Have faith, I heard a voice in my head.
Immediately I got a strong mental picture of a regal smile, upswept black hair, and smooth tawny skin. Opal, my spirit guide, oozed with more attitude on the other side than most living people. I’d recently learned sad details of her earth-life hundreds of years ago and discovered a vulnerable human side to my spirit best friend. She’d loved, lost, and died so tragically she swore she’d never endure another earth-life. I didn’t know why she’d chosen to be my guide, and when I asked she’d only say that it was one of the mysteries I’d find out someday.
“So will Nona get well?” I asked with thoughts and not words. Even though I was alone in my bedroom and couldn’t be overheard, it felt strange to talk aloud to someone I could only see in my head.
Your grandmother is vigorous and has resources that would amaze you.
“Is that your usual confusing way of telling me not to worry?”
In all of the existence of humans, worry has yet to achieve any concrete solutions except as to act as a catalyst of unpleasant physical maladies. You would do well to release yourself from restricting emotional gravity so as to discover what is truly of consequence.
I sighed. “I have no idea what you just said.”
Her sigh traveled across worlds.
Humans are so frustrating. Didn’t I speak clearly enough for your limited comprehension?
“Spirit guides are way more frustrating. Can’t you just tell me either yes, Nona will improve, or no, she won’t?”
Yes … I could tell you.
“So is she going to get well?”
Fore-knowledge is a multifaceted tool that can hinder free will and restrict the natural sequence of your journey.
“What about my grandmother?” I mind-shouted. “Will we find the remedy in time? Is it a good idea to hold a séance?”
Not necessarily good, but certainly intriguing. You never know what will happen or who will show up.
“Will you be there?”
Perhaps as a silent observer, but not in an active role.
“Can’t you just tell me what’s going to happen? If I knew Nona was going to get better then I’d stop worrying.”
Worry, much like fear, can be conducive to taking action, and without such energy you could float off-course into an uncharted sea.
“Didn’t you just tell me that worrying was bad?”
I cannot be held to task for your limited interpretations.
“Just tell me something … anything! … so I know there’s still hope.”
Hope is a constant bright star that glows within you and reaches out to embrace and nurture others.
“I only care about Nona. How can I help her?”
My dear Sabine, your very presence is of supreme benefit to your grandmother. You’re on a path fraught with impending peril and will find surprising alliances on an unexpected journey.
Impending peril? An unexpected journey? Surprising alliances?
Now I was seriously getting a headache. Did my “surprising alliance” have anything to do with the partnership I’d formed with Dominic? Would we find the missing remedy by working together? Well, I was up for the challenge. I’d risk anything to save my grandmother. Bring on the peril!
I tried to get more information out of Opal, only she refused.
Your channel is clouded with conflictions of love and anger. It’s clear this is not the time for a lesson in life, love, and the meaning of everything. So I bid you adieu and shall return to this discussion when you are less restricted by emotional gravity.
Then she was gone.
I still had no idea what she just said, and thinking about it was too confusing. Exhaustion imploded like a building crashing around me. I’d had such a full few days, leaving my parents’ home and moving back in here, seeing wonderful friends yet also discovering Nona was only a handful of notes away from losing herself—which meant I would lose her, too.
After taking two aspirin, I slipped into my nightgown and then opened the cabinet where I kept my night-light collection. Every night I chose a different night-light to ward off dark spirits. I spent a few moments choosing the right one—a golden angel. Golden angels were great protectors. I hoped its golden guidance would reach out to protect Nona, too.
As I closed my eyes and stress eased away, some of Opal’s words replayed in my head. Mostly they didn’t make sense. But one sentence repeated itself. And I fell asleep thinking it would have been cool to learn about “life, love, and the meaning of everything.”
*
Penny-Love showed up early the next morning outfitted in slick black high-heeled boots, black jeans with glitter lips smacked on each pocket, and a black vest over a red shirt. Ruby rhinestone earrings sparkled from her ears and her lips glistened like dewy roses. Her naturally curly red hair hung to her midback in a twisted rope.
“It’s cool going to school with you again,” she said slipping in step with me as we walked down my long driveway.
“I’ve only been gone for a few weeks.”
“Which felt like years and I didn’t think you’d ever come back. Thank goodness your mom came to her senses.”
“She just got sick of having me around,” I joked.
“Isn’t it usually the other way around?”
“Usually. But she’s mellowed and almost treats me like a human being.”
“What brought on this miraculous change?”
I thought of Jade, Crystal, and Dad. “Could be menopause. I heard that women her age have weird mood swings.”
“Well, I’m glad she released you from captivity.”
I chuckled. “It’s not like I was in prison. I wasn’t locked in my room or anything. I had friends there, too.”
“But they couldn’t compare with your friends here. Namely moi,” Penny-Love said with a flourish of her hand. “It’s much nicer walking to school with you instead of Catelyn. She’s sweet and all, but she can’t stop talking about herself. That just gets so boring.”
“Really?” I glanced away to hide my grin. “I never noticed.”
“That’s because you’re too nice, which isn’t that healthy. I’ll have to toughen you up or people will totally tread all over you.” Then she went on to tell me about every conversation she’d had during the few weeks I was gone.
I only half-listened as she described a blog quiz she’d taken that proved that she was a true romantic. I would have flunked that quiz. Romance was a tricky topic for me and I agonized over the serious decision I had to make today. I’d woken up thinking about Josh, and what a great person he was and what I’d feel when I saw him at school. Would I be happy to see him or just confused? I loved all the sweet things Josh said to me and the surprises like the heart-shaped balloon. But did I love Josh?
Should I break up with him or work things out?
Then I thought of Dominic and got this shivery excitement that made it hard to even think … only yearn to see him again. Did that mean I really should break up with Josh? I thought of my father and my resolve not to be like him. I couldn’t be sure if he was cheating on my mother, but I could make sure I didn’t make the same mistake.
So while Penny-Love talked, I wondered if Josh was going to greet me at my locker like usual (well, usual before I moved away). His last email had just said “C U 2-morrow.” He didn’t say where or when or how things really were between us. Was there even an us? He’d apologized for being so busy lately—just one of our growing problems. Eventually we’d have to talk. Seriously scary.
I should have been glad to find out that Josh wasn’t waiting for me at my locker. But call me foolish or selfish or something worse because I was disappointed. I wanted him to show up with a kiss and say romantic things to me. I loved the attention, and I especially loved how other people thought we were great together. It was easier to fit in when I was dating one of the most popular guys at school. When I was next to him, no one noticed that I wasn’t a typical teen. I could just relax with a semipopula
r status.
So where was Josh?
Had he heard I’d kissed Dominic? Was he avoiding me? Or was he waiting for the right time to break up with me before I could break up with him?
Sighing, I turned to my locker, spun the combination on my lock, and opened the door to find a giant poster with the words “TURN AROUND” spelled out in black ink. And when I turned around, there was Josh—strong and tall and totally hot Josh, holding out his hand to offer me a tiny gold-wrapped box.
“Wow!” I murmured, touched deeply.
“Well, aren’t you going to take it?” He had these amazing dimples when he smiled and I felt myself getting all rubber-legged and mushy inside.
“Sure.” My fingers closed around crinkly foil as I stared down at the tiny box.
“Go ahead. Open it.”
“Okay,” I said smiling. Sometimes I could look at gifts and know what was inside, much the same way I knew who was calling when the phone would ring. But just because I was psychic didn’t mean I didn’t like to be surprised. So I didn’t ESP-peek.
When I pulled out a gold chain with a small key, I wondered if it had some meaning. I hid my uneasiness with an “Ooh!” of delight. But inside I was freaking. A key? Like to his house? Was that like an invitation to spend some serious alone time in his bedroom? I wasn’t ready to move that far that fast, especially since just a while ago I’d considered breaking up with him.
“Does this mean I won a new car?” I joked.
“You wish. Your prize is both smaller and bigger.”
“Ah, a puzzle. What’s smaller and bigger at the same time?” I shrugged. “I give up. What?”
Josh smiled mysteriously, then snapped his fingers with a magician’s flourish. He gestured to himself, then pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “My heart.”
Romantic. Corny. So perfectly Josh.
When he fastened the chain around my neck, my skin tingled from his touch and sweet feelings warmed me. A thrill ran through me, and I enjoyed Josh’s warm touch. His fingers lightly pushed some loose hair from my face and I had no problem leaning against him. We fit nicely together, and I didn’t pull back.
Was I feeling passion for Josh? I wondered. Maybe I really did love him.
I wanted to believe this. We melted into a very hot kiss right there in the school hall, not caring if anyone saw. My hands circled his broad shoulders, and I relaxed into our kiss. When thoughts of Dominic skirted the edges of my mind, I pushed them away.
I will make this work, I vowed. Josh is wonderful and we can be great together. I promised my love to him, and I’m sticking to my word. Nothing will change my mind. Not anyone else … especially Dominic.
As if my tiny key unlocked Pandora’s Box, a whirlwind of dangerous things flew into the air, leaving me holding tight to precious hope.
Trick or Treats, a seemingly ordinary candy shop, was swathed in darkness except for a dim, yellow porch light, and appeared closed for the night.
The store bordered the edge of Sheridan Valley and attracted kids from nearby schools who craved sweets and carbs. But it also catered to a less obvious, more subtle clientele, and only those in the know were invited into the private back rooms.
A few months ago, Thorn introduced me to Velvet, and I’d been invited into the back room of the candy shop. I’d been amazed to find everything mystical for sale. I loved all the crystals and candles and books on magic. I’d gone back several times, but only recently discovered Trick or Treats held even more secrets.
What does a girl wear to a séance? I wondered as I looked in my closet at clothes that were all wrong.
Maybe I should borrow something dark and wicked from Thorn. I hadn’t had a chance to talk with her at school since we hung out with different groups, but I’d seen her across the quad with her Goth friends (one girl was wearing—if you can believe this—pink leotards and fairy wings).
Thorn and I shared an odd friendship. We didn’t talk much, seldom hung out together, yet we completely respected each other. We had only one thing in common—being psychic. Thorn also had a talent for finding great clothes at thrift stores. She’d mix-and-match odd accessories like chains, dog collars, barbed wire, and jewelry shaped into skulls or snakes. She’d have advice on appropriate séance fashion. But if I told Thorn about the séance, I’d break the oath of secrecy I’d given to Nona. Only participants were in the know.
Ultimately, I combined a turquoise flared skirt and white peasant blouse. I added a pair of laced black boots and dangling dreamcatcher earrings. Feeling a little mysterious, I climbed into the passenger seat of Nona’s car.
On the way, she told me stories of past séances, where she’d witnessed grieving people briefly reunited with lost loved ones. Mostly it was joyous and healing, smiles mingling with tears.
“But sometimes it was downright funny,” Nona added. “My friend Betty Jo was desperate to connect to her husband—to find out where he’d hidden the remote control. She’d been going crazy searching for it since he died while watching the Super Bowl. Fortunately he popped in long enough to tell her to look under the microwave. Another widow wanted to see her husband again because she missed their arguments—and when he showed she started nagging him. Poor guy couldn’t get away from her even on the other side.”
Chuckling over this, I decided the séance would be fun. And it would be great if we could connect to our ancestor Agnes and find out the ingredients for Nona’s remedy. Then all of our problems would be solved.
Nona and I climbed the steps to the shadowy porch entrance to Trick or Treats. Although Velvet was a fairly new friend of mine, she was a long-time friend of Nona’s. She spoke in a refined British accent, her mannerisms elegant and proper like a cliché uptight English woman. But after work hours, she let down her hair and invited in the mysteries of the moon, sun, and stars.
As we waited on the semilit porch for Velvet to answer our knock (three short taps and two long raps), I got one of my “feelings.” Turning around, I searched through parked cars and bushes for the eyes I sensed watching. Tightening my jacket around my shoulders, I shivered not from cold, but from an icy aura of hatred. Whoever was watching was not a friend.
Nona rapped again on the door as I continued to scan the parking lot. A row of winter bare oaks bordered on one side and a credit union stood on the opposite side. The parking lot was still except for the pulsing red light of a surveillance camera and glow of outside lights. The aura of anger seemed to be coming from the back of the parking lot. Had something moved by that white compact car?
I couldn’t see anything except a low-hanging tree branch reaching over the car. The branch seemed to point like a bony finger and accuse me of having a wild imagination. So I shrugged it off and turned back to the door just as it was whipped open.
“Darlings Nona and Sabine! I’m delighted you made it!” Velvet greeted at the same moment I was enveloped in warm air mingled with the heavenly aroma of chocolate. “Don’t dally on the porch. The others are all here.”
“Already?” Nona said with some surprise. “Are we late?’
“Not at all. We won’t start for another ten minutes, so you’re precisely on schedule.” She spoke “schedule” so the c was silent and it sounded like “shedual.”
When the door shut behind us, goose bumps lingered on my arms. The hateful aura lingered like an unpleasant smell. What kind of vibe had I picked up? Serious negative energy. Was it coming from someone close by? Or maybe the super-charged energy at Trick or Treats caused me to pick up on energy miles away. Yeah, it wasn’t anything personal. It was paranoid to think someone was spying on me.
Spying.
Isn’t that exactly what I’d done to my half-sister? I thought guiltily as I wandered over to a rock candy display case and ran my finger idly across the smooth glass.
Of course, my spying hadn’t been malicious. Well maybe a little … but it wasn’t like I’d done anything bad. Still, I felt a little ashamed of myself. Jade was an innocent bystan
der in my father’s life. His actions weren’t her fault and it wasn’t fair to blame her. Resenting her wouldn’t change anything. I had to accept the fact that Jade was my half-sister. But I didn’t have to like her—and I never would.
Feeling some resolve with myself, I peered into a glassed case of fruit-filled chocolates and read off the yummy flavors: blueberry, raspberry, strawberry, apricot, prune pecan, banana raisin, melon crush, boysenberry, cherry, and lemon. If I had to choose one, what would it be?
“Hard to resist?” Velvet asked coming up behind me.
“Always.” I smiled. “Everything is so yummy, I want to taste them all—except maybe the prune pecan.”
“It’s actually quite scrumptious. When we’re through tonight, I’ll give you some free samples,” she added before ushering us through heavy cloth curtains into a room I’d seen only a few other times.
The small room offered everything mystic: herbs, candles, crystals, and books on topics like tarot cards, meditation, and spells. We continued down a short hall and into a large room I’d never seen. It was bordered in shelves with boxes, so I guessed it was a storage room during the day. But tonight the center held a circle of chairs and scattered tables with flickering candles and fragrant bouquets of flowers. Candles trails wavered like fiery snakes flying around the ceiling. Sandalwood incense wafted from a silver dish and all but three chairs were occupied. Nona said that Velvet was inviting members of her Wicca coven plus a few other trusted friends.
When I saw one of my own friends, wickedly attired in a black and crimson wig with skull jewelry dangling down a black leather jacket, I exclaimed, “Thorn! What are you doing here?’
“Well, duh. Same as you.” She rolled her kohl-painted eyes.
“But you didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“Like you told me?” she retorted.
“I was sworn to secrecy.”
“So was I.” She grinned. “I always wanted to experience a séance. Of course my parents would freak if they knew, so to save them upset I told them I was babysitting. Come sit here.”
Fatal Charm Page 3