by Alexie Aaron
~
“Miss Alice May Blackwell’s fascination with wildflowers is bordering on the obsessive,” Mike commented and set the journal down.
“Women weren’t allowed much in the way of occupying themselves in those days,” Audrey pointed out.
“Flowers?” Tonia asked, pulling her eyes away from the tally of pine tar barrels.
“Wildflowers. They’re pressed into the pages of this book,” Mike said, lifting up the pressed skeleton of a bellflower.
“Careful with that. You don’t know what you have there,” Tonia reached forward and gently liberated the pressed flower from Mike’s grasp. “Hand me the book, now, please.”
Mike, somewhat stunned at Tonia’s schoolmarm tone, thrust the book at her.
She took it with good grace. She gently flipped through the pages and murmured, “Nice, good, fantastic, good, outstanding!” She held up a single stemmed, mushroom-looking plant with a single bell-shaped flower on the top. “Monotropa uniflora, Indian pipe otherwise known as a ghost flower,” she placed it gently on the table. She walked over to where she had put her jacket and extracted a rolled pouch. “Miss Blackwell has given us more than a plant pressed in a book. She has given us a memory.”
“Sure, it says, ‘Found this in the woods next to the corpse of a half-eaten rabbit.’ It’s one memory I could do without,” Mike said.
“No, you don’t understand. This plant has the memories,” she started to explain.
“Plants have no brains, no memories,” Mike insisted.
“It holds Miss Blackwell’s. Let me explain. Audrey, you went out and found this amazing little plant. You carried it carefully to your home, and before you relegated it to the pages of your journal, you...”
“Showed it to my parents and anyone interested,” Audrey filled in.
“Ghost flowers absorb the past and hold on to it. We just need to hydrate it and let it give us its memories,” Tonia informed them.
“I’m not sure if that’s possible,” Mia said, her face scrunched up in disbelief.
“What happens when you touch something manufactured in the past with your bare hands?” Tonia asked.
“I get the memories of the people that have touched… Oh, I see where you’re going with this. Do you want me to touch it?” Mia started to draw off her glove.
“No, Mia, we are all going to touch it, once it’s prepared.”
“Mike too?” Mia asked.
Mike looked insulted.
“Mike especially. Let me explain. After I prepare the flower, I am going to hold it in my hand and each of you will grasp my hand, facing one of the four directions. Each of us will see a portion of the landscape. After, we will communicate what each of us saw and come together with a picture of the hollow.”
“Mia has a problem with visions,” Audrey blurted out.
“If the person dies in the vision then…” Mike started.
Tonia looked down at the sensitive and asked, “Is this true?”
“Sometimes I can’t breathe,” she admitted.
“I can help you with that,” Tonia claimed. “But what we are doing has nothing to do with your type of sight. You don’t have to be sensitive or gifted to do this. You just have to know how to coax out the information.” She unrolled the pouch and took out a few vials. “Mia, can I have a plate or saucer? I’d hate to burn your table top.”
Mia stepped over the salt ring and headed into the kitchen. She brought back a small dessert plate and set it down in front of Tonia. She watched as the woman sprinkled on a few dried herbs and then took out an eyedropper.
“Who’s the most emotional?”
Mia and Mike looked at Audrey.
“Thanks, guys. They’re right. It’s me,” Audrey admitted.
“Think of something sad. I need some tears,” Tonia instructed.
Audrey sat back and thought about how lonely Mia’s reported childhood had been. How this little happy girl was made to feel like a freak.
“Niagara Falls! This girl can cry,” Tonia said as she gently sucked the tears into the dropper.
“Okay, we’ll have to do this outside the ring of salt,” Tonia instructed. She waited until the others were in position before hydrating the herbs with the tears.
They watched as the concoction began to bubble and steam. Tonia held the stem end of the ghost flower to the liquid and closed her eyes. The flower lost its mushroom color and plumped into a white stalk. The flower, which had drooped in the drying process, raised its head upwards and tinges of light pink developed inside.
“Now,” was all Tonia said.
Chapter Five
Alice May Blackwell lifted the flower carefully from the ground, trying to preserve as much of the root as possible. She had never seen such a thing. At first she thought she had found an albino asparagus shoot or a new species of mushroom. She got on her knees, pushing away the feeling of dread for the anticipated scolding her mother would give her for her ruined frock. “Hello little one,” her musical voice echoed through the lowland. “Come to Alice,” she said as she lifted the specimen and placed it gently in her basket. She got up and walked over to the stream and dabbed her handkerchief in the cool water until the cotton was damp. She then wrapped the wet cloth at the base of the flower. “That will keep you awhile until I find out who you are.”
The woman took a moment to get her bearings. She heard the pounding of nails and sawing of wood and smiled as she turned in the direction of the construction, walking quickly out of the woods and into Cold Creek Hollow. Artisans were finishing the staircase on the Lewis house. Alice wasn’t particularly happy about the Lewis family following her folks to the hollow. They were upstarts at best. The patriarch of the family was in good favor with Mr. Steele, which seemed to elevate his standing in the community. There wasn’t much Mr. Lewis would not do to become one of the Bon Ton. Mrs. Lewis was a meek little thing, too tired from raising her brood to pick up a book or go to a concert. The woman was a cultural void. Alice took pains to not be seated next to her in social gatherings. The hostesses seemed to think that just because one was an old maid that you should be thankful you were invited to tea at all and should do your duty to take on the role of the entertainer of the dull and boring of the group.
If it wasn’t for her hobby, she would go mad. Alice walked by young Daisy who was showing a bit too much ankle this season. She had a beau in the army. Promises were made, a wedding to be held as soon as Captain William Shelby had leave.
“What have you got there?” Daisy asked, genuinely interested in Alice’s basket.
“I’m not sure,” Alice said honestly.
“Would you like me to take a look?” the young woman asked.
Alice doubted that Daisy could tell the difference between her derriere and her elbow, but she didn’t want to be rude and passed the basket to her.
“It’s a ghost flower or that’s what William called it. I’m sure there is a longer name, but its common name is ghost flower or Indian pipe. I’ve seen them with pink inside the bell as if they were blushing.”
Alice was surprised. Had she judged the beautiful girl wrongly? “Have you heard from Captain Shelby?”
Daisy frowned. “No. But I assume his letters first have to go to our home in Chicago before they are redirected here. Plus with the war…”
Alice felt bad for bringing up the subject, but she didn’t want to spend any more time conversing with the girl either. “I have to get my specimens in water, if you’ll excuse me,” she said.
“Say hello to your mother for me,” Daisy said, turning away from Alice and walking back towards her home.
Alice continued down the street, nodding a greeting to Mr. Lewis who was supervising the landscaping of his emerging summer home. She climbed the steps of the porch and walked across the wood expanse towards the open front door. Her mother believed in the merits of fresh air. All the windows and doors were open to take advantage of the breeze. The maids were busy in the front room, and Alic
e received only one look of disdain as she passed them, trailing bits of the forest behind her. Her skirt was a mess, and her slippers would have to be dried and the dirt knocked off them. She could hear their thoughts. “That’s why she’s not married. No man would want such a mess.”
Alice steeled her spine against the imagined insults and climbed the stairs to the second story.
“Alice May!” her mother exclaimed on the landing. “You take those things to the kitchen! You know your sister and family are on their way here, and I’ll not have any of your noxious plants smelling up the bedrooms.”
Alice looked at the older woman. She saw the serious set of her mother’s jaw and her hands on her hips, the combination proclaiming, “I’ll take no nonsense from you,” and Alice turned around obediently.
“Why must they come here?” Alice complained. “They have the place by the water.”
“I invited her. Her husband’s too busy to leave the city. She needs a helping hand with the children.”
Alice wanted to argue, that was what the governess was for. She didn’t like the governess. Her dark looks and black clothing gave Alice the creeps. She wasn’t good with the children, but her sister’s husband insisted they keep her on. Alice suspected that the governess and the husband played more than a hand of cards after the children were tucked away and her sister was abed with one of her headaches. Her mother would be horrified if she knew what Alice was thinking, but her mother was horrified at most of the things Alice thought about.
She entered the kitchen and set her basket on the edge of the sink. She thought she heard the cellar door open and turned around to see who it was. The door was indeed open, but the only thing that came out of the cellar was a cold draft. Alice walked over and shut the door. This new house had a lot of problems. She heard so many unexplained things in the early hours. Her mother and father explained the screams she heard were coming from vixens calling to their kits. The moans were coming from the large oaks in the surrounding forests. But so far, no one had adequately explained the slither-slide sound that moved through the empty halls and stairs of the stone house.
Alice went back to her basket, selected a few of the blooms and put them in water. She kept the best ones to press between the pages of her journal. She held the ghost flower up to the light and frowned as the bell-shaped flower had already curled over and the edges were turning brown. Flowers didn’t last long in the stone summer house. In their home in the city, you could get roses to last almost a week. Here, they barely made it a day. She replaced it in the basket, tiptoed to the kitchen door and listened for her mother. Alice heard her in the living room supervising the maids. She rushed to the stairs and escaped up them with her prize.
The corridor of the second story was empty. Alice moved quickly along it to the stairs at the far end of the hall. She climbed them to the attic where she kept her collection of drying plants. She sat down at her work table and placed the flower between two sheets of paper. Alice paused a moment, hearing movement behind her. She looked around and shook her head at her foolishness. She turned back and continued with her pressing process by placing a tome over the top paper.
Audrey felt dizzy as the image of the attic faded, and she reentered the dining room of the farmhouse. She looked over at Mike who was rolling his neck.
“Can we let go now?” Mia asked.
“Yes,” Tonia said softly.
Audrey took a deep breath and sought out a place to sit as her knees were feeling a bit funky. She looked at her watch and gasped. “We’ve been standing there for over an hour.”
“Feels like more,” Mia said, reaching for her cold cup of coffee. She drained the large cup. She spied Murphy staring in the window and winked at him. He pulled away quickly and disappeared.
“So whose memories were those? At one time I felt I was Alice May, and other times I felt I was observing her,” Mike said, rubbing his neck.
Tonia directed him to a chair. “Sit, let me,” she said and began to massage the kink out. “Think of a ghost flower like a flash drive. It may have many files on it. When Daisy picked up the flower, I got a read on her thoughts. When Alice’s mother came close to the basket, I sensed disappointment.”
“Did anyone else see what was standing in the doorway of the cellar?” Mia asked.
Audrey jumped in her seat. Mike shook his head and Tonia admitted, “I was looking out the kitchen window at Alice’s father supervising the gardener.”
“What did you see?” Audrey asked.
“Do you remember when we visited Hagan Fowler at the hospital?”
Audrey turned green but managed to say, “Yes.”
“There was a demon living inside of him that took pleasure in showing itself to me,” she explained to Mike and Tonia. “The thing was snake, no, eel-like. It wound its way in a Möbius strip through Hagan Fowler’s body. It had no skin or scales. It was milky gray in substance, and its eyes were black orbs with pulsing red pupils.”
“Is this what you saw?” Tonia asked.
“Not exactly, this was more humanoid in shape, but the coloring was the same. It had an open maw for a mouth, reminded me of an entrance to a cave. Jagged teeth instead of stalagmites.”
“What was it doing?” Mike asked.
“Waiting. I got the sense that it was waiting. Patient and calm. When Alice walked over and shut the door, her face was inches away from the open mouth, but yet the creature did not move. Drool pooled at the opening of the mouth before it oozed between the teeth and fell in drops to the floor. She shut the door, but I could see that the creature was there, as if the wood wasn’t there at all. It was still there when Alice left the room. It didn’t follow her.”
“Alice sensed something in the attic. Was it the demon?” Mike asked.
“I wasn’t facing in that direction. I was looking at the flower,” Mia admitted.
“Tonia?” Mike asked.
She shook her head.
“I was facing that direction, but I didn’t see anything,” Audrey said. “I’m sorry, but I only see… well, you know.”
Mia scooted her chair next to Audrey. She took off her gloves and said, “Close your eyes and think of what you saw in the attic.”
The attic was clean, free of cobwebs. Alice looked for whatever could have made the sound. Out of the shadows a single black feather fell.
Audrey’s eyes popped open. “How did I miss that?”
“What?” Mike and Tonia asked.
“I saw a black feather fall from the ceiling. How come I didn’t see it the first time?”
“You weren’t looking for it. You were looking for something bigger. Burt’s always telling me to not go into an investigation with a preconceived notion. Like…”
“Pumpkin head,” Mike filled in.
“Yes,” Mia said, blushing at the memory. “Audrey, you were looking for a person, a ghost or something much larger. You saw the feather, but since it didn’t fall into the category of what you assumed would be there, it was invisible to you,” Mia explained.
Tonia stared at Mia a moment as if she was correcting her initial assessment of the sensitive. “That’s very perceptive. Speaking of perception, I noticed that when the black feather is mentioned, you all tense up like you’re expecting to be slapped.”
“It’s a long story. Have you ever encountered Angelo Michaels before?”
Tonia shook her head. “Is he one of the fabled birdmen?”
“I’m not sure fabled is the right term, but yes, he has the ability to turn into a bird, mostly raven or crow-sized, but all black feathered,” Mia explained clumsily.
“I’ve seen some things. Shape shifters, skin-walkers and a few selkies, but no birdmen or women for that matter. Lorna may have,” Tonia said. “I’ll have to ask her.”
“Ask me what?”
The group turned to see a high-cheekboned woman dressed in western clothing. Her clothes were designer, but they were tattered at the edges. She stood as tall as Audrey, her chin just re
aching the shoulder of her escort, Burt.
“This is my partner, Lorna Grainger,” Tonia said and proceeded to introduce the others. She noticed that Lorna and Mia held eyes a moment as if sizing the other up before releasing their gaze. “I didn’t expect you to be here so soon.”
“I was in the neighborhood,” Lorna lied.
“How long have you two been together?” Mike asked.
Lorna looked puzzled. Tonia gave him a look of pure exasperation before she spoke, “Mr. Dupree, we hunt together. In this endeavor we are partners. If Lorna was my wife, I would have introduced her as that.”
Lorna laughed. “Don’t mind the little lady. She’s been sleeping rough for too long. We’ve been chasing spirits for five years now. Tonia got me in touch with my spirit guide, for which I will always be grateful.”
Burt shifted his stance. “Shall we go into the living room? It’s a bit cramped in here. Cid and Ted will be in soon. I think we have some things to discuss.”
~
Murphy followed Cid and Ted into the house. He was well aware that both visiting women could see him, so he moved with the cadence of the men in front of him. He took off his hat and rested his axe at his feet. His intention was to show respect but also indicate that he’d bear no nonsense from the women. No spirit tracker was going to get the best of Stephen Murphy. He had more right to be there than they did.
Cid tossed Burt the gavel. Burt weighed it in his hand, inspecting the craftsmanship. “Very nice,” he said and remembered to say, “Thank you.”
Cid reached out his hand to Ted. Ted put a five dollar bill in it, saying, “I’d never have thought he’d say thank you. Interesting.”
Mia patted the seat on the couch next to her, and her husband walked over and sat down. He moved a comforting arm around Mia’s tense shoulders. He felt her ease back, and he smiled as she grabbed his hand.
Burt waited until Cid had brought in a chair from the kitchen before beginning. “Now that all the PEEPs team is assembled, you can speak to us in regards to your request, having us help you with securing the errant spirit taking refuge in the hollow, in particular the middle house.”