ever seen. A blinding row of lights were mounted to its roof, its headlights could have premiered a Hollywood movie. It was black but one could hardly see the paint job for the mud that covered it.
Witches Page 7
