by Morgana Best
A Ritalin overdose is potentially extremely dangerous and often fatal. The symptoms of a Ritalin overdose are varied and include vomiting, nausea, confusion, abdominal cramps, depression, diarrhea, fatigue, irregular heart rate, hallucinations, high fever, high blood pressure or low blood pressure, tremor, panic, rapid breathing, restlessness, convulsions or coma, while additional symptoms have been reported in the scientific literature.
I lay back in bed and tried to marshal my thoughts and force my brain to work. Someone was trying to kill me. Anyone who has access to a child with ADHD could get their hands on Ritalin. That didn’t help. A pity someone hadn’t poisoned me with thallium. That would have been easier to track down. Hmm, I knew something was slightly wrong with that line of thinking, but couldn’t quite make it out.
Who did I suspect? The Fake Ghost Man had served me a drink. In fact, he had left the bar for few moments to get a bottle of lime. That’s opportunity. What about motive? He had overheard me agreeing that Gavin King’s photographs were faked. Gavin himself had told me that he had a big book deal in the works, and was worried that my article would be an exposé. But he wasn’t Stephen King. I doubted any advance would be hefty, much less pay his mortgage. If, then, Gavin didn’t have much of a motive, surely Fake Ghost Man, whom I assumed to be Gavin’s assistant, would have even less of a motive.
My next suspect was David Crawley. He also had opportunity. I was in the bathroom when my food arrived at the table. What about motive? He had caught me snooping around his house, but that’s hardly a motive for murder.
Then there was Scotty. He was sitting opposite me when I had the mouthful of lime soda. Had I left it unattended? No. Wait, yes I had. I had bent down and looked through my bag for a pen and notepad. That would have provided an opportunity for Scotty to spike my drink. Motive? No clue.
David was the only one who could have planned the Ritalin in advance. However, if Scotty or Suspected Fake Ghost Man had a close relative with ADHD, it is conceivable that they could have had Ritalin on their person. Still, that seemed like quite a stretch. Suspected Fake Ghost Man could have found out that I was looking for Scotty at the River Royal, and had the drug waiting for me.
I wasn’t getting anywhere, and didn’t know what to do next, when Alfred decided for me.
As soon as you are well enough to drive, leave. Return home. Do not get out of your car until you arrive. Only go in daylight. Keep to main roads and do not take shortcuts. Will advise.
Chapter 13
I arrived home just after dark. I had asked Melissa to use her key to my cottage and drive Diva back to my house on her way home from work. I told Melissa I would be tired when I arrived home and wanted to go straight to bed, so it would be good if Diva was already there. Thankfully, Melissa thought it was a good idea.
Diva was highly offended that I’d been away, and turned her head away from me when I called her. When I put even more food in her bowl, she simply glared at me before eating it. There wasn’t so much as a purr. I was in big trouble.
I gave up trying to apologize to Diva and turned my attention to burning frankincense, myrrh, and dragon’s blood as a protection incense. I hasten to add that dragon’s blood is a red resin that grows in Indonesia among other places; no dragons were harmed in the making of the incense. I’m a vegetarian after all.
I then smudged my house with white sage, being careful to get the sage deep into all the corners. After that, I used the last of my air spray. I had lemongrass mixed with rose oil, vanilla, jasmine oil, and lavender oil in a spray bottle of water, and I sprayed the whole house.
I followed this by going around the house, again making sure I got into the corners and close to the wall with my Tibetan singing bowl. The house felt awesome, better than I did. I still felt quite weak. That was a good space cleaning: fire, earth, air, water, and sound.
Now to deal with my unseen enemy. I consulted Catherine Yronwode’s hoodoo book and found that a mixture of dill and salt sprinkled around the house will reverse jinxes. I dutifully mixed dill and sea salt and sprinkled it all over the house. White clover flowers also protect from evil and bring an end to crossed conditions, so I took some of those out of a bottle and sprinkled them around.
I then searched through the drafts folder in my email, which serves as a Book of Shadows of sorts, and found some reversal spells.
The hoodoo book said that dried nettle was a strong jinx breaker, so I made a note to pick some tomorrow and dry it. I had some in the yard, which I’d found to my discomfort when I’d gone to call Diva inside the other week.
Then I went to my dried herbs and selected some lemongrass and bergamot mint to make a cold water brew. I added some dried rue to my homemade bath salts mixture, which included sea salt, Epsom salts, dill, hyssop, and sandalwood. I poured some of the lemongrass and bergamot brew into the bath.
The bath was heavenly and a very pretty shade of pale green. I looked at the time. 7:24 p.m. Oh no. The X Factor started at 7.35, and it was elimination night. No time to linger in the bath as well as do a reversal spell and catch The X Factor. I thought my favorite singer was in danger of being eliminated that night.
With no thought as to my priorities being somewhat twisted, I hopped out of the bath and headed to the little room next to my bedroom.
I gathered my bits of paper with the spells written on them, and a black candle, checked that I had everything I needed, and cast a circle. I smudged the candle I was about to use, consecrated it and charged it for reversal. I cut off its bottom end and pulled the wick through so I could turn it upside down.
I have a natural thorn for writing on candles, but I didn’t want to use my thorn for a reversal spell. Instead, I used the nail scissors I keep for such things. No, I don’t use them for cutting my toenails; I have another set for that.
I wrote the words ‘Unseen Enemy’ on the candle, and then set it alight. I said,
“The cord between us was long
The cord between us was strong
But now is decaying, fraying, burning, breaking.”
As I said these words, I held a red ribbon over the flame. It instantly burned in half.
I continued,
“The link is broken.
Powers, thoughts and words spoken
Likewise have no power.”
For good measure, I added,
“Anyone who causes harm,
I work this spell and your evil disarm.
You are from this moment stopped
My power can never be stopped.
Divine justice works for me
Never victorious can you ever be
Anyone of evil intent
Your work against me is torn and rent
This I declare with harm to none
So mote it be, my will be done!”
I then closed the circle, wrapped a fluffy, lavender-scented white towel around me, and went downstairs to watch The X Factor. My favorite singer was in the bottom two, but wasn’t eliminated. I fell asleep on the sofa halfway through Criminal Intent, and woke up with a headache. Diva was sitting close by, watching me, and when I reached out to stroke her, she ran away. I guess I was still in her bad books.
I was pouring a small glass of red when Melissa called. I couldn’t tell her the truth, so, after thanking her profusely for minding Diva, I simply said I was recovering from food poisoning.
“Oh that’s awful. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Look, I’ll let you go then. Call me when you feel better.”
“No, no, I’m fine now. Well, much better anyway. We can talk.” I didn’t feel well enough to chat, but I feeling relieved after our frosty discussion in Melbourne.
“I just called to get your help with an article I have to write on Samhain, but I can call back tomorrow.”
“No, I’m fine, really. Go on.” I sipped the wine.
“My angle is that in the Northern Hemisphere, Halloween falls around Samhain, but in the Southern Hemisphere at the very same time it’s Beltane, a
nd I want to write on the difficulties of that, collective consciousness and so on.”
“Yup.” I sipped some more wine and hoped it was considered hydration.
“I’ve read that the veil is thin at Samhain, the veil between the land of the living and the land of the spirits.”
“Yup.” Sip. Sip.
“Is there really a veil? Or is it metaphorical?” she asked me.
I tried to think. “Dunno. I’ve heard some say that it simply means that we can be more aware of the spirits at this time. I do know a lady who insists it’s a real veil. I don’t know much about it. Is Skinny giving you a hard time?” My voice trailed off. Speaking was an effort.
“No, not over this. She doesn’t know that I’m a step ahead of her, anyway.”
I knew this was a reference to Melissa’s secret relationship with Keith, the owner of the magazine. “Has she mentioned firing me again?”
“Not as far as I know, but I’ll keep you posted.”
I murmured my thanks.
“I want to use it in my novel, too.” Melissa was writing a feminist paranormal romance novel. I doubted she’d ever finish it, as she seemed to spend more time reading up on the theory.
“How’s that coming along?”
“I’ve decided I don’t want to use Phlebotinum in it, and that will be hard as it’s a paranormal romance.”
I was taken aback. “What on earth is Phleb, phelb, err, otinum?”
“You know, a device that doesn’t exist in real life but which is used to further the plot, such as Doctor Who’s sonic screwdriver, that sort of thing. That reminds me, I know who River Song is! I know all there is to know about her now.”
I had known who River Song was for some years, and so had the rest of the world, but I didn’t want to hurt Melissa’s feelings. She was so behind the times with TV. “No spoilers, Melissa,” I said with amusement. “I haven’t downloaded the newest ones from the UK yet. Why can’t you use that Phelb word for your novel?”
“Phlebotinum. I could use it if I wanted to, but I’d rather not. I’m not even going to take the high ground and use Aesoptinum.”
I resisted the urge to ask, said I’d call the next day, and hung up.
I got out my packet of crackers, and bookmarked Millionaire Matchmaker and Murdoch Mysteries to watch on cable that night. I fell asleep again sometime during Millionaire Matchmaker and woke up after it was over, disappointed that I hadn’t recorded it and wouldn’t discover if Patti had chased one of the millionaires out of her office.
I fell back to sleep and had the most ghastly nightmare about men in black hoods and cloaks. It was one of those dreams where you’re sure while you are dreaming that it is real life and not a dream. I was awoken by a knock at the door. I wasn’t about to answer it; I’ve seen enough horror movies to know not to do that. I also wasn’t silly enough to say, “Who’s there?” That always annoys me when they do that in movies.
I held my breath, muted the TV, and waited. No more knocking. That wasn’t a good sign. Thankfully I knew all the doors and windows were locked, as I had done that as soon as I had arrived home. I’d also looked under the beds and in the closet for criminals, and in the kitchen cupboards for very short criminals. You can’t be too careful. I’ve seen every episode of Game of Thrones.
After about half an hour or so, I picked up my golf driving iron and gingerly opened the front door slightly, and then peeked around.
Chapter 14
And that brings me back to the voodoo doll.
It wasn’t a nice looking doll, and my spiritual alarms were pinging at maximum. It was sitting right on my doorstep. I knew better than to touch it.
The doll was dressed like me, and as if that wasn’t enough, my name was pinned to the doll by a black pin. It looked like a piece of my favorite scarf, but it could have been a piece of any blue and white scarf. I couldn’t tell if it was my own hair or simply hair my color. A white shroud was all around the doll, but the spiritual shroud of malevolence had even more of an impact on me.
The doll exuded a feeling of antiquity merged with an ancient power, a horrible power.
Voodoo dolls have quite the reputation, thanks to Hollywood. However, I knew from previous research that the term ‘voodoo doll’ is used to describe any doll used for magic in many cultures, even ancient Greek or Hittite. As far as I knew, the term started with Hollywood, while actual practitioners preferred such terms as ‘doll baby’ or ‘poppet’. Voodoo dolls generally are used for blessings, healing, love, protection, improving finances, and used far less commonly for harm against another person.
I knew far less about the pentagram at the bottom of the steps. I didn’t have the foggiest notion why it would be used in conjunction with the voodoo doll.
That just didn’t make sense. It did not belong to any tradition known to me, and I had researched a few of them for the magazine. As far as I knew, pentagrams were protective symbols. I did know sulfur and red peppers were used in ‘Hot Foot’ powder in hoodoo, and I’m sure they had many other uses. I could only conclude that the pentagram setup was simply theatrical, intended to confuse and frighten me.
I couldn’t leave the items outside for the neighbors to see in the morning, but I had no intention of going near them. I did the only thing I could do. I shut the door, locked it, then poured another glass of wine and drank it rapidly.
My laptop, of course, was on and ready to go, but for once I bypassed the laptop and headed for a book, a ‘real book’ as some would call them. Books were tax deductions and apart from that, I love them, whether ‘real books’ or eBooks. I had the very book that would help, and it was right on my bookshelf in easy reach.
The Voodoo Doll Spellbook: A Compendium of Ancient and Contemporary Spells and Rituals by anthropologist Denise Alvarado. The very first page told of a 2008 incident in which the husband of a Commissioner Zenaida Denizac found a black plastic dish containing a wax-covered voodoo doll which had a photo of his wife pinned to it. It was burned and covered in black powder, and, like my doll, had pins stuck all over it.
I googled ‘Commissioner Zenaida Denizac.’ She was alive and well, years after the incident, and this gave me hope. I poured another glass of wine, and went back to the book. It said the use of doll babies was an example of sympathetic magic, which reminded me that I had written an article on sympathetic magic two years ago. It would be in the pile of old magazines.
I stood up suddenly and felt horribly dizzy. I hoped this wasn’t the doll spell working, although I’d had more than a glass of wine on an empty stomach, if you don’t count the crackers.
The specific issue was easy to find. There are some advantages to being a neat freak. My article also included a translation of a Hittite spell which used sympathetic magic. My article said that the Hittites were a major world power rivaling the Egyptians over three thousand years ago, and they lived in what is now Southern Turkey. The three and a half thousand year old spell was featured in a special box; the graphic artist had gone all out. At the top of the box I had written that the ‘Old Woman’ is a technical term for a priestess/magic worker.
Someone had cursed two men so they had gone to the Old Woman for help. She made wax dolls to look like both men. After a lengthy spell, the curse was transferred to the dolls and they were burned.
That helped me understand a bit more about sympathetic magic, but I’d hoped the article would have some way to remove the curse. Back to The Voodoo Doll Spellbook. It offered a whole chapter on protection. My relief turned to dismay when I realized I didn’t have all the ingredients needed for the spells.
I turned to my notes. Over the years I’d jotted down spells and other interesting information. I picked up one folder and the page opened to the heading, Blueberries. I had not noted the source of the information; it was most unlike me not to do so.
My own handwriting was hard to read, but I deciphered the information to mean that eating blueberries increases someone’s ability to resist psychic attack. Tha
t’s good; I eat blueberries every day. I blend frozen blueberries with oat milk to a thick consistency, and then add lactose-free yogurt and grated dark chocolate. Yummy and healthy to boot. The notes continued on to say that blueberries can be used as a powerful protection charm. I already had a blueberry bush in a pot as protection. I didn’t know how well it worked, considering that Aunt Beth had a blueberry bush growing at her door, and she’d been murdered.
Ignoring my stomach rebelling against thoughts of solid food, I googled in earnest to find information on how to counteract the pentagram, but couldn’t find any spiritual path to which it could belong.
Worst case scenario, I could pick up the voodoo doll with a pair of kitchen tongs and throw it in the trash away from my house, then wash the step where it had been with salt. I had a bottle of citronella essential oil and could pour that on the step, too. Citronella was good for cleansing.
The pentagram still had me stumped. I was even at a loss as to what to google. I finally settled on ‘pentagram skull candles’. That was not much help, only turning up links to products or games. I was about to change my search terms when I stumbled across a 2006 article from the U.K. Daily Mail. Builders were demolishing a building that had been owned by Aleister Crowley, whom the article wrongly called a Satanist. In the rubble they found a human skull and a flickering candle, and next to it, twigs arranged in the shape of a pentagram.
I was sidetracked for a moment by the article’s errors. Aleister Crowley was an occultist, not a Satanist, but the article confused the two.
Back to google. ‘Skull inside pentagram’ brought up only four entries, all about shirts. I found several entries for ‘skull with top removed’. No luck there, either. Google provided no clue as to what tradition it could be from. I figured my initial hunch had been right: it had been put there simply to scare me.