Touch of Light: A Baylee Scott Paranormal Mystery (The Reed Hollow Chronicles Book 1)

by April Aasheim

  “Forty years?”

  Ella smiled with only her mouth, and motioned towards the tray of cookies between us. “Forty is a magical number. Surely your mother taught you that, at least.”

  I glanced nervously around, fearful Mother would make an appearance. I hadn’t told anyone about my intention to visit Ella.

  “My mom didn’t talk much about this part of her life, but I’ve done some studying on my own.” I tried to call up what I knew about numerology. “Forty is a biblical number. Forty days in the desert, forty days and nights of rain. The number appears many times.”

  “You are correct.”

  Ella removed her glasses and leaned forward, her flickering pupils boring into mine.

  “Forty is the universal number of tests, trials, and probation. It is the number of both birth and destruction. All things old must be swept away, to make way for the new. Man has one identity his first forty years on earth, and another during his next forty.” She wiped her hands across her lap and straightened her back.

  “So, every forty years you train up a new coven, to reset things?” I asked.

  She nodded, though her brows furrowed suspiciously.

  “I think someone intentionally delivered this spell book to me yesterday,” I explained. “It was part of an estate.” I removed the Book of Shadows from my bag and set it on the coffee table. “I know that Carrie Brighton was one of your students.”

  Ella pulled the book closer and opened it.

  “This was Carrie’s. She showed great promise.”

  The witch sighed deeply as she flipped through pages, pausing to read certain entries.

  “It belonged to her mother before that, who was a very bitter woman. I was reluctant to train Carrie after dealing with her mother, but she was far more amiable, if a little reserved. She was one of my last students, I’m afraid.”

  There was nothing in Ella’s demeanor or energy field to suggest that she was trying to mislead me, and I allowed myself a moment to process this new information.

  Carrie and her mother had both been witches! And I had never known.

  “Can you tell me about this spell?” I flipped to “The Call to Aradia’s Sisters.” “It’s connected to the moonstone rings, isn’t it?”

  Ella glared, then slammed the book shut. “This couldn’t have been Carrie’s. My students were forbidden to learn this spell. Why are you really here?”

  I decided I had no other option but honesty. I spilled it out as quickly as I could.

  “There are strange lights over Lake Ogie that seem to accompany the disappearance of women. I think the rings are luring them in somehow. Carrie was taken. Moonstone is the stone of Diana, Mother of Aradia.”

  “You should never have put that ring on!” Ella hissed, springing from her chair. “Foolish girl!”

  “The lights returned a few nights ago, and I could have sworn I saw Carrie’s spirit on the water. I need to know what happened to her. Please!”

  Ella’s clenched jaw loosened and her shoulders relaxed. “When the coven fell apart, we could no longer keep Aradia sealed away.”

  She walked to the door, and opened it. “I think it’s time for you to go. I need to prepare my familiar for the equinox ritual. Good night.”

  I pedaled back from Ella’s on Alex’s ten-speed, a rickety contraption that seemingly violated the laws of physics. It was late and there were no streetlights to guide me along. I gripped the handles tightly, jerking my head around at every hoot or rustling noise. At last I reached the pavement, my heart racing as I remembered Ella’s chilling words, “Foolish girl.”

  Shortly after I hit the main road, it began to drizzle. I pedaled faster, trying to outpace both my racing mind and the rain. It was the look in Ella’s eyes that haunted me more than anything. I would never forget those eyes!

  The porch lights at The Aunt-Tea-Query were on, but the windows were dark. I was drenched and Greta’s front tire was flat. I opened the front door quietly, hoping to sneak in without being spotted. All I wanted was a warm bath and hot tea. But Alex and Kela were sitting at the counter, playing cards.

  “Gin,” Kela said, laying out her hand. “Hey Bay,” she added, never looking up.

  “Hey,” I said sheepishly, joining them.

  “I was just about to call the police,” Alex said, scooping up the cards and shuffling the deck.

  “No he wasn’t,” Kela scoffed. “He hates the fuzz.” She looked me over, her amusement turning to worry. “You’re soaked! I’ll make some valerian tea with honey. Go put on some dry clothes.”

  I marched upstairs and put on my flanneliest pajamas. When I returned, there was a steaming mug waiting for me on the counter beside a bottle of local honey.

  “Thank you, Kela,” I said, letting the cup warm my hands.

  “Well, if you get sick, I’ll have to run the antique store, too. I’m only one woman, Baylee.”

  She winked and I laughed at her Alex imitation. Alex didn’t find it as funny.

  “Lighten up,” Kela said, nudging him in the ribs. “You make fun of me all the time.”

  My brother ignored her, swiveling his stool to face me. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried.”

  “I’m almost thirty,” I reminded him.

  “And I’m thirty-five. You ask me where I go if I use the bathroom.”

  “I’m not a felon,” I retorted.

  He spun his stool back towards the counter, shuffling and reshuffling the deck of cards.

  “Alex, I’m sorry. That was wrong.”

  I pulled the spell book from my backpack. So far, only Mother and Ella knew of its existence.

  “I found this in an estate box. It belonged to Carrie Brighton and I went to do some research on it,” I said, trying to stick to the truth while not admitting that I’d gone to see Ella. “I didn’t find out much, so I’m going to try to get a read on it here. It’s so heavy, I haven’t been able to touch it bare-handed. But I think I’m ready to try.”

  Kela nodded, knowing the heaviness I mentioned had nothing to do with the book’s weight. She wiped her hands across her gypsy skirt. “Let me charge you.”

  In addition to tarot and tea leaf reading, Kela had the ability to heal and to offer some spiritual protection. She pointed at me and drew a circle in the air.

  “I wrap you in a warm bubble of pure light. No harmful energy can get in while you are under my shelter.”

  I immediately felt warm and safe.

  I smiled gratefully as I removed my gloves and opened the book. I skimmed through it, noting that some pages felt older than others, like they’d been added at different points in time. They were written by at least four different hands.

  “There’s a lot of fear in this,” I said, my hands trembling with every turn of the page.

  I saw frantic scrawlings, black candles, and strange hieroglyphs in my mind’s eye. Whoever casted from this book was into some dark magick. Finally, I had to push it away or risk throwing up, even with Kela’s protection spell on me.

  “Sorry, Bay,” Kela said, shrugging. “I can try again.”

  “No. I guess I was just hoping that somehow I’d been mistaken about Carrie’s involvement. But I felt her present all over it. What’s more, none of the emotions she poured into this book were positive.”

  I imagined my friend working magick, but for what?

  Alex pointed to a drawing of a six-armed demon.

  “I’d lock this up or something, until you get it cleansed,” he said. “I’m not even a sensitive and I can feel the yuck all over it. I really just wish you’d let this whole Carrie thing go. You never even heard from her after she moved away, so you can’t blame yourself for all of this.”

  “I have a letter!” I remembered.

  I raced to my desk and found it. I returned, and showed it to the others, explaining how Dave had found it in the attic.

  “Stay with me while I read it?” I asked. They both nodded.

  Dear Baylee

  I’
m so sorry I never said goodbye. My mom sent me to live in Oaksdale with my aunt. I’m not sure when I’ll get to come home. Maybe next year. Maybe never.

  I need to tell you something. I should have told you before, but I didn’t want you to look at me the way everyone else does. I’m having a baby. Mom says my reputation in Reed Hollow is ruined and the only way to fix this is to leave.

  I’m so scared, and I have no one to talk to. They want to take my baby! I need you!

  Missing you,

  Carrie

  “A baby?” I reread the letter, twice, then reopened the spell book to the last page. There, taped to the cover, was the pouch containing the baby bootie. “I wasn’t there for her.”

  I picked up the bootie and squeezed it in my hand. There were no accompanying images, only the faintest scent of baby powder… and the echo of a young woman crying.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “My new boots! Kela, you might have told me to wear sneakers!”

  I followed my cousin through a marshy area, my boots sinking into the wet ground with every step. I was ankle-deep in mud and moving at snail speed. We were on our way to Carrie Brighton’s old home, taking a short cut Kela swore would be quicker.

  Soon, the two-story country house came into view. The once-gracious estate, built in the early 1800s, had suffered under years of neglect. It had been in Carrie’s family for several generations, though Carrie’s mother never had the means to keep it up properly.

  In fairness, it hadn’t changed much since I’d seen it last, except the lawn had grown taller and browner and the roof had lost a few more shingles.

  “I still have no idea how Carrie’s family afforded this place. As far as I can tell, no one in the family had an actual job.” I picked my way through thorny shrubs towards the back porch.

  “Moonshine,” Kela said, scraping her shoes on a step to loosen the mud.

  “Pardon?”

  “Baylee, how can you be so smart and so naïve at the same time?” Kela pressed her ear to the back door, then gave me a thumbs-up.

  “I’m not naïve,” I argued. “I’m just…”

  “Oh honey, you’re so naïve. It’s cute, really.” She raised an eyebrow. “Carrie’s great grandfather sold “tonics” during Victorian times, guaranteed to cure what ails you. During Prohibition, he took his tonics underground and sold them to affluent locals. His son took over after that. Understand?”

  “Not entirely.”

  “The tonics were probably 90 proof. This house was a speakeasy for the Reed Hollow elite.”

  “Really?” I looked at the house, as if seeing it for the first time. “How do you know this?”

  “I’ve got connections,” she said, leaving it at that.

  I had known Carrie’s grandfather. He was a kindly old gentleman who spouted biblical proverbs at the slightest provocation. It was hard to wrap my mind around the fact he was serving drinks illegally from his house, and harder still to believe that Reed Hollow had its very own secret speakeasy.

  We peeked through a back window into the cozy kitchen, now littered with bottles and newspapers. I moved towards the next window, peering into the family room. There were three worn-out sofas and a couple of drooping trash sacks, but no sign of permanent residents.

  “Who owns it now?” I asked.

  “This place was put up for sale shortly after Carrie’s mom died, but I couldn’t find any record of who bought it.”

  “It’s too bad that Carrie couldn’t keep the house.”

  “I imagine the taxes would have killed her.”

  We circled the property, peeking through windows as we went. From all indications, it was nothing more than a squatter’s house now.

  “Hey Baylee, look!” Kela called me over to a far window. It was cracked open and she easily pushed up the pane and disappeared through the opening.

  I followed, bumping into Kela when I climbed down.

  “It smells like mold in here,” I said, fanning the air as I surveyed the dining room. Sure enough, dark splotches were forming in the upper corners.

  We moved around, blindly, unsure of what we were looking for, and finding only trash.

  After exploring the first floor, we made our way up the squeaky staircase. As we progressed, I was overcome by a montage of memories. I saw Carrie’s face in every room, at different ages and stages of her childhood, from a spunky seven-year-old with Band-Aids on her knees to a rebellious teenager in concert t-shirts and multiple ear piercings.

  “You okay, hon?” Kela asked, massaging my shoulder as we moved through the upstairs hallway. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

  I laughed nervously. “I’m fine, but the energy in here is much denser and foreboding than I remembered. Maybe it’s because no one has lived here in a while.”

  “Or maybe its haunted.”

  After finding nothing but empty rooms, I was surprised to find Carrie’s mom’s bedroom still somewhat intact. There was a bed, books, and pictures on the wall.

  “How curious.”

  I moved around the room, touching the bed frame. “This is where her mom died,” I said, withdrawing my hand.

  “At least Mrs. Brighton passed in style,” Kela said. “These sheets are like 800-thread count Egyptian cotton.”

  She was right. On closer inspection, I also noted that the books were mostly collector’s editions and the picture frames were crafted of real silver. Apparently, there was some money in the Brighton household. So why hadn’t this room been pilfered by the squatters?

  Stepping back into the hallway, we came to Carrie’s bedroom. I had intentionally saved this room for last, and braced myself for the influx of memories as I opened the door. The rush of images staggered me and I pressed my hands against the doorframe to keep upright.

  Kela ducked under my arm and stepped inside, smiling. “It feels rather sweet in here, actually,” she said.

  I took a deep breath and ventured in.

  There were still a few of Carrie’s things – posters and stuffed animals, each offering up their memories. I had spent countless hours here, hidden with Carrie under a blanket fort, flashlights in our hands. Once, when we were about ten, Carrie held the flashlight to her face. “

  My mother claims this house is haunted,” she said, her voice low and ominous. “She says the ghosts watch to make sure I’m being good.”

  We hooted and hollered over that, daring the ghosts to come for us.

  “Nanny, nanny boo boo!” Carrie challenged the spirits.

  Did they eventually come for her?

  I reached the center of the bedroom. “I do feel a distinct, separate energy in here,” I said. “I’m not sure what it is, but it’s crushing. Can you feel it?”

  It was hard to tell what was external and what was embedded in my own memories - one of the reasons I had asked Kela to come. She was sensitive to energy, but not to the same degree I was.

  She scrunched her eyes closed and pointed a finger towards the closet. “What do you think is in there?” she asked.

  Sure enough, as I moved in that direction, I felt as if someone were pushing down on my shoulders, making it harder to breathe.

  “Want me to open it?” Kela asked.

  “No. Whatever is inside, is waiting for me.”

  I touched the knob, expecting a jolt. Feeling nothing, I opened the door.

  Inside, it was strangely cold. Three stray socks littered the floor and a few wire hangers hung on the bare dowel.

  I stepped further into the walk-in closet. Memories rippled through me: Carrie sitting in the corner, facing the wall; Carrie hiding from her mother after a bad report card; Carrie feeling the sting of a wire hanger on her bare thigh when her mom was in a rage.

  These weren’t my memories, they were hers.

  The closet was her sanctuary, and also her prison.

  I knew she had problems with her mother, but I never knew it was this bad. I began to feel suffocated, and I had to swallow large gulps of air to keep from fleei
ng.

  “What do you see?” Kela asked.

  “That I should have been a better friend. Let’s get out of here. I don’t want to know anymore.”

  “Sure thing, hon.”

  But before I left, I saw that one of the stray socks was pink. The same shade as the bootie in Carrie’s spell book.

  My mouth dropped open. “Kela! I found the other baby shoe!”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The booty was a perfect match to the one I found in the Book of Shadows.

  I stopped myself from grabbing it until I could give it a quick appraisal. “The energy on this is warmer than the one in the spell book,” I explained.

  Warmth was generally a sign it had been lovingly crafted, or recently touched. Warm objects were ones that people poured their hopes and dreams into.

  Using my sleeve as a barrier, I picked up the booty and put it in my purse. I would read it more thoroughly in the safety of my office, where I could more properly shield myself.

  “I guess we should go. I’m not sure what I was expecting to find here,” I admitted.

  “Closure?”

  “Indeed.”

  We bounded down the stairs, ready to get out of the heavy energy of the house. As we tramped through the dining room, Kela stopped me.

  “Hey, there’s another door!”

  She pointed to a rectangular outline in a wood-paneled wall, nearly invisible to the naked eye.

  “I’ve been to this house hundreds of times,” I said, walking over to the paneling, “and I’ve never noticed that before.”

  “Maybe because you weren’t meant to.”

  Kela pounded with the side of her fist around the outline, tapping here and there. After a moment, we heard a clicking sound and the door swung open.

  “Voila!” she said, extending an arm like a game show model showcasing her prize.

  “Mercy!” I said, stepping into the dim room. It was large, nearly double the size of the living room. How had I missed this?

  “You mean awesome, right?”