Talisman

by S.E. Akers

  The terrible-twosome rarely wrote anything down. Whether either of them did so for my benefit or not, I felt compelled to make some sort of peace offering.

  I really don’t want this day to have any more drama added to it. I’m already on Charlotte and Chloe’s shit-list. I could make them some breakfast, and a little cooking might serve as a good distraction. After all, it’s going to be a long morning, and even though I’m still pretty steamed about the applications, I did break the living room window on purpose… But the curio was truly an accident!

  Roughly an hour later, a hearty tray of buttermilk biscuits, complete with a hefty batch of sausage gravy, was ready to set on the table. It was officially confirmed that I’d lost my appetite when I didn’t have the slightest interest in tasting a bit of it. Once the eggs had been scrambled and placed in a serving bowl, I started brewing the coffee.

  My eyes fell on Daddy’s thermos, which always rested to the right of the coffeemaker. That thing will never leave the house again. As soon as the coffee had stopped brewing, I grabbed the dented old stainless-steel container and filled it with the entire pot. I don’t know what possessed me to do it. Maybe I just wanted it filled one last time, the way Daddy would do so, right before he went off to work — no cream or sugar, just strong and black. I had something in common with the old thermos. It had been abandoned too, just like me — though not by choice.

  I heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. It’s probably Charlotte. She must smell the coffee. I really didn’t want to see her just yet, so I snatched up the thermos and fled out the back door, headed straight for Daddy’s workshop.

  The weather was still as dreary as yesterday, and the rain didn’t seem like it was going to let up one bit. The sight of a wicked bolt ripping through the dark skies above sent me dashing across the muddy yard and hurrying to pull the hide-a-key out from under the small terra cotta planter beside the door. I fumbled with the lock as the thunder roared and then darted inside where I could safely prolong my solitude. Charlotte rarely came out to the workshop any other time, and I knew she certainly wouldn’t venture out here in this weather just to pick a fight. At least I didn’t think she would.

  One thing was certain — it looked just as I’d left it. I still didn’t see why Daddy was so dead-set on me cleaning it up for him that day. In fact, I would be willing to bet he hadn’t stepped one foot in here since Thursday evening, despite whatever projects he claimed he had to work on.

  Odd…

  I paused to take a drink of coffee from the thermos. My tongue was flopping out of my mouth not a second later with a big ole, “Yuck” topping it off. How did he drink this stuff? No cream, no sugar — No taste! I decided to forgo any thoughts of a second sip and went straight to work.

  There were a few little things I hadn’t gotten around to doing, so I figured, What the heck, and grabbed a broom to sweep up all the remaining scraps of wood lying on the floor. I found a little comfort in knowing I was finishing this for Daddy, seeing how it was the last official thing I could do for him.

  I was mindlessly sweeping away when one of my swings accidently bumped into a drawer from Charlotte’s dresser that he’d been fixing, knocking it over. It was almost finished. All it really lacked was a new front to be cut and then attaching it to the unfinished drawer box.

  I spotted the furniture-grade, mahogany board Daddy had picked up to use for the new drawer front resting on top of the table-saw. I looked out the window towards the house and then back at the lone piece of wood.

  Daddy would hate the thought of a project being left unfinished. It wouldn’t take much, just a few cuts, countersink some screws, a couple of coats of stain, a little sanding, and slap on a new handle.

  I noticed the board had already been measured off and marked. It was just lying there practically screaming, “Cut me! Cut me!” I felt a little roguish as I approached the only piece of equipment Daddy had ever forbidden me to use, let alone touch. But he wasn’t here to fuss at me. I turned on the table-saw and waited pathetically eager through its hum. A part of me wished the door would suddenly fly open and that he would come rushing in to punish me for even thinking about using such a dangerous piece of machinery. I stared at the spinning blade. I never understood what the fuss was about. Daddy always said it could “kick-back”, and that I might “pull back a nub”. But I’d never seen it kick-back on him — not ever.

  Two cuts… That’s all. I placed the board against the guide and took a deep breath. Carefully, I ran it through the sharp titanium-blade and cut off the excess width. Like cutting butter… Perfect. I took a second to admire my work, proudly running my fingers along the freshly cut edge. See, that wasn’t so hard. I still didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

  I flipped the board around and lined up its length, preparing for my final cut. I had just started to slowly maneuver the piece of wood through the blade when I abruptly noticed something out of the corner of my eye. It was flailing about, knocking against the window. I glanced over to see my feathery little friend flapping its wings, perched on the outside windowsill. Unfortunately, I stared at the falcon a little longer than what I should have, because at that exact moment, the table-saw unexpectedly kicked-back. The jerking force threw my hand, along with the board, up and under its razor-sharp spinning blade before I could react.

  I slammed my eyes shut and screamed, bracing myself for what was sure to be a horrifically gory mishap. Then not a second later, the vision of an ambulance carting me off to the hospital and missing my father’s funeral pummeled my mind the strike of a sledgehammer. That was, if Charlotte even bothered to call 911 before I bled out.

  Oddly enough, I soon realized I wasn’t in any real pain. In fact, all I felt was just a minor tapping against my hand. With the rigid lock on my muscles slowly loosening up, I summoned enough courage to force open my eyes. I spied my hand firmly wedged under the saw blade that had stopped spinning. Its claw-like teeth were simply pressing against my skin. The blade appeared to be stuck, trying its best to turn over, while the motor steadily belted out a stalled hum.

  My hand isn’t cut at all… There wasn’t even the slightest scratch on it. I pried my hand out from under the blade and raised it for a closer inspection.

  NO freaking WAY! I was fall-on-the-floor stunned by the miraculous turn of events. I started thinking about what Tanner Grey had said about my “abilities”. Surely this has to be one of them.

  Awestruck, I sidled over to the miter saw. Any sane person would think I’d gone off the deep end with what I was about to do, but curiosity had just killed that poor little kitty. I flipped the switch and lifted up on the handle of the saw blade. With the deepest of breaths, I positioned my left forearm on the cold metal guide, said a quick prayer that I was right, and then slowly lowered the spinning blade.

  The blade’s sharp teeth were merely inches from my skin when I heard Charlotte scream out, “What in the hell are you doing out here THIS EARLY?”

  Startled and rightfully embarrassed, I stopped in my tracks, threw the handle back up to its original position, and scrambled to turn off the miter saw.

  I whipped around, aiming for innocent. “Nothing . . . Just fixing that drawer front. Daddy wouldn’t have wanted it to go unfinished.” I prayed she hadn’t seen what I’d really been doing, but I wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there.

  My mother walked over to the table saw that I’d left on, turned it off, and then picked up the jagged board I had ruined. “Oh, good job,” Charlotte cracked, rolling her eyes. “Caiden would be sooo proud.” Then she pitched the mangled board into the trashcan and prowled closer, her sneer honed as sharp as any blade in here.

  “I made breakfast,” I said in an attempt for some civility, especially after our last intense interaction.

  “That doesn’t make up for your behavior yesterday or my smashed curio — not to mention, MY HAND!” she barked, waving her ca
st in my face. “And you broke the front window, just because you were too stupid to remember to take your keys before you ran off. UGH! I hope you aren’t planning any of your little tantrums today. I’ll have Chief Roberts lock you up and throw away the key. Don’t think I won’t!”

  Thoughts of my father kept a vise-like grip on my tongue. I stood there wide-eyed, tuning out her grumblings while I thought, Why is she so evil? That had been a 24 hour / 7 day a week job of hers for the past several years, which was done for the most part behind Daddy’s back. With his passing, it would be a cold day in Hell before I ever saw an improvement in her attitude.

  Yep… It’s all downhill from here. Graduation couldn’t come quick enough as far as I was concerned. And judging from the hairy-eyeball glare she was presently shooting, rest assured, she felt the same way too.

  With Charlotte not showing any signs of cutting me any slack—not even on the day my father was to be honored and laid to rest—I felt it was probably best to avoid her altogether.

  “Excuse me, Mother . . . I need to get ready.” I started to walk past her, but she jumped in front of me, totally blocking my exit on purpose. When I attempted to maneuver around her, she drove her shoulder straight into mine. My eyes narrowed into a pair of slits, and then I shoved her back with just enough force to move her out of my path. Though somehow in the midst of my angry disbelief, I’d completely misjudged my strength. That was evident when I sent her swiftly stumbling backward and straight into Daddy’s red metal tool chest, which stood well on the other side of the room.

  My mouth fell open. Crap…

  She let out a snide gasp when she noticed the dent she’d left behind. Then she whipped her stare towards me, looking head-to-toe outraged.

  Staggered and slightly regretful, I turned to make a break for the door. As I pulled the knob towards me, I heard my mother say,

  You’d think that selfish little twit

  would’ve at least had the courtesy

  not to kill herself on the same day

  I’m burying Caiden!

  I’ll give her credit for a creative

  way to slit her wrist though…

  Maybe I should’ve let her finish?

  I slammed the workshop door shut and whirled around. “Did you SAY SOMETHING, Charlotte?” I demanded. It infuriated me to find out that she couldn’t have cared less if I was dead or not, but I was even more irked at the notion she thought I would have actually done something as stupid as that in the first place.

  “I didn’t SAY anything to you,” Charlotte snapped, looking at me like I was crazy. For a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of guilt flickering in her eyes. Then her words began ringing in my ears as clear as a bell, despite the tight lip-lock securing her scowl.

  Crap! I didn’t say that out loud… Did I?

  No, no. I couldn’t have… She’s nuts!

  If her attitude doesn’t change,

  I’ll have her committed.

  Nah, I’d have to pay for that.

  She’s eighteen now…

  I can legally kick her ass out!

  My expression couldn’t have been any more frozen if someone had just pumped my face full of Botox, chin to forehead. Though it wasn’t what she’d said that had me in such a stupefied state. It was the astounding realization that I’d heard the innermost thoughts of a person who wasn’t myself — AGAIN! A grin stretched across my face as I hurried out the door and ran through the pouring rain towards the house.

  Well, add “telepath” to the growing list.

  Chloe was sitting at the table when I entered the kitchen, wolfing down a hearty helping of the breakfast I’d fixed. In the most juvenile fashion, my little sister never spoke a single word nor looked my way for even a second while she smugly sat there devouring her food. Though I did catch her sticking out her tongue as I walked past, obviously still ticked about the window.

  I stepped into the hallway but paused to peek back into the kitchen. Let’s see how this trick works exactly.

  I cleared my mind and gazed fervently at my unsuspecting little sister as she piled a second helping of eggs and two more gravy-laden biscuits onto her plate. From the way she was scarfing down her breakfast, you would think she hadn’t eaten in days. Of course she wouldn’t have to gorge herself like that if her diet consisted of more than just yogurt and celery sticks. But at least the idiot had stopped following the YouTube weight-loss trends. I still remembered the tanning Daddy had given her hide as soon as he found out she had been swallowing cotton balls soaked in orange juice to keep her gut feeling full. And that was no sooner than we’d hit the hospital parking lot after a Saturday afternoon trip to the Emergency Room because she couldn’t go to the bathroom.

  I shook my head, still boggled by how stupid that one was. What a gullible knucklehead.

  The corners of Chloe’s mouth rose into a proud smirk as she tore into one of the biscuits.

  Ha! She’ll be the one cleaning up

  a mess when she puts on her

  black pumps and finds hair gel

  all gooped-up in the toes of them!

  You little WITCH, I glowered, steam shooting out of my ears. The only thing keeping me from storming in there right now to call my little sister on her crappy handiwork was knowing I couldn’t explain how I’d found out about it already.

  A sneaky grin crept across my face as a crafty thought emerged. I’ll have some fun with her later. I ran upstairs straightaway and grabbed the shoes in question out of my closet. Sure enough, they were filled with her pink-tinted hair gel. Ugh! I hurried into the bathroom to get them cleaned up and dried out with my hairdryer. Disaster averted.

  I spent the rest of the morning getting ready for the service and reminiscing about Daddy. I lingered in the shower and pretty much poked through all of my morning rituals. I pulled out a fitted black blouse and coordinating pinstripe skirt from the rear of my closet. As I’d predicted, they were more than a bit wrinkly.

  I headed downstairs to the laundry room. While waiting for the iron to heat up, my gaze fell on a familiar item wadded up in the laundry basket. Daddy’s blue and white striped shirt. The one he wore when he went on his secret errand to buy my dress for the dance.

  I snatched it up and held it close, the way a toddler would embrace their favorite blankie. My body trembled, and tears began welling in my eyes. I could still smell him, and his scent was undeniably stirring. I laid the shirt down and started ironing my clothes. Once my garments had been properly pressed, I secured my newly discovered memento under my shirt and snuck back upstairs to my bedroom. I didn’t want anyone else to know I had it, or even worse, wash it by mistake. I wanted it. I needed it.

  I tucked the shirt in a bag and hid it in the back of my closet. I couldn’t have been happier if I’d just stumbled upon a chest of buried treasure. No one will touch it in there, I affirmed with a nod as I shut the closet door and then finished getting dressed.

  It seemed like no time had passed when Chloe came bursting into my room. “It’s time to go,” my little sister announced. She looked down at my bare feet and asked sweetly, “Are you ready?”

  “Almost,” I cooed with the same loving tone I’d been dealt. “But I’m taking my own car. Just give me a second to slip on my shoes.”

  I purposely pulled the shoes out of my closet and laid them well within her view. Then I guided both of my feet into the conservative black pumps and watched her eyes as they lit up with triumph. Little did she know the flame on that cunning little candle was about two seconds from getting snuffed.

  I threw my purse over my shoulder with a grin and strutted past her, noticing my little sister’s victorious expression had already started to shift into a look of sheer puzzlement. “Come on, Chloe. We don’t want to be late,” I chided with a candy-coated touch of drama. I knew the precise moment when she realized the jig was up. Now seeing nothing but red, she pushed past me, knocking me into the doorframe
.

  “Hey, I’ll give you an ‘A’ for effort,” I called out as she stormed down the steps. If anything, she should have been glad that I didn’t kindly return the favor.

  The three of us piled into our respective vehicles and headed off down the mountain, en route to Ramsey Funeral Home. Charlotte and Chloe were in the Cadillac in front of me, while I followed them the entire way, all alone in my Charger. An attendant instructed us to line up behind the boxy black hearse when we arrived. Seeing it parked there reminded me of the eerie chill that would always trickle down my spine whenever I spied one driving down the road, however, today’s viewing was especially unnerving. I knew who would be in there — not some random stranger, but Daddy. That just made the sorrowful feeling in my gut swell even more.

  Upon entering through the building’s ornate double-doors, Bob Ramsey, the funeral home director, received us with a warm and heartfelt greeting. While Mr. Ramsey chatted up my mother, I slipped over to the pedestal where the guestbook had been placed for visitors to sign. I wanted my name at the top of the list. I pulled the white quill out of its elaborate holder and started to pen my name in a very beautiful and precise script when I abruptly hesitated. I hadn’t signed my name with its correct spelling in years, not even when I’d gotten my driver’s license. Daddy had given me that name, but with everything that had happened on that ridge, I still had mixed feelings about it.

  Just as I’d made my decision and began to write, Charlotte rushed over and yanked the feathery pen out of my hand.

  “I’ll be the FIRST to sign that, dear,” my mother scolded with a smile. Clearly she added that little endearment for the sake Mr. Ramsey’s ears.

  I watched her struggling to grasp the pen with her right hand, which happened to be the very one that was currently clad in a bulky plaster cast. After fumbling with the frilly quill-like pen for a good minute, she placed it in her left with an irksome glare. She tried her best to sign her name on line number one, just like she would if she was using her right one. Frankly, I’d seen eight-year-olds scrawl their names in cursive better.

  Fitting… After all, she’s acting like one.

  As soon as Charlotte had finished, she passed me a covert smirk and the pen directly to Chloe. Once my little sister’s name was on line number two, Chloe mimicked my mother’s juvenile display and handed the pen straight back to her instead of me.

  I shook my head. Of all times… NOW?

  With her nose poised high in the air, Charlotte slid the quill back in its holder, motioned to Chloe with her eyes, and then the two of them strutted off towards the viewing room like a pair of puffed up peacocks, their feathers fully fanning. I looked at the third line of the register. It really doesn’t matter now, I sulked and just signed my name like I’d done every other day of my life, allowing that “y” to serve as a crutch once more.

  I took a deep breath and proceeded to head into the room where my father’s body would be lying, only to be halted by Mr. Ramsey when he placed his hand on my arm. He directed me back to the guestbook and flipped it over to the next page. The tall and usually intimidating man seemed very docile at that moment.

  “Shiloh, I hope you don’t mind, but Mr. and Mrs. Dyson came by last night. Rob and Evelyn had doctor’s appointments today and hated they weren’t going to be able to come to Caiden’s viewing. I didn’t think you all would mind, so I let them see him late last night. They were actually the first ones to sign the book. See, right over here,” Mr. Ramsey said as he pointed to their signatures. “They thought the world of your father.”

  I felt fortunate I was able to keep most of my tears under control, but upon hearing that the Dysons had taken the time to come down here because they genuinely wanted to see my father off, my luck inevitably ran out. Misty-eyed, I thought about how in a small-town like Welch, some of the people who came to these things treated a funeral more like a social gathering followed by free food. Not all of them of course, but enough that you knew exactly who they were. Without a doubt, their heartfelt gesture had touched my heart in a way they could never imagine.

  I snatched a tissue out of a box lying nearby. “That was so kind of them,” I replied, dabbing my eyes. Mr. Ramsey gave me an endearing smile and started to walk away. I quickly grabbed his arm. “Don’t mention this to my mother. I’ll tell her when the time is right,” I insisted and then headed towards the viewing room.

  Like Mother’s Day…

  My eyes homed in on the room’s obvious centerpiece. The somber chords of a piano playing shadowed my steps as I walked along the red velvet runner in a focused daze. Though the room was very bright and bursting with sprays of colorful flowers, the vibe hammering the air felt so cold and dismal. My heart pounded faster and faster until I’d finally reached the sleek, dark walnut coffin lying at the end of the comfortless line.

  I stood there and gazed down at my father. The funeral home had done an excellent job. The handsome, yet weathered coalminer looked soft and angelic resting against the pillows of tufted white satin surrounding his upper body. He lay there, dressed for the last time looking his Sunday best — decked out in his favorite black suit and a new, crisp-collared white dress shirt. He was even wearing my favorite necktie, a modern harlequin design accented with muted fall colors. I found that triviality very pleasing. His hair was styled just as he preferred it, parted perfectly and flowing softly towards the left. I remembered worrying about that last night, hoping that whoever fixed it would get it right. I ran my fingers along his cheekbone. His skin felt cold—ice-cold—like I had grabbed something out of the fridge. Though I’d found it somewhat startling, my fingers never flinched. I guessed for some reason I expected it to be warmer, since his face was radiating a subtle glow and how peaceful he appeared. The make-up may have fooled my eyes, but my heart was well aware of its artificial source.

  A tear streaked down my cheek as I thought about my father’s blue-green eyes, his kind eyes, while I stared at his closed lids. How they would light up whenever he smiled… How energizing and uplifting they were… A fierce pang wrenched my heart. I’ll never see them again… My worst fear was that I would forget their enlivening essence over time. Their memory had been replaced with the image of them on that fateful night—two murky pools of darkness—and the pain I’d seen in them would haunt me forever.

  A rampant swell of anger had my hands gripping the side of his casket. I have to know who did this to you! I heard some people dawdling up the aisle behind me, forcing me to rein in my emotions. I took a deep breath and looked down at the face of my father for the last time. And how did you know about Adamas?

  I’d no sooner turned around when people began bombarding me left and right, plastering me with forceful hugs and expressing their profound condolences. So many folks were now flooding into the viewing room to pay their respects it was downright overwhelming. A rush of anxiety sent my heart thrashing inside my chest, and I soon found myself struggling to speak, let alone able to reciprocate any genuine affection. Then just as soon as the first wave of attendees had passed, I managed to sneak off to the powder room with hopes of pulling myself together leading my charge.

  When I emerged several minutes later, feeling somewhat more at ease, I happened to catch my first glimpse of Mike Riverside. He was huddled up in a corner near the main entrance consoling Chloe. The last time I’d seen Mike, he was being dragged off through the woods. I still hadn’t completely absolved him from the part he’d played in the evening’s harrowing events, despite his supposed “possession”. I knew my anger was misplaced, but I couldn’t help it. And seeing his presence here annoyed me to no end. Even though his soul may have absent, it was still his actual body that had kept me from getting help for my father. And that disturbing visual was still actively searing my synapses.

  Mike scanned the room in all directions. I couldn’t tell if he was searching for someone or if he was just nervous. His face paled just as soon as
our eyes met and then he started shifting about, looking particularly fidgety. I knew right then it was an uncomfortable combination of both.

  I overheard him tell Chloe, “You look like you need some air,” and then he swiftly ushered her outside. Oddly though, he looked back my way repeatedly, almost like he was fixated.

  Whatever… He’d just better make sure that his eyes are the only things on my side of the room!

  His behavior had my suspicions churning in regards to whether or not he remembered anything about that night, despite Tanner Grey’s firm assurance that he wouldn’t. I fully intended to question him when the opportunity presented itself. Something sure was making him act funny. However, this wasn’t the time or place for such a critical interrogation. As mad as what I still was, I couldn’t promise that a fist wouldn’t hit him before the first question came flying out of my mouth.

  As I turned to walk back down the hall, I spotted Uriah Hatfield headed my way. I nodded to him when our eyes met. His only response was a gentle nudge as we passed each other. I supposed that was the gruff old security guard’s way of expressing his sympathy. Though I had to admit, it was the first time I’d ever experienced even the hint of a pleasantry coming from the normally grumpy old sourpuss.

  I took a breathless pause in the doorway of the viewing room, astounded by how packed it was now. Friends and local residents were crammed everywhere, with tons more of them edging past me in droves. There really wasn’t enough room for everyone. Surely most of them were here just for the wake portion. A good number of Daddy’s mining buddies had taken off early for lunch so they could stop by and pay their respects. I could tell that just by what they were wearing, each of them sporting their finest and least-soiled bank-clothes. I wandered out of the crowd’s way and stood back for a moment. There were so many of them pouring in it was starting to look like a monthly union meeting. Daddy would have been touched.

  I felt a couple of steady taps on my shoulder. I turned to see Samuel, who immediately cozied up beside me with a tender hug. I smiled as I took in his out-of-the-ordinary attire. Samuel looked undeniably sharp in his dark gray, three-piece suit. His normally stubble-speckled face was clean-shaven as well, and I even caught a woodsy scent of fresh pine trees wafting from his neck.

  “How’s my girl holding up?” Samuel asked uncertainly.

  “I’m okay . . . I guess.” I looked around the room and sighed. “Samuel, do you think people would mind if I told everyone to leave, so I can climb into the casket with Daddy and cuddle with him one last time . . . like when I was four?”

  Samuel let out a laugh and shook his head.

  “You can stay, of course,” I added. “After all, someone will have to make sure my mother doesn’t try to lock me inside the casket.”

  Samuel pressed his lips together to keep his grin from stretching any further. “I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” he chuckled.

  I shot him a serious look. “I wasn’t kidding.”

  Samuel and I stood there and watched as more people arrived, just as others were leaving. We chitchatted about how nice Daddy looked and commented on all the lovely arrangements people had sent. It wasn’t long before my mind drifted off into another daze. I started thinking about the vision I had at the dance when I’d gone flower-picking in Kara’s bouquet and then the unbearable sick feeling that followed it. It suddenly dawned on me that this was what I’d seen. I remembered the strikes of the piano keys, the brightly lit room, and the colorful rays of light as they passed through the stained glass windows and danced on my hands. The lavender spider mum I’d focused in on was from one of the countless flower baskets scattered around the somber space.

  I’d seen my father’s death…in a roundabout way. I knew Tanner Grey had said the visions were random, but why couldn’t THAT ONE have been a little clearer?

  Again, I felt another small tap on my shoulder and turned to apologize to Samuel for ignoring him. But it wasn’t Samuel. Apparently he had wandered away while I stood there lost in the thoughts of my vision. Instead, I found myself looking into the eyes of none other than Tyler Smith.

  “I’m so sorry, Shiloh,” Ty said softly. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard the news. Are you okay?”

  No sense in putting on a front for him.

  “I’m doing as good as to be expected, I suppose. Right now, I feel pretty empty inside, but full of sadness . . . both at the same time.” Then he surprised me even further by giving me an unexpected, lingering hug.

  “Now I know why I didn’t hear from you the other night,” Ty whispered, though sounding thoroughly confident.

  My eyes closed unconsciously as Ty held me in his arms. That was kind-of-the-reason. Why bring up the fact that Mike had been possessed by some supernatural being called “the Onyx” and tried to kill me while my father lay there dying? If by some small chance Ty believed me, who knows what he might do? It didn’t make sense for me to curb my itch for a smack-down with Mike, only to fan a few flames in Ty’s direction

  “Yeah,” I fibbed, playing along.

  As our embrace broke, I gazed back at him and hinted a coy smile. Yet again, he was looking as fine as he did on the night of the Homecoming Dance. Dress clothes certainly suit him, I noted silently. But I’d take him in a sweaty t-shirt and jeans any day of the week. I lowered my head slightly when I felt my face start to flush.

  “I’m glad you were able to come,” I replied appreciatively.

  “A lot of us wanted to come, but Mrs. Tuttle wasn’t giving out passes to just anyone. You know how she is. Mike got one because his father was your dad’s boss. She was about to tell Katie, ‘no’, when she started tearing up and informed Mrs. Tuttle that, ‘she had to be there for her bosom friend’. She’s outside trying to find a place to park. She’ll be here in a second.”

  Mrs. Tuttle, our school’s guidance counselor (and affectionately called “The Warden”), was a stickler about attendance. She hated funerals. Since everyone pretty much knew everybody in town, she thought a funeral was the perfect way for students to skip out on a half-day of school. You had to have a pretty good reason to attend one if you weren’t a family member.

  “So why did she let you come?” I asked. What could he have possibly said to persuade her?

  “I, um . . . I kind of told her that you were my girlfriend,” he confessed. “You know, so she would give me a pass.”

  Ty seemed more than a bit uncomfortable, which sent my curiosity shooting through the roof. Was it from having to tell her that…or me? So naturally, I decided to delve a little deeper into that nuclear bomb of an admission.

  “And she believed you?” I countered with a restrained grin and a playful note of skepticism.

  Ty caught on to the motive behind my inquiry. “She didn’t doubt it for a second,” he smiled, his head purposely high, “not after she told me that she’d seen us dancing the other night.”

  “Oh,” I mumbled softly, now feeling more than a bit embarrassed myself.

  “Hey, um speaking of the other night . . . What’s up with Mike?” Ty probed, sounding more than a touch suspicious.

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged and casually averted my stare. “I haven’t talked to him since Saturday night. Why?”

  Ty continued, “I spoke to him when he was leaving Mrs. Tuttle’s office, and he acted, I don’t know . . . nervous? I figured it was because of our fight the other night. So when I saw him outside a minute ago, I tried to make peace by waving at him. He just turned his head and ignored me.” Ty’s head rocked out a few assertive nods. “Something’s up.”

  After listening to his assessment of Mike’s behavior, I began contemplating a few theories of my own. Maybe Mike did remember what happened? Or he might just be feeling the way Tanner Grey had described after being “occupied” by the Onyx? It sure sounded like a supernatural hangover-from-hell to me. Then again, his head could still be clouded from the
effects of the ruby-spiked cologne. And I was seriously hoping that last lust-fueled possibility wasn’t the case.

  Ty noticed that I was in deep thought about something. “Shi . . . Mike didn’t try anything the other night, did he?” he asked, his eyes looking every bit as flared as his nostrils.

  “No, no,” I insisted. “Trust me . . . He was a completely different person when he took me home.” Well, I wasn’t lying.

  “Good,” Ty replied, seeming relieved. Just then, Katie ran over crying and threw her arms around me.

  “Oh, Shi! I’m so sorry about your daddy!” Katie breathed, sounding completely winded. “I tried calling you all day yesterday! Why wouldn’t you pick up or call me back? I’ve been so worried about you!” she rambled. My BFF was so wrought with emotion she was well on her way to a tizzy. “I even drove out to your house last night, but Charlotte wouldn’t let me in. THAT WITCH! Are you okay? Hey, who broke the front window?”

  I took hold of her hands and gave them a tight squeeze. “Katie, I didn’t feel like talking about Daddy — to anyone.” I bounced my stare between both of them apologetically. “I just needed some time to myself. Charlotte didn’t tell me that you had stopped by.” Like that was a big surprise. Katie should have figured that.

  Katie wiped her tears with her hands and nodded understandingly. Ty offered to get her some tissues and then promptly left in search of some. My BFF took a deep breath no sooner than he’d left and then quickly switched gears.

  “So? That’s your boyfriend now?” Katie questioned. “Apparently, there’s a lot we need to catch up on . . . or so goes the rumors.”

  The drama behind her insinuation made me flinch. “What rumor?” I asked, feeling a shade fearful.

  “No, no. I said rumors,” Katie corrected, heavy on the s. “Which one? The one about your intense dance with Ty Saturday night? The one about Mike and Ty fighting over you in the parking lot? Or, how about the one about where Ty officially broke up with Kara, right after you left the dance with Mike?”

  My bottom lip dropped like a sack of bricks. OH CRAP!

  I started to stumble backward against the heavy red velvet drapes that sectioned off the viewing room when Katie quickly grabbed me and steadied me on my feet. “Nuh-uh! Don’t go all 911 until I get the 411,” she demanded.

  The muscles in my face puckered into a cringe as I thought about “me” being the talk of our school. Nobody ever wanted that crap.

  “How much is true?” Katie probed. “Some of it?”

  I shied away from her gaze, knowing what little make-up I’d put on this morning was about to crack off.

  A devilish smile crept over her face. “Not ALL of it?” Katie whispered, filled to the brim with delight.

  I sent a subtle confirming nod in her direction. “But I didn’t know about Ty breaking up with Kara,” I assured with the straightest of faces, no matter how good it sounded rolling off my tongue.

  Katie giggled. “I guess I missed out on one heck of an evening!”

  I shook my head. “Honestly, you have NO IDEA.”

  In the midst of her amusement, I noticed some strange faces coming through the double-doors. When they cleared the entry, a shocking presence emerged.

  LAZARUS XCAVARE? What in the heck is HE doing HERE? Fearfully, I watched him saunter up the aisle and make his way straight for Charlotte and Chloe, seated in the front pew. Charlotte practically sprang out of her seat when he extended his hand. She shook off his cordial handshake and worked her injured right hand to her advantage by holding out her left one, angled down towards his face. He grinned as he caught her not-so-subtle hint. Lazarus then gallantly lifted her hand to his lips and gave it a light kiss. He was really laying it on thick, and it was obvious from the way Charlotte was eating it up that he had her completely snowed. My stomach twisted into a foul knot as I watched the picturesque scene — the recently widowed, philandering spouse being comforted by the very wealthy and equally peculiar, soon-to-be new owner of the local mine, who by the way, was some sort of supernatural Talisman. After all, if she couldn’t get Chloe married into the Riverside family, she would have to have a backup plan.

  The display was making me sick, but my own curiosity wouldn’t allow me to turn away. Charlotte’s smile hardened when Lazarus appeared to have asked her something. She searched around the room and then pointed her finger, in of all places, my direction. Lazarus locked his eyes dead on me and then after giving Chloe a hug, he began weaving through the crowd, headed my way. Needless to say, I panicked.

  OH SHIT!

  Ty had just returned with Katie’s tissues. While he tended to her, I moved my body behind them, securely out of Lazarus’ line of sight.

  What am I going to do? Tanner said for “me” not to go near “him”. He never told me what to do if “I” wasn’t the one doing the “approaching”!

  Needing some cover, I crouched lower to the floor. I was attempting to sneak away when something suddenly grabbed hold of my arm and jerked me into the next room, straight through a divide in the heavy red velvet drapes. Startled, I turned around to find none other than Tanner Grey’s partner-in-crime standing before my very eyes.

  “That was a close one!” Beatrix Sutherland belted out with a weighty breath. “I’m sorry if I alarmed you, dear, but we can’t risk Lazarus coming in contact with you before all of your abilities have emerged. Why it wouldn’t be very hospitable to whet his appetite with the thoughts of dinner when the table’s not been fully set yet,” she teased and then gave the tip of my nose a bump with her finger, hitting it like she’d landed a perfect bull’s-eye to boot.

  I stood there both rightfully stunned and highly amused by her newfound candor. My arms slipped into a lax fold at my chest. “Oh . . . So you’re not just here for the actual viewing?” I posed, my tone flat and brow cocked.

  The now presumed not-so-blind-after-all woman’s only response was to flash me a quick & cutesy grin.

  “Ms. Sutherland, why didn’t you ever say ANYTHING?” I questioned. She grabbed my hand straightaway and began pulling me through the empty room and then out one of the doors that led into the hallway, totally ignoring my question.

  “Let’s find a good place to hide you, dear — just until Lazarus leaves. Oh, and you can finally drop the formalities of etiquette and call me Beatrix, or simply Bea, dear . . . considering all that you’ve been through lately.” She dragged me further down the hall and ushered me into the ladies’ powder room with a firm shove.

  “You sure can find your way around without a hitch,” I remarked, “for a blind lady.”

  Beatrix locked the door and turned towards me. I became engrossed with her chestnut-hued eyes, which were drifting as aimlessly as they always did. Then I shifted my focus to her forehead — the very spot where that third-eye had appeared in my vision. I started to laugh as I looked around at my surroundings. Just like in my vision, I was in of all places, a daggone bathroom.

  “Open it,” I demanded.

  Beatrix stood there smiling, knowing full well what I was referring to.

  “I need to see it . . . Please?” I asked again, taking a more polite approach.

  With a resolute step back, a beautiful though extremely startling golden-colored eye materialized smack dab in the middle of her forehead, sparkling with the same intensity as Tanner Grey’s amethyst-hued peepers. I waved my hand in front of the strange wonder. It was dilating and contracting in response to every move I made.

  “By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you — nice try,” she laughed.

  My eyes narrowed on the spot.

  Beatrix continued, “You came up with some pretty good ones the other day. You really kept me on my toes.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “I always knew you were smart and high-spirited, but I had no idea how creative and resourceful you were. Kudos,” she praised.

  “So you knew what I was up to?”

  Beatrix’s chuckles
grew even louder. She quickly covered her mouth to muffle the noise. “Yes. I haven’t laughed like that in years! I almost spit out my cider when you flashed that light in my eyes, clever girl. That was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time . . . Well, until finding the present Mr. Estell left for you in the trees.”

  Talk about my suspicions being officially confirmed. “So he did put that thing there, and probably the one in Mike’s car, too?”

  Beatrix nodded. “Good thing I have a serpentine ring. Not many Talismans do. Though truthfully, they’re not as rare as my tiger’s-eye.” She quickly pulled a marbled brown and gold stone out from under her blouse that resembled the one Tanner Grey had shown me during lunch the other day.

  “I saw the marks on the scales around its neck . . . the ones that match the design of your ring,” I remarked. “What did it do to the snake?”

  Beatrix raised her finger and displayed the odd-looking stone band. “It turns a serpent’s own venom against it. They die instantly. Their muscles don’t even twitch. If you ever get the chance to obtain one, I highly recommend that you do. Then you won’t have to wear your stilettos around all the time,” she added with a wink of her golden eye.

  A hush fell over the room no sooner than she’d tucked the supernatural wonder away and then her two eyes directly below it glazed with sadness.

  “Shiloh, I’m truly sorry about Caiden. I loved him so much. He was like a part of my family. I’ll miss him something awful,” she sighed and then leaned in to give me a hug. Beatrix had no sooner tightened her grasp when an abrupt gasp shot out of her mouth. “Oh, Shiloh . . . I can feel the wand’s power,” she marveled and then released me. “Have you discovered anything new about yourself?”

  “Well,” I began, “I can run pretty fast . . . and I heard Charlotte and Chloe’s thoughts this morning. Oh, and I tossed a few of Welch’s finest officers around like rag dolls yesterday. But I think the most surprising thing was that I didn’t rip off my hand when it rolled under the table saw. Just those little things — Nothing much,” I replied sarcastically. “You know,” I laughed gruffly, “It’s kind of been like getting my period when I was twelve, except no one is offering up any sort of ‘birds & bees’ talk.” I focused my stare, my hazy eyes practically begging for relief. “I don’t have a clue what to expect.”

  Beatrix smiled and placed her hand on my shoulder, not taking any offense in regards to my griping. “It has to happen naturally, dear,” she giggled. “Like your period.”

  Cute. “Are there any other little surprises that I should be aware of?”

  Beatrix tapped her finger on her chin and grinned. “Yes, dear. But you won’t hear about them from me.”

  It seemed she was just as evasive as Tanner Grey. However, I thought of one question she might be willing to answer…or at the very least, respectfully acknowledge.

  “Beatrix, why would my father have called out the name, ‘Adamas’?”

  The color began draining from her rosy cheeks and then her eyes fell to a somber close. “Seeing how I know your father whispered his name and that Tanner has already informed you of the wand’s original owner, it would be insulting to deny Caiden knew about our kind. He did. Caiden helped us protect the location of the cave for many years. Shiloh, all I will, or rather all I can say is that he loved you and wanted to keep you safe for as long as possible. Caiden knew this day would eventually come.”

  I thought, He knew about the cave and about Talismans? That I was a Talisman?

  “Was he a Talisman?” I asked.

  Beatrix’s hands caressed my face. “No, Shiloh. Caiden was not a Talisman or any other supernatural. Now, that’s all I’ll say on that subject. I’ll certainly get an earful from Tanner over this, but I understand your curiosity. However, no more questions.”

  Since I’d detected a hint of empathy mixed in with the sternness of her tone, I couldn’t resist asking one more. “Do you know who killed him?”

  “No, Shiloh. No more,” Beatrix scolded and turned her head away hastily.

  I got the distinct impression that she knew the exact identity of my father’s murderer. Why won’t she tell me?

  The hands on my watch signaled that it was almost noon, which sent the thought of me missing my father’s service racing through my head.

  “Beatrix, I have to get back out there,” I insisted. “The service is about to start. Lazarus is probably gone by now. Surely he won’t stay for the funeral. I don’t think he cares to consort with us ‘townies’ anyway.”

  “You stay here. I’ll go and check,” Beatrix instructed and then shuffled out the door. I waited alone on pins and needles until she reemerged roughly a couple minutes later.

  “Okay, I didn’t see him, but be on your guard, Shiloh. Remember, you can’t be around him, and for goodness’ sake, don’t touch him! Even I could sense a trace of the diamond’s energy. You were destined to claim the diamond wand, the only stone that magnifies all other stones. You’ve had the makings of these abilities hidden in the recesses of your mind all of your life. Coming in contact with his ring the other day allowed a small part of them to surface. The lapis lazuli that Lazarus claims bears an enormous amount of psychic power. That’s why you were able to dip into his mind unknowingly.” Beatrix let out a sigh. “You don’t know how lucky you were that he didn’t try delving into yours,” she stressed, her head shaking. “But now that you’ve claimed your diamond birth-stone, you must be extremely careful.”

  “I will,” I assured her, trying not to sound too nervous.

  Beatrix grabbed my arm as I turned to leave. “Wait. Let me see your topaz.” I held out my left hand and watched while she inspected the tiny gemstone. “Tanner was right,” Beatrix confirmed as she patted my hand. “You really drained my little baby. You may have enough power left in it for one charm. Two, if you’re lucky. Sea-salt won’t be of any use to you, I’m sad to say. Normally a few moonbeams from any old moon would do the trick, but you used so much of its power the other night in your human state. I’m afraid the only thing strong enough to charge it back to its original strength is the light from the next full moon.”

  “Is it broken?” I asked apprehensively.

  “No, no. A stone is a living thing, just like you and I, Shiloh. It’s simply on the verge of going dormant. That’s all. It needs to be refueled, so to speak. But you’re in luck. The full moon on Friday night is going to be a true blue moon. A phenomenon like that is exceptionally rare. The Talisman who reigns over the moonstone sets aside one night where the full moon shines with some of her stone’s own powers. She does it so she can use the moon as her own personal telescope. She can see anything and everything that’s happening in the world, all at once. It’s an absolutely magical sight to witness. It’s like a supernatural’s Fourth of July, but these fireworks only we can see. You’re in for a real treat. But for now, I’m afraid your golden topaz’s power is scarce. Tanner ordered me not to give you another one. I’m sorry, dear.” Beatrix rolled her eyes. “He says it will teach you responsibility, so be careful,” she urged and then shoved me out into the hall.

  Oookay, I thought as the door creaked to a close. Beatrix couldn’t have alarmed me more even if she’d just announced that Lazarus was packing a Smith & Wesson underneath that long overcoat he was sporting, loaded with a bullet that had my name carved into its tip. Though on an entirely separate note, I found myself both shocked and a little ticked that Tanner Grey had implied I was in some way irresponsible.

  Yeah, I may lack the knowledge and experience when it comes to the intricacies of being a so-called “Talisman”, but I’m in no way wet behind the ears when it comes to being responsible for anything, I fumed as I hurried down the hall. I peered into the viewing room to scope out the scene. I didn’t see the first sign of Lazarus, which was just the green light my jumbled nerves needed.

  There in the doorway, I overheard the funeral
home director announce, “We’re about to commence with the service, so those of you who aren’t staying should exit the room at this time.”

  Various attendees began strolling down the aisle. I spotted my reserved seat, located in the front pew beside Charlotte and Chloe, and eyed it like a finish line as I maneuvered up the aisle through the crowd of people. My peripherals caught sight of Katie and Ty sitting together a few rows away. They both had a mixed look of relief and puzzlement on their faces when our eyes connected. Then it dawned on me that I’d been standing there talking to them, right before Beatrix had snatched me away, practically in thin air. I waved back and flashed an apologetic smile immediately.

  I found myself so distracted by my unintended rudeness that I wasn’t looking where I was going. After running into a few people who were coming down the aisle and muttering my pardons to them, I heedfully refocused my attention directly ahead. Then from out of nowhere, I spotted the one person I was cautiously trying to avoid, heading straight for me.

  Oh, no! Lazarus Xcavare!

  An anxious cringe wrenched my spine that shot my head towards the red runner at my feet straightaway. Then to make matters worse, several people at my rear began pushing me directly into his path. There was no getting around this craptastrophe either. As soon as Lazarus’ eyes fell on me, he would inevitably stop and extend his hand…or worse, pull me into his arms for another hug that ran the foreseeable risk of turning into a full-force death-lock.

  Then like a golden ray sparkling with hope, something Beatrix had said suddenly popped into my head. If she was right, I had enough power for at least one more plea from the stone. So without further delay, I mentally crossed my fingers and repeated over and over, Please don’t let Lazarus Xcavare see me…

  I lifted my head to find that we were now merely a couple of feet apart. He was looking my way, but he seemed to be staring through me, not at me. I glanced down at the golden topaz ring that was glowing (as was I) and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. I observed that no one else seemed to be aware of the spectral golden glow surrounding my frame — thankfully. With an abundance of confidence guiding my steps, I strutted down the aisle and right beside Lazarus Xcavare, only to have someone bump me hard enough to brush against him when we passed.

  The two of us were being forced in opposite directions, yet I found myself locked in an ominous trance as the crowd of attendees pushed me further up the aisle. A gruesome vision had entered my mind when our hands had rubbed against each other’s, and I didn’t have to drink any magical emerald potion to obtain this one. It had come straight from the source — Lazarus Xcavare.

  I was freezing. The wind was whipping my frame, and snow was falling at an uncanny rate all around me. I heard someone chanting close by and then a set of hands appeared. I gasped and found myself trembling at the sight.

  Daddy! The hands were strangling him! Lazarus Xcavare’s hands were infusing my father with some sort of blue powder while he gagged and choked desperately to reclaim his breaths. HE’S POISONING HIM! Once Lazarus felt that he had administered enough of the toxin to eventually kill him, his men pitched Daddy into the back of his truck and then threw the weathered tarp over his body. The person I loved most in the world had been discarded like garbage. He was alone and left to suffer helplessly in the frigid temperatures until all the life in him had faded into the darkness of night.

  My muscles hardened like a statue as the vision dwindled. The only sign of movement was from one lonely tear streaming down my face. Then the weight of someone’s stare washed over me as they made their approach.

  “Shiloh, you need to take your seat. We’re about to start,” Bob Ramsey whispered. Unknowingly, I’d stopped in front of Daddy’s closed casket. Mr. Ramsey motioned me to the front pew where my family sat waiting. I’d heard what he had said, but I could neither verbally, nor physically acknowledge him in any way.

  The horrifying revelation plagued me with various emotions. All I wanted right now was to scream out to everyone that Lazarus Xcavare was my father’s murderer — but I couldn’t. I feared for my own life, as well as everyone else’s in the room. All of Lazarus’ evil intentions and the severity of his cruel nature had passed through my body. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. He would take out the whole town just to obtain the diamond wand and claim all of its power as his own if need be.

  “Shiloh, please take your seat,” Mr. Ramsey repeated and then placed his hand on my arm.

  The moment I felt his touch, I snapped out of my hypnotic stone-like state and jerked my arm from his grasp. I turned to the back of the room, where Lazarus and his entourage had just crossed the door’s threshold. The attendants were starting to shut the heavy wooden double-doors. My eyes were like daggers as I stood there, their finely honed tips marking my father’s killer. Lazarus paused for a moment, seeming particularly uneasy. He lifted his cane, gripping its handle forcefully, and then slowly began pivoting back around.

  I knew he couldn’t physically see me, but I wasn’t so sure about whether or not he sensed the diamond’s power. Then again, the magnitude of the sheer hatred I was pelting him with could have been strong enough for him to pick up on the threat, even a good thousand miles away. The doors came to a close just as he completed his turn. Lazarus was now out of my sight, but at no time was my father’s killer out of my mind.

  Charlotte grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the front pew. “Sit down!” my mother growled in my ear.

  My eyes panned the room. Everyone else’s were solely on me—all of them sitting there staring like they were waiting for some basket-case outburst to unfold—right down to Lugand Hubble’s, the pastor from our church. I turned towards my father’s casket and dropped down into my seat just as the music came to a halt. My body may have been inert as I sat there, but my mind wouldn’t hear of putting the brakes on its present whirl.

  Pastor Hubble sauntered up to the pulpit and commenced with the service a few seconds later. I’d heard him speaking throughout the service, though I couldn’t for the life of me concentrate on one single word. I remained willingly trapped in a trance for the next thirty minutes, fully content with listening to my own raging thoughts as I stared vehemently at my father’s coffin. I was so immersed in the reality of what I’d discovered, I couldn’t cast so much as a glance towards holy man as he spoke. How could anyone focus on righteous words when every thought they conjured was hell-bent on revenge?

  I’d finally gotten my answer, but it had come at the most inopportune time. I couldn’t go to the police with my discovery. Who would believe me? Officer Pete Ryan would lock me up for sure. And if he didn’t, Charlotte would surely step in and attest that my commitment to an asylum was in order. The only people I knew I could tell were Tanner Grey and Beatrix (though I had a gut-feeling they already knew).

  Why wouldn’t they TELL ME?

  No sooner than Pastor Hubble had ended his closing prayer with the most poignant “Amen” I’d ever heard, the six pallbearers began positioning themselves around Daddy’s casket. They were all of his closest buddies and co-workers. My eyes fell on Samuel, standing at the rear of the coffin. His eyes looked unmistakably pink and misty. Then just as soon as they started carrying my father down the aisle, Charlotte, Chloe, and I fell in line right behind them. I looked at no one along the way. My eyes stayed locked in front of me, thinking only about my father’s lonely and final ride in the black hearse parked outside.

  I climbed into my car by myself, but I was far from alone. My thoughts continued to torment me the entire drive to Roselawn Cemetery and then carried on tirelessly through my father’s graveside rites. The rain was falling even harder than it had been before. The violent roars of ear-splitting thunder and savage streaks of lightning igniting the sky may have had the pastor hurrying through the ceremony, but I remained unfazed and rooted right where I stood, not the least bit concerned with the possibility of any perils. As I watched my father d
escend upon his final resting place, I removed a white lily from a nearby standing floral spray and tossed it into the open grave. Just as the flower landed on his casket, I made my father one final vow.

  Somehow and sometime soon, Lazarus Xcavare will pay for what he’s done.

  He had taken what I loved most away from me, and now I claimed what he desired most. And I was going to make sure he got it—every powerful, blow I could summon from the mystical, Diamond Wand of Adamas—even if it took my last breath doing it.

  Chapter 15