“Salt. Bells ringing. The smell of burning leather. Wind chimes. Pentacles. Crosses. All of these will help rid you of this spirit.”
“But, sweet child,” she continued, “I will now tell you the most powerful weapon you can use against this evil spirit.”
The old woman walked slowly over to her—her arms outspread. “Its name. You must discover its true name and call it out. Then, and only then, will the spirit release its hold over your life. All the rest of this”—she waved her hands over the table—“are good in provoking the spirits, making them angry. They are useful. But, like vampires, once they are inside—it is almost impossible to be rid of them.”
She looked nervously at Cordelia and smiled. “Don’t worry, child. Your destiny is ahead of you. You are embarking on a journey. A journey to save yourself, your mother—and your sister.”
Cordelia jumped at Sophie’s words.
“Now, off with those clothes and into the washroom. You’ve been keeping company with wolves, I take it?”
Cordelia looked at the woman quizzically. How did she know?
“They don’t call me Sophie the Seer for nothin”. Now get on into the washroom. There are plenty of towels and soap in the basin. Clean yourself up and I’ll find some suitable clothes for you. It’s been a long time since I’ve been your size,” she said in a jovial manner as she patted her thick waist. “But I’m sure I’ll find something that will do.”
Then Cordelia heard the woman muttering to herself as she readied herself for a nice warm bath. “Sleeping with wolves, running away from home, evil spirits. That girl needs my help more than anyone I’ve ever known.”
She continued talking to herself as Cordelia allowed each muscle in her body to soften and relax in the hot water. Over the splashing of the water, Cordelia swore she heard the woman say, “Tess would want me to take care of this for her. I know she will. I owe her that much.”
Cordelia snapped to attention, but the only sounds that followed were the whistling of the teakettle and Sophie bustling around the kitchen, preparing dinner. Cordelia shook her head as if to clear it. She needed a good, hot meal. She was starting to hear and see things.
After drying herself off with a plush towel and sliding into the clothes that had been neatly set on the floor in front of the bathroom, Cordelia followed the delicious smells into Sophie’s kitchen, where she was met with a huge table filled with a feast.
“Go on and eat as much as you like.” Sophie smiled when she noticed Cordelia’s excitement. “There’s only me in this house and I haven’t had anyone to cook for in ages.” She pointed a bony finger at Cordelia and said, “Besides, you look like you could use a few good meals.”
Cordelia filled herself up with pastries and breads and a hearty vegetable stew. There were all sorts of cheeses and meats. It was a spread fit for a party. And Cordelia ate until she literally couldn’t put another piece of food into her stomach. By the time she’d finished, darkness blanketed the little cottage.
Sophie was in a rocking chair by the fireplace, and Cordelia joined her, flopping onto the thick feather bed at her feet.
“So where are you headed?”
“Maine. I need to find someone.”
“Mmm.” Sophie nodded. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the clicking of Sophie’s knitting needles. “I’ve been meaning to get up to Maine for some supplies for this winter.”
Cordelia smiled. She knew that Sophie could just as easily stock up for the winter in the local stores. Sophie shot her head up and gave Cordelia a look. “No, there’s a certain kind of wood that I always get from the same lumberyard each year. I’m not making excuses just so I can drive you up there myself.”
“How did you know—oh, forget it,” Cordelia said sheepishly. She wasn’t used to having someone read her mind so clearly. She wondered if this was one of the powers that Tess had said she would come into one day.
“Perhaps,” Sophie answered, as if Cordelia had asked the question out loud. “But I’m thinking that you have the ability to separate yourself from your own body. Astral projection, they call it now.”
“What’s that?” Cordelia asked, stifling a yawn. The hum of the wind outside, the snap of the fire, the clicking of the knitting needles, her full belly, all of it was making Cordelia very sleepy. She was happy that she had a warm place to spend the night and even happier that she had someone who would take her where she needed to go. “Astral projection?”
“Your soul and your body are connected by a golden thread. Some people have the ability to escape their body for a little while and let their souls flit around unencumbered, except for the invisible thread. You never want that invisible thread to be jeopardized or else you can’t get back into your body.”
“How do you know I can do that?”
“How else did you survive that night on Misery Island?”
“You know about that?”
“My dear,” Sophie said as she put her knitting down into her lap. “Even if I wasn’t psychic, I could have seen the trouble you’ve been through. It’s in your eyes. In your hands. In your aura. You’ve been put through some hard times and the only way you were able to get through them was that little time of disconnecting from your body.”
Cordelia considered this while twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. She remembered bits and pieces of that night, but there were times when she felt like she was hovering above the scene and not actually a part of it. There was the intense pain—that she definitely remembered—but there were parts that should have been excruciating, and somehow, for some reason, they weren’t.
“Yes, you’ve been given that gift of separating from your mortal body. You just need to take care that a spirit doesn’t slip inside your body and take over while you’re off flitting about. Some spirits that are earthbound are just waiting for the opportunity to see an empty mortal body that they can take over.”
“How do they do that?” Cordelia asked, horrified. If the rumors were true about the Pickering sisters out on Misery Island, any one of them could have entered her body during that initiation prank. But then, thinking better of it, she realized that no person—living or dead—would have wanted to trade bodies with her during the terrible and torturous ordeal.
“They simply cut the cord and send you sailing off into the universe. They can do that by slipping right into your body, just in the same way that you slipped into those clothes I left for you. Sure, they won’t always fit the right way and it will take some time getting used to, but eventually, they will get used to their new body, their new life. They just need to stay dormant long enough to get their bearings. Once they have it figured out, they can take over someone’s life.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“But what does the original soul do?”
“Sadly, they often are forced to sit and watch their bodies inhabited by a new soul. They just pray that someone who loves them will be able to tell the difference and help restore them back into their bodies.”
“Has this ever happened to anyone you know?” Cordelia asked, with her tired eyes growing wider for a moment. She wondered if this happened to her mother. Perhaps that was why she never told Cordelia the truth about her father.
Sophie clucked her tongue and looked at Cordelia, not sure how much she should say. “I’ve seen it happen, yes. To someone I love? No. But it happens. More than you would ever suspect.
“But don’t think about that now. You jus
t need to be cautious the next time you try projection. Make sure you’re in a safe place where there’s no risk of aberrant spirits lurking around. If only others knew the importance of being safe.”
Cordelia had so many questions, but she kept nodding off. Sophie stood up and dimmed the lights. She poked at the fire a bit, which had now turned to glowing embers. The color of the embers rivaled the color of the old woman’s hair. Cordelia rested her cheek against the downy feather bed, curling into the fetal position. Sophie pulled a thick quilt off the couch and laid it over her, and again, Cordelia was struck by how much the house was straight out of a fairy tale. She almost laughed when she thought about how she was a Gretel—without her Hansel—and had stumbled upon the witch’s Gingerbread House. Only she was a willing participant in fattening herself up for the witch to pop into the oven.
Her stomach began to growl again as she thought of jelly beans and gumdrops, gingerbread and frosting. If this were a gingerbread house in the fairy tale, she would eat and eat and eat until there was nothing left. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought she heard Sophie muttering to herself as she shuffled to her bedroom. “Take care of that child. She has no idea what the spirits have done and who’ve they done it to. Have strength, Cordelia. Have strength. You’ll need it.”
Just at the very moment Cordelia drifted off to sleep, she realized that she’d never told the woman her name. So how could she know it was Cordelia? The thought stayed with her for a moment before she finally succumbed to deep, deep sleep.
Cordelia woke up the next morning to the sun streaming through the windows, the birds chirping, and feeling rested and filled with anticipation. It truly felt as if she had awoken into a fairy tale after a hundred-year nap. And now that the Sleeping Beauty had broken the spell, she knew what had to be done. There was no wicked stepmother to be dealt with, no witches that were going to push her into a cauldron, no evil stepsisters that would push her around, and no knight in shining armor that was searching for her to rescue.
It was just Cordelia. And a king that needed to be dethroned. And after that, perhaps a few princesses that needed a taste of their own poisoned apples. Now that she knew where the path was leading her, all she had to do was take the first step.
The smells in the kitchen were even better than the ones the previous night. The table was filled with waffles, pancakes, muffins, assorted pastries. Cordelia looked around and waited for her host to start eating. She noticed a piece of paper next to her place setting.
Gone into town for some errands. Don’t think I’ll be able to take you to Maine today. Left you the keys for the old Volkswagen Bug outside. Should have enough life left in her to get you where you’re going. Don’t worry about bringing her back any time soon. I’ve got no use for more than one car. Think of it as my gift to you on your journey. And it will keep you from hitching rides with wolves in the future.
Take care, Cordelia. Go with my blessings. Have great strength on your journey.
Blessings ,
Sophie
The keys were left on the table along with the pastries and breakfast spread. Cordelia poured herself a steaming cup of coffee and began to dig into the food. She could hardly believe her good fortune of stumbling upon this wonderful cottage and this amazing woman. Rebecca would have loved this place, she thought as she looked around. She could almost imagine her mother living like this forty years from now. Just a sweet old lady, living alone with nature, helping wayward strangers as they happened upon her cottage. It was straight off the pages of the Brothers Grimm.
Cordelia noticed that her clothes were freshly washed and folded next to a backpack. As she munched on the corner of a croissant, she walked over to the bag. It had some supplies, canned food, a first aid kit, and an envelope that was marked TRAVELING CASH . Sophie also had placed an unopened pack of tarot cards, an extra sweater, and some matches and bottled water in the bag. Cordelia smiled as she chewed and hunted around in the backpack.
“Where’s the tent, Sophie?” she asked. The woman had thought of everything to help her on her journey to Maine. Perhaps the kind, old woman wouldn’t have been so helpful if she knew Cordelia’s ultimate plan.
What would Sophie think if she discovered that she was unknowingly aiding and abetting a murderer?
“I need this job,” Cordelia begged the handsome man at the Maine Tea and Coffee Bean. “You have no idea how much this would mean to me. I have nowhere else to go. No place to live, no family in the area.”
That was partly true. She did have family in the area, it was just that Malcolm Crane didn’t know about her—probably wouldn’t even recognize her if she plopped herself down on his doorstep. After she had driven the old VW Bug as far as she could into Maine—as far as the old gas tank allowed her—she stopped at a motel to get some rest and to refuel her body and her car. She knew she’d have to do some research to track down her wayward father.
Within a day or two of leaving Sophie’s place, she had found herself in a small town library with free Internet access. Looking up Malcolm Crane wasn’t too hard. She remembered Rebecca once mentioning that Malcolm was a college professor in Maine, but that was before they’d even moved to Hawthorne—and she still thought of him as her uncle. A lot could have changed since then, but she had to give it a shot. There were no Malcolms listed, but lots of M. Cranes. Fortunately, there were only a few listed in college towns. After placing a couple of phone calls to the college information centers, she learned that there was a Malcolm E. Crane teaching at a small college in Crawford, Maine. After she discovered that, she knew where she had to go and what she had to do. She just needed to be able to support herself and keep busy until she ultimately tracked him down. “Listen,” the guy said quietly. “I can tell that you really want this job. But so do half of the students at Bromley College. And most of them have had at least some food service experience.”
“But I used to run a store,” she insisted, unwilling to take no for an answer. “That should count for something.”
He looked at the résumé she’d halfheartedly scratched out.
“CeeCee, look, I see you’ve listed that you worked in a store, but you didn’t put the name of the place, the town, or even a reference name for me to contact. You don’t even have your Social Security number on this or a last place of residence. It’s like you just appeared out of thin air.”
Cordelia couldn’t risk being discovered. She knew that as a runaway, she’d be tracked down if she used her real name, real Social, or revealed any of her ties to Hawthorne. When she saw the newspapers in the library she stopped at to do research on Malcolm Crane, she realized how much of a big deal her disappearance really was to a small town like Hawthorne.
“I know, I know,” she said, her lower lip trembling. “I can’t really give you anything but my word. I—I need this job more than you know.” Cordelia looked around and nodded at the kids crowding the coffee bar. “I’m telling you. I’m not like these college kids who will blow off shifts for classes and parties. I’ll devote all my time to this coffeehouse. I’ll work nights, weekends, holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s—whatever you want. Do you need overnight shifts? Done. Dishwasher? Floor washer? Hell, I’ll even do your laundry. Just please,” she cried as she looked down at his name tag. “Please, Chris. Give me a chance.”
“Okay, okay, you’ve sold me,” he said, laughing. “I’m going to stop you before you sell me your soul, for crying out loud.” He stopped laughing when he noticed her eyes brimming with tears. She hoped he could tell she wasn’t like the other college kids in town. She really wanted to wo
rk—needed it to survive and not just for some extra pocket change for nights out on the town or shopping sprees in Kittery.
“The job is yours. You’ve got it, okay?” he said, dimples deepening. Cordelia could tell that she was winning him over. “And if you need a place to crash until you get back on your feet, we have a small room in the back. Uh, it’s not much. No windows or anything. But it’s cozy, there’s a nice bed. I’ve slept there a few nights when I’ve had to stay late and do accounting work. You’d have access to all the food here after hours. Plus, it’d be nice to have someone here watching the place overnight.”
Cordelia couldn’t believe her good fortune. She almost kissed him. She was nodding her head vigorously as he spoke. She was sold as soon as he said “small room in the back.” “Yes, yes, yes!” she said, almost unable to contain herself. She threw her arms around him, thanking him profusely.
He pulled back, blushing a little, and then said, “I can only offer you a little more than minimum wage, but I won’t charge you rent or anything.”
“Great! Amazing! When can I start?”
He handed her a washcloth and said, “You can start wiping down these tables and then I’ll have one of the other girls show you the ropes.”
With that, Cordelia floated from table to table, wiping them so well that they gleamed. Everything was falling into place. And she had all the time in the world to track down her father—and to make things right.
The Lost Sister Page 10