by Savannah Mae
“Why not? It can’t hurt, can it?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t going to lead us into another situation. I tended to do that when life became too overwhelming for me. Some people exercised or ate tons of chocolate to relieve stress; I looked for excitement in all the wrong places, but never so much that I’d get in way over my head. Well, not intentionally.
“You want to drive all the way out to the boondocks to see a phony psychic? Why don’t you just dial one of those psychic hotlines and save the gas money?” Ben shook his head.
I gave him sad, puppy dog eyes. He hated when I did that, but hey, if it worked, why ruin a good thing?
He sighed. “Why are we friends again?” he asked, grabbing his car keys. “You know, I just washed my car.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think I’m going to get your precious car dirty? Who do you think I am?” I asked, pretending to be offended by his remark.
“I think you’re the same girl who always managed to spill something in my car. Remember when you left that tube of lip gloss open on my seat and that goop melted all over my car?” he asked.
I cringed. That was bad. I heard about that for a year after it happened, but in my defense, he was rushing me. If he would have just given me an extra hour or two to fix my hair and makeup before his sister’s wedding, that little accident wouldn’t have happened.
As we were walking out the door, Ben stopped to grab a book off the bookshelf and tuck it under his arm.
“Why do you need that?” I asked, reaching for the book.
He pulled away from me, so I couldn’t reach it.
“What is that? Do you plan on reading while you’re driving?” I asked.
“Yes, I do plan on reading, but I’m not driving. You are.” He tossed the car keys at me. “Don’t scratch my car.”
I can’t say that’s ever happened before as far as I could remember. Ben loved his car almost as much as he loved his hideous clothes. In some circles, he was known to break up with his girlfriends if they didn’t like his car. It was an illness, I’m sure. I’d always believed that he had some diagnosis, but don’t quote me on that.
“If I’m driving, what are you going to be doing?” I asked, still curious about the book he’d swiped from my mother’s coveted bookshelves.
He lifted the book, so I could see the cover. “Look.”
I read the title. “Harness your Intuition?” I asked. “Why do you need to read that?”
“I don’t; you do. But, since you’re the one who wants to see this psychic, I thought I’d read it to you. I think all those crazy dreams or visions you think you’re having are just messages from your gut. It’s like your intuition is telling you to pay attention or warning you about something. You can’t really believe you’re psychic. That doesn’t really happen unless you’re hungry for money and are shopping a reality show gig,” Ben explained.
I sighed. “Okay, let’s get it over with. Tell me what you think is going on and I’ll drive.” I waited for him to make his case. He may have been right. His theory sounded more plausible than mine, but I didn’t want to acknowledge that until I knew for sure. I didn’t have much confidence in what this psychic would say, but it would be a start - something I could cross off my list of possibilities.
Ben skimmed through the table of contents, looking for something he could grab onto that fit into my situation.
“Found it! I solved the case!” Ben sprang forward with excitement. “This says that stress - any kind of stress - whether it’s something going on at work, at home or in your relationship - can make you feel out of sorts. Some people have reported feeling like they are an outsider, watching their lives float right by them. I think that’s what you’re experiencing. It’s like your dreams are trying to tell you something. Your subconscious is like, ‘Hey, pay attention to me’.”
What he said made sense. I’d taken some psychology courses in college. I couldn’t argue with him, but it still didn’t explain why I could hear what people were thinking and why the things that happened in my dreams felt so real.
“I get that. It makes sense, but I don’t think it answers all my questions.” I said. “I could hear what you were thinking. I heard it as if you were speaking out loud. It was that real. Your hot breath was in my ear.”
Ben turned his attention back to the pages of the book. I continued driving south of town toward Hog’s Nest. I didn’t go there often because it had nothing to offer other than a funeral home and a couple of bars. The town’s population hovered somewhere around one hundred people. I’m sure they all belonged to the same family. Back in the day, those people were referred to as gypsies. I think, most figured out that calling people gypsies was a derogatory term, but that didn’t stop people from thinking it.
The town of Hog’s Nest was founded by a group of Greek settlers. I believe there must have been a culture clash and that led to animosity. It made no sense, but such was the way things went sometimes. I never noticed anything untoward about the people I’d seen on the rare occasion I ventured this far south of Jinx Cove.
My father made trips out this way from time to time. He never said anything negative about anyone from the area. In fact, he never said a negative word about anyone that I could remember. My dad loved everyone and, up until I met Zephyr Willis and his bully henchman, I thought I’d never meet anyone who didn’t like my father.
“What if you’re an intuitive?” Ben interrupted my thinking. “Who knows - maybe you come from a long line of people who could read others.”
“If you’re talking about my birth parents, I’m not interested. My parents are great. I’d like to think I take after them. They’re not psychic. If that were true, they wouldn’t be in the mess they’re in right now.”
I didn’t like to think about my birth parents. I’d wasted too many years fretting about why they would have given me up or what happened to them. It took losing my beloved grandmother for me to realize that the most important people in my life were those that had been there with me my entire life.
“I get that you don’t want to meet your birth parents now, but aren’t you the least bit curious about who they were and what their story was? Remember when we were kids, you’d make up all these fantastic stories about how they were secret agents and had to go into hiding or go on some covert operation and they asked the Abney’s to care for you?” Ben reminded me of one of the many different stories I’d created to make sense of how I came to be adopted.
I guess like a lot of adopted children, I felt like there had to be some big explanation for why my parents put me up for adoption. It took a long time and a lot of growing up for me to realize there didn’t have to be a reason at all. It could have been something as simple as my mother wasn’t ready to raise a child. All in all, my birth mother made a decision and gave me the opportunity to live with the most wonderful people in the world. I can’t imagine my life without either one of them. They were extraordinary in every way.
“What I want is to help my parents keep their house,” I said, my voice shaking with emotion. “Don’t laugh at me, but I feel like these visions or hallucinations, or whatever you call them, are somehow connected to what’s going on with them. Does that sound crazy to you?”
Ben frowned for a moment as he considered my words. “I wouldn’t exactly say it sounds sane, but what is sane really?” he joked. “I’ll tell you what, if you think there’s a connection and that this psychic could help, then I’m on your side. Let’s get to the bottom of this and save the Abney farmhouse.”
I knew I could count on him. There was no need for any more discussion. The deal was done and that was it.
Our hour-long trip was over, and we’d arrived in the tiny town. If there were five streets, that was a lot. The surrounding area was practically barren until we got to the top of a small hill in the middle of nowhere and looked down over the near-ghost town.
All the houses were nestled together on one side of the town. On the other side sat a grain
silo and a few small structures. I knew from previous trips here that two of those buildings were local watering holes and the other was the general store.
“Wow! I forgot how bare this town is.” Ben stared out the window.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” I said. “It’s the place where time stood still.”
“So, where is our little psychic friend?” Ben asked.
I’d forgotten to mention that Lady Maita had a bit of a drinking problem.
Awkward!
“Oh, she’s around.” I pulled in front of the Hog’s Nest Cantina and put the car in park.
Ben looked at the decrepit building. “Thirsty?”
“No.” I smiled.
“Why are we parking here?” he asked, confusion written all over his face.
I batted my eyelashes at him, hoping to soften the blow. “Miss Maita hangs out here.”
His eyes widened. “She hangs out at a bar?” he asked. After a moment, I could see the wheels in his head turning. “Wait! She’s a drunk? You’re seeking advice from a heavy drinking psychic?”
I grinned, shrugging my shoulders. “Maybe?”
“Oh, you gotta be kidding me!” Ben threw his head back against the seat.
“Hey, what happened to the guy that was going to be with me every step of the way? Remember him? He was sitting next to me just a second ago. Do you know that guy? He used to be my best friend.” I needed to get him back on my side.
He grabbed the door handle. “I’m right here, but you could have given me a heads-up. I don’t like all this secrecy. I thought we were buddies.”
I tapped the back of his head playfully. “You’re still my buddy, but do you think you could manage to be my silent buddy for a little while. Don’t say anything crazy in front of Miss Maita. If she senses you don’t believe her, she might not want to help me.”
He took a deep breath. “I’ll zip my lips, but I swear, if she’s drunk, I’m not going to be able to keep a straight face.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It didn’t matter where we were or what we were doing, it always ended with us getting scolded for our behavior. Once one of us started, there was no stopping the laughter.
Chapter Five
The Hog’s Nest Cantina didn’t disappoint in welcoming us with an aroma, very much akin to a pig sty. I wondered why they hadn’t named it the Cesspool of the Midwest. The walls appeared to have been painted with a mixture of chicken grease and locally distilled moonshine. Every surface reeked of the remnants of sad, lonely, shattered lives and manure.
“Who are you people?” a short, round woman snorted from behind the counter.
Ben whispered, “Shouldn’t she already know who we are? She’s not much of a psychic if she doesn’t.”
A voice came out of the darkness behind us. “Dee Dee’s the old hag that runs this place. She’s no psychic.”
Ben and I jumped out of our skin at the sound of her raspy voice. We’d made a visual sweep of the dank bar as soon as we stepped in and didn’t see anyone beyond the buxom woman behind the bar.
After taking a couple of slow, deep breaths to calm my racing heart, I swallowed my fear and explained why we were there, “We’re looking for Miss Maita. Her website says she works here.”
“Well, you found her. Pop a squat. I don’t have all day. Today’s a hair day.” Her gravelly voice sounded even more sinister than it had a few moments earlier. It didn’t help that she hadn’t bothered to emerge from the darkness and show her face to us.
Ben turned to face the area where her voice came from and spoke to her. “We drove all the way from Jinx Cove to speak to you.”
“I know that already, but you didn’t have to bring the beast committee with you. We don’t need them around here feeding on our pets.”
I gulped. “What? What beasts?” Now, I thought I’d made a bad decision. This woman wasn’t making any sense.
She emerged from the shadows, living up to our eerie expectations with a face full of harsh, dark makeup and her hair festooning a half a foot from her scalp. I’d never seen someone with so much hair on her head. I wondered if her neck hurt from carrying the weight of the jet-black mountain of curls on her head.
“That’s what’s wrong with the world. Kids don’t see nothing beyond themselves.” She yanked the front door open, sunlight spilling in showcasing layers of dust and grime on the tables and chairs. “Go look out there, but don’t make eye contact with those vile things. You never know when one of them will mistake your eyeballs for lunch.”
I reached for Ben’s arm, but he jumped away in fright. This not-so-charming woman had his stomach in knots too.
Outside, hovering above the block was a bunch of vultures, flying in circles making all sorts of noise.
“What in the world! You have them here too?” I asked, retreating inside the protection of the bar.
“No, we don’t.” Miss Maita slammed the door shut, nearly decapitating Ben in the process. “You brought those things with you. I don’t know what you did, but whatever it was, we don’t need any of that. Things have been quiet for years around here. The last thing we need is a battle with the likes of them.”
I didn’t know whether to run away from her and forget that I’d ever considered seeking help from her. I looked at Ben, but his eyes were peeled on the vultures outside.
“They followed us?” he asked no one. “Why would they follow us? What does that mean?”
Miss Maita returned to her seat, this time turning a small table lamp on so we could see her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, offering a sly smile. “Am I not what you were expecting, Melanie?”
How did she know my name?
I swallowed hard. This was my idea, so it was time to do what I came here to do. “Miss Maita, we are here because I have a problem. Well, to tell you the truth, my family-”
She put her hand up, her long red nails in need of a fresh manicure. “Don’t talk. Young people talk too much. What you need to do is listen. Learn to listen to your voice. Not the one that spills out of your mouth, but the one that’s in your head when you close your eyes and listen to the world around you and the world beyond here. Stop and listen.”
I did as she asked. I had no other choice. Something about her words resonated with me. As strange as it sounded, I thought she made sense. I did have a voice inside my head. I rarely listened to it, though.
“Why don’t you do what you do best? We’ll let you tell us your thoughts,” Ben suggested, doubt evident in his face. He wasn’t buying into my theory that Miss Maita could be of some help to me and my family.
She sneered at him. “Doubting me, won’t change what I know.”
Ben’s breath hitched. She had him. He didn’t know how yet, but she did pique his interest. I could tell by the way he leaned in, cueing in on her every word.
Well played, Miss Maita. Well played.
She pushed a chair back with her foot, telling me, “Sit down, Melanie. Your knees are shaking. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Those beasts won’t come inside. They’re not strong enough. I frighten them, and I think you do too. That’s why they hover and don’t attack like the predators that they are.”
My mouth went dry. I had no words. Every hair on my body stood on end as she spoke.
“You don’t see the power you have.” Miss Maita put her clammy hand over mine, sending shockwaves through my system. I jolted back, but she held onto my hand to keep it in place. “See it.”
Flashes of light blinded me. The room began to spin.
Ben reached for me, touching my shoulder.
“Don’t touch her. You’ll ruin things,” Miss Maita warned him.
I could see them and hear their conversation running in the background, but I also saw something more, something strange yet familiar, almost comforting in a crazy way. A woman’s voice beckoned me with a word I didn’t understand, but I didn’t feel threatened. As her voice became louder, nearer to me, my body started to shake
violently.
Ben yelled, “What are you doing to her? Let go of her hand.”
I don’t know in what order things happened. It was all a flash of scenes, images and words that made no sense.
Pushing my chair around so I could face him, Ben yelled my name, “Melanie. Melanie Abney look at me!”
I blinked wildly, confused by the urgency in his voice.
“Talk to me. I think you had a seizure. We should get you to a hospital.” Ben moved to help me out of my seat.
“She doesn’t need a hospital. She saw what she needed to see. That’s the way these things work. Always have, always will. Now, give her a moment to reorient herself,” Miss Maita assured Ben that all was fine, but as far as I was concerned, I was very much not okay.
“I don’t know what happened, but I don’t feel good. Can I have some water?” I asked, turning to look at the bartender, but she was gone.
“Water! Get her some water!” Ben yelled to the bartender. “Where did she go?”
“I’m right here. Pipe down!” Dee Dee stepped through the swinging doors, a frying pan in her hand. “What in the world is all the yelling about?”
Ben had beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. “She had a seizure. Get her some water.”
She turned to go back into the kitchen, but stopped suddenly, asking Miss Maita, “Is this kid serious? Did she have a seizure or was it you? I told you, people need to be warned before you start messing with their minds.”
“You messed with my mind? Is that what happened? Who was that woman? Where was I?” I had more questions to ask, but those were the most pertinent questions for now. I’d save the rest for later.
“No.” She held her hand up to fend off the verbal assault Ben was about to launch at her. “I don’t mess with minds. I run a legitimate business. I’m just the facilitator, the go-between. What you see or don’t see has nothing to do with me, so don’t get your bridges in a bunch, young man.” She pointed a long, crooked finger at Ben, who had moved dangerously close to her.