The Curse of the Mystic Cats

by R. E. Rose

  Maisie gave me a smirk.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jane. There are some things in this town that are actually more important than your training as a sorceress, if you want to call it that--BIGGER things than you.”

  “You’re talking about the carnival,” I said.

  At that moment, for some inexplicable reason, Gordon Schmidt popped into my head! I saw his face. His lips were moving, and he drooled a little. Eeeewww.

  I felt his drool drip into my hand. It seemed like he was dying. And with that thought, my vision vanished as quickly as it had come to me, leaving me with a headache. And Maisie hadn’t seen it. She hadn’t shared in that vision. I really wanted to ask her about the meaning behind all of Gord’s appearances, but something held me back.

  “Bigger than that! Before we go there,” she went on, “you need to know that I can only keep Devon locked away for a period of time and not for good. As I pass that deadline, I become exhausted and must return to the deck for refreshment.

  “But you have his coins!” I exclaimed.

  “Yes, but as time moves on they begin to disappear, one by one. If I don’t release him after the last coin, then I have pay from my own accounts to keep him in there. It’s all quite complicated.

  “In the meantime, it behooves you to find the item I’m looking for before Devon must be set free. If he gets out before you find my item, he will interfere with some important plans.”

  “What’s so special about Devon that you can’t keep him in the deck for as long as you want?” I asked not really expecting an answer.

  “He’s got a little of the Devil in him,” she said.

  “Well, we know that.”

  “No. I mean he really has a little piece of the Devil in him, and you can’t screw around with that, at least not for too long.”

  Well, I just didn’t know what to do with that reply. It was clear she wanted this item she’d referred to, and she needed it asap. Normally, she wanted Devon running amuck. Somehow, she made it sound like she was doing me a favour by giving me this task.

  She stopped dusting, but she continued talking. “Just in case,” she said and reached deep into the pocket of the dusting smock she’d put on while pointing the turkey tail in my direction. She had something in her closed hand. I stepped back.

  “Here,” she said. She opened her hand, and there sat a stack of gold coins. I took them, counted them, and dropped them in my purse.

  “I don’t know how to use them.”

  She nodded.

  “Of course you don’t,” she said, as if that statement was understood by both parties. “You’ll figure it out. Now have a look at what it is I need you to recover.” She pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and tapped it a few times. She brought it over to show me, but I refused to look.

  “William,” I said.

  “What about him?”

  “I need to know everything about him, the Cheshire Society, Theodosia’s whereabouts and anything else.”

  I stood there with arms crossed, refusing to look at the picture, and waited for Maisie to spill the beans. Instead, she poked around behind the counter for a poster which she quickly found and brought out an old-fashioned picture of the item she wanted me to recover. A poster! It was so big I couldn’t miss it. I took a good look.

  “That shouldn’t be too hard,” I said. In fact, I’d seen that particular item before.

  “Good,” Maisie said, pinning the poster to the cork board behind the counter. “Now, about William…”

  15.

  Male Magic

  He’s a free sorcerer, very much like you,” Maisie said.

  “Free?”

  “Yes, unlike the specters in the cards. They’re all sorcerers and sorceresses, but they are under my control. I limit their powers, or expand them, as required. Some are stronger than others. The longer they’re a part of my deck, the stronger they get, but the more ingratiated they are to me – which zaps me of my energies.”

  “And William?” I asked, “Is free of you. He can do as he likes?” I asked, trying not to sound too desperate. That was important to me if I was going to invest any time in this guy.

  “Yes–” she hesitated.

  “But?” I asked.

  “He’s Cheshire, and that dimension’s got many of its own dealios, which he has to contend with.”

  “I don’t understand. Where does the Cheshire Society come from?”

  “They don’t come from. They exist. Not everyone can interact with Cheshire; only the special–very special.”

  “Special?”

  “Well, you know. You must possess some power.”

  “Magical power?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where does that come from?” I asked, like I was hearing about magical powers for the first time.

  “Nowhere. Everywhere. It’s like a talent. You have magical power or not. You collect magic or not. You have it, and you’re collecting it. Why you? I don’t know. Why any of us? It is what it is. And that’s magic.”

  “Can I put it down?”

  “Put it down? You mean not accept what you are?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that’s what you’ve done all along. How’s that working for you? Have you noticed that since you’ve tapped a little more into your magical abilities, Devon doesn’t bug you as much? He can’t push past your magic, unless your shields are down and your shields go down if you continue to remain unaware, un-tuned into your surroundings, your circumstances.”

  “Okay, but how am I different from William, other than he’s from the land of Cheshire and I’m from the land of the mundane?”

  “Cheshire is another dimension, not a land, but think of it as you like. Whatever works to help you understand. He is more and less substantial than you are. Having access to the back door of this dimension gives him certain advantages, but there are some disadvantages, which aren’t your concern because you’re of the here and now.”

  “I see,” I said, but really, I didn’t see at all. I was trying to think of a good question, one that had an answer that would give me a definitive understanding of William.

  “Is he a man?” I asked.

  “Of course. When he’s here, he is,” she said, sounding once again all mysterious.

  “And when he’s in the Cheshire dimension?”

  “Not exactly, although all his powers work there as they do here; warlock magic, male magic. Look, Jane. You’re slow at figuring things out. Here’s the bottom line.”

  “Yes, please,” I begged.

  “A battle is ensuing. We need all able-bodied sorcerers and sorceresses ready when the fireballs begin to fly.”

  I started laughing then.

  “Sure, whatever you say.”

  “I say, a battle is on the horizon,” she said, all scary and looking at me with a piercing stare.

  Then she changed tactical directions, perhaps because she sensed my irreverence over her concerns.

  “Have you figured out yet how to use the gift of the black candle and feather?”

  “No!”

  “You should go home and practice.”

  “But you said to be wary of it.”

  “That, too.”

  *

  Two nights after my conversation with Maisie, the carnival, according to her, would be ready to “rock’n roll.” Maisie wanted to have a card reading tent ready on opening night. She also wanted the magical item she’d shown me recovered and inside the tent with her.

  Maisie had a lot to say about my so-called “boyfriend,” William. Unfortunately, it was crazy talk. Plus, I’m sure she didn’t tell me everything she knew, even though she did promise to. She told me that once I’d located the missing magic item she needed for her fortune telling tent, then the success of the carnival was assured, and she’d relax, and tell me more.

  At the moment, the carnival was the only thing on her mind. For her to speak any more about William would be like Cinderella’s fairy godmo
ther telling Cinderella about the prince before the ball had happened. William was like Prince Charming, and I was Cinderella, and Maisie was the fairy godmother. The fairy godmother couldn’t tell Cinderella all about the prince, not before certain conditions took place.

  After the carnival, she’d have a lot more to say about William, but ‘til then she couldn’t say because what she had to say concerned things that hadn’t happened yet!

  That just sounded like crazy talk. I guess she was telling me a fortune.

  I wanted to know when she planned to free Devon, because I didn’t want to worry about him while I attempted to locate William. But Maisie was so angry with Devon for burning down the restaurant that she planned to keep him locked in the deck for an indeterminate amount of time. But, with Devon locked inside the deck for too long, Maisie must return to the deck for a refresher nap, and then there’d be no one to run the shop, except for me!

  I hoped that wasn’t her plan.

  *

  Maisie’s instructions for “magical item recovery” sent me to the antique and second-hand shop on the outskirts of town. I drove there, and when I arrived, the shop looked closed. I parked out front and looked through the dusty window, lined with old radios, crystal decanters and silver trays. Plates, dishes and oil lanterns, black-and-white photos of women in big hats and pottery of all sorts stacked on shelves, all these things prevented me from obtaining a penetrating view inside the shop.

  This meant I absolutely had to go inside. Maisie wasn’t able to tell me whether or not the proprietor of the second-hand shop was one of the escapees from her tarot. I think she preferred not to say, but she did tell me to keep my wits about me. She warned me that people from this edge of town were sketchy even when not possessed by a tarot specter, perhaps even sketchier when possessed.

  I grabbed the front door’s old brass handle and pushed my way inside. It was still early. I smelled coffee brewing and thought about how I’d love to have a cup right about then.

  Even though the sun shone brightly outside, the place looked dark and packed like a hoarder’s home. A small path through old, stacked tables, cabinets, magazine holders and other unidentifiable things lead me to the front desk. There, through the glass top of the counter, a lot of jewelry sparkled at me. A big, old brass horse head stared down at me from the wall and made me think of Shane, but I had to put him out of my mind.

  The smell of pot wafted out from somewhere in the back. There was a bicycle bell attached to the counter, so I rang it several times. While I waited, I looked around for the item Maisie had sent me here for.

  I didn’t get much of a chance to look around because a very young-looking girl, tawny-haired, lithe, large brown eyes, and smoking a joint, made her way out of the back area of the shop; she wore a necklace with a black, shiny feather on it and her feather earrings matched the necklace. I flashed on my black feather at home; it looked very my much like these ones. Her entire ensemble blended nicely with her long, dark hair. She gave me a beaming smile and sat her joint carefully on the edge of heavy crystal ashtray.

  “Funny,” I said, when I saw her, “Déjà vu.” She beamed me with another of her beautiful smiles and nodded her head.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I think we’ve met before.” Then she picked up the reefer and offered it to me. There was something so peaceful and amiable about the situation that I accepted her offer.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Your Emi’s friend, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said, perhaps a little too quickly, taken aback by the inquiry. “I didn’t know that Emi knew anyone around this side of town,” I said, trying to sound friendly.

  She smiled again. I wished she’d stop doing that. Every time she threw that smile at me I felt helplessly in love, not sexually, but a kind of a heart-to-heart feel.

  “We take Taekwondo, together, I’m Temmie Skylark,” she said. She informed me and held out a small hand for me to shake. I took her hand.

  “I haven’t seen Emi lately,” she said. “She talks about you all the time. She really likes you. I hope, is everything alright with her?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Oh, yeah, she’s grand, great, groovy,” I said and started giggling, so did she. I didn’t want to give away too much too soon. “She’s–out of town for awhile. She had some errands to run,” I felt terrible telling that little white lie. “She’s working for Maisie,” I said, and did a quick check of her expression to see if that name at all registered with the girl. But there was nothing. Her large, brown, innocent eyes looked like they were waiting for me to finish my explanation. “Maisie’s sent Emilia off on errands to check out businesses around town that she, Maisie, may want to invest in for the future. Maisie’s a real entrepreneur and business woman,” I said lamely, talking too much.

  The girl nodded a friendly agreement. She took an extra long drag off the joint.

  “Maisie’s so smart and beautiful. She taught me a lot. My name’s Temmie, by the way. Temmie Skylark.” She held her hand out for a shake. I shook it and smiled at her.

  Okay, I thought, she’s had a little too much to smoke. But then so had I! Hadn’t we just had this conversation?

  “Very pretty name,” I said. Then I remembered who she was! I’d seen her on the street the day I’d left Maisie in the shop with Cassie Baranova. This girl had lost one of the tarot cards. It blew around the street like a leaf. She’d taken an item from Maisie, and it was the item I was here to collect.

  She nodded, as if she’d heard that before and I’m sure she had.

  “Thank you. People do seem to like my name.”

  “I’m Jane Starr, two r’s.”

  “Cool.”

  “Are you working here?” I asked.

  She nodded affirmatively.

  “Are you alone?” I asked because I was always concerned for the safety of women who worked alone, and mostly for myself because, in this strange shop, I was alone.

  “Oh, no, my boyfriend’s in the back. His name is Sil, well really Silvio Garcia. He’s from Mexico, well, he came here when he was a baby then returned. Now he’s back. He’s actually a student here, or was. At least he posed as one to get here and then he took actual courses and well, I guess, it’s a little complicated. He fixes stuff. Then we sell it here. He’s working on something right now, but he’ll be out in a minute. I’ve got fresh coffee would you like some?”

  “Ah, sure,” I said.

  “I’ll be a minute. Cream and sugar?”

  “Yes, please. I’ll look around? Is that okay?” I asked.

  “Of course,” she said, and headed back to where she came from. As I began to wander, I heard voices filter through the wall from the back room. A male voice sounded annoyed, almost angry, and the female, I assumed it was Temmie, sounded like she was soothing her man.

  She came back in short order with the most delicious cup of coffee I’d ever tasted. I couldn’t get enough of it.

  “This is so great,” I said. “I’d love another cup and do you have any munchies?”

  “It’s percolated in an old 1950’s coffee maker. I love those the most. No problem, but I should probably warn you that it’s made with a little bit of marijuana ground into it. I think that adds to its flavor.”

  “Really?” I put the cup down and decided against another cup. When I thought about it, I’d already had a toke or two, or three of her joint and now a cup of coffee made with pot! I could feel any magical ability I might have had, swirling down the drain.

  I might need a bit of magic on my side in this shop.

  “We grow a lot of pot,” Temmie said, offering up her information freely.

  “I’m not a cop or anything like that,” I said.

  She giggled. “I know. We grow it on our own farm on the outskirts of town. The developers don’t seem too interested in developing out our way, so we decided to buy a small place out there and grow. If they come knocking to buy our land, then we’ll make a killing. We’ve got acres. We’r
e officially licensed as a medical grow-op,” she said, and laughed at that. “We’re always looking for new customers, and Emilia let me know that you enjoy the product. And our product doesn’t compromise magic.”

  “Well, I appreciate your offer, but I’m not really looking for that at the moment, though I will keep it in mind.”

  Doesn’t pot compromise magic? Interesting. So, she thought I was here looking for a connection. Sweet little Temmie, full of information, offered up freely, everything she knew; she grew her own weed on a farm just on the outskirts of Meadowvale, where she lives.

  Technically speaking, the farm is considered part of the inner core of the city. No developers have been interested in it yet, but she, they, have got it up for sale because she wants the money. She wants to start up a legit grow-op for medicinal marijuana and has her eye on a better piece of property.

  The carnival was set up near Temmie’s property. My mind went in circles. I was stoned!

  I got the sense her boyfriend hovered in the back out of sight, listening to everything we said. A weird feeling came over me as I imagined this unseen person watching from somewhere behind all the junk. I prickled with the feeling of his awareness, all the way into my hands. I rubbed them together.

  “Temmie, I’m looking for an object. I’ve got a picture.” I showed her the picture that Maisie sent to my phone.

  “The Wheel-of-Fortune,” Temmie said.

  “Is it for gambling?” I asked. Again, I had that strong feeling of déjà vu.

  Temmie laughed, a voice light and high, like a singer warming up.

  “No, not exactly,” she said. “I had it,” she continued, “but Tommy Black, the grocer, came by this morning and rented it from me. Do you know him?”

  “Maybe I’ve seen him at the store.”

  “He runs Hucksters’ Alley at the carnival.”

  “Oh, sounds fun.”

  “Don’t bet too much money. Tommy uses magic to make things go his way if you know what I mean.”

  “He’s magical?”