Hex After Forty: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Singing Falls Witches: Book One

by M. J. Caan

  Torie wasn’t stupid. She had seen this exact scenario play out in the media and the court of public opinion involving a much more high-profile society member who had been running the same scheme as her husband. The scandal had destroyed that family. While running from a fight did not sit well with her, she couldn’t help but wonder how that high society family might have fared had they opted to disappear from the public.

  What would she do if Ward had raided Shawn’s trust fund? Or worse, what if the government seized it as an asset? Lawrence was confident they wouldn’t be able to; but they were the government. Was there really anything they couldn’t do?

  She noticed the dying light in the sky as she crossed the border into North Carolina. The sky was streaked with orange and red ribbons against a blue-gray background. The sheer beauty of it was nearly enough to take her mind off her troubles.

  She checked the clock and new that she would be in the tiny town of Singing Falls just after nightfall. Her mother had moved there shortly after their fight, and it would be the first time Torie had visited the mountain community. From what she had read online, it was a small arts community nestled in the mountains, and known for the scenic hiking and camping in the summer, and magnificent ski trails in the winter.

  The road that her navigation system told her to turn onto was dark, even in the half light, and she found herself slowing down considerably as she crept upward into the mountains; one hairpin turn after the other.

  It was a good thing she slowed down, because when she came around one of the curves, she thought she saw a man stagger onto the side of the road. He was bent over, and the beams of her headlights just caught his form. She slammed on the brakes, only to realize no one was there.

  But he was there; she was sure of that. Had she hit him? Maybe it was her imagination, but she could swear she felt a thump before her car had screeched to a halt.

  Without thinking, she climbed out of the car and raced to the front, scanning the area illuminated by her headlights. There was nothing there. Slowly, she made her way to the side of the car.

  “Hello? Is anyone there?” She suddenly felt silly, walking around in the near dark looking for someone she may or may not have seen. It had to have been a hallucination. She had been angry and was just thinking of Ward, so maybe her mind projected him in front of her car. Perhaps smashing into him would have been therapeutic in some way, she reasoned.

  “Stupid woman,” she muttered to herself as she turned to get back into the car.

  And that was when she heard it. A weak ‘meow’ that made its way to her ears. It was faint, and as she stopped to listen, she heard it again, coming from the ditch on the passenger side of the road. The side where she thought she had seen a man stumble out of the shadows.

  Following the sound, she saw a small, dark shape huddled in a ball on the side of the road. It purred as she approached, and then meowed in a way that made her think the cat was injured. Badly. Had she hit a cat? God, she hoped not. She looked around, unsure what to do.

  Bending down, she reached tentatively for the little fella. “Okay, please don’t bite me; I just need to see how hurt you are.”

  She lightly stroked his fur, felt it stiffen in response when her fingers brushed against its side. The cat had definitely been injured, whether she had done it or not, and it needed care. Looking at her watch, Torie knew she was only about twenty minutes from her mother’s house. Surely an arts community would have a vet somewhere in town.

  “Okay, I’m going to pick you up. You’re coming with me and we are going to get you some help.”

  She lifted the tiny feline gingerly and eased it into her back seat.

  “You’re going to be just fine,” she said.

  The cat, which she could see now was pitch black, sighed deeply and looked at her with large, green eyes. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, it spoke to her.

  “Thank you.”

  4

  “That’s it; I’m losing my mind,” Torie said to herself as she made the drive up the winding road to her mother’s house. She kept looking at the cat in her rear-view mirror. It was lying in the back seat, eyes closed, breathing in small shallow gasps. For a moment, she considered the bottle of pills Freya had given her, and she wondered just how powerful they were.

  Of course they would be for her, not the cat.

  Cats don’t talk, she kept reminding herself. There was no way that had happened. The stress of the past two days had finally caught up to her and she was now a woman on the verge.

  But she had heard it; hadn’t she? She knew from watching countless videos on the internet that cats could sometimes sound like they were producing human speech with their vocalizations. But this was different. It was calm and…too human-like. It had said “Thank you” and then seemed to pass out, its head dropping.

  Was hearing animals some weird, new menopause symptom? If so, that was all she needed added to the mix.

  Even in her shocked state, she still knew the animal needed medical care, so she secured it as best she could with blankets from the trunk and made her way up the mountain.

  Her mother’s house was a cute, two-bedroom cottage with second-floor dormers that looked like large eyes staring down. It sat back from the winding main road; the front of it dominated by a large porch that spanned the entire length of the house. An actual white picket fence lined the drive to the gravel parking space in front.

  Evergreen trees flanked it, towering high above, creating a scenic canopy over the house. Torie could see tendrils of gray smoke wisping out of the chimney. There was a gas lamp post that flickered at the entrance to the sidewalk, illuminating the footpath to the porch. Torie saw a porch light next to the red wooden door flick on as she opened her car door and rushed around to the passenger side back door.

  “Torie, is that you?” her mother’s voice rang out from the porch.

  “Mom? Yes, can you give me a hand? Quickly please.”

  Her tone told the older woman something was wrong, and she rushed to her daughter’s side.

  “Torie, what is it? What’s going on?”

  “I think I hit this cat, Mom.” She eased the animal into her arms, turning to give her mother a view.

  Her mother gasped, placing one hand over her mouth. “This way, Torie, hurry.” She made her way up the path to the house ahead of her daughter.

  She ushered Torie into the house, through the great room that dominated the entry, and into a nicely appointed kitchen. Through the kitchen was a back, screened-in patio with a large wooden worktable in the middle of the room.

  “Put him here,” her mother said, moving an assortment of paint brushes and cans aside to make room on the table.

  Gingerly, Torie laid the cat out, still wrapped in the blanket.

  Her mother ran into the kitchen and returned almost immediately with a cloth that she had soaked in cold water. She began to carefully dab at the cat’s face with the cloth.

  “Do you have a vet close by?” Torie asked.

  “Not one that will be able to help him. But maybe…” She handed the cloth to her daughter and made her way to a phone on the wall in the kitchen. She dialed a few numbers and spoke in a rushed tone to whoever was on the other end.

  When she returned to the worktable, she had a small bottle of water which she slowly poured out into the bottle’s cap and tried to get the cat to sip from it.

  “Tell me exactly what happened,” she said, not looking up at her daughter.

  Torie relayed what she remembered, ending with, “I honestly thought I saw a man first. I thought I hit him, but when I got out of the car, I found this little fella.”

  Her mother snapped to attention, focusing on Torie. “A man? Are you sure?”

  “No, Mom, I’m not. That’s what I’m saying. It was dark, and the headlights barely caught…whatever it was, in the beam as I came around the corner.”

  “How did he seem?”

  Torie thought for a second. “I d
on’t know. He was kind of staggering; maybe bent forward, but then that was it, he was gone at the same time I slammed on my brakes.”

  Before anything else could be said, they heard the squeal of tires in the gravel, followed by a car door opening and closing. A half-second later the front door opened, and someone was rushing through the house to join them.

  Torie looked up to see two women enter the work room. Both were older, probably the same age as her mother, and dressed in flowing sundresses in vibrant tie-died colors. One woman was tall, with long gray hair that was pulled back in a single long braid that trailed down her back. The other woman was shorter with a stouter build. Her hair was in a natural afro that framed her dark features and striking green eyes.

  “Oh my Goddess,” said the taller woman, “is that him?”

  Torie’s mother nodded, trying to coax the cat to drink some water. “Yes. No doubt about it.”

  Both women rushed to either side of the table, focused on the black cat that laid between them.

  “I…I am so sorry,” Torie said. “It was dark. I didn’t even see him when I came around the curve.” Tears began to streak her cheek as she saw the concern on the faces of the women gathered around. She felt terrible, and her stomach began to twist itself into knots.

  The shorter woman looked up, almost as if she were seeing her for the first time. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

  “This is my daughter, Torie,” her mother said. “Torie, this is Fionna and Glen.”

  Fionna, the darker woman, nodded before turning back to the cat.

  “She thinks she hit him with her car. He stumbled out in front of her.”

  Before Torie could say anything to correct her mother’s account of what happened, Glen spoke up.

  “What do we do? He can’t stay like this. There isn’t anything in my medicine bag that will help him in this condition,” she said.

  “We called Ellie on the way over. She’s on her way,” said Fionna. Both women exchanged glances before looking at Torie’s mother. “She was down in Trinity. She’s grabbing a few items and heading right up.”

  “That means she’s at least an hour away,” said Torie’s mother. “We need to make sure he stays alive until she gets here.” She looked at her confused daughter. “Ellie is a special kind of vet. She’s not from around here…”

  That made Torie feel slightly better, but she could tell from the concern around her that the women thought the cat might not make it until then.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  “Stay out of the way,” said Fionna, her voice little more than a snarl. She softened immediately after seeing the hurt look on Torie’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Here, come with me, we need to brew a special tea that will help him.”

  She took Torie by the hand, gave a quick look in Glen’s direction, and dragged her into the kitchen. Once there, she rummaged through the cabinets until she found a small pot. Handing it to Torie, she told her to fill it halfway with water and put it on the stove to boil.

  Torie did as she was told, setting the gas range to high to hasten the boil.

  “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to hit your cat,” she said.

  Fionna regarded her, cocking her head to one side. “He isn’t our cat. At least, not in the way you think.”

  Now it was Torie’s turn to be confused. “But…I mean, the way you are both acting. I assumed he belonged to you.”

  Fionna threw back her head and laughed. “If he survives, he will get quite the kick out of what you just said.”

  Torie frowned. The way this woman was speaking about the cat reminded her of what she had not told her mother about the encounter.

  “You make him sound almost human,” said Torie.

  “Almost,” replied Fionna, her voice soft and silky.

  She continued her rummaging, this time going through the upper cabinets until she found what she was looking for. Removing a small, silver container from a middle shelf, she brought it to the large island that sat in the middle of the space. Then she quickly went to another cabinet and took out a marble mortar and pestle. She opened the container and emptied the contents into the mortar.

  Torie caught a whiff of sage and thyme, and another smell that she could not place. Fionna began grinding the green spices, mashing them into a fine grain.

  “As soon as the water boils, bring it over,” she said.

  No sooner had the words been spoken than Torie noticed the bubbles breaking the surface of the water. She grabbed the pot and brought it to Fionna.

  “Good,” said the older woman, “now, slowly pour it into the mortar as I grind. Slowly, I only need a small amount to make a paste.”

  Torie did as she was told, careful not to burn the strange woman who was intent on working the mixture. The water hit the herbs, giving off a slightly pungent odor that surprised Torie. As she ground the mixture into a sticky, almost waxy consistency, Fionna began to chant lightly under her breath; so lightly that Torie could not make out what she was saying.

  She didn’t get the chance to ask. The older woman picked up the mortar and motioned for Torie to follow her back into the work room.

  “This may help until Ellie can get here,” she said, placing the mixture on the table next to the cat. Dipping her fingers in the paste, she applied a dollop to the cat’s side and began massaging it in. To Torie’s surprise, the cat meowed loudly and began to stir.

  Torie looked at her mother who was standing, one hand covering her face, the other clasping Glen’s. The look on their faces surpassed worry, it was as if they were watching a friend in extreme pain.

  “Mom,” said Torie, “whose cat is this?”

  Her mother looked at her and shook her head. “He doesn’t belong to anyone. He is our friend.”

  Torie frowned. Obviously, her mother was clearly upset, but it didn’t explain this type of action. She hadn’t looked this upset when Torie’s father had died all those years ago. For so long she had thought her mother was made of ice; but this behavior was the opposite of everything Torie remembered about her.

  She watched as Fionna finished applying the rub to the cat’s body. It had stopped mewling and seemed to be sleeping again. Glen stepped forward and stroked its head.

  “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered through tears. “Can you hear me? We’re all here with you. You’re not alone, and we all need you to fight. Just hold on…Ellie is coming.”

  Something about the level of care, no, love, in her voice, caused Torie to speak up.

  “I think…I mean, I thought, that he spoke to me.” Her eyes were locked on the animal on the table. She didn’t want to see the look of judgment that she figured her mother was giving her.

  “What?” said her mother, “he spoke to you? Why didn’t you say so?”

  “What did he say?” asked Fionna, her eyes frantic as she searched Torie’s face.

  Whatever reaction Torie thought she would get from them, this was certainly not it. She cleared her throat. “He said, thank you.”

  They were quiet before Glen spoke up. “What did you say to him before he spoke?”

  “Something like…it’s going to be okay, I’m going to get you help, or something like that.”

  “What else did he say?” said Glen. “It’s important that you tell us everything.”

  “That was it, I swear. I mean, I’m sure I imagined that much. Didn’t I? Cats don’t talk. Right?” She wasn’t sure what was real anymore. She wanted a drink, or a Vicodin. Or both. Christ, where was Freya when she needed her?

  The three women exchanged looks, and finally her mother came around to her side of the table and took her hand.

  “Torie, we have a lot to talk about. I’m not sure now is the right time, however.”

  “Why not?” asked Fionna. “If he spoke to her, it was for a reason. If he dies…”

  “He isn’t going to die,” said Glen, her eyes focused on the cat. “He just can’t.”

  “Mom,
what is going on here? Do you actually believe that a cat talked to me?”

  “He’s not just a cat,” her mother replied. “He’s a shifter. And right now, he’s locked in his feline form. He was attacked, and if Ellie doesn’t get here soon to save him, he’s going to die. Just like the rest of them.”

  5

  Torie looked at her mother like she had grown a second head.

  “What are you talking about? What’s a shifter?” she asked.

  “A shifter is a human that is capable of taking on the form of an animal,” her mother replied. “There are many of them in this area. Cats, foxes, deer; all manner of shifter.”

  “This particular shifter is named Eddie. He’s a friend,” said Fionna, reaching over to rub the cat’s head lovingly.

  Now it was Torie’s turn to wonder if her mother had lost her marbles. She had always been a little out there, but this was pushing it.

  “Mom, are you okay? Listen to what you’re saying.”

  Her mother looked at her incredulously. “The nerve of you to come here after making it a point to be out of my life for fifteen years…to come here into my house and tell me I don’t know what I’m saying about my friends.”

  Torie felt like she had been stung. She realized how she must have sounded, but she wasn’t sure how else to respond to what she had just been told.

  “I don’t mean any disrespect,” she said, “it’s just…I mean, what you’re saying…it makes no sense.”

  “It will in time,” said her mother, reaching out to take Torie’s hand. “It’s a lot, and I promise you, I will tell you everything. But right now, we need to take care of Eddie.”

  Suddenly, a shadow crossed her features and her face became a mask of worry. She rushed to the window in the front of the house and looked out carefully before drawing the blinds shut.