by Paul Martin
Caleb took her hand once again, kissed her fingers tenderly, saying, “Your words give me hope, my dear. Even if you are unable to break this spell I am under, please do not blame Caroline. She could not help being the way she was.”
“Oh, Caleb, I think I’m falling in love with you,” Carolyn blurted out. “Now, please leave so I can wake up. I need to talk with a friend I think can help us.”
Misty tentacles swirled from the thick hedges to engulf Caleb, his handsome features dissolving before her eyes. Carolyn stretched and stood as dead leaves and dirt filled the fountain pool again. All was as they should be, except for the longing in her heart.
Did I just tell a ghost I loved him? The instant she asked herself, she knew she did love him, deeply and madly. She also knew she had to mend fences with her neighbor, Sarah. Following the path back to her house, Carolyn went inside to find every door and window open, and Maggie’s dead plant sitting on the counter again.
“What the hell?” Knowing Caleb didn’t do this, Carolyn walked through the house, looking for the culprit who did, closing the doors and windows as she went. Finding no one in the house except for Chester, whom she found locked in a spare bedroom, hiding under a chair covered with an old, dusty sheet, mewing pitifully.
Picking Chester up, Carolyn stroked and soothed him. “What’s going on here, buddy? Is there a second ghost?” she asked softly, her eyes nervously glancing about the room.
Going back downstairs, she set him on the kitchen floor, opened a can of tuna fish, and put fresh water in his bowl. “I have to go across the street for a minute. Will you be okay?” Chester meowed once and began eating. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
A minute later, Carolyn knocked on Sarah’s door. Sarah opened the door, brushing at a flour-streaked cheek. “Hello, sweetie, I was expecting you. Come in.”
“Mrs. Burns, I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”
“Oh, no need, child. I understand perfectly. Would you like some cookies? They’re fresh out of the oven?”
The aroma from the recently baked ginger snaps tantalized Carolyn’s nose. “Yes, I would, thank you very much. I, uh, also wanted to ask you a favor.”
“Anything you want, my dear. Come, sit.” Sarah walked back into the kitchen.
Over the next hour, and a plate of cookies and milk, Carolyn told Sarah her experiences since she moved in. Sarah sat at complete attention to Carolyn's story, nodding and listening intently. When Carolyn finished, Sarah asked, “You say you performed one of Ester’s spells and the spell worked?”
“Yes, and I am amazed at how fast it worked too. Those spells can come in handy at times.”
“I am amazed the spell worked at all. The spells you found in her desk, Ester made those up for foolish town folk who came to her looking for an easy way to get rich or to make someone fall in love with them. Ester called them placebo spells.” Sarah shook her head. “Ester was a very knowledgeable witch. She knew more about witchcraft than anyone I know, and not even she could make her real spells work every time. For you to make a fake spell work means you are an extremely powerful witch, even stronger than Ester.”
“Does it matter if I didn’t read the spell exactly as Grandmother wrote?”
“What do you mean, Carolyn?”
“Well, the spell just didn’t seem right for some reason, so I changed the wording a smidge,” Carolyn said with a sheepish grin, holding up a thumb a forefinger that almost touched.
“And the spell felt right after you reworded it?”
“Yes. I don’t why. It just did.”
“Oh my, you are a natural. There is nothing for you to be embarrassed about, my dear. You should be very proud of your abilities. Now, you asked if I could do you a favor?”
“I’m not really sure if you can help me or not, this is all so new to me. I promised Caleb I would try to break the spell he is under, only I don’t have the faintest idea as to where to start.”
“I see. What you are talking about doing takes strong magic, possibly even black magic. Magic I don’t possess. Ester might have or possibly knew where to find the correct spells.” Sarah stood, dusted off her apron, and said, “We’ll just sneak a peek at her Book of Shadows and find out for ourselves.”
“Book of what?”
“Shadows, my dear. The book where all witches keep their best spells, incantations, and lore.”
“I found some loose papers in her desk, no book. Maybe she kept the book on a shelf in the library?”
“She would never leave her book there. Did you look by her altar?”
“Grandmother had an altar?”
“Yes, sweetie, in her sacred place in the basement.”
“Oh, I haven’t had time to look down there yet. I’ve enough to keep me busy upstairs as it is.” And who knows what horrors that dungeon holds?
“Well then, it’s about time you did.”
“You’re the expert. So, what other secrets does the house hold for me?”
Sarah’s grin was foreboding when she replied, “Oh, you’ll find out. In due time.”
The single bulb at the foot of the basement stairs did little to light their way. Sarah led Carolyn past the gas furnace, around piles of boxes, old trunks, and more cobwebs than Carolyn wanted to think about having to clean. Sarah stopped next to the rear wall, reached up, and pulled down on one of the coat hooks, causing a short section of the cement block wall to swing open.
“Come, my dear. This is your grandmother’s sacred place.”
Sarah went in first and began lighting the wall sconces without the use of matches or a lighter. Carolyn took a moment to adjust to the dim light before stepping inside. The huge room looked carved out of solid rock. The cave-like chamber was empty except for a large stone slab supported by matching stone pillars at each end, sitting in the center of the floor. Looks like a mini Stonehenge. Running her hands along the stone's smooth surface, she asked, Grandmother’s altar, I imagine?”
“Yes, child. And there is her Book of Shadows sitting on the corner.”
The book was beyond ancient, emanating a power Carolyn could sense before she even put her hand on the tome. Engraved on the well-worn cover was the figure of a woman dressed in a flimsy frock, dancing in an open meadow. She wore a garland of flowers in her hair, and a full moon shone high above her.
“She is the Moon goddess,” Sarah said from behind her. “The Moon Goddess was the source of Ester’s powers. You understand, my dear, every witch draws from an element of nature to perform her magic. There are six elements; the Sun, the Moon, the Earth, Fire, Air, and Water. Each element has a Spirit. Mine is the Goddess of Fire.”
“Now I know how you were able to get the fireplace burning so quick yesterday and light those candles just now.”
Sarah smiled. “You’re beginning to understand.”
Carolyn and Sarah took the book upstairs where the light was better and spent the next few hours poring through the ancient pages, searching for a way to save Caleb. Each entry handwritten and most of the pages yellowed with age, the faded ink making some words and passages very difficult, if not impossible, to read. They did find a few spells and incantations to reverse a spell cast by another witch, but nothing specific to their need.
Sarah leaned back, removed her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “That is quite enough for one day, Carolyn. All this reading is giving me a headache. Can we pick this up again tomorrow? If that is all right with you?”
“I’m sorry, Sarah. I lost all track of time. You go on home and rest. I think I’d like to keep reading for a while. This is all so fascinating.”
“Suit yourself, sweetie. Your eyes are younger than mine.”
Bidding Sarah a good night, Carolyn, with Chester trailing after her, secured every door and window in the house. She made her last stop the kitchen to put on one last pot of coffee. While she waited, Carolyn made herself a turkey sandwich; then, with a guilty, self-indulgent afterthought, added a large slice of leftover pie to
the tray. Tucking Ester’s book under her arm, Carolyn carried her late night supper to her bedroom. Snuggling under the cover, she settled in to do more reading, hoping she would fall asleep and Caleb would come to her in her dreams.
Reading for a few hours produced no new clues, only a few stifled yawns. Deciding to call it a night, she reached to turn off the bedside lamp as a crash emanated from downstairs. Chester, curled at her feet, slept soundly while Carolyn focused on the steps creaking, groaning under someone’s weight. Thinking she had an intruder, Carolyn grabbed her phone and dialed 9-1-1.
Chapter Three
“Harrisonville Police. What is the nature of your emergency?” a bored sounding woman asked.
Carolyn's voice shook as she replied, “This is Carolyn Waters. I think someone broke into my house.”
“Are you in the house right now?”
“Yes, I am.”
“You live at two one two Meadow Lane?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I’ve dispatched a car to your location, Miss. He will be there in a couple minutes.”
“Thank you.”
“Where in the house are you?”
“I’m in my bedroom on the second floor. Can you tell him to hurry? I hear someone coming down the hall.”
“Is the bedroom door locked?”
“No.”
“Lock it and don’t open it for anyone but the officer.”
Carolyn dropped the phone, jumped from her bed, rushed to the door, and turned the key. Quickly, she ran back to the bed, diving under the covers. Picking the phone back up, she asked, “Hello? Are you still there?”
“Yes, I am, Miss. I will stay on the line with you until the officer gets there.”
“Oh, thank you. Oh, no! I hear him at my door now. Oh, no, the door handle is turning, he’s coming in. What do I do now?”
The door swung open. A woman dressed in white stood in the doorway, her face hidden behind a lace veil and wearing the same dress as the one Caroline had on in the portrait downstairs. The woman’s hand raised, a gnarled finger pointing at Carolyn. “Get out,” she said in a long, drawn out, shrill voice. “Get out of my house.”
Oh, no. Aunt Caroline is coming to get me for making love to her husband!
Carolyn instinctively reached to her nightstand, desperately searching for something, anything to throw. Her fingers wrapped around a small round vase, and threw it at the ghostly figure, striking the apparition in the head. The woman in white staggered back a step then ran away as a shrill, pulsating siren shattered the night air.
Carolyn ran to the still open door and peered into the hall. The woman had vanished. Chester raced passed her and down the stairs just as Carolyn heard an insistent pounding on her front door and a deep male voice shouting, “Police. Open the door.”
Cautiously, Carolyn crept downstairs. When she didn’t see the strange woman anywhere, Carolyn sprinted to the door to let the officer in.
“Are you all right, Miss?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so.”
“You called about an intruder?”
“I did. I think she was a...a woman.” Carolyn had enough sense about her not to say a jealous ghost broke into her bedroom. She didn’t want to spend the rest of the night in a padded cell.
“You saw her?”
“Yes. She came into my bedroom. I hit her with a vase and she ran off.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“No. She sort of disappeared.”
The officer’s concerned expression changed to disbelief. “Disappeared?”
“Yes. I don’t know how to explain any better than that. By the time I got to the hallway, she was gone.”
“Okay, Miss. Try to remain calm. Stay here while I check the house and make sure the perp is gone.”
The officer pulled his service revolver and a flashlight and began searching the upstairs first, then the main floor. “Is this door always open?”
“No. That’s the door to the basement. I always keep that closed, and I know I locked all the doors before I went to bed.”
The officer nodded before he went down the steps, re-emerging moments later. “All clear down there. Whoever she was, she's gone now,” he said as he holstered his pistol.
“You’re sure?” Carolyn asked.
“Yes. She or he is gone. Excuse me for a minute.” The officer clicked on the mic attached to his shirt collar. “Sally?”
“Go ahead, Chief.”
“Get Herman out of bed and send him right over, will you?”
“Sure thing, Chief.”
Smiling, the officer extended his hand to Carolyn. “Herman is our C.S.I., Miss...Waters?”
Taking his hand, she replied, “Yes, Carolyn Waters. And you are?”
“Chief Eric Rose. Don’t you own a store in town?”
“Yes, I do, Herbs and More.”
“Ah, yes, I remember now. You’re Ester’s granddaughter.”
“You knew my Grandmother?”
“You find that surprising? Harrisonville isn't that large of a town that I wouldn’t know someone living here as long as she did. Now, while we wait for Herman, and provided you feel up to talking about what happened, I’d like to take your statement.”
“Yes, of course, Chief. Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, I would, I am surprised you would drink any, though.”
Carolyn smiled weakly. “Why? Because coffee isn’t good for you?”
“Yes, but also because caffeine doesn’t quite fit with the health conscience motif of Herbs and More.”
“No,” Carolyn admitted, “But aren’t I allowed one small vice?”
“As long as the vice is legal, I’ve no objection what-so-ever. And, please, call me Eric.”
After a few attempts to separate the coffee filters, she ended up using several. Her hand shook as she measured the coffee, managing to get most of it in the machine and not on the counter. Taking a deep breath, she told Eric all she remembered, starting with when she retired for the night. Carolyn did leave out the fact she and Sarah had been reading her grandmother's Book of Shadow earlier. When a knock came at the door, Eric stood, motioning for Carolyn to remain seated. “That will be Herman. I’ll let him in.”
Chief Rose let Herman in and told him what he knew about the break-in before returning to the living room. “Herman’s good at his job,” he told her. “He’ll find out how your mystery woman got in and where she went.”
“I hope so. I know I locked all the doors and windows before I went upstairs for the night. I also remember hearing a crash, like breaking glass. Did she break a window to get in?”
“No, they’re all fine. I did find a broken vase in the foyer though. That’s probably what you heard.”
Carolyn reflected a moment. “I suppose--.”
“Hey, Chief. You better come see this,” Herman interrupted from the kitchen.
Carolyn followed Chief Rose to where Herman held the back door open. On the outside portion, ‘GET OUT’, had been written in large letters with what she hoped was red paint. Even though the porch light was off, she still saw the dark shape swaying from the rafters in the darkness, light reflecting off its open eyes.
“Chester!” she screamed.
“Is Chester your cat, ma’am?” Herman asked.
Holding back her tears, Carolyn answered, “Yes.”
“I saw him a minute ago, he sure was heading for the hills,” he said, pointing toward the foyer. Then, jerking his thumb at the swinging animal, he added, “This here's a raccoon.”
Relief and anger swept over Carolyn. “Why is a raccoon hanging from my back porch?”
“Probably put there to scare you,” Chief Rose offered.
“Whoever did this also cut the animal's throat and used the blood to write this filth on your door,” Herman added.
“Who would do something so evil?” she demanded.
The chief took Carolyn by the arm and led her back into the living room. “At first
, I thought this might be teenagers doing a prank of some sort. Halloween is not far off and sometimes they like to get an early start.”
“But?”
“But, now I’m not so sure. They’ve never done anything quite this bad before. This house has been a favorite target of teenagers over the years. The house's reputation draws them more than any other reason, I suppose. Usually, they toilet paper the front porch or leave a lighted bag of dog poop by the door. Nothing quite this bad though. We’ll know better once Herman finishes his investigation.”
“I can tell you this much, Chief, they didn’t come in through the front or back doors. You said you heard the lady slide back the bolt on the front door to let you in, and I noted the back door dead bolted as well. All the windows are locked,” Herman said.
“So how did she get in?” Carolyn asked.
Herman shook his head. “Don’t know, but I will before I’m done.” Herman turned around and went back into the kitchen.
“He will too,” Chief Rose said. “He’s like a pit bull when it comes to the unexplained. He won‘t sleep until he figures out all the answers.”
By morning, Herman found, to Carolyn's embarrassment, Ester’s altar room, but no other exit from the house the intruder may have used. Chief Rose left around five o’clock to check on an early morning fender bender in town, and Herman left around nine, scratching his head as he went out the door. He collected some evidence and promised Carolyn they would catch the perp soon.
Carolyn felt immensely satisfied when Herman had shown her the veil the woman wore had drops of blood staining the white fabric. Her vase had scored a direct hit on the intruder. The bloodstains also proved her trespasser to be human and not a second ghost.
That’s all I would need, a jealous Caroline.
To take her mind off the previous night’s events, Carolyn threw herself into her house cleaning. She scrubbed, polished, and dusted until her arms felt as if they would fall off. At midnight, she dragged her weary body to bed without even bothering to take her dirty clothes off or pull the blanket back.