by Jill Nojack
He went silent and Natalie patted his hand again. Best to give what support she could to keep him calm. She didn’t want to get trapped giving comfort if he started crying before she could get away.
“Gerald, do you have anyone coming to stay with you? Children? Siblings?”
“No, nothing like that. Caroline and I married when we were older, and our work consumed us, I’m afraid. We were both only children. She had family in the west, distant cousins, but they weren’t close. The funeral will be in Giles once they release . . .” he paused, his eyes far away, “her body. My Caroline’s body. I’m sure that if they come in for it, they’ll be staying in the city. I doubt I’ll see them except at the funeral.”
“Then may I ask a friend to stop by to check on you over the next few days? You shouldn’t be constantly alone at a time like this. She’d be happy to check in. Have you met Gillian Winterforth, the mayor’s girlfriend?”
He perked up considerably. “Robert Andrew’s partner? We met at a council meeting where Caroline’s work was discussed. She had kind eyes.”
“Yes, she does,” Natalie said. Not that she thought having a kind demeanor was necessarily a positive trait. “I’ll let her know you’re expecting her.”
There. Gillian would be more than willing to deal with the man’s pain. She was always in people’s way, offering a chubby shoulder, even when one wasn’t wanted.
As she dialed Gillian’s number on her way out to the car, William asked, “Compassion? Or do you want to put a spy in his camp?”
“Hush,” she replied. He knew her too well. “You’re giving me a headache.”
***
Natalie hoped that the place where Caroline Aker’s body was found had been vacated by the police. She walked purposefully through the woods, a flashlight gripped tightly in her hand to guide her when the twilight ran out. William’s enthusiasm for the mission since they’d left the Akers place hadn’t waned, but she wasn’t tired enough yet of his chirpy optimism to send him on his way.
“Oh shush,” Natalie said, refusing to even glance at him as his specter glided along beside her. “Some of us are too old to become giddy at the possibility that you might be exonerated. And the other of us are too dead for it to do them any good.”
“That’s one of the reasons I’ve always loved you. Because of the hope hidden beneath your grim practicality.”
He loped along ahead of her, skipping at times, turning and walking backward, grinning like a fool. If her neck hadn’t gone so stiff while visiting Akers, she could almost see herself getting caught up in his antics.
He looked so real that she shouted, “Watch out, you fool. There’s a tree right behind you!” She felt like a fool herself when he passed right through, popping out none the worse for wear on the other side.
He walked up next to her and grinned. “You’ve forgiven me, haven’t you, for helping that woman pass over? She wouldn’t have made it if you’d held her there until you’d coaxed what you needed out of the portal. Would you really have sentenced her to be trapped here, wallowing in her anger?”
She pictured old Mrs. Olson, whose slowly fading specter still screamed her agony soundlessly every night in the window of the bakery. She’d been robbed and beaten by a passing hobo she’d taken in and fed during the Great Depression, long before Natalie was born. Natalie’s grandmother had tried to help her pass many times, taking Natalie with her once, but the spirit had refused the portal, too trapped in that last moment of betrayal to move on. Eventually, the portal had stopped appearing when summoned. The old woman would continue fading and be entirely gone in perhaps another hundred years or so, never to know if the peace beyond the veil was real.
“I would have,” she said quietly.
“Then you’re not the Natalie I know. That Natalie wouldn’t have let another soul suffer so she could get what she wanted,” he said. “And I don’t think that Natalie, my Natalie, has gone anywhere. And anyway, I’m only doing your job for you. You’re the one who should be helping the lost spirits find their way. You couldn’t do it, so I’ve been following in your mother’s footsteps for you. I’ve been looking after the town’s dead.”
“You?” She looked at him appraisingly. “That’s why I’ve not been overwhelmed by the spirits in Giles like I was before I got my ward. A few here and there, yes . . .” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re very responsible for someone who still looks like he should be wearing short pants.”
“Does my appearance bother you? I guess it would. Wait a minute. I can fix it, I think.”
She continued walking. This was a ridiculous mission. What was the point of it? To clear the name of someone who’d been dead for fifty years? She was a fool. An old fool.
“Nat, I said wait, please? You don’t have to be in such an all-fired hurry all the time, do you?” His voice sounded lower, more assured. No longer the voice of the happy toy buyer.
She turned, and her breath caught in a short gasp.
He looked exactly like she’d imagined he would if he’d grown old beside her the way they’d planned. Not bald, thank goodness, but gray-haired. His skin had settled lower, and he had jowls along with the creases around his mouth and eyes that had been cut deep by smiling. But his brown eyes hadn’t aged; they were still William’s gentle eyes, bright and full of fun.
It wasn’t fair that he’d gone off and died before he could grow old with her. It wasn’t fair that he’d left her to go her own way down the witch’s path, too busy and too prickly to ever let anyone in again.
She closed her eyes. “Stop it. Go back to the way you were. We’re almost there, anyway.”
When she opened her eyes, he was young again, a tease of what he was, but at least no longer a tease of what might have been.
When they reached the spot where she’d drawn the circle around the corpse the day before, it was already dark, but Natalie didn’t mind; she always felt comfortable in the dark. She set the heavy, unlit flashlight aside while she worked. She placed fivecandles to make the pentagram and set a cone of homemade incense in the center. It smelled like bay leaf, a smell associated with soup, not magic. But bay leaf was exactly what she needed to draw sense memory from the surrounding woods. There was little chance the spell would work; it had been two days now and nature forgot things quickly. Still, she had to try.
Despite what William had said, he had been working toward his own ends as much as he had worked toward helping the unhappy spirit when he’d coaxed her across the threshold, she was sure of that. He knew she needed energy from the portal to build and charge a ward that would disperse any spirit that came too close to her; he’d been hanging around in the background when the first ward had been built. She pointed a finger at him, gesturing back toward the way they’d come.
“You need to back off. I won’t have your energy confusing the casting.” She glared at him, red sparks beginning to glow at her fingertips. “Way back. Out of the woods.”
He dissolved into a milky glow, his smile fading last.
When he was gone, she lit the candles and began her incantation—softly, slowly. The red sparks grew until they turned into an aura that surrounded her, then expanded out from her body, rustling leaves and turning over loose piles of mulch as it rippled out away from her in waves, seeking the forest’s memories.
She worked her way back slowly, feeling the forest things sense her striding through the woods, followed by William’s glow, which was formless to the trees and mice and centipedes. Next, she felt the traces of the police investigation being pulled away, the body being bagged and removed.
She pushed, but the senses of the spiders and the toads had nothing else. She needed something bigger, something smarter—a raccoon, a stray dog. The red glow began to fade at its edge. The candles burned down close to the ground, but still she chanted. She didn’t want to give up while the least spark of the spell remained. But it was getting colder in the dark woods, and the first candle sputtered out in a pool of wax, leaving only the barest
stub.
She wasn’t going to prove anything by dying of exposure and being the next corpse her furry friends found in the woods. When she tried to rise, she found she’d been sitting cross-legged so long on the damp, chill ground that her body fought her.
In the end, she had to roll and lift her backside into the air like a stink beetle to get her limbs working again so she could push herself into an upright position. What had she been thinking, coming out here like this to help find a murderer and clear an innocent man’s name? She was stiff and sore, and she’d need to soak more than her feet tonight, but she had absolutely nothing to show for it.
It’s just like they always say. No good deed goes unpunished.
***
Cassie handed Tom a glass of wine and flopped onto the couch next to him with a fizzy water of her own. A leisurely dinner with mounds of garlic mashed potatoes slathered in butter had relaxed her. Glancing at the picture she’d set on the coffee table for Tom’s approval, she said, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is. But I’m not sure how much I like other men giving you expensive presents.”
“Technically, it’s just a handmade gift.”
“Mmmmhmmm,” he said. “Like a ceramic ashtray from a kindergartner, right?”
She snuggled into him, smirking. “Exactly like that. I did say that we would love to have him to dinner sometime, but . . .”
He smirked and said, “You really think I’m cooking for your gentleman caller?”
“Yeah, well, now I’m not so sure you should. I mean, I really liked him, he’s so . . . continental in an old-time movie kind of way. I have to admit I was flattered. And he’s so talented. I mean, soooo talented . . .”
“But?”
“He was completely dismissive to Dash when Dash said he and Jon would love to have him over for dinner too. I mean, Dash can get pretty emotional and over the top sometimes, but that’s just because he really feels things that strongly. So, he gushed. And Lou blew him off like he was a nothing, a nobody. I didn’t like that. Dash is kind of remarkable, you know? Nobody is nicer or more forgiving than he is.”
“I can live without this Lou Frank guy coming to dinner. Tell him that I’m a caveman who’s so jealous I can’t even allow you to be in a room with another man. And it would be true, too.” To prove his point, he hopped off the couch and beat his chest with his fists, yodeling his best Tarzan yell.
While she giggled, he picked her up in his arms and raced off with her up the stairs. There would be no more talk of artists and gifts tonight.
5
The next morning, Natalie vied for a place next to Gillian in the doorway behind the counter in Cat’s Magical Shoppe. They watched as a tank-top-clad, muscular young man in his prime finished hanging a new door at the other end of the hall.
Natalie spoke first. “Who is that man, and why is he putting up barriers? Who said there was a problem with the old door?”
Gillian nudged her with a shoulder. “Like it matters? I can think of a lot of things around here that could do with some fixing.”
Cassie walked out of the kitchenette with a cup of tea, blocking their view. “Hi guys. Sorry. I figured he’d be done with the work before you got here. Oh, Sean,” she said, “these are my friends and co-shopkeepers Natalie and Gillian.” She turned back to them. “Cinnamon recommended him. He only started taking jobs in Giles a few months ago, but she said he did a great job refinishing her floors.”
The man smiled broadly, flashing a set of movie-star teeth. He appeared to be in his thirties or so. “Yeah, Cin’s a doll. Makes a mean cinnamon roll, too.” He winked and turned back to his work.
Natalie wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but she didn’t ponder on it for too long. Gillian and Cassie were far too distracted by the young man, and she needed them to be sharp when she told them her news. She hadn’t expected an outsider to be in the shop when she arrived. The delay made her testy.
“Why do we need a door, anyway?” she asked. “And is he almost done?” she continued to Cassie, who’d brought her tea into the shop and was blowing on it to cool it while she leaned on the wooden counter top.
“Finished now, ladies, since you’re interested,” came the reply from down the hall.
Natalie grimaced. Oh marvelous. He’d probably heard Gillian going on about him earlier, too.
Cassie straightened, set her tea down, and opened the till, counting out a stack of bills. “The old door was too lightweight. I’m renting out the house to my friend Daria and her cousin, so it needs a sturdier one that muffles sound, has locks, and keep us both out of each other’s business.”
She walked into the hallway and handed the bills to Sean, who rifled them quickly and then saluted Natalie and Gillian with the money still in his hand and a huge smile on his face. He said, “It was nice to meet you all,” before heading for the back door. Cassie walked with him but was back quickly. She locked the new door on her way in, saying over her shoulder, “You know, if I didn’t have Tom . . .”
Gillian laughed. “No one would blame you, sweetheart. Blimey . . . I’m sure I felt faint for a moment. Warn us first the next time you plan on having one of the Chippendales stop by to entertain. I’ll bring my smelling salts.”
Natalie harrumphed. “Really, the two of you . . .”
“Lighten up, Nat,” Cassie chided her. “Like you’re not always perving on Tom to embarrass him. Just admit that the guy was hot.”
“I don’t have to admit anything of the kind. But if it will make you happy, yes, I noticed that he was an attractive man wearing tight, unnecessarily brief clothing. Fat lot of good it does me at my age.” She turned to her right and spat out, “Don’t be ridiculous. I told you to wait outside . . . no, don’t rush me. I’ll handle it in my own time.”
When she turned back, Cassie and Gillian were staring at her with their mouths slightly open as if they wanted to speak but were mulling it over carefully before they did.
Natalie spoke for them. “No, I haven’t gone around the bend. However, after my little tête-à-tête with Robert yesterday on my way out of the police station, it’s apparent that’s what my good friend Gillian thinks, isn’t it?”
“I said nothing of the kind,” Gillian replied, a little too quickly.
“You said that I seemed more distant than usual and that you’d caught me talking to myself several times. You also said I seemed unfocused and distracted.”
Gillian didn’t respond.
“Well? Did you or didn’t you?”
Gillian sighed. “I’m worried about you, Nat. You know Robert and I both care for you. You haven’t been yourself.”
“I’ve been very much myself, thank you,” Natalie snapped. “In fact, I’ve been more myself than either one of you have ever known me to be. Because without the ward that I gave up to protect this town, my world encompasses both the living and the dead. And the dead can be quite attention-seeking. It isn’t myself I’ve been talking to.”
Cassie said, “Why didn’t you tell us that?”
Natalie hated the pitying look that Cassie probably thought came across as concern. “I had to wait until conditions were right, didn’t I? At least you and Tom haven’t wasted any time. I could have approached one of the other witches in town who has had children, but there’s no one else I trust to be in my business. And the stronger the individual witch’s magic, the stronger the spell. I need a powerful spell. One that temporarily disperses any spirits within a wide range.”
“Is it very bad, seeing the dead?” Gillian asked.
“Not always. But it’s difficult sometimes sorting out what’s real and what’s Memorex, so to speak. The dead are mostly harmless, although the ones that have resisted passing for a very long time can manifest briefly and manipulate objects. That can become an annoyance.” She turned to Cassie. “By the way, William is sorry about dropping the letter opener. Apparently there’s a letter from his mother lying on his dresser top that he’d like to open.
He has very limited ability to impact objects, and his attempt to carry it down the hall went wrong.”
Cassie’s mouth dropped open. “William? William Stanford? The serial killer William Stanford?”
“Yes. I mean no. He didn’t commit those murders. And yes, William Stanford.”
Cassie looked around the shop. “He’s who you’ve been talking to?”
“Yes. He’s the reason my mother, my grandmother, and I created my first ward fifty years ago. He never gave me a minute of peace, insisting he still loved me and that he had to clear his name because he hadn’t killed anyone. Not that I thought he had. But it was difficult for me with him always nearby.”
“You and he,” Gillian said, “you were?”
“We planned to marry. But it was a secret from most. After my grandfather’s attempt to raise my grandmother from the dead by sacrificing his second wife, my family’s reputation was ruined. Non-magicals saw him as a murderer and corpse-defiler. The coven knew him as something much worse—a necromancer who abused his magic in a way that could have destroyed us all. And although William knew nothing of my family’s magical history until after he was dead, a family like the Stanfords wouldn’t have allowed its favored son to date someone from a family like mine, much less marry her, no matter how much old man Stanford depended on my mother to keep him organized. She was his secretary, one of ‘the help,’ in addition to being the daughter of a murderer. You see the problem.”
“Oh Nat, that must have been so hard on you . . .” Cassie’s mouth turned down at the corners.