by Paige Sleuth
“A vision?”
“He is showing me a short, disfigured man in a cloak.”
“Really?” Kat had to stifle a laugh. “What kind of people do these spirit guides associate with?”
“Spirit,” Madame Vood corrected, her eyes opening. “This is not a spirit guide, just spirit.”
“Oh. What’s the difference?”
“This spirit is more like a guardian angel.”
“O—kay,” Kat said, drawing out the word.
Madame Vood held up a finger. “But he is not your guardian angel.”
“What’s he doing here then?” Kat asked. “Just hanging around?”
Madame Vood shook her head. “He does not hang. He is not confined by our physical limitations.”
Kat didn’t reply. She felt as if her head was about to start spinning.
Madame Vood squinted at her. “You are having man troubles, no?”
Kat drew back a little. “What?”
“There is a man in your life.”
“Yes,” Kat admitted.
“He is holding back.”
Kat lifted one shoulder, pushing away the memory of Andrew’s protests about her visiting his house. “I wouldn’t say that,” she hedged.
“Yes, it is the truth.” Madame Vood nodded once as though to indicate the topic was settled.
Kat felt a flash of irritation. “He’s not. He’s just . . . cautious, is all. His childhood wasn’t easy.”
“Yes, yes. No childhood is easy.”
Kat rubbed Sheba’s chin. “Well, Andrew’s was particularly difficult.”
Madame Vood tilted her head. “You are making excuses for him, no? The spirit says he is master of excuses. He tells me this man—Andrew, you call him—is not connected to his own mind. His intellect exists on a different plane than his soul.”
Kat crooked one eyebrow. The way Madame Vood was speaking in tongues, Kat was having a hard time believing anyone could find this sort of session useful.
Madame Vood sat up suddenly and clapped her hands, causing Kat to flinch. “The spirit, he says he has no more to tell you. Now it is your turn. Reveal to me whom you wish to invoke.”
Kat lifted Sheba off her lap and stood up. “Actually, I think I’m done.” She set the cat on the floor and headed for the exit.
“Ah, but you have not yet found what you came here for.”
Kat froze halfway to the door, thinking of Midnight. Madame Vood was right. She hadn’t found what she had come here for.
Madame Vood pushed Kat’s abandoned chair out using her foot. “You come, sit. We will summon spirit to guide you in the right direction.”
The memory of Tracy bawling in her living room flashed through Kat’s head. As much as she itched to get out of here, could she really walk away if there was even a sliver of a chance that Madame Vood might be able to tell her something that could lead them to the missing cat? Would she turn her back on a potential lead, however slim, if it were Matty or Tom missing instead of Midnight?
Kat stomped back over to the table and sank into the chair. “Okay. What can you tell me?”
Madame Vood reached toward her. “You must give me your hand.”
Kat folded her arms across her chest. “I did that earlier.”
“Yes, yes. Now you must do so again.”
Kat huffed, but she dutifully held out her hand.
Madame Vood took it. She closed her eyes again and tilted her face toward the ceiling. “I am getting a message from an angel,” she said after a moment. “He tells me you are searching for a man.”
Kat rolled her eyes, safe that Madame Vood couldn’t see her. “I already have a man. Andrew, remember?”
“Different man,” Madame Vood said. “A black man, no?”
Kat’s mouth slipped open a little. Madame Vood couldn’t possibly be talking about Midnight, could she?
“He is lost,” Madame Vood continued. “You hope to guide him home.”
Kat hunched closer, her heart skipping a beat. “Do you know where he is?”
“He is close.”
“How close? Is he still in this neighborhood?”
Madame Vood opened her eyes and shook her head. “No, you do not understand. Angels, they do not measure distance like we do.”
Kat frowned. “Can you at least tell me if he’s still in Cherry Hills?”
“No, I cannot tell you anything. Only angel can say.”
Kat blinked. “Well, why don’t you ask him?”
Madame Vood ignored her. “The angel says you are not looking in the right place.”
“Where is the right place?”
“I cannot tell you that,” Madame Vood said, letting go of Kat’s hand.
Kat scrunched up her nose. “Why not?”
“The angel will not reveal that information to me.”
Kat swayed against the chair, figuring that was a good way for Madame Vood to absolve herself from any responsibility.
“But the angel says you cannot find him on your own,” Madame Vood added. “You must invoke help.”
Kat held up her hands. “Isn’t that what I’m doing here?”
“Not my help.”
“Whose then?”
“The angel will not share that with me.”
Kat tried not to feel too disappointed. After all, this angel likely didn’t even exist outside of Madame Vood’s imagination. It was probably something she’d conjured up to wheedle a couple extra dollars out of Kat’s wallet.
Madame Vood smiled and stood up. “You have gotten what you came here for, yes?”
Kat rose from her chair. “Not really.”
“Yes, yes, you have.” Madame Vood rubbed her palms together. “Now we must settle your bill, yes?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kat’s mind was whirling when she left Madame Vood’s place. As she made her way to her car, she couldn’t prevent her eyes from darting around in search of Midnight and men in cloaks. She had to remind herself that she didn’t believe in talking spirits or angels or whatever Madame Vood wanted to call them.
She was so preoccupied she didn’t even see the woman from Jessie’s Diner walking up the driveway until she’d almost plowed into her.
“Oh.” The woman stopped short. “You were our waitress last night.”
“Kat,” Kat said with a nod. “You’re Monica, right?”
“You have a good memory.” Monica grinned. “And that pumpkin ravioli was delicious. You can tell Jessie I said so.”
“I will.”
Monica’s gaze strayed past Kat’s shoulder. “Were you just with Madame Vood?”
Kat hesitated, not wanting to admit to having sought out the services of a ghost whisperer. “You know her?” she said instead.
Monica shrugged, looking as reluctant as Kat to admit to anything. “I’ve been here a few times. This is about my fourth visit.”
“Yeah?” Kat was surprised someone had found Madame Vood’s insights noteworthy enough to return for a repeat session.
“Truth be told, my mother’s dementia has taken a hard toll on my family,” Monica said. “She’s deteriorated a lot in the past year. My father died a decade ago, but she’s started talking about him again as if he’s still around.”
Kat saw tears welling in Monica’s eyes, and her heart went out to her. “That has to be tough.”
“It is.” Monica twined her fingers together. “I thought I’d come to terms with Dad’s death, but now that Mom keeps dredging up old memories I’m starting to realize maybe I’m not as healed as I thought I was.”
“And talking to a fortune teller helps you?” Kat asked.
“She’s a spiritual guidance counselor.”
“Right.”
“And yes, she helps me. Some of the things she says . . .” Monica bit her lip. “It’s like Dad is right there in the room with us.”
Kat nodded. An hour ago she would have dismissed Monica as a woman so desperate to connect with her late father that she would believe anythi
ng, but after her own session she had to admit Madame Vood was good. She’d even had Kat going for a minute.
Monica sighed, wrapping her arms around her middle. “When Mom starts talking about Dad, it’s like ripping old wounds open. Not only does it feel like I’m losing him all over again, but her rambling emphasizes how we’re losing her too.”
“I’m sorry,” Kat said, unable to think of a more comforting response.
“This whole thing has been especially hard on Beth. She and Mom used to be so close. I’ve tried to get her to come to a session with Madame Vood, but she refuses. She tells me she has no interest in talking to the dead, that she’d rather focus on getting her grandma back to normal.” Monica’s eyes filled with tears. “Like dementia is a curable disease.”
Monica’s misery was contagious. Kat felt a lump forming in her own throat.
Monica fumbled in her purse, pulling out a tissue. “Oh, look at me. I can’t even talk about Mom without falling apart.”
“It’s okay,” Kat said.
Monica blew her nose and wiped her cheeks. “Tell me, have you found that missing cat yet?”
Kat shook her head. “We had search parties looking for him all evening with no luck.”
“That’s too bad.” Monica offered Kat a watery smile. “I looked for him a little after leaving Jessie’s, you know. My friend Heather called and asked if I would help. I tried to get Beth to come too. I thought it would give us some time to bond.”
“But she didn’t want to go?” Kat guessed.
Monica’s face fell. “She said she had a date, but later I heard her on the phone asking Luke to come pick her up. I think she made up the date story to avoid spending time with me.”
“Is Luke kind of tall and lanky?” Kat asked, holding her hand above her head at Lindsay’s brother’s approximate height.
“Yes,” Monica said. “Luke Mackinaw. Do you know him?”
“I met him yesterday, at the copy shop. His sister works there.”
Monica smiled. “Lindsay is a good girl. She reminds me of my Beth.”
Kat studied her. “But you don’t like Luke.”
Monica’s smile dimmed. “It’s not that I don’t like him. I would just prefer that he not date my daughter.”
“Why’s that?”
“He doesn’t strike me as very ambitious. Beth is an excellent student, near straight As. Luke, on the other hand, can barely be bothered to pass his classes.”
“And you’re worried his study habits will rub off on her?” Kat surmised.
Monica nodded. “She’s a senior. The last thing she needs is to lose interest in school now, when she has less than a year left before she graduates. She’s applying early admission to University of Washington, but even if she’s accepted I told her it’s important to maintain a good GPA all the way through June.”
“Has she given you any reason to worry?”
“No, not really.” Monica stuffed the tissue back in her purse. “But Beth is so vulnerable right now, with Mom in the nursing home. I fear the stress will get to her and her grades will start slipping.”
Kat’s mouth curved up. She found it rather touching how concerned Monica seemed to be about Beth’s future. She wondered if her own mother had worried that much about her. If she had, she had only done so from afar, while Kat was tied up in the Cherry Hills foster care system.
Kat cleared her throat before she could get too caught up in her own memories. “I should get going. I’m sure you’re anxious to talk to Madame Vood.”
Monica didn’t appear to hear her. “Hear that?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.
Kat listened for a moment, but she could only detect the faint chirping of faraway birds and a car driving past in the distance. “Hear what?”
Monica’s face had paled. “It sounds like a ghost.”
“I don’t hear anything.” For that matter, Kat wasn’t even sure what she was listening for. What did ghosts sound like?
“This isn’t the first time I’ve heard a ghost here.” Monica’s eyes veered toward Madame Vood’s house before landing back on Kat. “I bet she has spirits all around her property, clamoring to talk to the loved ones they were forced to leave behind.”
Kat glanced around, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. It took her a second before she remembered she didn’t believe in ghosts.
“The old Lerner place is not too far from here either,” Monica continued, gesturing toward her left. “I’m positive that place is haunted.”
“The Lerners?” The name sounded familiar, but Kat couldn’t place it.
“They moved to Cherry Hills after they married, about twenty years ago. He was in a wheelchair.”
“Oh, right.” Kat remembered them now. She’d even run into the Lerners once or twice when she was a teenager.
“They had been trying to conceive for forever and only succeeded about two years ago.” Monica pursed her lips. “Unfortunately, there were complications when it came time for her to give birth. She died, and so did the baby.”
A stone settled in Kat’s stomach. “That’s terrible.”
“Yes. And the husband didn’t last but three days later. He dropped dead of a heart attack right in the middle of their living room.” Monica sighed. “It’s like their love was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.”
Kat considered that, recalling what Madame Vood had told her about ghosts. “If the whole family died, what makes you think their place is haunted? I thought ghosts only hung around if they had unfinished business to attend to.”
Monica pulled her purse closer. “I can’t explain it. But I’m not the only one who believes it. While we were out last night my friend Heather heard the baby’s spirit knocking around the Lerner house. Their property was never sold, you know.”
Kat cinched her jacket tighter, trying to muster up some warmth. Her bones had gone cold.
Monica coughed. “But anyway, if the Lerners do have unfinished business here on Earth, I don’t suppose it’s within my power to help them. I don’t have the type of talent that Madame Vood does.”
Kat looked at the sign advertising Madame Vood’s business hours. “Right.”
“Well, I should let you go.” Monica took a step up the driveway. “It was nice chatting with you.”
“You too.”
Kat watched Monica approach Madame Vood’s front door. She hoped Monica’s visit ended on a more satisfying note than hers had.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kat’s cell phone rang while she was walking into her apartment unit. She pulled it out of her pocket, her spirits soaring when she saw Willow’s name displayed on the caller ID.
“Tell me you found Midnight,” Kat answered in lieu of a greeting.
“Sorry,” Willow said.
Kat closed her apartment door and sagged against it. “It’s okay. I just feel like we’re running out of time. Today is Halloween, and we’re no closer to finding him than we were yesterday.”
“That’s why I called. I was hoping we could look for him together, if you’re free.”
“Sure. Where do you want to meet?”
“I’ll pick you up at your apartment,” Willow said. “I want to take some of your fliers with us.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
Tom padded down the hallway, twining between Kat’s legs as he welcomed her back home.
She reached down to scratch his head. “I missed you too, baby. You want to go outside with us today?”
Tom rubbed the side of his face against Kat’s shoe and meowed.
“I don’t know if that’s a yes or a no,” Kat replied. But she figured there was an easy way to find out.
She stepped into the living room and plucked Tom’s harness and leash off of the coffee table. When Tom saw what she was holding, his eyes grew wide and he bolted back down the hallway, presumably to hide under the bed.
Kat snorted. “I guess that answers my question.”
Matty lifted her head
up from where she had been napping on the couch. Spying the leash dangling from Kat’s fingers, the feline jumped up and rocketed toward the front door as if the apartment were on fire.
Kat had to shake her head at how different the two animals were. “We have to wait for Willow,” she told the tortoiseshell.
Matty wasn’t interested in excuses. She looked pointedly at the door and meowed.
When Willow buzzed to be let into the building, Matty was still hovering by the door. She had moved on from staring at it to taking decisive action, alternating between trying to wedge her paw through the crack at the bottom and reaching for the doorknob.
Kat had to pick Matty up to let Willow inside. “She’s anxious to start searching.”
Willow smiled and gave Matty a light pat on the head. “That’s sweet.”
“She would have stayed out all last night if I didn’t finally make her come home.”
Willow’s smile faded. “This is all my fault. After everything I’ve put her through, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tracy no longer talks to me in the teachers’ lounge.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t blame you,” Kat told her.
Willow’s shoulders sagged. “How can she not? He was my responsibility.”
Kat didn’t reply. It was obvious nothing she could say would ease Willow’s sense of guilt.
“What do you know about Tracy’s neighbor, Connie Vood?” Kat asked, deciding a subject change might keep Willow from brooding.
“I’ve never talked to her.” Willow rubbed her nose. “In truth, I kind of went out of my way to avoid her. Witches give me the willies.”
“She’s a spiritual guidance counselor.”
“Whatever you want to call her, according to Tracy she has an in with the dead. I’d rather not get on her radar if that’s true. She might send my ancestors to spy on me or something.”
Matty had started squirming, so Kat set her on the floor. “I met with her this morning. She said Midnight is close.”
Willow angled her head to one side. “What does that mean?”
“I have no idea. Supposedly an angel gave her the information, but they don’t measure distance like we do.” Kat smacked her palm against her forehead. “Listen to me, talking about otherworldly beings like they actually know where Midnight is. I’m letting this whole Halloween thing get to me.”