“What about Cassadaga?” I ask.
“Nah, you won’t find much there, unless you’re a tarot card hack or tea leaf reader. They are more ‘spiritual’ than psychic, really.” She giggles. “Always good for entertainment purposes.”
“They’re not real psychics in the Psychic Capital?”
“They are as real as people need them to be.” Deena follows me to the door and walks outside with me.
“Thank you for this.” I hold up the map and turn to head back to Simza’s trailer. Might as well demand a few answers before I head into town.
“It’s my pleasure.”
I swing my head around and see Deena looking at the clear blue sky, not a cloud covering an inch of it. An old silver Camaro pulls into the campground; its brakes squeak as it slows. Deena looks at the driver intently and then back to the sky. “Better bring an umbrella, Alice. There’s a storm coming.”
Chapter 6
The woman approaches Simza’s trailer, stops short when she spots me, takes out a tomato from her brown paper grocery bag and hurls it at me. It smacks me in the leg and tomato juice stains my jeans. “What the fuck?”
“You’re not going to haunt me, Lyuba. Haunt Simza all you want, but not me.” She takes out another tomato. “What did I do to you? Nothing!”
“Whoa, lady, stop that right now!” I point at her. Thunder erupts from the newly-formed gray clouds above. Her glare remains on me.
Her tense shoulders relax. She lowers the tomato. “You’re not Lyuba, are you?”
“No, I’m not Lyuba.” It dawns on me in that moment when I speak her name…she’s talking about my mother.
The tomato hurler drops it to the ground and inches closer to me. A tear rolls down her cheek. “You look so much like her.”
The clouds break and a calmness overcomes me. “My mother?”
She wraps her arms around me, and mumbles something into my hair.
“Huh?” I pat her back, but I’m not fully committed. And, I wonder why she’s mad enough at my mom to throw tomatoes at her.
“I’m your Aunt Mirela…Lyuba’s sister.” She pulls back, her hands squeeze the sides of my upper arms. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m—”
“I don’t even know your name, chavi.” She releases me.
I flounder. Confusion floods my mind. I don’t know if I should tell her my real name or continue with this new persona. It’s probably best to have her call me Alice since she’s slipped with Simza’s name. “It’s Aaa…Alice.”
“Well, Alice, it’s nice to meet you.” She backs away, still staring at me. “How did you find us?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Did you talk with Simza...your Aunt Simza?” She looks at the trailer and back at me.
“Not exactly. I tried last night, but she wasn’t keen on speaking with me.” A curtain flutters in the corner of my eye and I realize Aunt Simza witnessed our exchange, but doesn’t come outside.
Aunt Mirela wears a solid light baby blue long skirt, with a pretty low-cut black tank top. Her shiny, black sandals have rhinestones on the sides. Her caramel hair and olive skin remind me of my mother.
“She’s become very antisocial in her old age.” She picks up the bag and bangs on the door. “Open up Sim; I know you’re in there.”
“Go away, Mirela; and tell her to go away, too,” Aunt Simza hollers through the door.
“That ‘her’ is your niece, you know.” She bangs on the door again and waits a few moments. “Fine, but you’ll have to show your face sooner or later. You can’t stay fuming at everyone all of the time.”
Hard footfalls stomp away informing us she’s done with the conversation.
“She’ll come around.” Aunt Mirela’s mouth twitches. “She’s mad at me over a trivial matter. Always so stubborn, the old mule.”
“I was given her name.” I pull out the note from my pocket and show it to Aunt Mirela.
“So, that’s what brought you to town. Who gave you this?”
“I honestly have no clue.” A part of me wants to let loose and tell her everything, and ask a million other questions roaming through my head about this family I never knew I had.
“Curious.” She hands the note back to me and studies my face for a moment too long. “Come with me. I’ll cook for you and you can meet your cousins.”
“Cousins?” Flutters erupt from my stomach. My father never mentioned I had aunts or cousins. He told me we were alone.
“Well, are you coming?” Aunt Mirela stands next to the open driver side door.
“Yes.” I rush to the car and wonder what’s in store for me.
The drive to my newly-discovered Aunt’s place took less than 10 minutes. A large oak tree towers over a manufactured home, nestled on at least an acre. No neighbors are in sight, so it appears they value their privacy. Aunt Mirela parks next to a white, older Mercedes in front of their place.
“Your place is nice.”
“It does the job.” She takes out more bags that lay on the backseat.
“Let me help.” I grab one out of her hands.
“Thank you, Alice.” The corner of her mouth turns up. “It’s nice to see someone your age with manners.”
A red truck skids into the yard blowing up dirt and stops on the other side of the Mercedes. A lanky, snub-nosed guy gets out. “Hey, Ma.” He waves and his head turns in our direction. He stares at me. “Hey there to you.” His chin rises and he winks.
“Don’t flirt with your cousin, Emilian.” She smacks him on the side of his head.
His jaw drops. “Cousin? What cousin? We have no cousins.” He raises his arms in the air and follows us inside.
A brawny, midnight-haired man sits on the flowered couch next to a tiny, sparkling amber-eyed girl.
“Did you know we had a cousin?” Emilian asks. “Am I the only fucking clueless person here?”
“Language.” Aunt Mirela slaps him on the head again.
“What are you talking about, moron?” the girl asks.
“This is Emilian, the obnoxious potty mouth. He’s twenty-one, going on eight.” Aunt Mirela rolls her eyes. “This is your cousin Nadya. She’s nineteen, going on forty. And this is Fonso.” She messes his hair.
“Cut it out.” He swats her away.
“He’s twenty-four, going on ninety.”
“Whatever.” Fonso stands.
“This is your cousin, Alice.” She grabs my shoulders from behind pushing me forward into their tiny living room.
“When did we get a cousin?” Fonso asks. “Did Aunt Simza adopt her?”
“Oy. No, Simza didn’t adopt her. She’s Lyuba’s daughter. Lyuba was my younger sister who passed some time ago.” She peers up at the ceiling. “Twenty-two years ago, right?”
I nod.
“Are you serious? We really have a cousin and it’s not another stinkin’ boy?” Nadya bounces on the couch and smiles. “Is this one of your sick jokes?”
“Trust me, I’m as surprised as y’all, but there’s no denying it. She’s the spitting image of her mother, rest her soul.” Aunt Mirela claps her hands together. “Let’s celebrate with a good Roma meal.”
“Roma meal?” I ask.
“Mas.” The two boys say in unison.
“Meat,” Nadya explains. “It’s the ‘American’ Roma vegetable.”
“I see. Can I help?” I ask.
“There’s those polite words again.” Aunt Mirela beams. “Ya’ll can learn a thing or two from your cousin.”
Nadya jumps up, grabs my hand, and leads me to the kitchen. “Let’s wash the vegetables.”
“Boys.” Aunt Mirela’s eyebrows waggle.
“We know.” Fonso heads toward the door. “We start the grill.”
“I love it when we have company, but that rarely happens.” Nadya hands me potatoes out of the fridge. “It’s like a miracle or something...you being our cousin and finding us.” She pauses in mid stance as if a struck with a thought. “How
did you find us?”
“She found Simza, who wouldn’t even speak to her, for some reason. If I hadn’t gone over there to make amends, I wouldn’t have seen her.” Aunt Mirela babbles on. “Sorry about the tomato, by the way.”
“What tomato?” Nadya asks.
“I threw a tomato at her.” Aunt Mirela giggles. “I thought she was the dead come to haunt me.”
The tomato stain on my jeans looks like a faded blood spot.
“I can’t believe you did that, Ma. Seriously, you’re as crazy as a monkey on speed.”
Nadya launches into a thousand questions, often asking one before I finish answering. I don’t blame her...I had quite a few myself. I answer truthfully, for the most part. This feeling of confusion and uncertainty weighs on me.
We sit down to dinner and the harder questions start.
“Where’s your pa?” Aunt Mirela asks.
My heart feels like it sinks deeper into my chest. “We parted ways a few towns ago.”
“Why?” Nadya asks.
“Just time, I guess. We wanted to move to different places.” I lie.
“And someone happened to send you a card with Aunt Simza’s name on it?” Aunt Mirela’s eyes narrow. She bites off a piece of tough French bread.
I sip my water. “Yes, that one freaked me out, but since she had the name of Mother, my curiosity was busting to be satisfied. How long have you been in town?” I try to steer the conversation in a different direction. “It’s a cool place, but Cassadaga seems a bit bizarre.”
“It’s a perfect place for us. Mama has found more work, being closer to Cassadaga.” Nadya loves to talk.
“Work?” I ask.
“She’s gifted. It’s in our blood,” Nadya replies.
The table falls silent. Everyone looks at Nadya.
“What?” She purses her lips together. “We all want to know what her gift is, so we might as well ask. We are family, after all.”
“I do past life regressions for people.” Aunt Mirela continues, “It’s a way to make money in a town where people travel to see psychics. I rent an office in town on the weekends.”
“That’s interesting.” Everyone stares at me for a few moments too long. “I’m sure this is the place to do it.”
“Yeah, but hers are real.” Nadya says. “She allows the people to experience their lives before for themselves...as if they were there. Like they are trapped in a movie they can’t escape. It’s kinda creepy, to say the least.”
“How would you know?” Emilian asks. “Ma won’t let us do it.”
“None of you are ready to learn from your past.” Aunt Mirela gets up from the table and starts to clear the dishes.
“I am,” Nadya whines.
“And Aunt Simza talks to the dead?” I ask.
“Yes.” Fonso says. “She’s probably the most talented of us all.”
“She’s the most talented of us all.” Emilian mimics in a childish voice. “And you’re the most boring of us all.”
“Shut up, alien!” Nadya throws a piece of bread at him.
“No throwing of food in this house,” Aunt Mirela warns. “I’ll still take a switch to you. I don’t care how old you are.”
“He doesn’t have to be so mean, Ma.” Nadya sticks her tongue out at Emilian.
The sibling jealousy I felt earlier wanes. Perhaps it’s best I didn’t have any brothers or sisters growing up.
“Emilian, she’s right. Your condescending demeanor isn’t appropriate for your age. It’s time for you to act your age and respect each other. All of you. It’s not like you are young kids anymore.” Aunt Mirela takes my plate.
“Thank you,” I say. “What do you do, Fonso?”
“Nothing.” Emilian says. “The gift skipped him. He’s probably the mailman’s kid or something. With that jet-black hair, he doesn’t look Rom to me.”
“Emilian, out!” Aunt Mirela points toward the hallway.
Emilian scrapes his chair against the linoleum floor, turns, and stomps off toward his room.
Fonso, who’s sitting next to me, places his hands on the table and balls them into fists.
I grab his left hand and squeeze. “Don’t worry. The gift skipped me, too.”
His expression softens as he gazes into my eyes, studying me. His mouth turns into a half-smile. “I knew I’d like you.”
“Doesn’t anyone want to know my gift?” Nadya asks.
“Of course,” I reply.
She beams. “I can find anyone or anything just by thinking about it.”
“Yeah, she’s a real bore at hide and seek.” Fonso laughs.
“It comes in handy.” Nadya looks at Aunt Mirela.
“Absolutely.” Aunt Mirela says. “I never lose my car keys anymore.”
“Yes, you do!” Fonso says, “Now, you just have your crazy daughter find them for you.”
We all laugh and the air around us feels lighter.
“Too bad you don’t have a gift.” Nadya twirls her hair around her finger. “I think our line is dwindling with gifts, huh Ma?”
“Maybe.” Aunt Mirela starts washing the dishes.
“What’s Emilian’s gift?” I ask.
“Oh, Emilian...he sees people for what they really are,” Nadya explains.
“Like what?” A nervousness grows in my stomach, wondering if he saw through my lies.
Nadya replies, “You know... vampires, witches, and stuff. There’s a pack of werewolves living down the street.”
Chapter 7
Learning about my family’s abilities is one thing, but hearing them talk about vampires, witches, and werewolves existing in society is another. This unexpected mini-reunion just took a turn for the worst.
“Thank you so much for lunch. It was fabulous.” I stand and take the rest of the dishes on the table into the kitchen. “I need to get into town and look for a job. Is there a bus stop near?”
“I’ll take you.” Fonso offers. “I was heading to the bookstore anyway.”
“Really? That would be great.”
“Can I come?” Nadya asks. “There’s nothing to do here and I can show you around.”
I reluctantly nod. “Okay.” My aching desire to be alone is suddenly squashed.
She claps her hands. “Give me a minute to get my purse.” She runs down the hallway.
“You aren’t going to go all introvert on us, are you?” Aunt Mirela asks.
“No, not at all. I just found out I have a family.” I smile, and think about the reason I’m here. I need to find out what happened to Dad. I would love their help, especially Nadya’s, but I don’t know if I can trust my new found family yet. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Good.” Aunt Mirela hugs me. “Come by real soon, please. We have so much to catch up on.”
“Okay.” I follow Fonso toward the door.
“We’re leaving Nadya!” Fonso yells.
“Coming!” Nadya’s voice echoes in the small home. She runs down the hall. “I’m ready.”
“Don’t stay out too late.” Aunt Mirela shakes a finger at them.
“Yeah, the bookstore stays open real late, Ma.” Fonso’s sarcastic sense of humor cracks me up. “Did it occur to you that we are all over the age of 18, with most of us being over the drinking age? Heck, Alice here is younger than me and all on her own.”
“Do you want me to switch you for back talking me?” Aunt Mirela asks.
“No Mam.” Fonso rushes out the door and we follow.
Nadya talks the entire 15 minutes during the car ride to town, telling me about her boring childhood, having to be homeschooled, and never getting out much. Luckily, the road the campground is on is the same road to town, so getting home won’t be difficult.
“I’m going to do what you did, Alice.” Nadya’s head bobs a few times.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Go my own way.” She waves her hand and arm. “Be independent and free.”
“You’d survive all of two seconds
.” Fonso chuckles. “You need money to survive, Sis, and that means a job.”
“Well, poop.” Nadya crosses her arms and pouts.
“Meet me by the fountain in an hour or two?” Fonso asks Nadya.
“Ya, make it two.”
“Thank you for the ride. I think I can make it home from here.” I pat the map to be sure it’s still in my pocket.
“Where are you staying?” Fonso asks.
“At the campground where Aunt Simza lives...in a cabin there.”
“I don’t mind giving you a ride back to your cabin.” Fonso offers.
I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. I may need some time to unwind and process this day.”
“Oh, I understand.” He parks the car next to a curb. Taking a pen and scratch paper out of the glove box, he hands me his number. “Call me if you need me.”
“Don’t you forget me, Fonso.” Nadya says. “I’ll be waiting at the fountain in two hours.”
“Who could possibly forget you?” He smirks and drives away.
“I wish I’d had a sister.” She sighs.
“Do you know of anywhere that’s hiring?” The town looks small and quaint, out of a Thomas Kindcade painting. Small shops line the town square, with a circular fountain in the middle surrounded by one large, brick roundabout. “It looks so calm here.”
“Nothing compared to Baton Rouge, I suppose.” Nadya nudges me. “Let’s walk around and see if there isn’t something for you.”
“What about you?” I inquire. “No job?”
“Working isn’t for me. Not much use for someone to locate things.”
“What about becoming a detective? Surely you’d find all the clues to the case.” We pass a coffee shop and the dark, coffee bean aroma drifts out the open door. I’m tempted to order a cup, but maybe I’ll do that later when I’m alone and can sit and think for a while.
“Doesn’t interest me much, although I could be great at missing persons cases. I’ve heard some psychics help out on cases from time-to-time and I bet they make good money at it. Don’t ya think?”
“Makes sense to me, since they offer rewards.” We continue past a women’s clothing store with one elderly clerk. She glances up from the magazine at us. By the frown on her face, I don’t think they would hire me there. “How about finding me a job, if you’re so good at finding things?”
Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 40