by Jane West
“Ms. Noel, I don't understand.”
“Stevie, do ya trust me?” she asked.
I gave pause, eyeballing the dim room. I lifted my gaze back to her. “I do, but this is all scary to me.”
“Babee, there is nothing to fear her'. I give ya my word.” Her smile reached her eyes.
“Okay, I'll try.” Even though I was terrified, I took a leap of faith and settled down in one of the chairs at the table. Ms. Noel followed, seating herself directly across from me.
Shadows flickered from the candle light making the tight space seem even eerier. I sat quietly, observing every nook and cranny.
There was a library of various books on casting spells. A deck of tarot cards and a crystal ball placed in a neat stack on the table. All the things one would need to read a person's fortune or work a spell, I reckoned.
I'd never had my palms read, or my future glanced at through a crystal ball. Reading books and listening to stories about witchcraft was one thing. Dabbling was a whole different story and I wasn't sure I was ready to take that leap into a world that I found most interesting and yet terrifying as well.
“Catin, how ya are,” she smiled, “Ya lookin' a little feeble.”
“I'm okay. I guess.” I rattled on. “I mean, this is sorta freaky.” I pointed to the hundreds of symbols that papered the interior walls.
“Catin, I've got ya, Babee!” her eyes gleamed. “I've been knowing magick best part of my life. Believe me when I say ya safe.”
“I don't know.” I still wasn't convinced, “Why me?”
Ms. Noel's face brightened. “Fannie has a message ta give ya.”
“You're dead sister?” My heart lurched.
“Yes, she has a message from someone on the other side.”
“The other side?” My blood suddenly turned cold. “Like someone dead?”
“Yes, do ya have a family member who's passed?” Ms. Noel's blue eyes were too penetrating.
“No.” I hated lying to her, but I panicked.
Ms. Noel's face held suspicion. “Do ya trust me, Catin?”
“It's not you I'm worried about.” I hugged my waist.
“Have ya enjoyed my stories?”
Oh, that wasn't fair. “Yeah! Though that's beside the point, I wasn't in them.”
“But do you trust me?” She repeated the question, holding her gaze to mine.
I hesitated. Trusting Ms. Noel wasn't the problem. What I didn't trust was what I couldn't see. “I trust you.”
“Ya have hesitance?” She studied me.
“Uh, kind of, I guess.” I shrugged.
“Catin, has ya mom'n'em' ever talked ta ya?”
My brow arched, “About what?”
“About ya life, Babee.”
“Ms. Noel, I'm not sure what you're getting at. My mom's been dating this dude from her job.”
“Chile, it's not about her keepin' company. It's about the death of ya father.”
My mouth dropped. “How did you know about my dad?”
Ms. Noel interjected. “The spirit world speaks ta me, Babee.”
“It's not really a secret.” I shook my head. “A girl at school knew about my dad's death.”
“Babee, don't mind that girl, Gina!” Ms. Noel swatted at the air. “I'm talkin' 'bout information that might help solve ya father's case.”
“A ghost told you about my father's murderer?”
“Portions, yes.”
“Portions!” I leaned forward. “What have you heard?” I was creeped out, but she had my attention now. If there was a led to my father's death, I wanted to know.
“Ya father's death was deliberate.” Ms. Noel's words were uncanny.
“The authorities suspect that it was a drunk driver.” Doubt interlaced my voice.
“The driver wasn't bug-juiced.”
A chill touched the back of my neck. “But the police reported otherwise.”
“Catin, sometimes the police gets it wrong.” She paused, “Your father's death was not recent.”
Tears began to sting. “I was eight,” I whispered.
“I'm sorry, Babee.” Her voice was gentle.
“Thank you.” I looked away. I needed a moment. The loss of my father was still raw. I'd been lost without him.
“If ya will permit me, I'd like ta call upon Fannie. She's been askin' about ya.”
I wasn't quite on board with speaking to Ms. Noel's deceased sister. “Can you just tell me what she says?”
“It doesn't work like that in the afterlife, Catin.”
I sat there chewing the inside of my lip, mulling over whether or not I should give it a shot. With a sigh of defeat, I caved. “Okay, let's do this.” I still had my qualms if this was a good idea, yet I couldn't walk away. What if Fannie could shed new light on my dad's case?
I watched as Ms. Noel placed a lit candle in the middle of the table. She lifted her gaze back to me. “Take my hands, Catin.” Her stark eyes held mine as she waited patiently.
Without an utter, I did as she asked. Our hands clasped together tightly like concrete. My pulse was off the hinge, but I wasn't backing out now. I'd stepped over the threshold, and I wasn't going back.
Ms. Noel began with a strange incantation. The words were similar to Spanish, yet different. I think she was chanting Latin.
The room began to grow smaller by the minute, or it could've been my paranoia skyrocketing. I kept my eyes glued to Ms. Noel's face. I already was ready to jump out of my skin.
Somehow, I managed to sit quiet, watching. Ms. Noel proceeded, calling out to her sister, “Fannie, we here. Come ta the light and speak ta us.”
The candle in the center of the table began to flicker every which way. Eerily, there wasn't even a stir in the room. I'd began warring with my internal self that I'd made a terrible mistake.
With no warning, Ms. Noel fainted. Like a domino effect, her body went limp in the chair, and her head thumped against the table. I jumped with a start, eyes wide. “What the hell,” I mumbled. “Ms. Noel, are you okay?” My words rushed with panic. Jesus! Was she dead? “Ms. Noel?” I called to her again and still no reply. My eyes raked over her, praying for any sign of life.
After several heartbeats, I caught the slight rise and fall of her chest. “Whew,” I blew out. This was a bad idea. I needed to end this séance now. Using all my strength, I tugged on my hands, trying to pry myself loose but my efforts were futile. Ms. Noel's ironclad grip was much stronger than I was. I was stuck!
With an unexpected jolt, Ms. Noel's head shot up. The iris of her eyes had vanished, turning her eyes a solid white.
“Holy hell!” Fear slammed into my chest as I froze. This took spooky to a whole different level.
Then everything got crazier than ten schizoids off meds. Ms. Noel began thrashing about, her head bouncing, veins jutting from her temples. I swore if her head swiveled and she started puking green stuff that I was cutting my hands off at the wrist!
Suddenly, Ms. Noel calmed like still waters. Her eyes began blinking. Her pupils returned to normal. She appeared cognizant. “Chile, someone else is interfering with my sister's contact.” She dragged in a saw-tooth breath. “Do you know anyone by the name — ?” She paused, squinting her eyes tight. “The name sounds like John, only it's spelled differently.”
My eyes orbed. “My dad!”
“Yes, J.O.N.” she spelled out the word. “He's trying to speak!” Her head bobbed as the cords in her neck strained.
I held myself to the chair, watching through horrified eyes.
In the next breath, Ms. Noel lifted her eyes back at me. There was a sheen of sweat to her face but she appeared aware. “Ya Father is talkin' about a soda parlor and Bubble Gum Jubilee.”
“Oh, my God,” I almost choked on my breath, “That's my favorite ice cream!”
“Yes, he's talkin' about a boy. He keeps repeatin' a faceless boy.”'
I gasped.
“He's warnin' ya! Keep away from him.”
“A fa
celess boy?” How could anyone know? The hairs on my neck stiffened like a Brillo pad.
“Yes, the boy is wearin' something shiny.”
I noticed the solemnity behind her glint.
“A ring with an eye,” Ms. Noel explained.
It was as if she was reading my mind. “No. I don't know anyone wearing a ring as such.” I lied.
Ms. Noel narrowed her eyes. “Chile, don't be story tellin'!”
Technically I wasn't lying. He was merely a dream. “I'm not lying. I swear!”
“Ya father has a message fer ya.” Her eyes closed once more. She stilled. Then she opened her eyes. “He says fer ya ta sit up and pay attention! He's irritated.” Ms. Noel relented.
Those were his words!
Ms. Noel continued, “He's tellin' me that the faceless boy, the ring and a very powerful family, an ancient family, are spooling spells of dark magick over ya.”
“Seriously,” I nearly laughed.
That was when things really got hairy.
“Does the name Genetic mean anything ta ya?” Ms. Noel asked. Her face was calm and somber.
I blinked back my confusion. “No, it doesn't.”
“Your father keeps sayin' genetics. He keeps sayin' it over and over. It must have significant meaning ta ya.”
“No! I haven't a clue.” As strange and foreign as it sounded, there was an inherent familiarity to it, yet what?
“He's concern about ya blood. He says it's different.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It's hard for me ta understand. His words are broken.” Ms. Noel paused. “Okay, it seems he's concern about this faction. They're not gonna let ya go until they have taken what is theirs. Some kind of gift ya possess.”
Needles pricked my skin. “A gift? I don't have anything of value!”
“He keeps sayin' beware of faceless boy over and over.”
Fright squeezed my chest. “Ms. Noel, you're scaring me!”
“Chile, it frightens me too!” Her breath was short and strained. “Ya father is speakin' about ya mom'n'em now. He says ya should ask her why she's runnin'.”
“My mom isn't running. She's bi-polar.” This was a total waste of my time. What a letdown. I'd hoped there might be information surrounding his death.
Just as quickly as the séance had begun, it was just as quickly over. Ms. Noel released her grip, and I was free. I drew my hands to my chest, rubbing them. The numbness was easing up as they began to tingle.
Then my attention drew back to Ms. Noel as my eyes swiped over her. The color in her face had gone pale. The séance had drained her. She flashed a weak smile. “Lord, have mercy on me! That was one strong spirit.” She patted the beaded sweat from her forehead.
“Are you okay?” Considering Ms. Noel's age, I feared she might've given herself a stroke. “Let me get you some water.”
I spun on my heels, rushing to the kitchen. I went straight for the fridge and found a pitcher of water. I hurried to find a glass and filled it with the cold water. Then I reached for a dishtowel and grabbed several ice cubes from the freezer. I wrapped the ice in the cloth and tied it up.
In a flash, I'd returned to Ms. Noel's side. “Here! This might help you feel better.” I handed both the water and towel to her. “I thought the ice might help cool your temperature down.” I forced a smile.
“Thank ya, Catin,” Ms. Noel flashed a faint smile, and tipped the water to her lips, sipping it slowly. After she had finished, she sat the glass down on the table and placed the ice pack on her forehead.
“Would you be more comfortable on your bed or the sofa?” My heart was in my throat.
“No, Chile. I'm fine, really.” She patted her face with the cool towel. “Mercy me! That was a doozy.”
My mind was swirling with fraught. “Ms. Noel, let me help you to your bed.” Even though this wasn't my idea, I felt riddled with guilt. I should've protested, refused, and walked away, anything other than sitting here letting my good friend go through torture.
Ms. Noel patted my hand. “Babee, I'll be just fine. Don't ya fret none!”
My lungs were starting to open, and I was beginning to relax. Ms. Noel's skin color was returning, and gaining her strength back. I smiled, though my concern continued. “Okay. Do you want more water?” I started reaching for her glass, but she patted my hand.
“No, Babee, I need ta speak ta ya about a pressing matter.”
“What is it?” I was at my max for any more problems. My head felt like it was spinning into oblivion. This was my first séance, and my last.
“Honey, I don't mean ta upset ya, but ya need ta listen. Ya should have a fast talkin' with ya mom'n'em.”
I rubbed my temples. My head was throbbing. “I really don't want to talk about my mother.”
“Babee, I understand. I don't like havin' ta tell ya this either. Despite your dithering, I think ya mom'n'em is hiding information concerning ya father and ya birth. Ya father kept sayin' 'ask ya mom'n'em about his death and ya birth.' That was his last words before his spirit vanished.”
My lips flattened, tight with tension. The topic of Sara always sent me into orbit. No one could subdue her spirit. I admit I was no match for my mother. “Ms. Noel, I doubt Sara can barely hold a thought. She's bi-polar.”
“I git what ya sayin', but ya need to know that ya mom'n'em is carrying a secret. She's been holdin' it long before ya birth.”
I appreciated her concern, but I didn't have it in me to address my issues with Sara. I shook my head, hand held up in protest. “I know you mean well, but my mom dances to her own tune. Half the time she's off her meds and to be honest, I don't think the meds work. She is who she is, and I can't change her.” I shrugged, feeling heavy with guilt. “I just deal.”
“I'm sorry fer ya troubles, Babee, but I think it's in ya best interest ta hear me out.”
I suddenly pushed away from the table. “This is enough!” I held my palm up. “I know Sara harbors secrets. She's been like this since my father's death.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “Asking her questions will get me nowhere. If she is holding some traumatizing secret, I'll never know what it is. Sara will go to her grave before she confides in me.” I blew out a frustrated breath.
“Stevie—”
I hated myself for hurting Ms. Noel's feelings. Even still, I had to speak my mind. I interrupted, “I don't understand any of this stuff.” I paused. “You've had your whole life to make sense of the paranormal. I've had five minutes. I'm not even sure I believe in ghost and magick. How am I supposed to accept something I know nothing about?”
“I know it's hard for you to believe right now, but you will come around.”
My friend was convincing. Yet I wasn't ready to accept the world of weird.
“I don't know. It all seems so stretched.” I shrugged.
“Babee, it will take time.” The plea in her voice was so profound that it broke my heart.
“I love your stories, but I can't swallow all this in one setting. Heck! I'm not sure I believe in God. So if you don't mind, I'd like to excuse myself.”
“Of course, Chile, I wouldn't hold ya against ya will.”
I hugged Ms. Noel at the door. I didn't want her to think I was angry with her. I started to push passed the screen, but I hesitated. Unable to face my dear friend, I tossed over my shoulder, “I know you have my best interest, and I love you for it. You've been more than kind to me. But…” I swallowed, “I'm sorry that I can't believe like you.” Tears began to well up, and I ducked out before I made a fool of myself.
Buried Secrets
I darted inside the diner, scurrying past customers, headed straight to the far back booth. I flopped down into the seat with an irritated huff. I rested my head on the cool table and closed my eyes. My heart was beating erratically.
It was utterly crazy believing an eighty-something-year-old woman's tall-tales about a stupid ghost. Then how the hell did she know about my dreams, the faceless boy, and the ring? Co
me to think about it, how did Ms. Noel know about a lot of things? She seemed to have this sick sense. Yeah, I meant sick.
Setting aside my feelings for Ms. Noel, I had a hard time swallowing her far-fetched beliefs. What did I know anyway? I never fretted over my lost soul or bothered putting faith in a God that I'd never met.
Then I recalled Ms. Noel rambling about some vile family coming for me. I found that hard to believe. I was a girl pushing newspapers. What would be the point in kidnapping me? I didn't have a penny to my name. I rolled my eyes.
All at once, I got a weird sensation that jolted me to a sitting position. My eyes combed the diner and landed on a man that was looking at me like I was a deer in the scope of his gun. I assumed he was Sara's boyfriend and he was heading my way.
Crap!
“Bonjour, beautiful!” He flashed a lustful smile as he slid into the booth next to me. Instantly I scooted over with my back to the wall. He was the last person I wanted to see.
I'd already developed mistrust for the dude. Between his dirty ink hair to his cigarette-liquored breath and the wicked glint in his anthracite eyes, the man made my skin crawl.
Ms. Noel mentioned that rumors were floating around that Francis had spent time in prison. He'd gotten busted for drugs. I normally didn't put a lot of stock in hearsay, but I believed this rumor.
“Don't you have a dish to wash?” I eyed his dirty apron. Sara mentioned that he was the dishwasher. I reckoned that was the best job he could get. He appeared young, around twenty-five, a good fifteen years younger than Sara.
He lit his cigarette, eyeing me like he was summing me up. “I'm on break.” He blew out the smoke. “I thought I'd introduce myself.” He flashed a smile. “I'm Francis.”
“Now that you've introduced yourself, you can leave.” There was something off about this dude.
“Where have you been?” The cadence in his voice was thick with Cajun French. “You look like you've seen a ghost.” He laughed as he drew on his cigarette and blew the smoke out.
“I'm fine.” He wasn't getting nothing out of me.