Touch of Shadow

by April Aasheim

  Ella’s words chilled me, and I fought the tingle running up my spine. I had the sudden feeling of being watched. I glanced around the solarium, seeing new shadows creeping in every corner. I returned my attention to my mentor and noticed the half-moon shadows beneath her eyes. Her age showed, and the weariness from her travels. I had forgotten how old she was – so old it was almost incomprehensible. Time had been staved off, in part due to her magick.

  Maybe time had finally taken her mind.

  “More tea!” Ella hollered into the café. Alex grumbled out a protest but was quick with another pot. “You’d do better if you had a wider selection,” she said to my brother before he drifted away again. “That’s free advice from me. Write it down. I charge most people for it.”

  Ella sipped her drink and her body relaxed as the mint overcame her nerves. She folded her hands and settled into her thoughts. I didn’t interrupt her with needless conversation, despite my many questions. With her snowy hair, rosy cheeks and glasses, she resembled a skinny Mrs. Claus – one who had been up too late waiting for Santa.

  I looked into the café at my brother, who was standing at the counter, pouring dark yellow batter into a large pie tin. I bit my lip hard enough to hurt. So this was why Ella was really here. We had been commissioned by the mayor himself to provide nearly two hundred pies for his sixtieth birthday celebration, to be held in the town center next weekend. The mayor had also asked Ella’s shop to provide cakes. These were big orders for our tiny businesses, and the loss of income was going to hurt us both. I looked again at Alex, who had been baking all week long, wondering how I would break the news to him. He had been working hard to make this order a success, with the hopes of securing more government work in the future.

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad just yet, there’s more,” Ella said, inspecting her silverware for cleanliness. “It seems there are thieves about, too. Things keep coming up missing at The Little Tea Pot. I’m not sure if it’s bad memory, bad employees, or just bad juju. In any case, it’s starting to worry me. I tell you, this whole town is feeling off. Thank God for Garett, that’s all I can say. He gives me some hope, anyway.”

  I had no idea who Garett was, but I was getting used to older people dropping names of other older people I had never heard of. My mother did it all the time. I nodded, forcing a smile onto my face. The mayor might have died, and we might be out some money, but that didn’t mean the world was becoming the dark place Ella envisioned. I wondered if cynicism was a byproduct of age, and vowed not to succumb to the condition myself. Still, her point raised a concern of my own. In the last few days, I had lost so many things that I had begun to worry about my own mental state.

  “I’ve been losing keys, earrings, photos.” I confessed. “But nothing valuable to thieves.”

  Kela appeared before us with a third pot of tea, which she poured into our dainty cups without asking. “Photos?” she said, with a shake of her head. “That’s nothing! I lost one of my engagement rings.” She shrugged as if to say she wasn’t sure which ring, from which suitor, or if it really mattered. “I say it’s hobgoblins or banshees. Maybe leprechauns. Are they out this time of year?”

  “Do you need something, Kela?” I asked, as she continued to linger after our cups were filled. Though the café was empty, I was sure there were other things she could be doing with her time.

  “Alex told me to take over. He had an errand to run.” She put down the tea pot and took out her order pad, sitting down beside me.

  “I’m completing your dating profile and I need you to answer a couple more questions.”

  Ella sighed and threw up her hands “Who has time for dating with all that’s going on in the world?”

  Kela looked at her, undeterred. “It will only take a minute, I promise. And then I’m out of your hair. First question: Baylee, who is your fashion icon?”

  I knew Kela wouldn’t go away until she got what she came for. “I suppose my fashion icon would be a cross between Audrey Hepburn and Katherine Hepburn. Actually, either Hepburn will work, if you have to pick just one.”

  “I’m just gonna put down Beyoncé. Next question: What do you identify as?”

  “That’s an odd question. What do you identify as?”

  “Pleiadian,” she said.

  “Can we just do this later, please?” I asked. Ella had by now stood up and was adjusting the buttons on her coat.

  “Fine!” Kela flipped her hair back, then snatched up her order pad. Her hips see-sawed their way all the way back through the cafe and into to my office. “But if you get matched with a weirdo,” she called over her shoulder before closing the door. “It’s not because of me.”

  Ella laced up her boots and announced that she needed to go. “I just popped in to say… be careful. Everything that happens, happens for a reason. There is an eternal game of chess playing out in the spirit world, and not all who dwell on the other side of the veil have our best interests at heart. You’d do good to remember this – there are no accidents, Baylee Scott.”

  I followed her click-clacking steps across the hardwood to the front door. Her steps were long, despite her diminutive size, and I marveled at how she could seem so feeble one moment and appear quite robust the next. When she spoke again, there was fire in her eyes.

  “There are dark forces brewing right now, Baylee. They are waiting, gathering. Cast your protection spells and salt your home. You’ll need all the help you can get.”

  “I will,” I assured her as I opened the door. Outside, I could see dried leaves skipping along the barren lawn before floating away.

  Her hand grazed my bare arm as she passed by. With my psychometric abilities, even the smallest exchange of contact was enough to show me someone’s memories… if those memories were strong enough.

  I caught a glimpse of Ella, sitting on the front porch of her picket-fenced home, looking up into an azure predawn sky. A shawl was slung across her shoulders, that she tied and then retied beneath her chin. She watched the horizon, worry in her eyes. “What foul presence has been unleashed in our town?” she asked. She sighed as she pushed herself up to stand with the aid of her closed umbrella. Before stepping into her house, she made a warding sign with her fingers. Just in case.

  “Goodbye!”

  Ella called to me from halfway across the yard, snapping me from the memory. I watched as she strode down Main Street, her waist-length braid swinging dutifully behind her. In spite of everything, I had to smile at the way she seemed to float down the sidewalk. I stayed in the doorway until I could no longer see her.

  Alex appeared from the side of the house, carrying a newspaper. He stormed inside, and tossed the newspaper onto the kitchen counter with a grunt.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, closing the door and following him. His jaw was clenching and unclenching as he adjusted dials on the oven. “Is everything okay?”

  “Didn’t you hear the news? We’re screwed. Utterly screwed.”

  I spread open The Reed Hollow Sun. The blaring headline declared that beloved Mayor Elmer Beane, who had served our town honorably for thirty-two years, had passed away unexpectedly. He was survived by his second wife and his third cat. Donations to the Senior Center were requested in lieu of flowers.

  “I just found out,” I said. “Ella told me. She seemed very distraught.”

  “Well, she’s screwed, too, although she can afford to take a hit in revenue. We can’t. Damn it!” Alex ran his hand through his overly gelled hair, hardly disturbing a strand in the process. His face was bunched up as he pulled sugar and nutmeg and vanilla from the pantry. “He was only sixty. None of this makes sense.”

  “Sixty is not exactly young,” I said. “People have heart attacks at that age all the time. In fact, it is only in the last century that the life expectancy of the American male…”

  “Save your anthropological lectures for someone else. This is real life, Baylee, not a book. What the hell am I going to do with all the pies I’ve already m
ade? Thirty-two! We can’t sell thirty-two pies before they spoil. We can’t even give that many away. I thought this deal would get us into the new year, at least.”

  Alex blustered into the kitchen, yanking down copper pots and muffin tins that rattled and clanged on the granite counter. The stone work surface was one of the few renovations Mom had followed through with, out of necessity, since the original counter had rotted through in the late 1990s.

  “Alex…” I began tentatively. My brother’s emotions were as volatile and extreme as the New England weather – I was never sure if I’d get a rain shower or a full-fledged storm. “We’ll make do. We always sell more baked goods in the fall and winter, and there are always more birthday parties.”

  “Not for him, Baylee.” He poked at tear in the corner of his eye with his fingertip. “And you’re missing the point.”

  “What’s the point?”

  “He was my friend. And He didn’t die of a random heart attack. He was murdered. And I think I can prove it.”

  Three

  Later that day, Alex and I walked the two miles to the mayor’s house. Although my parents had been friends with Elmer and his ex-wife, this was my first visit to his home. It was a serene and private reserve, situated on a pond at the edge of an aspen grove. Squirrels canvassed the lawn, looking for nuts to stockpile, totally unconcerned by our presence. A sign in the yard read Vote for Elmer Beane. He’ll Keep Reed Hollow Green. Alex reverently straightened the sign as we headed up the walkway to the stately Colonial brick residence that had housed Reed Hollow’s mayors for nearly two centuries.

  “Nice digs,” said Alex, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he sauntered towards the front porch. “Elmer loved the land and the earth. He was a real conservationist. He fished for his own dinner every night. You don’t find many men like that anymore. I’m glad he got to spend his final years out here.”

  “Indeed,” I said, noting an open garbage can along the side of the house, filled to the brim with plastic bottles and fast food wrappers, including a fish sandwich box. “Are you certain he was in good health? Perhaps he had problems with his blood pressure or cholesterol?”

  Alex shook his head defiantly. “There was nothing wrong with him, physically. After this visit, you’ll see.”

  We climbed the concrete steps. An American flag waved a fervent hello from the porch column, and a sleepy-eyed cat acknowledged us with a yawn from the doormat. As I reached for the sleek brass knocker, Alex stopped me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “I thought we came to speak to Elmer’s wife. Did you forget something?”

  “We didn’t come to speak to his wife. I brought you here to meet Fat Sam.” Alex knelt and extended his hand towards the cat, as if presenting me with the grand prize on a game show. “Fat Sam, meet Baylee.”

  “Can I choose what’s behind Door Number Two instead?” I asked, bitterly. “Alex, you brought me all the way here to show me a cat? We have one of those at home, remember?” I folded my arms, giving him my sternest sister face. I understood that grief took many forms, but I wasn’t about to be suckered into adopting another cat just to satisfy Alex’s misplaced guilt. Mr. Bites frightened me enough as it was.

  Fat Sam meowed, a sound that quickly melted into a yawn. At least this cat looked too lazy to chew my toes off while I slept. “I would be willing to trade cats,” I suggested as Fat Sam’s eyelids drifted shut again.

  Alex stroked the cat and he began purring, though he still couldn’t muster the energy to fully open his eyes. “I didn’t bring you here just because Fat Sam is a really cool cat. He’s been the mayor’s constant companion for the last decade, and he was with Elmer yesterday when it happened. He’ll know if he was murdered.”

  Alex uttered a series of soft grunts and purrs, and Fat Sam responded with a few of his own. I watched on, fascinated by the process as always. My brother was so adept at communicating with animals that he no longer needed the verbal component, but he kept it up out of habit.

  “I knew it!” Alex said, snapping his fingers when he had finished interviewing Fat Sam.

  I was afraid to ask what the cat had told him, for many reasons. First and most importantly, I didn’t want to get involved. The mayor had been sixty, and the unwelcome truth was that our bodies start failing as we got older. Instead of focusing on the claims of an overweight cat, we should be trying to figure out how we can recoup our losses from the birthday party that wouldn’t be celebrated.

  The broader reason, however, was that I simply didn’t trust animals as eyewitnesses. They didn’t understand facts or logic or reason, relying almost purely on instinct. Animals – and especially pets -rarely paid attention to anything not related to their own immediate needs. And looking at Fat Sam, I was doubly convinced he had little to say that didn’t concern his food dish or a place to nap.

  Alex gazed up at me, and I was reminded of him as a boy – always bringing stray animals home. It softened my heart, even if my mind wasn’t convinced.

  “Alex, what exactly did the cat—“

  “Fat Sam,” he corrected.

  “Fine, what exactly did Fat Sam say?”

  “He didn’t say anything, Baylee. He’s just a cat.”

  “Alex!”

  “I meant he didn’t have to say words. Fat Sam showed me images, of him and Elmer just hours before the…you know.” Alex clutched his heart in a croaking gesture. “The mayor was happy and healthy, taking walks, working on his re-election campaign, and spending time with his wife. So now we’re supposed to believe that Elmer simply keeled over playing solitaire at the Senior Center, and no one was around to witness it? Mark my words, Baylee, foul play was involved.”

  I crouched down beside him. “Alex, Elmer was getting older. Perhaps he forgot to take his medication? Or maybe he wasn’t eating as healthy as you thought? These things happen.”

  Alex sighed as he scratched Fat Sam beneath his collar. This elicited a gruff but steady purr. “I’m not crazy and there’s no reason for Fat Sam to lie to me. I thought you’d be the one person I could talk to about this. I’m not asking you to do anything, I just want you to be on my side, for once.”

  “For once?” I said, bouncing back up to my feet. Knowing Elmer’s wife was probably inside the house, I kept my voice low. “The last time I took your side, we ended up with a feral cat living in our tea house. And remember, I’m back here in Reed Hollow to help you get the café going because you couldn’t bear to part with it, even though it’s a huge money pit. I’m always on your side, even when it’s a ridiculous side.”

  Fat Sam opened his eyes and stretched out his paws. He shimmied up to a standing position, his belly hanging so low it appeared to rest on his feet. He waddled over to me and rubbed against my bare leg. And just like that – we were linked.

  I was standing inside a memory that wasn’t mine, nor was it in color. A large, flat-screen monitor materialized before me. I was sitting on someone’s lap. Someone who smelled like fish and grass.

  “Don’t worry, kitty,” a raspy voice said. “Just a few more minutes and we’ll go home.”

  A veined hand began pecking slowly away at a keyboard, while another lifted a coffee cup. “Almost there. Soon as I...“

  I heard a gasp, followed by a crash that made my hair stand on end. The coffee cup had fallen to the ground, smashing to pieces. The man who was holding me was now clutching his chest, pointing at the screen, even as he fell sideways out of his chair. I dropped to the ground and yowled, knowing the man was dying.

  There was commotion as people ran in. Large feet everywhere, nearly trampling me, but I stayed close beside the man anyway. “Don’t move him,” someone ordered. Another voice yelled, “Get that cat out of here!”

  As I was yanked upwards, I saw something move behind the monitor – a squat, bi-pedal creature with long gray ears that folded over themselves. Its coal-red eyes seemed to smile. None of the people seemed to take notice of it.

  It hissed and reached out a gr
ay, gummy hand. I tried to fight my way out of my captor’s grasp to get at it, but I was carried away and shut into a broom closet.

  After that quick but unsettling vision, I had newfound empathy for cats. I could feel Fat Sam’s panic at being locked away in the closet, not knowing what would happen to him or his companion. It took several minutes for my heart rate to return to normal.

  Once calm, I told Alex of Fat Sam’s memory, purposely downplaying the creature behind the monitor. “It looked like a mouse, but not quite,” I said.

  Alex didn’t speak as he gave Fat Sam a gentle pet goodbye.

  It was a solemn trek back downtown. Alex walked as stiffly as a tin soldier, his mouth turned down in a frown, while I lallygagged behind, wondering how my life had changed so drastically since yesterday: Kela was finding me True Love on a dating site, Ella was talking of bad omens and shadows, and the mayor’s sudden death had left our business up in the air and Alex in a funk. And what was that creature that Fat Sam had seen? Had its sudden appearance been the reason for the mayor’s heart failure?

  I repeatedly tried to pull up the image of the small creature, but it grew fuzzier with each attempt, since it wasn’t my own memory. Was it possible that Fat Sam’s animal imagination had turned a mouse into a monster? Human memories warped and morphed all the time, especially after trauma. It wasn’t a big leap to think that an animal’s did, too.

  Who knows what madness has already been unleashed, or what is yet to come?

  I wrung Ella’s ominous words from my mind as I waded into a pile of leaves on the sidewalk; some crunched beneath the heels of my boots, while others floated off into the ether. The air smelled like apples and sunshine. The sky was crisp and clear. It was a beautiful fall day – yet I couldn’t shake the unease.