A Sinister Spell in Faerywood Falls

by Blythe Baker

  Tourist season has begun, Athena said.

  We crested a hill, about two miles from the lake where our cabin was. A long stretch of fields ran alongside the road to our left. Beside us, a long wrought iron fence appeared behind a thick cluster of trees.

  We passed by it every day. The Faerywood Falls cemetery. It rested on a beautiful stretch of land, with rolling hills and large, full trees scattered throughout. Even from a distance, it was easy to see that many of the tombstones were old, especially those closest to the entrance. Some days, Athena and I liked to see what names we could glimpse through the fence.

  Not for the first time, I wondered if poor Burt Cassidy was buried in there. It hadn’t been all that long since I’d found out the truth about his murder, and yet, it felt like it happened ages ago. Life in Faerywood Falls had kind of gone back to some sense of normal…as normal as it ever was, most likely.

  So, what are we having for dinner tonight –

  Athena’s words were pushed from my mind when a scream, high pitched and terrified, echoed through the cemetery beside us.

  My hands yanked on the brakes, the tires skidding to a halt on the graveled sidewalk.

  “What was that?” I asked, my heart pounding in my ears.

  I don’t know, Athena said. Her front paws were perched on my shoulder, and her nose was pointed up into the air, sniffing madly.

  “Did it come from in there?” I asked, pointing through the wrought iron bars of the fence into the cemetery.

  I think it did.

  I swallowed hard, my throat tight. I spun my bike around and pointed it back toward the main entrance, which we’d passed a few moments before. “We should go see. Someone might need our help.”

  Shouldn’t we call someone for help instead? Athena asked. You don’t know what we could be walking into.

  But I ignored her as I put my feet on the pedals and made my way toward the gate.

  My ears strained as I turned my bike onto the dirt drive leading into the cemetery. Where had the scream come from?

  “Whoever it was, they sounded terrified,” I said as I pushed myself further and further into the darkening cemetery. There weren’t nearly as many lights in here, and all of the headstones cast long, eerie shadows across the patches of grass.

  Which is why I was warning you against coming in here in the first place, Athena said. We have no idea what could have frightened them so much.

  Her words made sense, but my legs kept pumping and my eyes kept scanning. I had no idea what sort of disconnect was happening in my brain, as I was terrified of what I might find, yet curiosity and determination kept pushing me onward. I had no idea where the courage came from, but I knew I couldn’t turn back now.

  We made a hard right turn. I was starting to lose faith that we’d ever find the screamer. It was getting darker by the minute, and the cemetery was huge. She could’ve been anywhere.

  “Maybe I should call Dr. Valerio…” I said. “He’d be able to get his wolves in here, right? They wouldn’t be afraid of the dark.”

  Dr. Valerio might have some sort of interest in you, but I don’t think he’d drop everything to come at your beck and call, Athena said.

  I sighed, squinting into the darkness. She was probably right, though I liked the idea of being able to pass something like this off to someone with a lot more power than I had.

  Then again, I supposed the police were only a phone call away, if necessary…

  There, Athena said. Something’s different on the air.

  I turned my bike in the direction her nose pointed, and headed between a row of tombstones.

  My tires bounced along on the uneven dirt, and I grimaced as I realized exactly what I was doing.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said as we passed over grave after grave. I couldn’t imagine this was a good way to earn myself any friends in Faerywood Falls, especially among those who were able to talk to the ghosts.

  It was so dark that I stopped the bike, pulled out my phone, and turned on its flashlight. I continued on, following the narrow beam of light and Athena’s nose, bumping along through the dark.

  It’s close, Athena said. Slow down –

  But I’d already stopped the bike. Just at the end of the flashlight from my phone, the body of a young woman lay sprawled across the grass, her glassy, lifeless eyes staring right at me.

  END OF EXCERPT

  About the Author

  Blythe Baker is a thirty-something bottle redhead from the South Central part of the country. When she’s not slinging words and creating new worlds and characters, she’s acting as chauffeur to her children and head groomer to her household of beloved pets.

  Blythe enjoys long walks with her dog on sweaty days, grubbing in her flower garden, cooking, and ruthlessly de-cluttering her overcrowded home. She also likes binge-watching mystery shows on TV and burying herself in books about murder.

  To learn more about Blythe, visit her website and sign up for her newsletter at www.blythebaker.com