Magic and Shadows: A Collection of YA Fantasy and Paranormal Romances

by T. M. Franklin

  8

  "Mamie, can I talk to you?" Ariel stammered. Her heart thumped as it had whenever she'd met each of the new social workers who'd been assigned her case during her fourteen years in their care. Each lasted a couple of months before passing her to the next one. In the thick file bearing her name, they described her as the most hostile, bad tempered child they'd ever had the misfortune to cross paths with. Mostly because she didn't like the job they had to do and didn't hesitate to express her feelings, loudly and often.

  Rebecca Trail had been different. She’d remained calm and patient when dealing with the hormone driven temper tantrums she’d thrown. Nothing seemed to faze the woman, until Ariel pulled a four-inch long pocket knife with an ivory handle and two blades. It wasn’t much, but it was still considered a dangerous weapon by Child Services.

  The knife had momentarily shattered Ms. Rebecca's tranquility. She confiscated the knife and after filing her report with the state, Ariel was sent to the "training school" for threatening a state official. The institution was really a minimum-security prison for underage punks who were too hostile or incorrigible for the foster care program, yet too young and innocent for adult jail. But that was the past. Now was the future and it looked like Mamie had been expecting her. The woman met her questioning gaze and smiled reassuringly from her rocking chair in the corner. Her shining black eyes mirrored a serenity Ariel wished she could emulate.

  "Certainly, Miz Ariel. Come sit. Ask any question. I may not know all the answers, but I'll do my best." She nodded toward the straight back chair next to her. "I've been waiting for you."

  "Can you explain what's going on? The fence, the locked rooms, the secrets? Am I crazy to believe the stories Miss Josephine tells? Or are they the truth? What are the secrets does she keep hinting at?" Ariel heard the note of hysteria in her voice but couldn't calm herself.

  "Let me start with the night Miz Anna was kilt. That'll answer some of yo' questions, I's sure." Mamie spoke softly, then closed her eyes and laid her head back.

  It took a long moment for her to gather her memories and put them in proper order. Then she began to speak.

  "A storm had been brewing for days and the sky was the color of cold ashes the night Miz Anna was kilt. The air was heavy and thick, full of anger. The storm started just as Jarrod Palmer cornered Miz Anna in her room.

  "The howling wind and hard driving rain almost covered the sounds of Miz Anna screaming, first at Jarrod Palmer, then for someone to help her. That crazy boy hurt Miz Anna real bad, then ran off. The blood that covered his hands was washed away by the pouring rain.

  "After he ran from the house, I rushed up to her room worried out of my mind. Especially when I saw the blood spots. They went from the front door up the stairs to Miz Anna's room. She was in the corner by the windows, hoverin' jest this side of death.

  "That whoreson wasn't happy jest to threaten her with his huntin’ knife. He'd stabbed her in her body, her chest, her neck. So many holes, so much blood. I couldn't do nothing for her body, so I called to her spirit, begged her soul to stay here, in this house, up in her room, safe from harm.

  "The Major arrived later. Etta showed him into the front room. She didn't tell him nothing about Miz Anna. Didn't know how to tell him what had happened. When I came downstairs to get my magics, he was still in the foyer, staring at the drops of blood that stained the carpet.

  "What's happened, Mamie? Is someone hurt?" he asked in that voice of his. He was pale, like he knew something had happened. Like he could feel her separatin' body from soul but didn't want to accept it.

  "Yessir," I answered, "Miz Anna. She's dead, suh. That crazy Palmer boy stabbed her. He kilt Miz Anna.

  "I left the Major in the foyer. I had to fetch my magics so's I could hold Miz Anna's spirit close. The Major was crying when I went back up to her bedroom.

  After I called Miz Anna’s spirit back, begged her to remain in the bedroom, I closed the door and locked it tight. Then I left a special magic outside the door to keep her gentle, kind spirit safe from harm.

  "By the time I'd finished, the Major had moved to the library. He was sittin’ in Miz Anna's favorite chair, drinking brandy like it was water.

  "Mamie, I want you to kill me. Let my spirit join hers. I'll never find another woman who can take her place. Kill me, let me go to her." He was a strong man, but Miz Anna's death had taken the life from him.

  "I can't do that, suh," I said, "and if you do it yourself, you'll go to hell, not to heaven with Miz Anna." I went on to explain to him that I could use some of my magics to help him. But to end the spell I would put in place, we would need someone very much like Miz Anna to return her spirit into this world.

  "The Major agreed to do anything he could, as long as it reunited him with his love. So's I gave him a special magic powder and split him body from soul.

  "The mob that stormed the house later that night thought he was dead, his body laid out just so on the library sofa. Those men laughed at the brave man who'd won Miz Anna's heart and then died of a broken heart. They left quietly and went back to the saloon. After all, the man they'd come to lynch was dead. He looked dead, he felt dead, so he had to be dead. But he wasn't. At least not his spirit. His spirit was trapped in this house.

  "Many days and years has passed since that night and Miz Anna's been locked up in her room, waiting for you. The Major's been down here, waiting for the time you would come and he could be together with her again.

  "Miz Josephine was the Massa’s sister. She came for Miz Anna’s burying then stayed on as the mistress of the house. Her husband was dead and her brother needed her.

  "Within weeks, Miz Anna's pappy, the Massa, died as well. His heart, strained since his wife had died and Miz Amelia’s runnin’ away with that stranger man, gave out on him. It was if the whole house was dying because Miz Anna's goodness was gone.

  "My next magic came right after the town buried the Massa. I brought Josiah and Etta and Miz Josephine and told them we would be stayin' here, carin' for the house and gardens until the time Miz Anna and the Major could be restored. Then I put a magic on this house and the yard inside the fence.

  "The house and grounds have been frozen in time since that night in 1840. Time can't move forward until the Major and Miz Anna have been released from their magics. Then I’ll take the other magics away and time will move forward once again.

  "Until that time we live in a cycle, but none of us grows older. Etta is still the young girl she was when she tried to help Miz Anna that night. I'm still the same age, but I have seen some of the things the years have brought about beyond these walls. Josiah, he's the same man, happy to be tending his plants, his animals and not have to worry about anything except getting a taste of Mamie’s honey once in a while.

  "Miz Josephine, she's brought other girls into the house, all of them young, pretty, much like Miz Anna yet not the same. Once they’d see the fenced yard and heard the secrets of the house, they’d run away. And they’d die. They weren't strong enough.

  "But you won't run away. You’re a brave child, a good child, a strong child. You're jest like Miz Anna, in more ways than anyone realizes. If it were possible, I'd think you was Miz Anna. Or maybe her sister, Miz Amelia."

  Ariel stared at the black woman, not sure what to believe. The house was unique in this day and age of supreme modernization. The gardens appeared as if they'd never seen a modern tool and the kitchen was right out of a history book.

  But how could such an outlandish tale be true? It sounded too bizarre to have really happened. But she’d been in contact with both the Major and Miss Anna. Overwhelmed by the revelation of magic spells and splitting spirits from bodies, Ariel knew she needed some time to put everything together.

  "Am I allowed to go into the front yard? Or do I have to stay inside the house and fenced area during my indefinite stay?"

  She wanted to see the sun from the front porch, see cars drive by, check on the work John and the landscaping crew had accomp
lished during the day. After the wild tale she'd just heard, she needed a dose of modern day reality.

  "You may go into the front yard, but only to the hedge around the edge of the property. Those bushes mark the end of the magic's power. Beyond that you will perish after a few days. Die a slow death."

  Mamie stood and moved around the room. She appeared relieved that Ariel hadn't grown hysterical or flatly denied the fantastic story.

  Ariel had more questions, but for now, she was afraid to ask them. They would wait until she'd fitted those pieces into the giant puzzle her life had become.

  She spent the rest of the day on the front porch. She didn't bother with dinner. Her thoughts were too busy to worry about food. The rocker she'd dragged from the living room slowly tilted back and forth as she contemplated the depth of love the Major must have felt for Miss Anna. So much love he gave his life and his future, in the hopes that someday they would be reunited. Anna must have been a very special lady to inspire such emotion and eternal devotion.

  Long after the sun had set, she retired to her room. Instead of sleeping nude as had become her habit, she pulled on the nightgown with delicate purple flowers scattered on a fine white cotton material. She climbed into bed and settled into the cloud like mattress with a sigh, falling asleep in minutes.

  Her sleep had always been deep, so deep she never remembered her dreams, but tonight was different. As she dreamt, she knew somehow, she would remember this dream. Only later would she question if it was the stories of the love between the two ghosts or Miss Anna climbing into her brain that brought the visions. For in her dream, she had become Anna Bradley.

  She stood in the parlor during her birthday party, listening to those around her gossip while wondering who this fine looking gentleman was who'd just arrived, unescorted and uninvited to her party. She felt an electric attraction when his eyes met hers and held. And held. And continued to hold, causing the rest of the world to retreat into an annoying hum as he worked his way through the crowd. He took her hand and brushed his lips over the knuckles of her fine lace glove. The warmth of his lips through the lace sent a shiver through her. When he straightened and smiled, she was trapped in his eyes. She saw her future there in the bottomless black-brown orbs.

  In that heartbeat she knew. Her heart rejoiced that this was the man she'd been waiting for. The man she’d always known existed, somewhere in the world. Another shiver crawled up her spine when he released her hand. That hint of fear warned her that this man, this stranger, could either break her heart or make her every dream come true.

  He must have shared her fascination. He remained by her side for the rest of the evening. Before leaving with the last few guests, he requested an audience with her father for the next morning. He arrived on time and the two men retreated to the library. Their meeting took only a few minutes, then he joined her on the front porch for a glass of mint tea. Looking deep into her eyes, he announced that he had her father’s permission to court her.

  Scenes flipped past her mind’s eye like a music video on fast forward. Warmth blossomed in her heart and she was certain that what was between them was timeless and so special that nothing and no one would ever come between them.

  The scenes slowed again just as the demented Jarrod Palmer burst into her bedroom that last night. He began spouting wild accusations about the Major, about their relationship.

  Jarrod demanded she forget the Major and run away with him, right then. She could take care of him and his brothers. They would be one big happy family and no one would have to know they weren't legally married.

  When she flatly refused, he pulled out a long hunting knife and crept toward her. The more she shook her head and refused, the more insistent he became. In moments, she was backed into the corner, standing as tall as she could manage in her fear.

  He approached slowly, cautiously, as if stalking a wild thing. He repeated that if she would forget that trespasser and come away with him, nothing bad would happen to her or the Major.

  When he spoke of hurting the Major, she panicked. Screaming, she leapt forward, hoping to surprise him and push past and escape. He caught her, pushed her back into the corner, then tripped and fell over his own feet, landing against her. The knife entered her stomach.

  She cried out in surprise when she felt the wide blade enter her skin and again when he pulled it out. Looking up, she saw he'd become someone else, the devil reincarnate. The sight of her blood didn't panic Jarrod as it should. Instead, it caused him to lose touch with that one small part of his brain that normally thought clearly. He came at her again and again, demanding she run away with him. As he spoke, he plunged the knife into her belly, her chest and her neck.

  A cry of pain that sounded like that of a wounded animal startled Ariel awake.

  9

  For the first time in recent memory, Ariel woke instantly without drinking two cups of strong coffee. She sat up, looking around the room for intruders while running her hands over her chest and belly, checking for blood and stab wounds. There was no pain. That was a good thing. She hated pain. Then she pinched herself to confirm that she was awake.

  Shaking like a salt shaker at a French fry convention, she accepted that there was no one in the room with her. She looked down again. The nightgown she'd put on the night before was whole. Not a knife wound nor drop of blood in sight. It had been a dream.

  But what a dream. Instead of just black and white, half-remembered scenes, this vision had color and sound. Even the scent of Jarrod Palmer's unwashed body and her own blood remained with her.

  Laying back, dizzy with relief, she felt as if she'd run a marathon. Looking around the room, she wondered if the dream was an aftereffect of Mamie's story or Miss Anna's shared memories. Could she have somehow been plugged into Anna's memories? How was that possible? She couldn’t believe it, but the depth of the love between the ghosts reminded her of the questions she hadn't asked yet. She knew the history behind the haunted Bradley house. Now she had to find out how she was supposed to put things to rights again.

  Now that she knew the secrets, she was destined to remain in this house, in this small bit of insanity. Otherwise she would die. If nothing else, she did believe Mamie’s dire warning and wasn’t willing to test her predictions.

  Ariel rolled to her side, curled into a ball, squeezed her eyes shut, and willed herself back to sleep. But her mind refused. There was another piece of the puzzle she was missing.

  Her eyelids relaxed, then opened halfway. The chair by the windows was moving. Rocking slowly back and forth, as if the occupant had all the time in the world to sit and rock. Dreaming of the future or the past?

  The only problem was there was no one in the chair. At least no earthly occupant.

  With everything else she had to deal with, now Miss Anna was getting bold. She seemed to be keeping watch, making sure Ariel remained safe. It was comforting in a strange way. She took a deep breath and relaxed. Closing her eyes, she rolled to her other side. "Good night, Anna," she murmured just loud enough to be heard.

  The only answer was the gentle whoosh-creak of the chair moving back and forth.

  Ariel woke several hours later. Thankfully the rocker was still and silent. Quiet as a tomb, she thought morbidly. She grimaced at the dark humor that had invaded her spirit. She was awake. It was time to open her eyes and check her surroundings to make sure Mamie didn't do anything to her as she'd slept. She half expected that. Kill the living so she couldn't take over the household, couldn't take Miss Anna's place.

  Or could she?

  Opening her eyes to mere slits, she gazed around the room. Nope, no dried chicken feet or pin cushion dolls or strings of garlic hanging anywhere. The dress hanging from the wardrobe caught her eye. The shade of strawberry ice cream, it had short puffy sleeves, a rounded neck and a long skirt. It wasn't a color she normally wore, but the shade would bring out the red in her hair. Even as she listed the reasons not to wear it, she threw back the sheet and leapt from the bed
. Pulling off the nightgown and underwear she'd worn during the night, she bathed from the pitcher and bowl again, then donned clean panties and crossed to the dress. Just touching the fine material made her sigh. The material was weightless under her fingertips. This dress would be perfect for the hot, humid day ahead.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled the dress over her head. She was half certain that someone would burst into the room and tell her she'd wasted too much time making her decision, so they were taking the dress back and sending her out to face her fate beyond the hedge.

  Once the material had settled around her, she made sure the neck was placed properly. Then she tried to lace up the back. It was a difficulty she had not foreseen. A difficulty that Etta solved when she entered the room and began lacing up the ribbons. It was as if she'd done this same chore every day of her life. Maybe she had, in her time and place. But here, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, women were used to doing things for themselves. The maid left as soon as she'd finished with the laces.

  “Thank you,” Ariel called after her, not sure if it was proper to express gratitude to a slave.

  Ariel gazed in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly. So well, she wondered if Etta had made it especially for her. But that couldn't be. This must be another one of Miss Anna's gowns, on loan until the spirit could reconnect with a body and reclaim them for herself.

  Transformed by the dress and the dream, Ariel pinned her hair up in a topknot before heading downstairs. It was time for another silent meal with Miss Josephine. Maybe this morning she'd see the rest of the rooms in the house since that part of the tour had been put off yesterday.

  Missing a step at the bottom of the stairs, she tripped, crashing into John Robards, who stood at the bottom of the staircase, watching her descent with a sneer on his lips and a strange glint in his eye.