by Cadie Snow
“What I didn’t know was that you have the ability of electrokinesis.”
“It has a name?” Andrew grinned. “Cool.”
“No, it’s not cool,” Jaime said. “It’s a huge responsibility. I was hoping you could avoid having to deal with such things. But since that is obviously not the case, I’ll have to teach you proper handling of your skills—when and where it is okay to use them.”
Andrew appeared undaunted. “Sure, I can do that. Maybe I can get better at it.”
Jaime sighed, then looked in the rearview mirror at her other son. “Landon…you don’t have anything to tell me, do you?”
Landon looked up innocently then shook his head. Jaime wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t want to press the point. She’d deal with Andrew and hope the genetic pool had passed over Landon. Maybe he was just a normal boy, but the odds were against him. He was Andrew’s twin brother.
Once they got home, the boys went to do their homework. Jaime almost convinced herself that it was life as usual—almost. Her cousins would sympathize with her dilemma, because they knew from experience how hard it was to teach kids proper behavior.
But her neighbors were a different story. The easiest thing was to start rumors, and stirring up old news about her family being witches would fuel gossip. It didn’t matter how much she had used her powers to help others, or that she’d abandoned using them so her kids could have a life without others pointing fingers and calling them weird.
All that mattered was that an incident had happened that no one could explain. Witchcraft was the obvious allegation. In this case, it was true—but not the way most people imagined. No one would be up in arms if two boys had wrestled in the schoolyard.
But Andrew had greater ability to fight back than any of the other boys. That was going to be an issue. A few clients would likely fire her when they heard the story. Some neighbors would point and snicker. So let them. Jaime was proud of her family and what they stood for.
Jaime had had it with hiding and cowering and pretending to be other than she was. Any power could be used for good or bad. What abilities were used for was all that mattered. Unless, of course, a person was afraid of magic and freaked out when that was the only explanation. She definitely needed to have that talk with Andrew.
CHAPTER 7
Word of the death spread through the family quickly. The cousins heard about Iris before Jaime had a chance to contact them. Olivia and Harper helped with the calls to field questions, and handled invitations to the memorial.
Condolences arrived in the form of flowers, cards, and personal visits—followed by congratulations to Jaime for her new role as coven leader. It had been less than a week, but already the family looked to Jaime for leadership.
The most urgent matter was arranging the celebration of life in honor of Iris, but Jaime had her sisters to help with that—plus numerous cousins who offered to handle everything from flowers to food. Ava and Sophia took charge of organizing, letting Jaime know in no uncertain terms that was what cousins were for.
The suspicious nature of her aunt’s death weighed heavily on Jaime’s mind. Law enforcement made no mention of foul play and were content to close the case. That left any investigation up to Jaime and her sisters.
At the earliest opportunity, Jaime met with her sisters at Sanders Bed & Breakfast. The establishment was in a two-story Victorian home with brick-red siding and white trim. Inside, there were thick Oriental carpets over hardwood floors.
The furniture was Victorian style, with tufted cushions in floral print trimmed in ornate wood. The walls were painted in accent colors with white baseboards and door frames. The lace curtains and built-in wood bookcases added charm.
Jaime admired what Olivia had done with the place. When she’d purchased it years before, it had been run-down and haunted. The ghost had to be handled before the renovations could proceed, as he meddled and created trouble.
Since Olivia had opened for business, guests had flooded in. The quaint accommodations attracted people from the bigger cities, as they wanted to stay and enjoy the pleasures of an earlier time. The décor, the morning breakfast, and the hospitality suited them.
And many didn’t mind hearing ghost stories, which Olivia was more than happy to tell. She had good a memory, and it was unknown to her rapt audience that many of the stories were true. Although she was careful not to give away family secrets.
During the day, the guests were out sightseeing, so Olivia was free to tend to other matters. She greeted Jaime and Harper then invited them into the sitting room. The wicker furniture was white like the walls, and photos of family were crowded on the mantel and any available table surface.
Olivia served her specialty, Georgia peach tea, then turned to Jaime and Harper, who were on the love seat. “What do we have at this point?”
“I haven’t had a communication since the death,” Harper said.
“I’m still trying to unravel the meaning of my psychic meditation,” Jaime said. “It netted no results.”
“You mentioned that,” Olivia said. “Describe what happened.”
“I was unable to get a connection with Iris, which was odd.”
Harper wrinkled her brow. “Why is that strange?”
“I was close with Iris, so I expected the meditation to be revelatory,” Jaime said. “But trauma can prevent clear reception, which leads me to believe that she was under duress.”
“I’m leaning toward that too,” Olivia said. “The emotions I’ve received over the past few weeks—any that I attribute to this ordeal—were disturbing.”
“And what I heard through telepathy fits with that,” Harper said. “Plus, the communication was interrupted.”
“Which makes sense,” Jaime said, “especially if Iris had a heart attack at that moment.”
“The authorities won’t tell us anything,” Olivia said. “Even if they did investigate the scene, find footprints, or any other clues. The last thing they want is unanswered questions, because the public would demand that they find out what happened.”
“That’s right,” Harper said. “The people of this town would be riled up if they thought danger lurked. It’s the sheriff’s worst nightmare to face demands to resolve crime cases, because no one will tolerate a criminal running loose.”
“Yep, the sheriff wouldn’t want an unresolved case, if he could avoid it,” Olivia said.
“Ian is on our side, but he’s only a deputy,” Jaime said. “He told me the sheriff has no plans to look into our aunt’s death.”
“That leaves it to us,” Olivia said.
“I’d like to try another psychic meditation,” Jaime said. “It’s possible that conditions have shifted, and I’d be more successful.”
“Be my guest,” Olivia said. “You can use my upstairs room. Maybe a change of environment would be good.”
Jaime chatted with her sisters while they finished their tea. Then Harper went to the kitchen to assist Olivia with food preparation for the evening meal, and Jaime went upstairs to meditate. The room was purple, a color that radiated energy to strengthen power from within.
Potted plants were placed around the room, and in one corner on a round table were vases of flowers and baskets of colorful crystals including white magnesite. There was a narrow bed and a stack of cushions. Jaime lit a few candles for atmosphere, then settled on a padded chair by the window.
The translucent curtains kept anyone from seeing inside yet allowed plenty of light through the window. The walls were soundproof to create a peaceful space and there was a sound system with a selection of music. Jaime preferred quiet for this type of meditation.
The room filtered regular sound waves yet allowed psychic vibrations to flow through. Jaime intended to attempt a connection with Iris. She didn’t know if that would work, or what she might find out. The ability to communicate with the dead was intermittent.
Whether Jaime would be successful depended on many factors. It was easier when a ghost was arou
nd, since the presence was so near. The spirit world was different, and what state Iris was in had yet to be determined.
Jaime took advantage of the chance to relax. It had been a busy period, so it took a while to clear her head. Moving into a psychic state was a process; it didn’t happen at the snap of the fingers. But she had experience speaking with the dead.
Jaime had done so from a young age. The psychic methods were familiar to her, so she settled comfortably into an altered mental state. With her eyes closed, she breathed deeply. She tuned in to her inner self, shutting out the world around her.
Psychic meditation in its simplest form was highly beneficial. Jaime had used it as a tool, and she’d found it to be of great assistance. She placed her hands in her lap and focused on the rhythm of her breathing. In a relaxed state, she opened her mind, freeing herself from unnecessary thoughts to allow for new input.
Initially, Jaime felt random physical sensations and emotional twinges. Images floated through her mind but held no clear meaning. She was patient, waiting to see if she’d hear any words. Then she saw something that she wasn’t intended to perceive.
Jaime realized that the difficulty she’d had in using her ability hadn’t resulted from lack of use. Her power hadn’t weakened because she was out of practice. Her psychic connection was being blocked—intentionally.
There was interference from an outside source. It was a wave meant to remain unobservable. It ran just outside normal perception. The new discovery rattled her.
Jaime studied the flow, observing the intent. It was a threat. The originator of the force had placed the waves in such a pattern as to block her ability—yet had done so in a clever way to avoid detection. It meant that she was a target.
A finger of fear wove up her spine, and Jaime opened her eyes. As the new coven leader, she was at risk. It was against supernatural custom to block a witch’s physic ability, because it was only done when the witch was an intended victim.
Jaime had been severely shaken. She’d gone out for a walk afterwards, to reorient and think through what she’d learned. She intended to tell her sisters, but she just kept walking. Without a doubt, she needed to alert them.
Yet Jaime was confused about who would act against her. First, her aunt died, now she was in the enemy’s sights. But who was the enemy? Why was this happening? It was alarming and could have frightful repercussions. If someone was after her, then other coven members might be in danger.
From any perspective Jaime viewed it, the situation was bad.
Her kids would be home from school soon; she needed to get back. Any threat to her made her children vulnerable. She needed protection, so she would have to let her sisters know what she’d discovered. So far, the enemy—whoever he was—may not know that she was aware of the threat.
If Jaime could keep it that way, it would be in her favor. She kept a steady pace and breathed to calm her nerves. She cleared her mind, just in case any unwelcome presence was listening in. Then she focused on her surroundings, the beauty of spring, the warmth of the sunshine.
At home, Jaime did a few chores then prepped for dinner. After a while, the kids showed up—first the boys then Abigail. It did Jaime’s heart good to see them and have assurance that they were fine. Judging by their behavior, it was like any other day to them.
Tapping into her witch abilities, Jaime put a filmy energy layer around her to prevent access by any inquiring minds, the unfriendly kind. It was the best she could do until she could put together more supernatural protection. Her family would rise to the occasion and come to her aid.
Jaime needed to figure out how to relay the new information without creating panic among the ranks.
For the moment, dinner absorbed Jaime’s attention. It was fried chicken and grits with okra, a meal her mother had made for her during her youth. The aromas were comforting, and her mouth watered for the taste of the familiar foods.
Dinner was a pleasant affair. Andrew had chilled out and hadn’t been testing his powers at school. After the brief suspension, he’d gone back to class without incident. Landon was his quiet self, except for the continual banter with his brother.
Abigail seemed better. After the emotional explosion, she’d settled down. Her focus was her friends, what to wear to school, and an upcoming test she hadn’t studied for. Jaime didn’t mention the recent upset about powers, as she preferred to move past it.
The kids helped clear the table and put away food. The boys went to watch their favorite show and Abigail stayed to dry dishes. Jaime thanked her, then went to the library to relax and read. It would give her the opportunity to regroup.
After the kids were asleep, Jaime dressed for bed and snuggled under the covers. She was tired; maybe a good night’s sleep would put things in perspective. Only she didn’t get the chance. A ghost intruded on her privacy.
Some ghosts are powerful and can move about freely. They aren’t attached to an object or location. The one in the café who had swung the light and shattered glass had been of that type. This one loomed over her bed and stared at her.
Jaime didn’t recognize the ghost. He was older and wore farmer’s overalls. The image was translucent and disappeared below the knees. His mood was dark and his stance challenging.
There was no alternative but to be firm. Jaime told the ghost, in no uncertain terms, that he must leave. “You are not welcome here.” She didn’t appreciate the intrusion and didn’t get a good vibe. She had children sleeping in the other rooms and wasn’t about to take chances.
“Go. Now.” Jaime used her strength as a witch to put up a barrier. The ghost’s strength was no match for hers. He hovered, moved toward the ceiling, then disappeared.
“Thank you.” Jaime was going to have to take more stringent measures to protect her home. Tomorrow, she’d take care of that. It seemed that her psychic interlude had attracted spirits. She’d have to be more careful. Exhausted, she closed her eyes.
Jaime was in a familiar house. It was her aunt’s home, only no one was there. It was too dark. She needed to turn on a light, but she couldn’t find one. The switches on the wall didn’t work, just snapped on and off without connecting to the electricity.
It was cold inside, and every sound echoed. Jaime shivered and looked around for wood to put on the iron grate. All the wood had been chewed by animals, ravaged and torn into splinters. There was no heat, only an empty cavern of a stone fireplace.
“Aunt Iris,” Jaime called, but there was no reply. Loneliness washed over her. There was no one to turn to; her aunt had been taken. The closet was filled with clothes, but there was no one to wear them. Dishes filled the cupboards and the refrigerator hummed along. But there was no one to dine with.
Memories slipped away; the past seemed distant. There was only the present, a home abandoned. “But why?” Jaime said. “Please tell me why.” She strained to hear a voice, craved a response—but there was only silence.
A cat sauntered by, ignored and unwanted. Jaime hadn’t known Iris owned a cat. The creature was as shiny as ebony, with glowing green eyes. Jaime reached down to pet her, but the cat hissed. Her teeth lengthened into fangs and her eyes grew large, like green marbles.
Jaime jumped back, and the cat turned into a ghost. The animal body morphed into a man, an ugly, frightening image. Then she remembered who he was—the man with the horrible teeth and the suffocating stench. It was the smell of a rotting body.
“Stay away from me,” Jaime said.
The ghost faded into the background, only there was another with him. The second ghost was shielded in black. A cape cloaked his body and a hood covered his eyes.
“Who are you?” Jaime said. She reached out, but the ghosts vanished, leaving no trace.
Horror gripped Jaime. The ghostly images had a purpose; she’d sensed it. It involved a crime, but she couldn’t pick up any details. Then her anxiety rose to a high pitch. It must have something to do with her aunt. The terrifying ghosts were vengeful with harmful intent to
ward Iris.
What was their grudge? Jaime had to find out. Iris depended on her; Jaime couldn’t fail. She had to track them down, find out what they’d done. But she didn’t know where to look. The house was empty again and so very quiet.
Terror filled Jaime’s heart, and she backed toward the door. The ghosts were powerful, not ones she could order about. They had business with her, wished to taunt her. She was desperate to make sense of it. But she couldn’t find her aunt to ask her.
At dawn, Jaime opened her eyes and remembered the dream in complete detail. She cringed at the symbolism. The messages would have to be interpreted, but the feeling of evil lingered. Jaime unsuccessfully tried to shrug off the darkness.
She had children to care for, a job to do, a coven to run. Yet figuring out what the dream meant would be high on the list, as it might provide clues to the recent disaster. She’d make a point to tell her sisters everything later that day.
Meanwhile, Jaime had to stick to some routine, retain a semblance of stability. When the kids came to breakfast, she made an effort not to act differently. It was a difficult task, but she didn’t do too badly. The kids had school and friends to capture their interest, so wouldn’t necessarily take note of their mother’s mood.
Except for Abigail, who was rather intuitive. “Mama…you okay?”
“Sure, honey, just distracted. I’ve been working a lot, and other stuff.”
“Yeah, the coven and all that?” Abigail said.
“That about covers it.” Jaime handed her a lunch sack. “We’ll talk tonight, all right?”
Abigail seemed agreeable, and Jaime really did intend to talk with her. Unfortunately, it would have to wait a little longer.
As soon as the kids were off to school, Jaime texted Olivia:
I’m coming over. Tell Harper to meet us. It’s important.
Then Jaime handled a couple of quick matters for clients before heading back to the bed and breakfast. Olivia was just wrapping up the breakfast service with guests. “What is it that’s so important? I’m still juggling pancakes here.”