“Great time for jokes,” Sadie grumbled. She kept looking up the stairs and was well aware that Mr. Ugly could start flinging heavy objects at them any second.
It became apparent that making a so-called circle of protection involved walking in circles a number of times and lighting candles in four separate corners and muttering some kind of chant about perfect love and perfect trust. Sadie wasn’t sure who Things One and Two thought they were dealing with but she could pretty much guarantee that the ghost in the green underpants was not one who was going to procure love or trust. The acid in her stomach was churning with stress and oversalted spaghetti marinara.
Once the chanting and wand waving came to an end, Sadie concluded that it was probably all for nothing.
“If he hasn’t shown by now, he probably won’t,” Sadie reasoned.
“It could be that he was just taken aback by our pure awesomeness,” Louise suggested.
Sadie looked from Louise in her clownlike clothing over to tattooed and pierced Things One and Two and said, “I don’t think that’s it. I think he’s just not feeling very intimidated.”
And he’s probably so busy laughing his ass off he couldn’t be bothered to even show up.
“You said that is the area he’s protecting, right?” Louise asked, pointing up the stairs.
“Sadie, just so you know, the circle will protect this lower level long enough for all those who enter to do so at this level. Provided they don’t break the circle by going up the stairs, he should be contained,” Thing Two explained.
“We’re safe here in the circle,” Thing One said, rubbing her bald head. “Brownie?” She offered a paper sack of the goodies to Sadie.
“I thought they were for the ghost.”
“We were just having fun with you. He’s dead. He can’t eat.”
“Right.”
Louise helped herself to a brownie and then waved it in the air as she spoke. “So then the question is, what is our ghost’s connection to this house?” Louise asked.
“I imagine he died here, right?” asked Thing Two.
Sadie said, “I’ve been trying to answer that question. I thought he was the brother who lived here but he says he’s not.”
“Did you give a description of this spirit to the owner of the house?”
“I tried but, well, she’s not all there.” Sadie tapped the side of her head. “Mrs. Wicks is in a home, and her dementia comes and goes,” Sadie explained.
“Is there anyone else who lived here?” Thing Two asked.
Sadie thought of Paula. “The daughter, but we’re not really on speaking terms.”
“She stole Sadie’s boyfriend,” Louise said.
Sadie offered her a deadly glare. “I can’t believe Maeva told you that.”
“She’s worried about you,” Louise said.
“After we’re done here, we could give you a spell to cast on this woman,” offered Thing One.
“Would it kill her?” Sadie asked hopefully.
“No, but we could probably give her a very uncomfortable rash,” Thing Two said.
“I’ll think about it,” Sadie muttered.
Just then a loud bellowing roar erupted from the hallway.
“Get out of here!” screamed the voice.
Sadie whirled to face the ugly spirit of her nightmares. “It’s him,” Sadie whispered, her voice hoarse with worry.
“God, he really is one ugly dude,” Thing One said.
Sadie raised her eyebrows. “You can see him?”
Thing One nodded.
“She’s sensitive like you and can sometimes make out shapes that represent the spirits of the dead,” Louise said. “Although she can’t talk to them because they can’t hear her. As for me, you already know the spirit is only an occasional wisp of mist I see.”
“Look out!” Sadie shouted.
The ugly ghost heaved a lamp in their direction, and it glanced off an invisible shield and landed with a thud on the ground.
“The circle will hold,” Thing Two announced proudly. To Sadie he said, “Told ya.”
Sadie shook her head in amazement as she watched the angry specter fling object after object in their direction. A hardcover book was followed by numerous random objects snatched from boxes upstairs. Not a single item penetrated the invisible circle.
“Can you leave the circle of protection up so that the cops can work in here?” Sadie asked.
“As long as they don’t try to go beyond this zone,” Thing Two said. “There are no guarantees, you understand, but they should be able to work at least downstairs without threat for a couple days.”
“That’s great,” Sadie said, awed by their ability.
“Now’s a good time to confront him,” Louise suggested.
“Yes,” agreed Thing One. “Ask him what it is he’s worried about and why he’s here.”
“What the hell’s your problem?” Sadie demanded of the ghost. Her hands were fisted at her side as she took a couple of angry steps toward their would-be assailant.
“You let them take my stuff!”
“Who?” Sadie demanded. “Who took your stuff?”
Instead of responding, he put his head down, and with a scream of rage he barreled like a train toward them.
Sadie gasped and jumped back, unsure if their invisible force field would be any match for a ghost who was also obviously a raving lunatic.
There was no sound when Mr. Ugly connected with the circle of protection, but he was brought to an abrupt stop and appeared to bounce backward.
“Who are you?” Sadie called out to him. “If I know who you are, maybe I can help you.”
He got to his feet and offered her a wicked grin followed by an eerie laugh. “There is no help for people like me,” he said in an oily voice.
Sadie opened her mouth to ask what kind of person he was but he was gone.
Thing One told Louise and Rick, “We should leave. We’ve done all we can do here for now.”
“Tell me, do you think he’s evil?” Sadie asked, her heart still thudding quickly after their ghostly run-in.
“Evil as in connected with the devil?” Louise asked.
“Yeah.” Sadie nodded.
“This dude . . .” Louise nodded up the stairs. “He could be a demon or a Satanist, but I just get the impression he’s a bully.”
“A bully?”
“He gets off on intimidating people, especially women. Probably started off as a school yard terror and grew up to be your run-of-the-mill wife beater, rapist, or worse.”
“Tell your cop friend to work quickly on the lower level of the house,” Thing Two suggested. “We’ve never tried leaving a circle of protection up for longer than a couple days, so we can’t make any guarantees.”
Thing One used her wand to cut through the circle as if cutting open a door, and after they’d stepped through to the stairwell that led to the back door, she appeared to shut it behind them.
“Just as a little extra insurance,” Thing One said, removing a vial of water from her bag, “I’ll sprinkle some holy water around the doorway.”
When they left the house Sadie spotted Petrovich waiting in his car.
Sadie pressed the keypad on her keychain to unlock her own car and told the others to go ahead. She stopped to talk to Petrovich.
He rolled down his window when Sadie approached.
“You and your parade of freaks save the day?” he asked cruelly.
“You owe a thank-you to them,” Sadie said curtly. “They came out here and risked their own safety without expecting anything in return.”
“Fine. You’re right and I’m sorry. Tell ’em thanks.” He paused. “What exactly am I thanking them for?”
“For allowing your guys the freedom to go back in the house and clean up without worrying about being pummeled by flying objects.”
“Really?”
“Well, they can’t go upstairs and they’ll need to move quickly. The protection thingamajig will keep the gho
st upstairs but only for a couple days.”
“That’s a helluva lot of shit to move in a couple days but I think we’ll manage it.”
“Call me when you do,” Sadie said. “By the way, any word on cause of death on that baby?”
“Corpse is too old to determine cause of death,” Petrovich said with a sigh. “And this ain’t CSI, so we’re looking at a couple more weeks for the DNA tests to come back.”
“Too bad.”
“Yeah, but the autopsy did give us blood type from the marrow.”
“Yeah?” Sadie held her breath, waiting for his response.
“Baby Mummy is AB. Mimi and Paula are both O.”
“Damn.” Sadie’s face fell. “No relation to the Wicks family then.”
“Nope. Guess Mimi’s right. She picked up the friggin’ baby at a garage sale.”
Petrovich offered her a quick salute, and then his engine roared to life and he drove off quickly down the street. Sadie blew out an exasperated breath and walked back to her own car. She’d really believed that the baby was connected to the Wicks family somehow. Now she didn’t know what to think. She was not any closer to finding out who the baby was or why Mr. Ugly was so viciously determined to protect the house.
15
Sadie reached her car and had her hand on the door when she heard a rustle in the bushes a few feet away. She took a step toward the sound and was surprised to see Carole from next door wearing a thick pink housecoat and trying hard to hide behind a sparse cedar tree.
“Hi, Carole,” Sadie said.
The young woman gave up her hiding spot and stepped forward. Sadie was surprised to see her sporting a shiner that was painfully purple.
“I’m not spying or anything,” she said. “I was taking some trash out to the garage and I heard a lot of activity happening.”
“Wow, your eye!” Sadie exclaimed. “What happened?”
“Slipped at work.” Carole spun a red silicone bracelet at her wrist. “It looks worse than it is.”
“Sorry about the noise,” Sadie said, nodding at the Wickses’ house. “It’s tedious work cleaning a house like this. I guess we had the radio turned up kind of loud. I hope we didn’t wake your mom.”
“It’s just after ten. She might be a senior but that doesn’t mean she goes to bed at eight o’clock,” Carole said. “It seems odd to have you here in the evening and the police all day.”
Carole was looking hard at the three people waiting patiently in Sadie’s car. Sadie glanced over to see the shine of the streetlamp making the Thingvolds’ heads glow like two orbs in the backseat.
“Everyone’s just anxious to get the job done,” Sadie said. “I don’t suppose you heard some activity over here a few days ago?”
“What kind of activity?” Carole asked, her eyes still on Sadie’s car.
“The kind that would involve moving thirty or forty boxes out of this house in the middle of the night,” Sadie said.
Carole tore her gaze away from Sadie’s Honda. “The cops already asked me and my mom about that and, like I told them, whoever did it must’ve been awfully quiet or else we would’ve noticed something like that.” She was twisting the red silicone bracelet around and around her wrist.
“Survivor,” Sadie said, reading the inscription on the bracelet out loud.
Carole stopped twirling her bracelet long enough to glance down at it. “Yeah.” She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a fan of reality television.” She looked embarrassed.
“Right.”
“Are you coming, Sadie?” Louise shouted from the car.
“I’ll be right there,” Sadie called back.
“Again, I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” Sadie turned to go and then looked back. “Oh, and I heard about your dad. I’m sorry for your loss,” Sadie said softly.
Carole looked taken aback and uncomfortable. “It was a long time ago but thanks.”
With that Carole marched off back toward her own yard and Sadie joined the others inside her vehicle.
“Trouble with the neighbors?” Louise asked.
“Nah,” Sadie said. “She’s just being nosy.”
“Well, we’ve decided we want coffee,” Louise announced.
Sadie agreed that she owed them something for their help and brought the gang to the nearest Starbucks. Apparently the price for a witch’s protection these days was a latte and biscotti. Sadie was more than happy to pay it.
Everyone took their coffee to go and Sadie drove back to her own home, where Louise’s car waited in the driveway. Sadie rolled up her garage door but stopped in the driveway to make it easier for everyone to hop out of her Honda and into Louise’s blue Mini Cooper.
“Looks like I got a ticket for parking in your driveway,” Louise quipped as she opened the passenger door of Sadie’s Honda and leaped out.
“What?” Sadie asked in confusion. She looked over and spotted what Louise had seen: a white slip of paper jammed under her wiper.
Sadie climbed out at the same time as the Thingvolds. Louise read the note out loud.
“Join the Queen of Clean and soon you’ll scream.” She raised her eyebrows at Sadie. “The Queen of Clean—is that you?”
“Apparently.” Sadie rolled her eyes. “Someone’s just messing with me.”
“Sounds like a threat to me,” Louise said.
“Sounds like poetry gone horribly wrong to me,” Sadie remarked with a laugh. “At least they just left you a note and didn’t cut up your upholstery or write the message on your dash with a Sharpie.”
All three looked at Sadie quizzically.
“I, um, had a similar message in the Scene-2-Clean van,” Sadie explained. “I was working a scene at the mall and my van was in the lot overnight. I figured that it was teens having a cheap thrill.”
“Whoever it is knows where you live,” Louise said.
“You need to tell the cops,” Thing Two said.
“Immediately,” added Thing One.
“I’ll mention it to Petrovich but . . .” Sadie shrugged. “I’ve gotta say I don’t find being called the Queen of Clean too intimidating. Makes me feel like I should be wearing a tiara. I think if someone were seriously threatening me, they’d find a different way to do it.”
“Maybe . . .” Louise said. She was looking into the shadows and rubbing her arms as if the warm August night had suddenly become chilly.
“We need to do a cleansing,” Thing One announced.
Before Sadie could protest the three had pushed their way inside Sadie’s house and smudged and holy watered every area. Before they left Louise handed Sadie a tiny package of what appeared to be black dusting powder.
“This is for the woman who stole your man,” Louise whispered as she closed Sadie’s fingers around the bag. “Don’t mix it in her food or anything. If you do that, then I’ll deny I ever gave you the stuff.” She giggled. “But sprinkle a little around where she lives and, well, let the gods do the rest.”
“Um. Sure. Fine,” Sadie said, willing to agree to anything to get them out of her house.
When they were finished packing up, Sadie thanked them politely before shooing them out the door. Then she tucked the small bag of powder into her purse and checked and double-checked that all the doors were locked and that her alarm was set.
“Sometimes I think I would’ve been better off with a pit bull,” Sadie told Hairy. His answer was to sneeze a tiny rabbit sneeze. “Sorry about the smoke. The herb smell should clear soon,” Sadie promised. She went into the kitchen and turned on the hood fan to help clean the air.
Hairy followed her around the house; the click-clack of the bunny’s toenails on the laminate floor as he followed her was the only sound. Sadie felt all alone in the big bad world, and she missed Zack terribly.
With a sigh, she scooped up Hairy and nuzzled his fur.
“Sorry for the crack about wanting a pit bull. Maybe I could just train you to sound an alarm or something.”
Hairy wriggled uncomforta
bly in her snug hug and Sadie released him. She dutifully followed the hopping rabbit into the kitchen, where he was hoping to get yogurt yummies, his favorite treat. Sadie provided him with a couple extra, buying off the guilt of having abandoned him all day.
She poured herself a glass of wine and took it into the living room. She paused at the framed photo of her long-ago friend Pam. They’d worked together in another life—when Sadie was a teacher. Their friendship had been a pillar for Sadie when she was grief-stricken by her brother’s death. Cancer unfairly stole Pam away too soon.
“I miss you.” She stroked the frame lightly with her fingertips.
Sadie sat in the living room and turned on the television, careful to avoid cop shows in all their variations. The wine did its job and she fell into a dreamless sleep in front of the television.
She was jangled awake the next morning by the ring of her home phone, and she mumbled into the receiver before she was even fully awake. “Hello?”
“I’m sorry, Sadie.” It was Zack.
She sat up straight and cleared her throat. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess and she had no idea how to respond, so she just blurted what came into her mouth.
“Sorry doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.” It was something her dad had said often, but it sounded stupid coming out of her own mouth.
“I know.” He paused. “Sadie, I want—”
“How’s your ankle?” she interrupted. “I’m really sorry for not being there for your doctor appointment.”
Be tough! Don’t grovel! She hit her forehead with the heel of her hand.
“My ankle is sore but I’m sure it’ll get better every day.”
She was straining to hear if his voice was laced with addiction. Had he sounded slurred and slow for months while he took pills and she never even noticed?
“Sadie, it’s not easy for me to say this. . . .”
What? You want to come home and collect your CDs and last remaining article of clothing? She didn’t want to hear it and so she interrupted him again.
“You got hurt on the job so, as your boss, I should probably offer to pick up your medical bills.”
“I got it covered. I just—”
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