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

by April Aasheim

  “Indeed.”

  The paneling continued inside the room, and dark shag carpet covered the floor. I pulled the blanket being used as a curtain away from the only window. Even so, the room was mostly in shadow. Scurrying noises followed, and I stood on tiptoes, hoping it was neither spiders nor rats.

  Kela clapped her hands together, then pointed to the far end of the room where the light didn’t fully reach. A sleek wooden bar and a line of stools took shape.

  We made our way over, dodging crates and cylinder blocks that most likely had been used as makeshift chairs.

  Near the bar we found a beer sign, two empty barrels, and a rusty tap. The scent of cigar smoke still clung to this end of the room, absorbed into the walls and carpet. A bottle of Uncle Ed’s Special Healing Tonic lay empty on the counter.

  I picked up the bottle, sniffed it, then quickly set it down.

  “Let’s see if there’s some dusty champagne around here.”

  Kela’s eyes sparkled as she opened the cupboards and drawers behind the counter. She was rewarded with a corked bottle of whiskey.

  “It’s not champagne,” she said, setting out two shot glasses. “But I think it’ll do.”

  I rarely drank hard alcohol, but I took the glass and swallowed it down. “Another round, barkeep.”

  “Alright!” Kela said, refilling my glass. “You’re getting more adventurous in your old age.”

  I climbed onto the barstool, wondering if Carrie ever knew about this room. I realized there was a lot about her life I never knew anything about.

  “I feel like there should be jazz music playing,” I said, nursing my second shot. “And girls in feathered headbands.”

  Kela plopped down on the stool beside me, swirling the whiskey around in her glass. She drank it down, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Ah! Hair of the dog!” she said.

  She launched into stories about the men she dated, bands she liked, and the tattoo she thought about getting. Soon, Carrie, the lights, the moon ring, and even the baby booty were temporarily forgotten.

  As the alcohol settled into me, I began recounting humorous tales from my own childhood.

  “And then, Mom came down wearing nothing but a unitard,” I laughed, wiping my eyes. “That horrific vision stayed with me for weeks! Poor Alex has never been able to get it out of his head.”

  “I was wrong about you,” Kela said, studying the half-empty bottle. “I always thought you were too serious, but you’re actually a lot of fun.”

  I looked at Kela with new eyes. I’d always loved her, but I ‘d moved away when she was a teenager, and had never taken the time to get to know her as an adult.

  Maybe because I was jealous of her - a feeling I found hard to admit to. Jealous of the way she walked the earth as if she belonged, with ease, saying what she thought, doing as she wanted - while I viewed every day as a checklist to be completed.

  “Thank you for coming with me,” I said, raising my empty glass to clink against hers.

  She straightened on her bar stool, the gleam dimming in her eyes. “I never thanked you and Alex for letting me stay after Auntie died. I know I’m usually late for my shift--”

  “Always late,” I corrected, smiling.

  “Always late. But I’m not sure what I’d do without you guys.”

  “We love you, Kela. I know the cafe isn’t your thing, but you show up every day - late - but you still show up, and I haven’t given you enough credit. You’ve become like a sister to me and Alex. We’re the lucky ones.”

  “Aww!” She wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close. “Old people are so sweet!”

  “Maybe I should call Dave to pick us up,” I said, her head still on my shoulder. “I’m not sure I can walk a straight line, let alone find our way out of here. Why are we the only town in America that still doesn’t have Uber?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll guide you home. Drinking just sharpens my senses.” She grinned, standing up and pulling me up by the crook of my elbow. “Maybe we can stop by the bank and you can co-sign a car loan for me.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Never mind. I thought I’d see how drunk you are. Not drunk enough, apparently.”

  “Look!” I said, showing her my hand. The ring glowed beneath my glove. “I’m not imagining this, right?”

  Kela blinked, then dashed towards the window. “Nope, it’s not the liquor making that thing glow. We have company!”

  We watched as a dented car rolled into the driveway. There were several people inside, but we couldn’t make out faces.

  We quickly put the bottle and shot glasses back in the cabinet. The front door of the house opened and we heard women’s voices. I grabbed Kela’s wrist and pulled her down behind the bar.

  “How long do we have to wait?” One of the women said.

  “She’ll be here in an hour. Did you bring the candles?”

  “No one told me I was in charge of candles.”

  “Brandy, get it together or you might be the next one called.”

  “Shut the hell up, Liza. Your scare tactics don’t work on me.”

  “Both of you be quiet,” a familiar voice said.

  I scanned my memory, eventually placing it as Missy, the waitress from Chip’s Diner!

  “We got one, maybe two more jobs tops, then it’s over,” Missy continued. “After that, we won’t have to worry about money or anything else again for a long, long time. But we need to stay focused. Now who wants a drink?”

  “Me,” the other two voices chimed in.

  “Who left the door open?” Missy demanded, stepping into the speakeasy. Kela and I ducked down lower.

  “Ghosts?” Brandy suggested.

  “Let’s hope the old bat’s not haunting this place.” Liza said, as all three made their way towards the bar, sitting down on stools.

  Kela and I exchanged glances, knowing we’d be caught. It was only a matter of time.

  “Someone’s here,” Brandy exclaimed.

  I gulped, readying myself for a fight, and looking around for a weapon.

  But the women left the bar, converging on the window. It wasn’t us they were referring to, but another vehicle entering the lot. A moment later, the women left the room to greet the newcomer by the front door.

  “We should make a run for it,” Kela whispered.

  I shook my head. “There’s no way we’d get out in time, and there’s now at least four of them.”

  “Well, what are we going to do?”

  I looked around. Aside from the bar, there was nowhere else to hide, not a bathroom or even a closet to barricade ourselves in. Unlike the window where we had come in, the one in the speakeasy was too small to fit through, even if we could get it open without making noise.

  “If this room was used during Prohibition, there might be another secret room where they stashed the hooch,” I said.

  “The hooch?” Kela laughed and I shot her a look.

  “Quick. Check for levers, paintings, knots in the paneling. We might find a…whoops!”

  As I pushed on a section of the wall directly behind the bar, it gave way. I stumbled into a dark, musty room. Kela followed, and the door closed behind her.

  “Awesome,” she nodded approvingly.

  I used my phone as a flashlight to see where we had landed. Sturdy shelves lined the walls, stacked with bottles made out of clay and glass.

  “The hooch,” I grinned, waving a hand.

  “That’s not all.”

  Kela pointed to a corner where the cement floor was covered in rat droppings.

  “And look here,” she added, inching towards the center of the hideaway. A five-sided star inscribed within a circle was drawn in chalk, surrounded by purple candle stubs.

  “Witchcraft,” I said. “This must be where they hold their meetings.”

  I inspected the chalk pentagram. It seemed fresh. Nearby, a book titled The Treaty of Aradia lay on the ground.

  The book’s vibrat
ions were intense but I couldn’t resist picking it up. I opened it to a dog-eared page, doing my best to decipher the words using only my cellphone light.

  Twelve swirling stars that form a ring; Around the moon, they start to sing

  Of a witch who rode the sky; On a beam cast from the night

  She took her flock back to their pen; One by one she called them in

  On those nights the sun was piqued; And on those nights in slumber deep.

  And on those nights on the earthly plane; When day and night were just the same

  When twelve plus one take to the sky; Aradia will once more ride.

  There was a picture beneath the poem depicting a scantily clad woman dangling from a crescent moon on a wire. Her hair was formed of smoke swirls, and her eyes were two diamond stars. Below the woman, twelve large stones had been erected in a circle, with a light shooting from the center.

  My ring pulsed, like the beating of a heart, then went cold.

  Had I accidentally read a spell? I dropped the book, kicking it under the nearest shelf.

  We could hear the women return to the speakeasy. They were at the bar, their voices muffled by the wall.

  I put my finger to my lips and crept into a far corner, motioning for Kela to join me. We crouched behind a barrel, just as the door swung open.

  Missy stepped inside while three women were silhouetted in the doorway. She gathered up the candles and counted them. “The ceremony will commence,” she said. “We have enough.”

  “We don’t have a traveler,” said Brandy.

  “We will,” said a new voice.

  I recognized it immediately. “Laura?” I whispered, then clamped my hand over my mouth.

  “Quiet!” Missy demanded, looking around. “I heard a voice.”

  “It’s the rats,” Brandy said. “This place is a crap hole.”

  “But it was cheap. Let’s get out of here. I’ll get some traps before the party.”

  Missy handed the candles to Brandy, then cast her cellphone light around, nearly uncovering us in her sweep. At last, the beam fell on the area where the book had been kicked.

  She scooped it up, took one final look around, and left the room. The panel clicked shut behind her.

  My eyes met Kela’s. We kept silent, waiting until we heard the sound of two engines come to life and then disappear.

  We listened at the door for a moment, and hearing nothing, reemerged into the speakeasy.

  “That was too close,” I said, hurrying towards the back door. “We probably shouldn’t tell Alex about this.”

  “Yes,” Kela agreed. “He’d never forgive us for leaving the rats behind.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  (ALEX)

  Alex wrapped Carrie’s Book of Shadows in a silk handkerchief and took it upstairs to the attic.

  “Damn it, Mom. Why’d you have to cram so much unsaleable crap up here,” he muttered to himself.

  If Baylee weren’t so sentimental, he would have gotten rid of the spell book entirely.

  The cafe had been empty for hours, so he seized the opportunity to poke around in the storage room before Baylee and Kela returned. Unlike his sister, he could be stirred by nostalgia. It had taken him nearly a year after losing his parents to brave digging through their mementos.

  He set the silk-wrapped tome on top of a bin labeled “Freaky Stuff,” as it seemed appropriate. He was curious about what his mother could have possibly found freaky. She once spent an entire winter wearing a fox sable, with the fox head still attached and staring at whoever passed her by.

  He shivered, dismissing the memory.

  Three boxes marked “Important Stuff” beckoned to him from near the window. He was even more curious as to what his mother found important. He opened the lid of the top box, exposing photo albums and scrapbooks filled with art from their school years. Even Kela had an album.

  The next box held his mother’s wedding dress, still pearlescent white after forty years, sealed in a plastic bag. It was hard to believe his mother was ever young or thin enough to wear it. He held it up as proof, then put it aside with a promise that he would take it to a tailor to be cleaned. Baylee was still young. She might want it …someday.

  He stood and stretched, then looked around. With some work, the attic might make a good sanctuary for Baylee. A place where she could write again, without the distractions of the business. More and more, he’d been sensing her restlessness as she walked around chewing on pens.

  He could give this to her. The attic just needed fresh air, a good scrubbing, some paint, and a desk. He could manage that.

  Then maybe she’d stay.

  While he was at it, he could restore the basement for Kela, giving her a place to practice her music. And perhaps he could even fix the garage up for himself. They could all use their own space, to do what they wanted in peace. It was claustrophobic at times with them all living together on the upper floor.

  Of course, taking over the garage meant doing something with his parent’s truck; and of everything they’d left behind, it was the one thing he still couldn’t face.

  Mr. Bites appeared in the doorway, yawned, then sauntered over to a container marked “Kiddos.”

  Alex smiled and opened the box. At the very top was a photo of him and Baylee - a Mother’s Day gift the two had made together, crafting the frame from macaroni, glitter and glue. He lifted the photo, chuckling at Baylee’s pigtails, freckled face and missing front teeth. He wore a backwards cap and pants that hung loose around his hips. The picture pulled at him. He stared at it, his chest constricting.

  They had looked to the future then. He’d be a famous rapper and Baylee would be a writer. The Bonds Kids would make their mark on the world.

  He sighed and took the picture downstairs to Baylee’s room, setting it on her nightstand.

  At least she had pursued her writing career, even if it was on hiatus at the moment. What had he done? Two terrible open mic nights at The Reed Hollow Rave had ended his desire for fame.

  Still, he had other dreams and had followed exactly zero of them.

  Returning to the attic, he found Mr. B pawing at another box in a dim corner.

  “Meow,” the cat said, his tail held high in the air.

  Alex narrowed his eyes. “This one?” he asked, and the cat blinked slowly in response. Alex opened the bin carefully, having no idea what was inside. The box wasn’t even labeled.

  “Mr. B! How did you know?”

  A thick book, like the one he had brought to the attic to hide, sat perched on a pile of folded clothes.

  “Book of Shadows,” Alex read the title page aloud. “Property of Vivian Bonds.”

  He flipped through the pages. The book was full of spells and incantations, all written in his mother’s flamboyant hand.

  Baylee’s gonna flip when she sees this.

  Inside the back flap were photographs – group photos taken of Vivi’s coven. He studied one, noting how different his mother’s face was from the mother he knew.

  “I wish I could have known you then, Mom,” he said, then reminded himself that she could be listening to him right now.

  He took the album and his cat down to the cafe, closing the attic door behind him.

  Alex made himself coffee and sat down at the counter, grabbing a stale bagel to chew on while he pored over the book. It was still an hour before High Tea and he stretched his legs out.

  He opened this new book to the Table of Contents: Love spells, healing and protection, misdirection, forgiveness. He flipped through it, noting the art work. Aside from a spell of banishment, this book looked nothing like Carrie’s.

  The front door chimed and Yvette strolled in, her hands balled up in fists as tight as her bun. “Your time is up” she said, brandishing a finger.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and don’t you think this is getting a little ridiculous?”

  Yvette pulled out a folded paper - one of the fliers Kela had put up. “This is my cat. If
you don’t turn him over by tonight, I’m calling the police.”

  “Like they care.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Yvette strode around the cafe. “Mr. Fuzzypaws?” she called out, over and over.

  Alex shook his head. “I told you I don’t have him.”

  Yvette’s thin eyebrows knit together. A feline yowl from the stairwell broke the stalemate. She raced for the sound, Alex close behind her.

  There, curled up on the landing, sat Bart. Yvette looked him over closely. Though he resembled his father, he was clearly a different cat.

  “Told you,” Alex said.

  “You have until tonight,” she replied, slamming the door on her way out.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  (BAYLEE)

  “What a gorgeous night!”

  Kela spread her arms wide as she spun around on the sidewalk in front of the ice cream shop. The moon, now waning, was still mostly full, resting on a blanket of heavy-bottomed clouds.

  “Yes, it is lovely,” I agreed, twisting the ring on my finger. “But I still can’t help but feel something bad is about to happen, especially after hearing Laura talk about travelers and a party.”

  “Maybe they really are just having a party,” Kela suggested. “Even witches probably need to cut loose sometimes.” She stopped at a bench to tie her shoes. “What do you know about Laura anyway?”

  “I admit I didn’t vet her as much as I should have, other than to find out she’s listed as a social worker on a job hunting website. I suppose I took her at face value. I should know better than to take things at face value. But I still don’t understand why she called me to investigate the disappearances, if she’s involved somehow.”

  “Just because she’s into witchcraft doesn’t mean she’s behind it,” Kela said. “But if she is, maybe she needed you to authenticate her story of UFOs? To get people off the trail.”

  We continued our walk down Main. The streetlights were on but the town was unusually quiet. Not another car or pedestrian in sight.

  “It could be a game,” Kela continued. “Maybe Laura called you to screw with your mind? She knows you lost your husband and parents. She saw you as vulnerable and seized her chance. She’s probably a sociopath. I hope Alex is right and it’s over for a while, now that the full moon has come and gone.”