Halloween at Martha’s.
Halloween came and to lift themselves from the morass of gloom Evelyn’s continued disappearance and the search for her had created, Abigail, Frank and their friends decided to attend Martha’s Halloween party. It was strange, as hard as they pretended everything was normal, it wasn’t, but accepting that didn’t change anything. Abigail had seen firsthand how a missing loved one could destroy people’s lives and those around them.
Martha had convinced them to come to the party by saying, “You can’t put your lives on hold forever. Abigail, you of all people should know that. It goes on no matter what is happening around you or to the people you love. Evelyn, wherever she is, wouldn’t want you to stop living because she isn’t here.”
Martha had persuaded Myrtle to attend by telling the old lady the same thing and offering her a ride if she needed it. She’d telephoned Glinda and got her to come by asking if she’d be the main entertainment for the night by hosting a real séance, which she would pay her handsomely for, and, as with Myrtle, offering her a ride.
“I’m surprised the psychic agreed to do the party,” Abigail remarked to Martha on the phone. “Remember she said she seldom went anywhere on All Hollow’s Eve because she’s afraid of ghosts or something like that. Who does that sound like?”
“Our friend Myrtle.” A chuckle.
“Talking about Myrtle, she thinks she is being targeted by witches and black magic and seems scared of both. Oh, there’s more to the story, but I’ll let Myrtle tell you about it on Halloween in her own words, if you can get it out of her. She’s spooked.”
“Sounds like quite a tale. I hope I can pry it out of the old woman,” Martha said. “And it wasn’t hard to get the psychic to attend and do the séance after I mentioned I’d pay her and introduce her to friends of mine who are interested in booking future readings. I told her she could even do individual readings at the party. She reluctantly consented after that. Like Myrtle, she’ll need a ride here and back because she doesn’t own a car and doesn’t want to be out in the woods on that night. And I invited her, as I have everyone, to spend the night if the weather turns bad. I told her I’ll make sure she gets here and home safely.”
Abigail had paused. “You know, Myrtle believes Glinda is the real thing. A true clairvoyant. So the séance should be extremely interesting. I still can’t believe she said she’d come. Though I’m glad she changed her mind for many reasons. I can’t wait. I’ve never been to a séance.”
“Neither have I. And I look forward to getting to know a new member of our community. New neighbors in Spookie are rare, especially one as different as Glinda. Fresh blood is always welcome. Spices up things.”
“Oh, Glinda’s different all right. She’s quirky and mysterious. She’s also a fascinating woman in many ways. And you say no costumes this year? We’re to come in street clothes, eat a lot of good food, mingle, talk, enjoy each other’s company and have a spooky séance?”
“That’s it,” Martha had replied, “I decided, under the circumstances, to simply have a gathering of friends. I’m not even decorating. Well, not much anyway. A couple of paper pumpkins and ghosts. A spread of Halloween treats to entice my guests and fill their bellies. The séance will be the night’s highlight. Though we’ll also have music, dancing and card games if we want.”
“Fact is, Martha, you’re lonely and just want to have a party, right?”
“You know me so well. That, too.”
“So, have you got a final count of how many will be there?”
“Not many. Nothing like a few years ago when the whole town was here. Let’s see, it’ll be you, Frank, Laura, Nick, Claudia and her husband, Ryan, Samantha and her fiancée, Kent, Myrtle and the psychic. Eleven counting me. That’s all. My boyfriend, our second Ryan, will be out of town and can’t come. Darn it. I even invited Kate Greenway but she will also be out of town attending advanced pastry classes at some cooking school.”
It was a typical late October day, windy and blustery. Abigail was seated in the kitchen using her imagination on the heavily clouded skies she could see through the windows overlooking the backyard. She couldn’t get over how the billowy clouds in one spot looked like a big-headed man riding a particularly fierce looking horse. She often saw strange things in the cloud formations. People. Animals. Monsters. Once she could have sworn she’d seen a dinosaur blowing fire through its nose.
“You know they’re calling for snow tomorrow evening,” she remarked. “If it accumulates it could be tricky to get home at the end of the night.” Martha’s house, sprawling mansion that it was, was even deeper in the woods and harder to reach than their cabin. The tree-lined country roads which led to Martha’s residence were narrow and winding and there was a treacherously steep hill, too, one had to drive up before arriving.
“I heard, but I don’t recollect any Halloween we ever had excessive snow. Really. Rain, chill, yes. Not deep snow. And if the weather does turn hazardous, as I told Glinda and Myrtle, well, everyone can spend the night. It is on a Saturday and I have the rooms. I’ll even provide nightshirts, robes and toothbrushes. My bathrooms are all fully equipped for guests. We could have a sleep-over.”
“You do have the rooms. Okay. If the weather turns bad we’ll spend the night, too. I know the children wanted to do something special for Halloween and they’re too old to trick-or-treat, even if I’d let them. A séance would be…different. It’ll be nice to have a gathering, be together and get our minds off of poor Evelyn. I’m sure Frank will be fine with us coming. His book is driving him crazy, it always does when he’s almost done with one, so he’ll appreciate the break.”
“Good. See you all at seven o’clock tomorrow night.”
“Should I bring anything?”
“No. I have it covered. The party is being catered in from this new restaurant I discovered in Chalmers. The food’s going to be amazing and most of it is Halloween themed. So don’t you dare bring anything. I mean it.”
Abigail noticed another cloud in the sky outside resembled a big fluffy duck. “Got it. Until tomorrow.”
After she got off the phone with Martha she couldn’t help but wonder why Glinda had really changed her mind and would be attending the party, not to mention also hosting a séance. She’d seemed so troubled over something at Stella’s the other day when Myrtle had given her the grimoire. Abigail had the strong hunch it had something to do with the book. And it was also strange how quickly the psychic had merged into their village and into her and Frank’s circle of friends. Yet Abigail had a good feeling about the woman and it wouldn’t be so bad having a psychic as a friend now, would it? That little prick of jealousy she’d felt for the young beautiful woman that first day with Frank had completely faded away. Frank liked Glinda but he loved her. It was in Frank’s nature to befriend and help people. That was Frank.
Laura sauntered into the kitchen and made herself a bowl of cold cereal.
“The school bus will be here in a half hour. Where’s Nick?” Abigail closed the laptop she’d opened earlier before her cloud gazing had distracted her. She surfed the Web far too much and had been trying to cut down on it when the kids or Frank were with her.
“He’s coming. Running late as always. Where’s Frank?”
“Upstairs working on his book. He’s almost done and he’s putting in extra time. You know how he is when he sees the finish line.”
“I know. He’s a fanatic.”
“I just got off the phone with Martha. The Halloween party is on and we’re invited. Tomorrow night at seven.”
Laura’s eyes lit up. “Really? Oh, no, I don’t have a costume bought.” She sat down and dug into her cereal. She had her long hair in a ponytail and was wearing a bright blue sweater. The girl was becoming a beauty.
“Don’t worry. Martha said no costumes. Come as we are. It’s just a party. And she’s scaling down on the guest list, too. There’ll only be handful of us counting the psychic who’s going to hold a real séance in honor of the night. Martha thinks with Evelyn still missing, smaller and more intimate, is better.”
“Hmm. That makes sense. Who feels like celebrating? But a séance sounds neat. I’ve never been to one before. Will we try to call up the dead? Will we see some ghosts?” Laura was plainly excited.
Suddenly the thought of the dead or their spirits making appearances unnerved Abigail. One never knew who’d show up. And there were a few ghosts Abigail didn’t want to see. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to a séance either. I’ve seen them on television or in movies, but never actually participated in one myself. You’re right, it should be…neat.”
Nick came running into the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Cold cereal, toaster strudels or pop tarts. Take your pick. Frank is busy on his book so it’s up to me today and you know I don’t cook this early in the morning.” She gave them a grin. It was a joke between them. Abigail did supper but usually not breakfast.
Nick made a face. “None of those appeal to me. Can I have scrambled eggs, please? I’ll help you make them.”
Unable to say no to the boy, Abigail gave him a hug and opened the refrigerator. “Scrambled eggs it is. But we’d better hurry because your bus will be here in twenty minutes.”
Together she and Nick scrambled the eggs, he shoveled them into his mouth, and when he was done Abigail escorted the children down the driveway to where the bus would pick them up.
When they’d gone, she carried a cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs up to her husband in his study and brought him up to date on Martha’s Halloween party.
She wouldn’t forget his expression when she talked about Glinda conducting the séance. For a moment or so she could have sworn there’d been a hint of fear in his eyes. Which was silly. Frank was never afraid of anything. Usually.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Nothing,” he replied too quickly. “I just had an uncomfortable thought.” He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing. The party sounds like fun and we could use some of that now.”
“Yes, we could.”
Frank planted a kiss on her lips and sent her on her way. He was completely into his book world and she had to get to town to finish the mural at the newspaper. Today was the day it would be completed and she was anxious to get it done.
As she drove into town and parked in front of The Weekly Journal she couldn’t help but think again about life and how, no matter how horrible the events were surrounding a person at any one time, the everyday routines and the earning of money continued. One had to keep eating and paying the mortgage. Though they were all aware every moment of every day Evelyn was still missing, they’d done all they could think of to find her and didn’t know what else to do. They were exhausted with the searching and the worrying. Now all they could do was wait until something else happened, a ransom note came, a telephone call, a sighting of the old woman or if a body was found.
When she walked into the newspaper’s office the first thing Samantha said to her was, “I just took a message for you, Abigail. It seems you have a new commission. Pastor Dan at St. Paul’s Church down on Main Street would like to see you sometime today to discuss some work they’d like you to do for them. He knew you’d be here today working on the mural. Someone told him.”
“What work?”
“Oh, he wouldn’t tell me other than to say it was something important and the church would be willing to pay fairly for it if you accept the commission. You’ll find out when you meet with him. Three o’clock in the pastor’s office, if you can make it.” Samantha handed her a telephone number and the time on a scrap of paper. “He asked if you’d call him to confirm the meeting so to be sure he’ll be there. He has a full schedule today he said.”
“I’ll call him. Thanks.” Abigail used her cell phone to telephone Pastor Dan. When she was done speaking to him she almost couldn’t believe her good luck. After the mural at the newspaper she hadn’t had anything else lined up so the timing was perfect.
If she wanted it she had a new job painting something in the church’s side chapel…she could hire helpers, anyone she’d need…a huge prestigious commission…just as Glinda had also foretold. She didn’t know why but the shiver she experienced, after recognizing again the psychic had been right, left her nervous.
*****
Halloween night was stormy and the coldest Halloween Abigail could recall in her memory. When the four of them left the cabin, bundled up in coats, gloves and caps, and drove to Martha’s house it was trying to snow but the flakes were small. The wind was howling like a pack of ravenous werewolves.
Martha’s house wasn’t overly decorated for the holiday, but nothing as it’d been for the last few Halloween soirees. There were glowing jack-o-lanterns on the front porch. Inside it was garlanded with black and orange crepe paper and a hanging ghost strung above the middle of a large round table before the fireplace. A fire crackled in the hearth. The table was laid out for the séance with a dark tablecloth, a deck of tarot cards and other paraphernalia of the divining arts. Along one wall of the room on another table, a long narrow one, there was a smorgasbord of decadent snacks and treats for Martha’s guests.
Glinda was seated at the table and glanced up as they entered the room. Her smile was enigmatic but Abigail had the feeling she’d been thinking about them. There was something she knew, there was something she was debating whether to tell them. But what? “Hi Abigail, Frank, and everyone. Is it snowing outside yet?”
Abigail wrestled out of her coat, as the others were doing, and gave it to Martha to hang elsewhere. “It’s trying. It is really cold, though, and windy. It feels more like November than it does October.” Abigail sat down beside the psychic. Laura and Nick went straight to the food table and began shoveling goodies into their mouths. Teenagers were always hungry.
“That’s because in a few hours it will be November,” the psychic stated. Her hands took the stack of tarot cards and shuffled them. Her eyes met Abigail’s. If Abigail wasn’t sure before she now knew she was absolutely hiding something.
“You’re right.”
“Your friend Martha has an absolutely magnificent home.” Glinda was dressed in blue jeans and a sweater. The simplest and most normal outfit Abigail had seen her in so far. No flowing long dress. No make-up. No jewelry. “You were right, it is palatial. She has such good taste. I love that painting above the fireplace of her garden. It’s so whimsical. She said you painted it. The gazebo is a nice touch.”
“Thank you. It was one of my first commissions when I moved here. Martha’s proven to be one of my best patrons.” Abigail glanced at the picture and felt pride. It was funny how when she first finished it she hadn’t been too happy with it, seeing things in it she could have done better, but now it looked pretty darn good.
Frank had helped Martha take the coats into another room and had returned. “Hello there again, Glinda. I’m surprised you came, but glad you did. A séance tonight will be a welcome diversion for all of us.”
“I felt as if I had to. In my recent readings I’ve seen some things which concern you and the situation you find yourselves in. Also, that book Myrtle sent home with me is unbelievable. We’ll have to talk about it and other things when there isn’t such a crowd. I–” she didn’t finish before the doorbell rang again and their company was joined by Myrtle. The old woman came rushing in, dressed in one of her flowery dresses and a cardigan, but no coat. She’d stayed at her own house the night before to take care of some things and Claudia had picked her up on the way to the party so she didn’t have to hike over.
Myrtle didn’t take the time to sit down before she was facing Glinda. “Well, psychic-witch, did you translate that accursed book yet? What did it say? Is it for real or is it a fake?”
“Shhhh.” Glinda broke away from her conversation with Frank long enough to whisper, her head bent close to Myrtle’s, “Oh, it’s real enough. I’m still deciphering it, but I have learned some things. I’ll talk to you more about them later after the séance.”
“After the séance,” Myrtle conceded half-heartedly. “I’ve been waiting decades to get answers about that damn thing, so I guess I can wait a little longer.”
Claudia and her husband, Ryan, who’d been lagging behind, had followed Myrtle in. Samantha and her fiancé, Kent, had also arrived and introductions were made, though most of the guests knew each other.
“Our assembly is complete now,” Martha exclaimed once all of them were at the table. “Everyone, help yourselves to some supper if you’d like. We’ll have the séance later in the evening. Closer to the witching hour.”
The group talked among themselves for a while, catching up with each other, and ate the scrumptious spread Martha had had catered in. There were fancy sandwiches, salads and desserts. Halloween cupcakes, brownies and cakes with cat, ghost and pumpkin iced decorations on top. Halloween finger foods. No alcohol, because Martha didn’t believe in drinking or drunks. The subject of Evelyn and how the search was progressing arose often and was discussed openly. Talk was all they could do because there’d been no further developments to who had taken her, why or if she were still alive. It was a dark cloud which hung over the gathering. It did everyone, especially Myrtle, good to talk about it and plan what else they might do to find her because it was a heavy burden to carry alone.
Outside the sun went to sleep, the temperature plummeted and snow began to fall in earnest. Inside, the house was warm and filled with the subdued chatter and comradery of friends as the night wore on. They ate, mingled and listened to music. The Monster Mash, Witchy Woman and Thriller were played over and over and a couple of the party goers danced in the cleared out area beyond the round table.
Throughout the evening Glinda offered tarot card readings; Claudia, Ryan, Kent and the children took advantage of the offer, and Martha insisted on paying for them. Her treat. It was her party and she wanted everyone to have a good time. Abigail was grateful the readings were fairly general and nothing too scary was revealed. Glinda was careful with what she said, especially to the children. The hours clicked by and the snow fell heavier beyond the windows. The partygoers accepted early on they’d be spending the night, which was fine with them because the party could last longer and no one wanted to brave the winter storm in the dark.
“When are we going to have the séance?” Nick demanded as he was biting into his third cupcake. “I want to hear or see a ghost.”
Some people, but not everyone, laughed.
“There are already ghosts in this house,” Martha professed to Nick. “My great-grandmother and great-grandfather haunt the premises. Great-grandfather originally built this house for her and they’re both buried out in the garden. Besides them, though, the house is full of other ghosts. Only last year I saw my mother in the upstairs hallway outside of the room which was once her bedroom. She was young, like the old pictures I have of her, but she didn’t seem to be aware of me or anything around her. She was floating around the hall as if she were still alive and enjoying a conversation with someone I couldn’t see. She was happy walking around as if she didn’t know she was supposed to be dead. I’ve seen her a few times. I remember one time, it was as dawn was coming and the world was that fuzzy golden color. I saw her promenading through a room and she stopped and–I swear to god–stared right at me. Her eyes filled with fright and I realized she was seeing me, too. She put her hands up to her face and her mouth opened…then she evaporated before my eyes. I’ve always felt as if she saw me, from the future, as the ghost. It gave me the eeriest feeling.”
“She most likely did,” Glinda supplied. “Perhaps you are the ghost.” She gazed around at each of them. “Perhaps we are all the ghosts living in a time which has long passed but we don’t know it. We stumble around doing what we’ve done a thousand times before. Walking ghosts.”
“Now that’s a real spooky notion.” Sitting there among them Abigail looked from one to the other. They were rapt listening to what Martha and Glinda were saying. People were always fascinated with ghost stories. Was it some primordial instinct deep within human beings to want to believe that life, in some form no matter how insubstantial, continued after death? Abigail believed so.
“Has anyone else ever seen a ghost?” Nick wanted to know.
“Heck, I see ‘em all the time and have since I was a girl,” Myrtle quipped, shaking her head. Standing guard at the food table, she had a half-eaten candy apple in her hands. Her second one. Apples were good for an old lady, she’d insisted. “The woods around here are crawling with restless spirits, especially around Abigail’s old house. Those two dead Summers kids who disappeared over thirty years ago play in the yard and around their club treehouse mostly around midnight, the witching hour, and when it’s foggy. She’s seen them, too. Haven’t you Abby? And your dead ex-husband saved your life one night by telephoning you awake when a nut-case serial killer was breaking into your house. Remember that? I do. I cracked him good over the head with a big stick.” She puffed up, proud of herself.
Abigail didn’t answer. She didn’t like thinking about ghosts.
“Right, Abigail? Huh?” Myrtle wouldn’t let it go. “You’ve seen spirits, too.”
“No, I thought I saw some once,” Abigail muttered. “But I also know the mind, under duress, can see all sorts of odd things and play tricks on a person. I’m not sure I saw anything.”
Glinda was observing Myrtle and her in a strange way. Heaven knew what she was thinking. Probably that both she and the old woman were fellow ghostbusters or kindred spirits of some kind. Abigail didn’t want her to think that.
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Myrtle snickered. “Abby, you know you believe in spirits and such. You just don’t want anybody to know you do.”
“Ah, some of you aren’t such disbelievers?” Glinda smiled when Myrtle had ended her outburst. “Come then, all, it’s time. Clear the table, douse the lights and fire up the candles I brought for the reading. We will attempt to contact the other side.”
In the dim room they collected around the circular table where Glinda told them to sit and they held hands. From the minute Abigail took Glinda’s hand on her right and Frank’s hand on the left the air around them seemed to change. It churned with strange echoes, distant voices and cold spots. Mysterious shadows created by the candles danced on the walls and scurried across the marble floors. The room seemed filled with danger and unseen threats.
Fire or no fire, Abigail shivered. Frank’s hold on her hand tightened as if he were trying to give her strength. She had to remind herself none of this was real. It was a game they were playing for the party, merely entertainment, and nothing otherworldly was going to happen.
“Martha, would you like me to see if your great-grandfather, great-grandmother or mother’s spirit wants to speak to us?”
“Sure, give it a try.” Martha’s manner was light-hearted. She was jovial, playing along.
“What were their names?” Glinda asked her.
“My great-grandmother’s name was Ethel. Great-grandfather’s was…Lester. My mother’s name was Isabel.”
“Lester…Ethel…Isabel…are any of you out there? Would any of you like to speak to us tonight? If so, show yourselves in some way or speak out. Lester…Ethel…Isabel?”
Everyone held their breath and waited. The whispers and shadows increased around them. Outside the wind could be heard screeching and cursing. All the windows were solid white.
Abigail thought she could hear human voices mingled with the whispers but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was all so spooky.
They waited for what felt like a long time and Abigail was just about to say something when above them a collection of pale orbs popped into being and slowly gyrated in the air in circles. Up they went and then down, slow then faster, like a roller coaster. The orbs were mesmerizing. Abigail didn’t know what to make of them. Every one of the humans watched the globes of light with wide eyes. It was beautiful, their dance. The orbs flew up to the corners of the room and then dive-bombed them, pulling up inches away from the astonished faces.
Laura gasped and Nick giggled. Glinda observed the orbs as if she’d seen them before, her face calm.
Nick broke the chain and raised a hand to touch one of them. It burst like a bubble and one by one the other orbs did the same. The whispers and shadows drifted away.
“Whoa,” Ryan exclaimed. “That was something.”
“Nick,” Glinda said, “take Laura’s hand again. Complete the chain.” And he did.
“Oh my,” Martha spoke softly. “I just caught a strong whiff of my mother’s favorite perfume. Chanel Number Five. She always wore it.
“Mother…are you here?”
One lonely orb of pale light formed from the dimness around them and gyrated above Martha’s head for a moment or so, came down and lightly touched her cheek as if giving her a kiss, and then sped away. The faint whisper, I am always with you, my daughter, lingered after it had vanished.
There were gasps of surprise.
“Did you hear that?” Laura breathed.
“I heard it,” Nick said.
“Me, too,” Samantha chimed in.
Claudia was the only one who hadn’t heard anything while the others all had.
Abigail didn’t know how to process what had just happened. It was too bizarre. But the best was yet to come.
“So who are we going to try to summon now?” Glinda asked of everyone and no one. “Anyone want to send a message or ask a question to a soul who’s already crossed over?”
Myrtle put forth a name before the words were completely out of the psychic’s mouth. “My sister Evelyn.”
And everyone stared at her knowing what the request meant.
Glinda didn’t argue but bowed her head and began whispering invocations which sounded amazingly authentic to Abigail. The psychic was beginning to impress her more and more. If she were a fake, she was a really good one. Of course, Abigail hadn’t forgotten Glinda’s predictions for her which had already proven to be true.
For long minutes nothing happened and she, along with the others around her, began to think nothing would. Then Glinda lifted her head, closed her eyes and seemed to twitch in her chair. The fire sputtered out along with the candles. The room fell totally dark. Some of the guests moaned, others cried out. There were strange voices chattering far away. Their words were indecipherable.
More minutes went by.
“No one move,” Martha finally murmured, breaking the chain and getting up from her chair. “I’ll relight the candles.” She slowly put a match to one candle after another.
Abigail looked around at the other people at the table.
Glinda’s face, softened by the faint illumination in the room, was blank. Her eyes, now open, frightened, were looking intently at something on the other side of the room. She started to rise from her seat.
That’s when things became even spookier. The candles were snuffed out as quickly as they were lit and a globe of light at least four feet across began to materialize above the table below the hanging counterfeit ghost. All eyes moved upwards. Everyone ceased talking.
There was something–or someone–swirling around in the center of the globe’s mist. It wasn’t quite a face but it was human looking. The eyes, glowing, captured everyone’s attention. Abigail and the others merely stared, their mouths open.
Glinda seemed to awaken and from her lips the words came, “Myrtle…you are in danger…they’ve found you.” Yet the voice wasn’t the psychic’s voice. It was a young woman’s voice. Unemotional, flat. Chilling.
“Bedelia!” Myrtle wailed. “It’s Bedelia. Even after all these years I’d recognize her voice anywhere. I’m sorry I left you. I didn’t know you were still alive! I’m sorry.”
“I forgave you long ago. You didn’t know. I am the one who is sorry. It is all my fault. I never should have trusted them. They were liars. Always liars.” The voice continued, “Now listen…get rid of it. Destroy it. They know you’ve brought it back into the world. They’ve sensed it and they are coming for you. For it.”
“Who?” Myrtle pressed.
“Them.”
Nothing after that. Everyone waited, holding their breath. Nothing. More minutes went by. Still nothing. Then a distraught inhuman cry, a long moan.
“Bedelia?” Myrtle broke the silence. “What became of you after we left?”
“I lived. I bore a child. When she was old enough I sent her far away and told her to hide. I died at their hands while trying to escape, but my child lived and finished her life in the light.”
“A child? That’s good. I’m sorry for the rest.” Myrtle’s voice was unsteady. “Have you seen Evelyn? Do you know what’s happened to her?”
The ball of light had dwindled to the size of a baseball but abruptly flared brighter.
Another voice came through Glinda’s lips. An old lady’s voice. Evelyn’s voice. “Don’t worry about me, Sister. I’m at peace. I’m with Bedelia. You can stop looking for me now. Protect yourself and live your life. Take care of my animals. I will see you someday soon. Don’t let them get you….”
“Evelyn don’t go! What happened to you? Who took you? Evelyn!” Myrtle screamed. “Please don’t go!”
The ghost didn’t say anything else. There was only silence. Glinda’s head fell onto her chest as if she’d gone to sleep. The glowing orb merged into the dark and all the whispers and strange noises went with it.
The fire in the hearth reignited on its own. No one had gone near it.
Everyone at the table stared at Glinda. She raised her hands and bowed her head. “That’s all. I think the spirits have gone. For now anyway.” The psychic seemed exhausted, her face drained of color and her eyelids heavy. Her hands propped up her head and she shut her eyes.
Martha switched on the lights.
“Well,” Samantha announced, “this is turning out to be quite a Halloween. A blizzard. Séances. Orbs of weird light floating around. And…Evelyn’s ghost.
“Who’s Bedelia?” The newspaper woman asked Myrtle.
Myrtle hesitated and said, “Someone I once knew a very long time ago.”
Abigail had taken note when Myrtle had spoken to the first spirit, she’d only said her name and not who she’d been to her.
“Not going to tell me, huh?” Samantha again.
Myrtle stayed quiet, but it was obvious she wasn’t going to answer.
“Well, I’m going to get a story out of this séance,” Samantha declared. “No one will believe it, but I’m going to write it anyway.” The first one to get up from the table, she was clearly astounded by what she’d seen and heard. She sympathetically laid a hand on Myrtle’s shoulder before she made her way to the window to regard the falling snow. “My, but it really is snowing out there now. It’s a whiteout. I guess all of us will be spending the night.”
Myrtle had been sitting with her head also cradled in her hands. She looked up and there were tears in her eyes. “I don’t believe it. Evelyn can’t be dead. She just can’t. That spook was an impostor. That wasn’t my sister…it’s a trick of those witches, I’d swear. They were sneaky all right. Mind control and stuff.”
Claudia was staring at Myrtle as if the old lady had lost the remainder of her wits. “Witches? What is she talking about?” she asked Abigail.
“I’ll tell you later,” Abigail replied. Then she got up and put an arm around Myrtle. “I’m so sorry. If it’s true, at least we know Evelyn is not suffering and not being held somewhere against her will. All her mortal needs, fears and terrors are over. But, in case what we saw and heard wasn’t real, we will keep looking for her anyway. I promise. Won’t we Frank?”
“We’ll keep looking for her.” Frank hadn’t moved from the table. There was an odd expression on his face. They hadn’t spoken much about ghosts specifically but Abigail suspected Frank might also be a believer in them as well as witches.
No one else commented on what had happened. They were still processing the night’s revelations.
Martha had joined Samantha at the window and was also watching the snow fall. “I’m glad I got the guest rooms ready, since all of you are staying the night. It really is awful out there. The snow is bad enough but I see it’s icing over everything, as well. A thin coating of ice is all it takes to make these roads impassable. It is strange, though, there was no warning about the amount of snow and now ice on the nightly news report. They’d said a sprinkling of snow, not what we are having now.”
“The witches could have done it.” Myrtle sighed. “They thought they could do things like affect the weather. I never believed them much, though. Back then I didn’t believe they were real.”
“What is this about witches?” Claudia pried again.
“Witches aren’t real. Only if you believe they are.” Glinda was putting her séance paraphernalia away in a large leather bag and was getting her tarot cards out again.
“Like ghosts, huh?” Myrtle pushed. “Was that really my sister’s ghost speaking to me?”
“I don’t know. I heard what you heard, saw what you saw. You have to decide for yourself the truth of what you believe you saw and heard. Strange things happen during a séance.”
“You’re telling me.” Myrtle got up, shrugged her shoulders, and pulled a deck of regular playing cards from her sweater pocket. “All right. That’s enough of goblins, ghouls and spooks for the night. I don’t know about any of you, but I’ve had my fill of them.
“Anyone want to do something more normal and play some poker or 500 Rummy? This is supposed to be a party, so let’s party.” The old Myrtle was back and after the séance Abigail was glad to see her. She’d also had enough of orbs and ghosts.
So the room was brightened with light, a card game was begun and more food was eaten. People smiled, sometimes even laughed, and tried to forget what they’d all experienced. Glinda performed readings for the people who still wanted them. A few did. It surprised Abigail both Ryan and Kent requested readings. The dancing and eating resumed. The night went on and people tried to have a good time. Some succeeded.
By one thirty the guests were ready to retire to their rooms and the wraiths of the séance were almost, but not completely forgotten.
Abigail merely had to look at her husband’s face to see he hadn’t forgotten what the evening had exposed. He seemed jumpy and when they went to bed in a comfy room on the third floor, the kids in a room next to them, he told her, “I don’t want to believe Evelyn is dead. I truly don’t. But it makes sense. She’s been missing over three weeks and not one lead, not one sighting. No ransom requests. Nothing. I know what that usually means.” It was the ex-cop in him speaking. “I’m afraid the old woman is gone. I feel so bad for Myrtle. Evelyn was her last remaining relative. Everyone else she’s ever loved is now dead. That’s got to be hard on her. Being all alone.”
Abigail put her arms around him and as the wind whipped branches and shrieked outside, they held each other. “But it was quite a party, quite a night, wasn’t it? One to remember?”
“Yes.” His voice was somber. “One to remember.”
*****
It was the following morning over the continental breakfast Martha so kindly provided for her departing guests when Glinda came up to Frank, Abigail and Myrtle. “I need to talk to all three of you somewhere private. I believe I’ve learned something about the grimoire I feel you should know, among other things.”
“We’ll take you and Myrtle home,” Abigail offered. “Glinda, can we can talk at your house?”
“We can talk there.”
Outside the snow was beginning to melt beneath the warm sunshine. The roads, after the ice had dissolved, were easy to navigate. They dropped the children off at the cabin first and then the four of them went to Glinda’s home.
In Glinda’s kitchen they gathered at her table. Glinda’s gray cat cuddled in his mistress’s lap and lazily observed the proceedings, every once in a while letting out a small crabby growl.
Glinda had adopted one of Evelyn’s kittens, a little dark one, and it wouldn’t stay out of Frank’s lap. The man, Abigail always thought, was like some animal whisperer. Cats, especially, loved him. It was probably his deep voice. It was soothing. Cats must like deep voices.
Myrtle was unusually reserved and Abigail knew it was because she was grieving for Evelyn, whom she now believed was dead. Abigail felt sorry for her but could do little except comfort her. When a person lost someone they loved no one could carry the grief for them. It was a burden they alone had to deal with. How well Abigail knew that. She remembered how devastated, heart sick, she was when she’d finally learned Joel had died, even though he’d been dead for years.
“That was some séance last night,” Frank mumbled, his eyes, though, were on the book laying on the table. “What did you want to tell us Glinda? I assume it has something to do with this book here?”
Glinda had brought the grimoire to the table. The woman touched the tome as little as she had to. She’d put a towel around it.
“It does. As I said before, I’ve studied the ancient witches’ languages and by what I can tell this book appears to be authentic, or as authentic as it can be. I’d also say it’s very old, sixteen hundreds or so, it’s full of evil malevolent spells and enchantments which could be real.”
Myrtle groused, “I was afraid of that.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in witches and black magic?” Abigail grilled Myrtle. “But you act as if you do.”
“I don’t. What sane person does? But those women who owned that book believed in them. That’s all that counts.”
“So, what does this mean?” Abigail directed the question to Glinda with a glance afterwards at Myrtle.
“Now that’s the mystery. Myrtle, you think your sister was kidnapped because of this grimoire? That it was these so-called witches from your past who took her because they wanted to get their stolen book back, right?”
“Right.”
“But there’s been no concrete connection so far between the witches and your sister’s disappearance other than your suspicions, the twig talismans in the trees, and the séance spirit’s cryptic words? No demand, no communication from them at all? And the spirit never said exactly who took her or how she died, did she?”
“No,” Myrtle admitted diffidently. “The spirit didn’t.”
“So…as awful as this book is, it might not be the reason for Evelyn’s vanishing. The book and the witches might have nothing to do with it. Have you thought about that?”
Myrtle hung her head. “You could be right. And in one way I’d be glad if there was no witchcraft involved but, on the other hand, where does that leave us? Evelyn is still missing and now, I fear, she could be dead. Where do we go from here?”
Frank was the one who answered. “We believe in the real world and keep looking for her until we know differently.”
“Is there anything else?” Abigail asked Glinda. She had the feeling there was more.
“Yes.” Glinda’s hand was hovering over the grimoire. “I trust all of you now enough to tell you the truth. As I said I believe this book is genuine and though I’d never say there were real witches in the world, I can’t be a hundred percent sure there aren’t. But I’ve been receiving strange messages from someone, something, and it, they, want this book badly. It could be the women Myrtle has spoken of or it could be someone else entirely. My messages aren’t always as clear as I’d like them to be.
“But, I do believe, Myrtle, you are still in danger. I just don’t know where it will come from, when or how.”
More news Abigail didn’t want to hear.
They all looked at the psychic.
“Can you tell us if you get any more of these messages?” Myrtle said without a smile. “Or if you have any better idea who’s after me and why?”
“I will. I just wanted you to know what I’d seen.”
“Oh, great.” Myrtle exhaled and summed everything up. “Evelyn is probably dead. It could or could not be those old enemies of mine are out to get me, but it’s someone or something. And I’m still in danger.”
“That’s about it,” Glinda finished, caressing and trying to calm the large gray cat who was now snarling in their direction as if he didn’t trust any of them and wanted them all to leave.
Which was a good idea. Abigail had things to do. Laundry. Bills. Figure out what they were having for supper. She’d had enough anxiety and excitement for a while. “Time to go.”
They thanked Glinda for her help and concern and left.
*****
As her company drove away Glinda stood at the door and watched them go. Myrtle had let her keep the grimoire so she could continue to study it. But it was easy to see, the old lady was terrified of it so Glinda was keeping it for her. She truly liked the old woman and wanted to help her.
She’d hated lying to them about the witches, about the book. About everything. But it had been the only way to keep them safe. For now. Now she had to figure out what to do next and how to protect them and the town. It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d had more difficult situations than this one and she’d find a way, or so she prayed.