The Curse of the Mystic Cats

by R. E. Rose

“Oh, yes, he’s a warlock,” she said. “Quite a powerful one.” At that point, I heard the person hiding in back, move around.

  “I didn’t know Meadowvale had warlocks. I mean I’ve figured out that Maisie Price is a sorceress, but men with magic? That can’t be good.”

  Temmie giggled. “It’s not. You’re the woman Maisie is trying to apprentice for her job?”

  My turn to laugh, “Well, it’s not my idea, for sure.”

  “You don’t want to be trained by the most powerful female sorceress ever?” She sounded earnest.

  “Not really.”

  “I’m one of Maisie’s apprentices,” she said.

  “Huh?” I found a nearby chair and sat.

  “Yup. She’s considering me for deck guardian, and I’d love to.”

  “My blessings, then,” I said. “I’m not competing, believe me.”

  She laughed again, and I honestly thought she had Glendie beat for feel good vibes. I started to feel unconcerned about finding the object I needed and had to force myself back on track.

  “Maisie will want to work something out with Tommy. Can she purchase the wheel from you once the fair is over?”

  “It already belongs to her,” Temmie said, very nonchalantly about the bizarreness of the situation.

  “But I don’t understand. If you’re an apprentice and you have the wheel, why didn’t you give it to her for the carnival?”

  Temmie’s demeanor changed with that question. She glanced quickly toward the back of the shop then back to me. She gave me an apologetic smile.

  “Oh, I didn’t have the wheel. I had it in the shop to fix. It wasn’t working quite right, and Silvio fixed it.”

  Something crashed then in the back room, interrupting our conversation. Temmie ignored the noise, then changed the subject and said something about selling food at the fair, cotton candy, hot dogs and beer kept her busy, and that’s how they made most of the money they lived on throughout the year. Doing small carnivals and selling a little pot on the side.

  “But fixing the Wheel-of-Fortune for Maisie brought in some good extra cash,” she said, nearly whispering.

  “Oh,” I said confused. “What about your pot? Doesn’t that make you a ton of cash?”

  She looked nervously over her shoulder. In a lower voice, she said, “No. Most of that goes south.”

  “South?” I asked in a whisper.

  “Yeah, back to Mexico, to the banditos.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, as if I understood.

  “What’re you going to be doing at the fair?” she asked me.

  “Dancing in the ‘adult only’ tent. I’m thinking of starting my own business,” I said, surprising myself. I don’t know where that comment came from, must be the weed talking, but it seemed like a good idea, actually. “I’m promoting pole dancing and burlesque as a form of exercise and fun for women.”

  “Oh, that’s so-o-o-o cool. I want to catch your burlesque show for sure!”

  Great. I want to catch my show too.

  I don’t why I told her I’d be dancing. I had no intention of doing anything like that. I had nothing prepared and hadn’t, until that very moment, thought for a minute of working in the carnival. The pot was getting to me.

  The whole time we spoke, I’d admired her earrings, long and feathery, to her shoulders. The feathers matched her under-hair colour and only the red and aquamarine coloured beads made them stand out. I don’t know what came over me, but I reached out and touched them.

  Temmie took a small step away from me. Ugh, why did I do that? I quickly pulled my hand back.

  “Well, Temmie. I’m going to go. I’m going to check out the carnival grounds and then visit with Tommy Black.”

  She nodded and smiled sweetly. She twirled one of her feathers with a finger.

  “Nice to meet you, Jane Starr. Good luck with the Wheel-of-Fortune. “

  “Thanks. Temmie. By the way which card are you again?” I had to ask. She smiled shyly.

  “Temperance, of course.”

  “And your boyfriend?”

  “Silvio?” She asked, like there might be another boyfriend.

  “Yes, Silvio. What’s his last name again?”

  “Garcia,” she said in a hushed tone.

  I nodded, as if I understood something important. “His tarot card?”

  She looked puzzled. “He’s the Tower – of Destruction.”

  “How ironic,” I said, “He fixes things.”

  She nodded like a happy puppy, “Yeah, he has too.”

  I probably looked puzzled. “Of course,” I said and held up my hand to shake hers good-bye. She offered her small hand; we shook, and I turned to leave.

  “Jane –”

  I turned back. “Yes?”

  “Do you like your candle and feather?”

  I looked at her, surprised, but it made a certain amount of sense.

  “Silvio,” she whispered. “He sent it. Be careful. He wants me to win.”

  “Good to know,” I said and waved bye.

  She waved back.

  *

  As I drove towards the fields I thought about my encounter with Temmie. I tried to process it. She was my opposition! In a competition I didn’t care to be part of. I liked her a lot. I’d rather be friends with Temmie.

  When I got out to the fields where I’d seen the tents going up earlier, I couldn’t believe the changes that had taken place there. The huge tent I’d seen earlier in the week had looked like a tiny flower bud on the massive blanket of brownfield grass, but now the main tent was bigger and looked very much like a woman’s white, swirling skirt, frozen in mid swirl, as large as small range of mountains with eight small peaks all around the edges and a large peak in the middle. It had lights around the edges. Scattered throughout the fields smaller tents blossomed, like a garden of bright flowers with rainbow petals.

  The area buzzed with people working out the finer details of the carnival. Lots of carnie hands, pushing and shoving around boxes and display booths and game booths.

  In the distance, I saw Emilia out in the field where more tents and buildings hadn’t quite finished going up. On closer inspection, only one of the large tent-buildings looked complete. The antlike effort of the men and women who carried furniture over their heads and walked the benches and bleachers and chairs into the tents was impressive.

  Emi stood in front of one the tents that looked like a red and yellow-striped trumpet petunia standing on its wide end. As I walked toward Emi, I overheard the conversation she had on her cell. I assumed she spoke with Maisie.

  “I don’t think the gambling tent is ready, boss,” Emi said, giving me a smile that rivaled Temmie’s. She waved me over with her free hand. “Hi,” she whispered to me and then back to the cell.

  “Maisie, I don’t see anything, but I will keep looking, and yes, if I find it in the back I will be sure to have it moved up front. Okay, see you later.”

  “Hi, Emi. What’sup?” I asked, wondering what mission Maisie had sent her on.

  She hugged me and hugged me. I waited till she let go. Her swords were tucked in her pack on her back, only the handles stuck out. She wore a very subdued ninja-looking outfit, like loose silk pajamas in a soft brown colour that matched her own skin colour, making her appear naked. Her exotic hair was wrapped in twists of glittery ribbon, a turquoise shock of colour that caught the light from the sky and from the bright bulbs that lit the tents and lit up the grounds as the sun went down, all that light made her ribbon sparkle wildly. She looked soft but very powerful.

  “You look great,” I said, “powerful.”

  “Maisie’s not happy. I can’t find the gambling tent. It should be set up by now.”

  “Well, she won’t be too happy with me either. I can’t locate the Wheel-of-Fortune she sent me off to find.”

  “Oh, I think I know where it is,” she said. She put a strong arm around my shoulders and shifted my stance, pointing me in a new direction. She pointed with the hand that
still held the cell. “Over there. See that man, tall skinny, with a cowboy hat in his hands? Emi pointed in the direction of a beautiful Bedouin style tent where a skinny, bald, nervous looking guy appeared to be shaping and reshaping his black cowboy hat.

  A couple of guys chatted with Tommy. Emilia said the two men talking to Tommy reminded her of the two she had to kill in the burning restaurant. They intimidated Tommy, or so it looked. He handed the two guys an envelope full of cash. They counted it right there. They walked away counting their money; headed toward us.

  When they closed the distance, the men regarded Emilia suspiciously, but she ignored them and asked a passing carnie if the woman’s washroom was available.

  “No, not quite, but they’re working on it, Miss. The ‘Johnny-on-the-Spots’ should be set up soon.”

  The two men in suits with the envelope full of cash circled Emi and gave her a good once over, then left. Then I heard the carnie that had just spoken to Emilia mutter something to her about the town being taken over by thugs.

  “What about him?” I asked about the guy in the cowboy hat.

  “Tommy Black. He’ll have what you need,” Emi said.

  “So, that’s Tommy Black.”

  “Go on then.” She nudged me in his direction.

  “How are you, I mean after the fire and all?” I wasn’t in that big of a hurry to talk to the guy.

  “I am so much stronger,” she said with great enthusiasm.

  “Oh?”

  She went on to tell me again the story of the gang members and her newly enhanced abilities. She showed me her new belt colour, the belt cleverly hidden in the soft folds of her outfit, but then she got really quiet and explained that members of the Silver Bullets and the Razor’s were wandering the fairgrounds, after that little reveal Emi seemed distracted, so I left her and headed on over to Tommy Black.

  *

  “Mr. Black?” We stood outside an amazing tent; the kind I’d imagined would have existed in the days of Aladdin and a thousand thieves.

  “Tommy, call me Tommy please.”

  “Tommy it is.”

  He smiled like he’d won a race or something, and two of his teeth sparkled gold. He seemed to be in charge.

  “Temmie called me and told me you were headed this way, Miz Jane.”

  “Just Jane, or Ms. Starr, if you insist.” I found it a little odd that Temmie would call Black about me. In fact, the entire situation seemed more Twilight Zone-ish than anything else so far, and that was saying something.

  “Let me be straight with you, Tommy,” I said.

  “Please do Miz Jane.”

  “Maisie Price wants her Wheel-of-Fortune for her card reading tent. The one Temmie had repaired and held for her, and which you rented this morning. Does any of that make sense?”

  “Well, why don’t you see for yourself,” Tommy said and took a step toward the tent. He lifted the flap and offered me entry. “After you, Miz Jane.”

  WTF?

  Once I’d stepped inside, I’d gone into a new world. The tent was spectacular, a royal Bedouin dreamland with hand woven carpets made of goat hair (I imagined), and cushions that sparkled and glistened: chairs, a long table, sequins and candles, such a sumptuous state of luxury I don’t remember ever seeing; I completely forgot about the wheel.

  “The item you’re seeking is right over there,” he said, pulling me out of my fantasy world.

  “Huh, where?”

  “There,” he said, calmly. In one corner sat the Wheel-of-Fortune. Much smaller than I’d remembered, it stood maybe five feet above the ground. It looked hand painted with very bright and festive colors that went well with the intricate décor of the tent. I noticed the wheel was tied with a silk rope to keep it from spinning. When I reached for the gold cord, Black stopped me.

  “Nope,” he said. “Never touch that. It’s only for the sorceress.”

  I dropped my hands to my side. I turned to face him.

  “This is Miz Maisie’s fortune tent.” He pointed to the table. The deck of cards sat there. He pointed to something beyond the Wheel. I turned to look, and there the mechanical fortune-telling machine sat looking all shiny and new. “That’ll be outside the tent before the grounds open this weekend.

  “Amazing,” I said.

  “Truly,” he said.

  “Tommy?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Which card do you belong to?”

  It turned out Tommy was assigned to the Wheel-of-Fortune card, or was eventually headed in that direction. I wasn’t quite sure. He hadn’t yet been assigned a card. I think he worked hard to keep himself outside of Maisie’s collection. Well, he’d done a great job on her fortune telling tent.

  I decided to go home and shower. I wanted to wash, away the day as much as I wanted to cool down and think. I liked to think in the shower. I had some of my best thought in there.

  After I got the water to the perfect temperature and made my hair wet, I found myself thinking about William and my crazy “vision,” as Shane had called it, and then my déjà vu moment in Temmie’s shop. And then I thought about Maisie giving me mixed messages around the black candle and feather, which might actually be a gift from Temmie and not Maisie!

  It occurred to me that I might figure out the candle on my own, in my own style, instead of stumbling around while other people, like Shane, or Glendie, or even Maisie played with it.

  After the shower, I put on fresh clothes and sat on the couch near the candle and the feather. I pulled all the pink paper away in case anything caught fire. I pulled an old lighter shaped like a beer bottle from my desk drawer and lit the candle. It burned normally. I picked up the feather and ran it across my lips and then across my eyes.

  At first, it seemed like nothing happened and then something crashed in the kitchen. I didn’t want to get up and look. I wanted to run out the front door. Over my shoulder, I saw the giant black shadow of the panther slide across a few cupboards.

  “William,” I called out softly. Nothing. No answer. I looked back at the candle as it burned tall and strong. I don’t know why I tickled myself with the feather. I ran the feather across my arms, lightly brushing them. The deep belly growl of the big cat called me to the kitchen. I did not want to go there but felt compelled to approach that room.

  The huge, shadowy, black panther sat in the kitchen around Sia’s food bowls. I looked around for my cat, but of course, she was nowhere.

  Like a zombie, I opened the fridge door. There I saw Sia’s collar. I put it on my wrist and held it up to the light where it sparkled like fire. For the briefest moment, I became lightheaded. I watched as the panther shadow morphed and became William, the man.

  “William?” I whispered his name.

  “Of course,” he said, as if everything was normal. “I lost you when I let go of you in the Cheshire. Sorry about that, but one can’t always be sure what may happen there.”

  “Where–where are we?”

  “Remember, when you wear the collar you’ve stepped through the veil into the Cheshire.”

  “But it still looks like my kitchen.”

  “Yes, very good. You’re doing a brilliant job of hanging on to that memory.”

  “Are you the panther I saw at the Wild Swan?”

  “That was me.”

  “Did you hear what Devon and Whitman were discussing that day?”

  “I did. It has to do with the carnival. Devon is bringing someone special.”

  I laughed then. He probably found some crazy person to be his girlfriend.

  “No,” William said.

  “No?”

  “Not a girlfriend.”

  “Okay, do you know who?” I asked.

  “I do.”

  “Tell me?”

  “I’m not sure you’re ready to hear it.”

  “Right. You’re right. I’m not ready,” I said, suddenly feeling woozy.

  “Good. Then we need to return to the antique shop. I’d almost figured out what Silvio’s p
rocess was before we lost each other. Just recall the shop as you remember it, either the real shop or the imaginary version, and we’ll be there.”

  “I don’t remember being there,” I said, confused. I didn’t believe I’d ever been to Silvio’s shop.

  “Trust me, we were there together.”

  Since William was convinced that we had been to the shop, I decided to remember the antique store where a few days earlier I’d spoken with Temmie. It was much easier to imagine, and it took less than an instant for the shadowy grey vestige of the shop to reappear.

  William took my hand, and our surroundings became perfectly clear. All the antiques surrounded us: old tea tables and doilies and rugs. There were pub chairs stacked to the ceiling, and we walked along the narrow, carpeted path the wound between things. I heard the bang, bang and bang again, as Silvio hammered away at something.

  “That’s how he does it,” William said. “He hammers the magic in.”

  “Oh, come on,” I said, “really? Hammering magic?”

  “Look.”

  William mimed pulling back a curtain, and there sat a man I was certain was Silvio, a beautiful mane of black curly hair. He looked taller and thinner than I’d imagined, and he had a hammer in his right hand. His face remained hidden because he looked down. At first, he reminded me of a cobbler repairing the sole on a shoe until I realized it wasn’t a shoe held in the vice before him, but an apple!

  “That’s an apple,” I said, lamely. “But how can he hammer it like that? It should be smashed to pulpy smithereens with one or two blows.”

  “It’s not really an apple. Silvio may know we’re here and he’s placed a glamour spell on whatever it is he’s really working on.” Just then Silvio raised his hammer and brought it down hard. The apple shattered and splintered into a billion shards; they sparkled like lightning bugs, only brighter and more mesmerizing. “He’s done it,” William said.

  I squeezed William’s hand. Done what?

  “That’s a Cheshire rhinestone rock he’s splintering–not an apple.”

  “Uh, huh,”

  “Like the ones on Sia’s cat collar,” William said.

  “Oh.” Now I was truly curious.

  “They allow you or Sia, or anyone for that matter to slip between dimensions.”