“Kela! That’s highly inappropriate!”
“He did! No wonder you’re flustered.”
“What if it is a date, Kela?”
“Then you get a free meal.”
“I meant, how do I act?”
“Like the femme fatales in your old movies - bat your lashes, swing your hips. Be sassy and flirty and most of all, mysterious. Men love women they can’t figure out.”
“Those are just movies. I’ve never dated an ex before.”
“I date them all the time. In fact, every man I date is an ex.” She winked, then strolled from my room, returning with a pair of very high-heeled boots. “I know you hate revisiting the past, but sometimes the past does wonders for the present.”
“I see.” I bit my lip. “I’ll dress casually, so as not to be presumptuous.”
“You should go naked. If that doesn’t solve the ‘is it a real date’ dilemma, nothing will.”
I wore the skirt Kela suggested, along with a silk blouse, a scarf that also doubled as a shawl, and a Casablanca-style hat.
Dave met me at The Lake House, an old cabin on Lake Crystal that had been converted into a charming restaurant in the late 1950s. The interior was rustic and elegant, with tie-back curtains, fresh flowers, and black and white photos of wildlife that covered the knotty pine walls.
“I love these old photos,” I said, trying to make small talk as we took our seats.
“I personally prefer pictures in color,” Dave said. “How else can I see those beautiful blue eyes of yours?”
I blushed, placing my napkin on my lap. “Such a charmer, Davie Cullins. Just as I remember.”
He leaned in on his elbows, locking eyes with me. “I’m not exactly the same boy. I’ve acquired a few useful new skills.”
The busboy mercifully dropped off a bread basket before Dave could elaborate, and I used the interruption to change the subject.
“Look at the ducks outside. They must be well taken care of here, not even bothering to fly south for the winter. I do prefer the babies, though. Once something hits adolescence, I lose all interest.”
“That wasn’t the case with us.” Dave reached across the table and took my hands, massaging them through my gloves. “If I remember right, that’s about the time when things got fun.”
“Davie!”
“I meant algebra.” He laughed, releasing me from his grip. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Baylee. Geez!”
I studied the menu, wondering what was appropriate to order, and if I should offer to pay my share. I waited until he ordered - fresh trout - and ordered the same. When the waiter left, I offered a new topic of conversation before he could choose one.
“Did you know that moonstone was thought to bring on psychic visions? Shamans used it to induce premonitions.”
Dave quirked an eyebrow and scrunched up his mouth. “That’s… fascinating. Out of the blue, but fascinating.”
“Moonstone is also protection for travel, too. Sailors and astronauts wear it. I’ve seen photos on Wikipedia.”
“Are you a moonstone salesman now? Because I’ll buy you out. What’s one more crazy investment after The Reed Hollow Sun?”
I twisted the ring beneath my glove. “My apologies. It’s something I learned today at work. I’m afraid I’ve become a boring woman since sealing myself off in The Aunt-Tea-Query.”
“You are a lot of things, but boring is not one of them.” He sat back in his chair, looking me over. “I still can’t believe how little you’ve changed. You look exactly like when we were kids, except for the pigtails. I kinda miss those.”
“I don’t. Mom put them in so tight they gave me headaches. She said it would help me focus.”
“You were the best student in class. Maybe she was onto something.”
“Too bad she didn’t put Alex’s hair in a pigtail too, then.”
Dave chuckled. “It sounds like Alex is doing okay, considering the circumstances.”
“Yes.” I sighed deeply. “Luckily his needs are simple. If I were tethered here indefinitely, I’d go mad.”
“Ah! You caught the travel bug. Once you take a nibble, it’s hard to shake.”
“Indeed.” I stared at him, wondering if he possessed that same bug, now that he’d seen a larger world.
“I didn’t call you here just to flirt with you. I wanted you to see this.”
Dave produced a piece of paper, folded into quarters. It was a photo, printed from a computer. Though taken at night, I thought I could make out clouds and bolts of thin lightning, with a forest backdrop. I said as much to him.
“That isn’t lightning,” he said, tapping the image. “And those aren’t clouds. Look closer.”
As I studied the photo, I realized that the “clouds” were below the tree line. Too low to be natural. “How bizarre. Do you have any theories?”
“Glad you asked. I believe these are the mysterious lights your friend Laura talked about. Someone sent this photo to the newspaper last year. There are more.”
He handed over three similar pictures. One showed several glowing orbs in a dark sky. The next was a small lake at twilight, with several lights reflected in the water. The third was of a woman, seemingly hovering just above the water, as in my vision.
“None of these were ever printed,” he continued. “I found them in a tall box with hundreds of ‘reader’s story ideas.’ They were in envelopes with no return address. I’m guessing whoever took them is either not very tech savvy, or didn’t want to leave an email trail.”
“How curious. May I touch them?”
He nodded and I removed a glove, inspecting each in turn. “These are all empty,” I said, sliding them back. “Someone was careful to shield them.”
Dave’s eyes flickered to my newly exposed moonstone ring. It was too late to cover it up, so I just left my hand on the table while trying to discern his thoughts.
“So you are a moonstone broker,” he said, one side of his mouth sliding into a grin. “Do I win a prize for my correct guess?”
“Hardly. But I suppose I should tell someone.”
I told him the story of Ella, the rings, and how the moonstone had called to me.
“And now it seems to be permanently affixed to my hand. It’s almost as if it sought me out.”
He lifted my hand, turning it over. “It’s beautiful. The ring, too.”
“The energy is pleasing, but occasionally it flares up, as if trying to alert me to something.”
“Flares up?”
“Tightens. Pulses. Activates?”
“Creepy.” He tugged at the ring lightly, then progressively harder. Each pull sealed it even tighter. “Well, I’ll be damned. Baylee, I’m worried. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, but it’s my own fault. I know better than to put on strange jewelry without understanding its history first. I’m mostly worried that Ella will see it and …”
“Go batshit crazy?”
“Go batshit crazy,” I agreed, turning my attention to several fat ducks staring through the window at our food. “Strange things are happening in Reed Hollow, and I have a feeling it’s all connected. But how?”
“Let’s see… we have odd lights in Bog Hollow, a ring you can’t take off - allegedly belonging to a crazy ex-witch - and women disappearing without a trace.” He sat up straighter, producing a notebook. “Sounds like the makings of a good story.”
“Or a bad one.”
My eyes wandered to the third photo – the woman on the lake.
“Dave, would you mind enlarging this when you get back to your office? I want to check something.”
“Of course. Can you give me a hint, though?”
“Look at her right hand. Is that ring on her finger glowing, or is it just the reflection?”
“I can’t tell. Do you think its moonstone?”
“Maybe. But I’d like to know for sure.”
“I’ll check it out, but if it is, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
�
��I’m a big girl, Dave. I can take care of myself.”
But as I said these words, my ring sparked. Dave’s eyes widened and I knew he’d seen it, too.
FOURTEEN
After lunch, I boarded the bus back to the Bog Hollow neighborhood, squished between a woman with a dog in her purse and a man swatting at invisible flies. They both got off at the medical district and I breathed a sigh of relief. Neither the dog nor the man had smelled pleasant.
“I still don’t understand why you’re taking this deathtrap when there’s a perfectly good vehicle at home.” Mother appeared beside me, a purse in her lap.
“Mom, don’t you have a nice white tunnel waiting for you?”
“I’d settle for a gray one at the moment.” She dusted off her purse – Prada - and I suspected she wanted me to ask where she got it. When I didn’t, she continued.
“You should be driving my truck, dear. It was the one nice thing I was able to leave you. And it’s paid for.”
“The bus is better for the environment.”
“You think the truck is cursed, don’t you? Bah! One accident doesn’t mean anything. Your father drove that old Chevy for seventeen years.”
“I’m not worried about a curse, Mother. It’s just… too painful a reminder.” I dabbed at my eyes and she nodded. Mother didn’t always understand logic, but she could understand loss.
“I wasn’t trying to pry,” she said, lifting two fingers in a Scout pledge. “I’m just concerned, baby. It’s not like you to leave the house twice in a week.” She paused, puckering her lips. “You don’t have the adventuring itch again, do you? You promised to stay at least a year. At least a year.”
“Can’t I ride the bus without causing a scandal?” I asked, lowering my voice. “And just so you know, I have no adventuring streak at the moment.”
Even as the words came out, I realized it was a lie. Although I might not be leaving Reed Hollow, I was certainly seeking something.
“Don’t worry, Mother. I won’t abandon the antique shop any time soon.”
“That’s a relief.”
Her fears now abated, she changed topic - the weather was too brisk, my hair too blond, and too many carbs padded my abdomen. I listened dutifully, hoping I had better ways to spend my eternity when the time came.
“Thank you, Mother. All noted and appreciated. Now, can we talk about the moonstone ring for a moment? Were you able to remember what you wanted to tell me?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, then shook her head. “Not at the moment. Things get all jumbled together in the afterlife,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Please try again.”
“I don’t know why I bother. I see how I bore you.”
“Pretty please.”
She patted her eternally aqua-netted hair.
“Okay darling, if you insist.” She blinked several times, and I waited patiently for her mental gears to get going. “I seem to remember the old broad…”
“Ella?”
“Yes, Ella. She was obsessed by the moon. Insisted we do all of our rituals by the waxing and waning of the lunar cycle. She even had a telescope set up in her back yard. We called her Looney Moonie when she wasn’t around.”
“But don’t most covens operate in accordance with the moon?”
“Many do, but this was something more. I remember she once said, ‘The moon gives us life, and takes life, too. We must pay homage and give Diana her due.’” Mother shivered. “I’ve never seen anything like that little troll dancing around naked under a yellow moon. Even decades later, it gave me nightmares.”
A baby on the bench two seats ahead of us dropped her bottle. It rolled to a stop near Mother’s feet. She bent to pick it up, frowning when her hand passed right through.
“Drat. I can’t even get it to roll back the other way. I think I’ve used up most of my charge. I’m fading, aren’t I?”
Sure enough, her image began to break apart. Her words crackled like radio static as she issued her final warning.
“Ella may be old, but she’s a powerful witch. If she finds out you have that ring…”
I never found out what Ella would do.
Mother vanished before her final words rolled out.
I folded my hands into my lap. I would just have to make sure Ella never knew.
I arrived in Bog Hollow for my private reconnaissance at dusk, twisting the moonstone ring on my finger as I disembarked the city bus.
Mother’s warning had rattled me. And I still had no idea what I was getting into, or why. Some people believe that psychics have all the answers. In truth, we are as limited as everyone else. Maybe more so. We are shown only pieces of information, and are left to sort it out on our own.
I wandered towards the lake front, passing Chip’s Diner. I could see the waitress who had served us in the window, arguing with a customer but there was no sign of Laura.
As I approached the lake, the smell of stagnant water assaulted me. Lake Ogie was a shallower, dingier cousin of Lake Crystal, which kept the tourists flocking to our town. Ogie, by contrast, was only frequented by the locals of Bog Hollow. It was marshy, often foggy, and rumored to be haunted. Even the ravens kept their distance.
As I reached the water’s swampy edge, a memory emerged, unexpectedly.
“Let’s race!”
Carrie Brighton shot ahead, grinning at me as she passed. Her long braid swung behind her, swishing back and forth, trailing across her gangly legs.
I pumped my arms, gripping the flashlight that held back the night, but she outpaced me by several lengths.
“Carrie, wait! I dropped my book!” I called, though she had already reached the dock. In truth, I had dropped it on purpose rather than admit she was faster than me.
“Slowpoke,” she teased, wrapping an arm around my neck as I joined her under the pier. She had already unfurled a small blanket and motioned for me to sit. “Nice, huh?” she asked, sitting down and leaning back on her elbows. “No one to bother us out here. No one to criticize us.”
“Or tell us what to eat…” I pulled two Twinkies from my pack, handing one over. We each inserted a finger, licking the frosting clean. It had been hard to secure those treats, as Mother guarded them closely. Fortunately, she had caught Dad sneaking them also, and I allowed him to take the blame.
The world was quiet at 3 am. Even the most enthusiastic campfires had burned to cinder. Lying on our backs, we stared at the stars, the book bobbing on my abdomen with each breath like the buoys marking the shallows. We felt so big during the day, and yet at night, so small and isolated from the rest of the universe. There was a world outside of Reed Hollow, and if we couldn’t get there by land, we’d wander there through the constellations.
“In nine years, when I turn eighteen, I’m out of here,” I said, holding her hand.
“As soon as I turn seventeen, I’m gone,” Carrie countered, in a more somber voice. I turned my head. I knew she had problems with her mother, though she rarely spoke of them. Parental problems were one of the many things that bonded us.
“When we grow up we can be roommates,” I suggested. “You can be a famous actress and I’ll be a famous mystery writer!”
“Yes!” She agreed, her eyes sparkling like the stars. We would go out and see the world together. We pinky-promised on it.
Carrie rolled to face me, her face flushed. “You know how everyone calls you a witch?” she asked, curling my hand in hers.
“Uh-huh?” I answered, reluctantly.
“We should tell them it’s true. We’ll say that we have a coven and cast spells and even curses! That would shut them up.”
I wasn’t convinced, but I squeezed her hand anyway. Carrie didn’t have my “gift,” so she didn’t understand that it was actually a curse in itself.
The memory began to fade as abruptly as it had come. I reached out through the twilight, trying to touch my friend’s face before it vanished completely.
How had I forgotten her so easily, and for
so long?
But I knew the answer.
I didn’t deal well with the past. Onward and upward, never looking back. That had always seemed the surest way to keep from getting hurt.
I quickened my steps, carrying the memory with me as I hustled along the waterfront, hugging my supply-filled pack as I went. I searched the water and the sky as I walked, hoping, yet not hoping, the strange lights would appear.
There was still a handful of boats out, mostly old canoes, though a few rickety motorboats sputtered along the water. Backing the lake was a vast wooded area that squatters frequented in the summer months, and the foreground was a marshy beach dotted with rusted shacks.
I passed a small bait shop where three old men sat on coolers, dangling their lines in the water. A sign in a welding shop announced that it was open, though there wasn’t a car in the lot.
The area had an uncivilized feel, as if it hadn’t caught up to Reed Hollow proper, but there was nothing to indicate any supernatural activity.
I pulled out my digital camera – Ryan’s old camera - and began snapping pictures from all angles, hoping to rule out anomalies from light and shadow. As I worked my way along the shore, I checked for traditional signs of UFO activity: charred or flattened vegetation, strange symbols carved into the ground, and mutilated animal remains. I found none of these things, though according to Laura it had been some months since the last abduction.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have a Geiger counter to test for radiation levels, although I did have a portable EMF reader that Ryan and I had used to hunt ghosts.
I scanned the area with the device, checking for spikes in the electromagnetic field. There were no power lines or turbulent weather to interfere with the readings, and so I was hopeful for results.
Indeed, it was not long before flashing red lights overrode the monotone green signal – a clear indication of strong electrical fluctuations. These spikes seemed to be random, with no pattern I could detect. I recorded their magnitude and location as the darkness deepened.
Were there logical explanations for the surges?
I continued walking, holding out the EMF reader as high as I could, noting that more activity occurred the further I reached out across the water.
Touch of Light: A Baylee Scott Paranormal Mystery (The Reed Hollow Chronicles Book 1) Page 10