Capricorn Cursed

by Sèphera Girón

“I’m sure it is, honey. To you.”

  Ellie nodded and smiled. She was proud of her knowledge and knew Natasha was proud of her too. Ellie had come so far since they had first met.

  In fact, Maggie had brought them together. They were two shy, withdrawn people who met the same chatty woman on the same night. Maggie met Ellie at the grocery store and Natasha at the bookstore and invited them for a girls’ night out. They played pool and talked. After hanging out a few times, Natasha brought them to Lucy.

  Lucy had been thrilled that her missing two members had been found. Only three months previously, two ladies had moved from Hermana, and her circle was no longer complete. The energy worked best when there were 12 ladies and herself. Once more, the universe had provided for the coven.

  Ellie was so shy and withdrawn back then. She barely looked at Lucy and seemed distant at the initiation ceremony. However, after a month had passed, her manner was noticeably different. Ellie had become bubbly and outgoing, although there were still times she retreated into hibernation. She discovered feng shui and after trying it out personally, she decided it was a viable path to follow. She drove to Boston for courses and, after gaining several certificates, launched her practice. She even feng shuied the circle room at Lucy’s home.

  Now Natasha was hoping to use her services.

  “I’ll come over next week. Is that okay?” Ellie said.

  “I’ll check my book and we’ll find a slot.” Natasha nodded.

  The music shifted into a louder and livelier beat. The women listened appreciatively, but Natasha soon grew weary of the jazz-fusion. She looked around the club and thought she saw a man watching her. His dark, beady eyes met hers, and he stared intently. Natasha was trying to figure out if she knew him when Maggie made a comment about the drummer. She looked at the stage to see who Maggie was talking about. When she looked back moments later, the dark-eyed man was gone. She shook her head and tried to enjoy the music.

  When the musicians took a break, she turned to her friends.

  “I’m sorry, ladies, but I’ve got to go.”

  “Oh, Natasha,” Maggie whined. “We haven’t even talked yet.”

  “I know. I’ll see you soon.”

  Natasha kissed her friends on the cheek and turned to leave. The guitar player stood in front of her. He had raised his sunglasses so his bright blue eyes were revealed. His tousled, blond hair was damp with sweat, and his face glowed.

  “Hey, you’re that woman who plays the violin,” he said. “I’d recognize you anywhere.”

  “Yes, I play the violin.”

  “Do you want to come jam with us sometime? You’re really good.”

  Natasha stared at him.

  “Where did you see me?”

  “All over the place. New Year’s Eve in that quartet, of course. And at a couple of the clubs. You like to jam?”

  “Sometimes. It depends on the band and if I know their repertoire.”

  “I bet you’d know some of ours.”

  “I don’t really know jazz music,” Natasha said.

  The man laughed. “We play more than jazz. We can rock and roll too. Name’s Craig.”

  “Well, nice to meet you, Craig. I’m Natasha.”

  “Seriously, we’d like to jam with you.” Craig reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. Natasha took it and put it in her purse.

  “All right, Craig, I’ll give you a call sometime.”

  Craig wandered off and found his friends. He winked at Natasha as she pushed the heavy doors open and retreated into the snow. She had enjoyed the warmth of the club, but it was too soon after all the New Year’s festivities for her to party.

  She walked along the dark, icy sidewalks, her thoughts drifting back to Gus. She had meant to ask her friends if they had ever seen him around before New Year’s Eve, but the music had been too loud for conversation.

  Maybe if Ellie feng shuied her home, Gus would find her sooner.

  * * *

  “You have some really old pieces here. They must be worth a fortune,” Ellie exclaimed as she looked at Natasha’s shelves of instruments. Ellie and Natasha were standing in Natasha’s loft. They had found openings in their schedules much earlier than Natasha had expected, and she was delighted they could get to work on activating better energy in her loft.

  “Yes, some have been in the family for generations. I’m not sure if they have anything but sentimental value, but they are mine and I treasure them.” Natasha had flipped on the bright overhead lights.

  “Well, the first thing to go is that light,” Ellie said. “Fluorescents and feng shui aren’t the best mix. Especially when they’re so damn bright.”

  “I rarely use them. I prefer practicing by candlelight.” Natasha turned off overhead lights and activated the electric candles. “See? I only turned the brightest lights on so you could get a good look at the place.”

  “I see,” Ellie said. “Yes, this electric candlelight is much better. But you’re right, the room is too dim for us. Okay, put the fluorescents back on so we can see.”

  Natasha tapped the switches again.

  “I like how you carpeted the walls and ceilings to soundproof it.”

  “It must work. I’ve never had people complain.”

  “Well, when it’s warm and you have your window open, I can hear you on the street.”

  Natasha nodded. “I know. I play my best when I think people can hear me.” She looked at Ellie expectantly. “So?”

  “So, let’s get to it.” Ellie smiled.

  Ellie spread out large pieces of paper with symbols and grids on them. She looked around the room and drew everything where she felt it would be most auspicious. She had a compass and protractor, colored pencils and a Chinese feng shui grid. Natasha paced, periodically peering over Ellie’s shoulder as she drew and erased and drew again.

  “Is it so important to draw it all first?” Natasha asked.

  “Well, it’s easier in this case as you have so many big items.” When Ellie was done, she laid down her pencil. “Okay. Now comes the manual-labor part.”

  “I’m ready,” Natasha said.

  It took much effort to heave and pull the shelving, pianos and speakers around the room. After a lot of sweat and patient maneuvering, the women sat back and enjoyed the results of their labor.

  “This looks much better,” Natasha said.

  “It feels much better, don’t you think?” Ellie asked. She held up her hands. “You can practically feel the shift in the air currents.”

  “It’s true.”

  Ellie pulled out a sage stick and a small, wrapped bowl of sand from her bag. “Let’s just sage the room and it should all be great.”

  The women walked around the room with the sage stick, chanting softly. They ran the smoke along the cases and shelves, being certain to cleanse the corners of the rooms even up to the ceilings. When they returned to the beginning of their circle, Ellie doused the stick in her bowl of sand.

  “So, let the magic begin,” she said.

  After Ellie left, Natasha found her favorite violin and began to play. Her bow soared across the strings. Somehow the music seemed higher and sweeter than it ever had. The sound echoed through the room as if she were in the most magnificent concert hall.

  She played until the sun came up, her thoughts straying now and again to Gus, and then back into the music again. Her nipples throbbed and her groin ached when she played. She imagined hands touching her, caressing her, pleasing her in unexpected ways. Her stomach growled with hunger. She was always hungry, it seemed, and she tried to ignore the sensation.

  Her bow flew faster and, her fingers danced quickly as she funneled her longing and appetite into the instrument.

  At last, she was exhausted, and after carefully wrapping her violin back up in its padded blanket and putting it back into its case, she went to bed.

  Chapter Four

  Beware of strangers. They may not be who they seem.

  Séance

&
nbsp; Natasha pulled up to the front of the old house at 11:30. It had been a short drive from Hermana, which she didn’t mind as she sang along to the radio. The air was thick with love songs, trying to get everyone in the mood for Valentine’s Day even though the New Year had barely begun.

  This woman was old money, and the house had been in the family for generations. Babies had been born here, and a few old folks had died in their beds over the decades. As Natasha stood out front staring at the huge turrets, she imagined all the love found and lost between those walls. The sensation of a mostly happy home reached out to her from the painted wooden slats. Her feet danced up the stairs, and she approached the front door with giddiness.

  Darkness suddenly rushed through her. Turning her head, she tried to see the shadow that flitted from the corner of her eye. However, there was nothing there. The dizziness passed and she caught her breath.

  She shrugged and rang the bell.

  Clara Farnsworth opened the door. She was a tall, well-coiffed woman with bright red hair and large rhinestone earrings. Her mauve pantsuit glowed in the porch light.

  “Natasha. Right on time,” she said as she took Natasha’s coat. “I set the table up in here.” She took Natasha to a dining room where there was a large oak table. Several chairs were placed around it. There were two large white pillar candles on either side.

  “Perfect,” Natasha said.

  “Fabulous. Come in. I’ll have you meet my guests.”

  Natasha shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Hill, Jeannette Summers, Keith Gladstone and Ian Ferguson. When she touched the hand of Jim Hawthorne, she flinched instinctively.

  “Sorry. Carpet shock,” she said as she rubbed her hand in mock pain.

  “Never mind,” Clara said. “We’ve work to do. Let’s get ready; it’s almost time.”

  By midnight, everyone was settled in and lightly touching hands. Jim Hawthorne sat across from Natasha, and she kept looking over at him as she led the group in meditation. The surge of the energy in the circle vibration began to buzz beneath her fingers. She could feel all the circuits connecting between each set of hands until they stopped cold at Jim.

  “Everyone, please close your eyes. Really try to focus,” Natasha said, somewhat harshly. She silently commanded the circle to continue around, but it couldn’t pass through him. She willed the energy to jump past him, yet it wouldn’t. She sighed. There was always one at every séance. Natasha teased the energy as high as she could get it to go. When at last the vibration seemed high enough, she was ready.

  “Who do you want to call, Clara?” Natasha asked.

  “Percy Lipchuck. He was my great uncle. He died in the bed upstairs in the second guestroom.”

  Natasha nodded and called Percy.

  “Knock three times if you’re here,” she urged. The candles flickered. The circle sat expectantly. In the dim candlelit room, Clara’s eyes shimmered brightly with fear and expectation.

  Mr. and Mrs. Hill looked at each other. Jim Hawthorne sat with his eyes squeezed shut. Three very soft knocks were heard.

  Jeannette gasped while Keith nearly pulled his hand away in fear.

  “I hope there’s no one else in the house. There shouldn’t be,” Clara said, looking around.

  “I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” Keith sighed.

  “Shh,” Jeannette said. “You wanted to come to this.”

  There was a shift in the energy around Natasha. Darkness hovered over her shoulder. Mrs. Hill looked at her, eyes glistening in the candlelight.

  “There’s something around you, Natasha,” she said softly.

  “I feel it too,” Natasha said. “There are a few people here tonight.”

  “Is Uncle Percy here?” Clara asked.

  Natasha closed her eyes and tried to hear through the babbling voices that suddenly took up residence in her head. They weren’t speaking words, per se; it was more like feelings. She reached further in to find Uncle Percy. At last, he ebbed forth. His spirit was weak but present nonetheless.

  “He’s here,” Natasha announced.

  Clara sighed with relief. “Finally. You don’t know how many…”

  “Shhhh…” Jeannette said, tossing her perfectly coiffed dark hair. “Ask him something.”

  Clara gave Jeannette a nasty look and turned her attention to Natasha. “Ask him if he was poisoned.”

  It was Jeannette’s turn to start talking. “Clara…you never….”

  “Shh,” Mrs. Hill said.

  “Percy, were you murdered?” Natasha asked. She tried to find Percy again, but the blackness interfered.

  “What is it?” Mr. Hill asked.

  “Nothing. Give me a second.” Natasha closed her eyes and tried to focus, yet every time, the wall of darkness blocked her.

  “Everyone,” Natasha said, “everyone in this room, in this circle, must open up to the greatness of our universe. If you don’t open yourself up, no one can come through the portal.” She breathed deeply. “Everyone. Breathe with me. In time to my counting. Keep your feet planted flat on the floor. We’re trying to create a complete circuit, a portal for the other side to come through.” Her words were slow and low. She breathed rhythmically, and everyone followed suit.

  The energy in the room grew softer, and Uncle Percy ebbed into her mind again.

  “Percy, were you murdered?” Natasha asked. The missing link in the circle made Percy’s connection unclear. She would have had better luck by herself, but they were paying her to experience a ghost for themselves.

  Natasha felt her hair being lifted and dropped, fondled, and tangled between unseen fingers. Her shoulders were heavy, as if there were a weight pressed down upon them. Her head dropped forward, and energy surged through her hands.

  “Oh,” Mrs. Hill said to her left. “Your hands are so hot.”

  Natasha could hear her but she couldn’t respond. She was in the grip of some force, and she let it take her over.

  “Yes,” Natasha said in a voice that wasn’t hers. “I was murdered.”

  Natasha bolted upright and blinked. She stared around the room, her head foggy and her body buzzing.

  “What happened? “she asked.

  “You brought someone in, but we don’t know who,” said Clara.

  “It wasn’t Percy?”

  “I don’t think so. It was not him,” said Ian.

  Natasha sighed. “I think that’s enough for tonight. We shall close the circle now.”

  “Do we have to?” Clara asked.

  “I don’t have the strength to continue,” Natasha said.

  Jeannette looked over at the large clock on the wall.” She has been doing this for over an hour.”

  “Gosh, has it been that long? It didn’t seem that long,” Keith said.

  As Natasha regained her strength, she looked over at Jim Hawthorne. He was staring at her, and she wasn’t sure what he was trying to see.

  “Let’s close the portal,” Natasha said. They all held hands as she thanked the spirits and asked them to leave Clara in peace. She was dizzy and weak but knew it would pass.

  Once Natasha was out in the chilly night air, she felt better. Still, the hunger surged through her. It was time to feed again. Properly. But not just yet. She was a master at putting off her desires, including her sexual ones. She figured she should get a prize for self-denial when she died. If she ever died.

  She drove slowly through the icy roads until at last she arrived back at her loft. She was drained, but she didn’t feel like going home yet. She parked the car in her parking spot and donned her hat and gloves.

  It was very late, but as she walked through the downtown strip of Hermana, she saw many of the pubs were still crowded. It never seemed to matter which day of the week it was; the little town was full of people who liked to socialize.

  She passed by Intuition and heard lively jazz music playing as someone opened the door to leave the club. She decided to go in for a nightcap.

  If there had been a crowd that night, i
t had thinned. She took a seat near the stage and saw Craig had seen her come in. He grinned as he met her eyes, and she knew she had done the right thing by coming there.

  The waitress brought her a glass of wine, and she sipped it, trying to let the vibes of the séance recede back to wherever they needed to go. The music soothed her, which was surprising since she wasn’t a very big fan of jazz.

  When the last song was finished, the audience clapped politely. The band packed up their instruments for the night. As the drummer and sax player wound up the cables and put away the mics, Craig came over to her table.

  “Mind if I have a seat?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” she said. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

  He sat down and, before long, the waitress brought them both a drink. Craig nodded at the waitress.

  “Thanks.” He turned to Natasha. “I took the liberty of ordering another round for us.”

  “Why are you out so late? And alone?” he asked.

  “I had a job tonight. A séance out of town. Thought I’d drop in for a nightcap.”

  “I’m very glad you did. I’ve been thinking about you.”

  “And I’ve been thinking about you too,” Natasha said. “About what you said.”

  “Jamming? You interested?” Craig asked.

  “Yes, I am,” Natasha said. “In fact, I have an urge to play tonight.”

  “Well, I’m up for it. If you want to do guitar and violin. I’m not sure the other guys are in at this late hour, since they have girlfriends to get home to and all.”

  “That’s fine. I’ve done it before. Just with guitar, I mean.” She grinned.

  “Where do you want to go? Do you want to go to my place?” Craig asked.

  “We might as well go to mine. I have a studio, and my violin is there,” Natasha said.

  “Very well.”

  They finished their drinks, and Craig grabbed his guitar case. They walked through the icy, cold streets until they were back at Natasha’s home. She decided she’d take him up the back stairwell through the door that led directly to the music room.

  “Very nice,” Craig said as she flipped on the electric candles. “This is an amazing studio.”