Her return to consciousness was gradual. There were sounds, muffled at first: a ticking clock, snow blowing against a windowpane, a cat’s purr. Deegie sensed soft light behind her closed lids, and she opened her eyes to see something small, black, and furry. Bast lay in a warm, purring ball next to her cheek, fully absorbed in licking his front paws. She lifted a hand to stroke his fur, but the motion set off a thunderbolt of pain that lanced through her head. Best not to move. Take long, slow breaths. It will pass. She recited the words she’d always used to comfort herself when recovering from an attack of Witch’s Cramp, but they were woefully ineffective. The biggest comfort she had ever known was gone. Tiger Spirit was dead.
Deegie closed her eyes again and allowed the tears to come, sliding down her cheeks and wetting the pillowcase beneath her head. She eased herself back into the soft blackness of sleep, lulled by little Bast’s enthusiastic purr.
When she awoke again the sound of snow against glass had been replaced with the murmuring drone of a TV set at low volume. A deep, careful breath brought her the scents of bacon and coffee. She sank down again, drifting for a while in that gray, fuzzy space between sleep and wakefulness, until a light knock and the distinctive rattle of dishes brought her around. Zach stood at the end of the bed, awash in morning sunlight. He moved aside a lamp on the nightstand and set down a tray of assorted breakfast items.
“Hey,” he said. “Nice to see you awake. I was starting to get a little worried.”
Deegie tried out her voice again and was pleased when it worked this time. “Zach. What time is it?”
“It’s a little after ten, I guess.”
“What day, I mean. How long?”
“How long have you been out, you mean? Just since last night.”
He handed her a cup of pale yellow, delicately scented liquid: chamomile tea. She took it gratefully and let the warm steam soothe her face before taking a sip.
Gilbert appeared in the doorway, looking sheepish and hesitant. “Hi Deeg. Welcome back to the land of the living.” He bent over her, in a nimbus of coffee and mouthwash, and kissed her cheek. “Feeling better?”
“Kinda. The pain in my head’s gone, anyway.” She sipped more tea and stared into her cup, her eyes welling. “But ... Tiger ...”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Deeg.” Zach sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her tousled hair out of her eyes. “He was protecting you. He saved your life, you know.”
“Yes, he did. He saved all of us.”
Zach and Gilbert exchanged nervous glances, obviously unsure of what to say.
“I need to go home now,” Deegie said, and she swung her legs out of the bed and tried to stand. Dizziness rushed her from all sides and a high-pitched whine sounded in her ears. Her legs buckled and she sat again. “Damn,” she said mildly.
“Hey, take it easy.” Gilbert grasped her shoulders and eased her back onto the pillows. “You kinda blew out your circuitry last night. It’s going to be a while before you’re back to normal again.” Gilbert had lost his former arrogant tone, and his voice was now tinged with wonder and awe. “I’ve never seen a witch send out red light before,” he added. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.”
“I barely remember any of it,” Deegie whispered, picking up her teacup. “I remember thinking we were all going to die, and I remember Tiger. That’s all.”
“Gil and I will go back and clean up that mess for you, but I think you should stay here for a few more days. Just until you’re strong again.” Zach tucked the blankets around her legs and handed her a plate with a raisin Danish on it. “Here. Eat something, honey. We will take care of things. I promise.”
Deegie toyed with the raisins. “I have to talk to Lisbet. I need to make sure she’s okay.”
“Deeg, sweetheart, Lisbet’s dead; she’s a ghost. She’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“I promised I’d do something special for her. I can’t break that promise.”
“Oh, you stubborn little thing.” Zach’s voice carried a hint of a chuckle despite Deegie’s somber mood. “Take care of you first. Then we’ll take care of your ghost, okay?”
She opened her mouth to protest further, then relented. He was right; they both were. She could hardly stand up, let alone confer with the ghost of a years-dead lady. “Okay,” she said.
Deegie stayed where she was for the rest of the day, resting, grieving, and snuggling with Bast. When she slept, she dreamed of Tiger Spirit.
As in almost all cases of bereavement, Deegie’s grief lessened as the days passed, but she still thought of Tiger almost constantly. Adjusting to life without him was strange, but Bast helped considerably; his endearing antics warmed her heart more than ever.
Zach and Gilbert had kept their promise about cleaning up the scene of the supernatural battle that had taken place in her home, and when she finally returned to 14 Fox Lane, not a trace remained of that horrific night. Gilbert had even replaced the dishes that had fallen from the cupboards and broken during the conflict. The basement was cleared out, hosed down, and locked up. Despite it being rendered perfectly safe, Deegie would not even entertain a thought of going down there again for a very long time.
***
On the morning of Thanksgiving, before even the birds were awake, Deegie stood in her gleaming white kitchen staring uncertainly at the twenty-pound turkey sprawled in the kitchen sink. The sight reminded her of another time, not long ago at all, when a horribly reanimated chicken had flopped and squirmed in this very same sink.
That’s in the past, she reminded herself. It wasn’t real, it’s all over. Now get over yourself and start cooking. The guys will be here before long. What are you going to feed them, Cheetos?
Shaking her head briskly to knock the disturbing memory aside, she returned her attention to the open cookbook on the counter. She re-read the instructions on how to roast a turkey while a small saucepan of butter melted on the stove. After basting all its cold, bumpy flesh with the melted butter and whispering a prayer to whatever culinary gods there might be, Deegie put the turkey in the oven and set the timer. Thanksgiving was another first for her, and she’d studied the recipes she had planned for days in advance so as not to make a single mistake.
While she washed the dishes she’d used, Deegie caught a blur of motion outside the kitchen window and she looked up from her sink full of suds to see a dark shape moving through the trees behind her house. Filtered by the thick branches of the pines, the shape was indistinct, but large and moving fast as it came down the hill.
“What the heck is that?” She said the words aloud, and her heartbeat went from a sedate lope to a full gallop. She’d had more than her fair share of dark, mysterious shapes lately.
It’s a coyote, or a bear, or some other sort of woodland creature, she rationalized to herself. There are acres and acres of forest up in those hills, and the forest is full of critters; everybody knows that. Whatever it is, it isn’t a demon. Now cook, dammit!
Following her own orders, she reached up and snapped the curtains closed.
The temperature in the kitchen took a sudden drop, and she knew that Lisbet had materialized behind her. She’d been more active since Deegie and the Altman brothers had rid the house of the loathsome Chul, and she had fully materialized for Deegie on several occasions. Lisbet didn’t always speak when she appeared, and she always kept her poor mutilated hand well hidden, but Deegie derived a great deal of comfort from her visits. Still, no amount of coaxing could persuade Lisbet to set aside her fear of men and come downstairs when Zach and Gilbert visited.
“Hello, Lisbet,” Deegie said, and she turned around with a smile. “How are you today, my friend?”
Lisbet only giggled, and when Deegie looked down, she immediately saw why: Bast had followed Lisbet into the kitchen and was leaping back and forth, right though the ghost’s misty form. It was easily one of the most bizarre things Deegie had ever seen. Lisbet glanced around the kitchen that had once belonged to her, and her soft, dove-grey eyes seemed to sparkle with delight at what she saw.
“I’m cooking Thanksgiving dinner, Lisbet!” Deegie said, gesturing expansively at the supplies she’d set out. “Did you cook Thanksgiving dinner in here, too?”
“Ducks and geese,” said Lisbet.
“You must have been a great cook.”
“Burn ... so much food!” Lisbet said, and, giggling softly, she drifted out of the room with Bast scampering after her.
Chuckling to herself, Deegie returned to her preparations with a renewed zest, and after a while, she opened the kitchen curtains again. She saw nothing out of place. The pine trees all stood in their disorderly ranks, wearing their overcoats of snow, and from somewhere in their sheltering branches, a single pine grosbeak serenaded her with its call of tee-tee too! The awakening sun shoved the clouds aside and made diamonds on the snow, and whatever had been slinking furtively down the hill was gone now.
While the turkey roasted and filled the old house with its delectable aroma, Deegie peeled potatoes, chopped onions, whipped cream, and made several quarts of honey mead, a festive spiced drink dating back centuries. The recipe was one of the few things she had that had been given to her by her mother, and she only made it on special occasions.
Muffled thumps and the sound of dainty running paws drifted down from the second floor, and Deegie smiled. Bast, Lisbet, and the ghost cats were at it again, chasing each other around and having a grand time of it, by the sound of things. Maybe this would be the day when Lisbet felt brave enough to meet her friends, but even if she didn’t, today would bring more joy and happiness than this old house had seen in decades.
***
Zach checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes, then got up to deliver an aggressive tap to the bathroom door. “Hey! What the hell are you doing in there, shaving your legs? Come on, man! By the time you’re ready to go, it won’t even be Thanksgiving anymore!”
“Unlike you, I happen to give a damn about nose hair grooming!” Gilbert swung the door open and glared at his brother while he buttoned his new white dress shirt. “Besides, it’s rude to show up too early.” He went into the kitchen and took an elaborate gift basket from the pantry, then began straightening the cellophane and fussing with the ribbons.
“What the hell is that?” Zach cocked an eyebrow at the collection of fruit and water crackers and tiny jars of jams and jellies.
“It’s a gift basket for Deegie, of course. You don’t go to someone’s house for a meal without bringing a gift. Jeez, you really are a Neanderthal, aren’t you?”
Zach looked down at his perfectly presentable plaid flannel shirt. “Deeg said it was nothing fancy, but whatever. Come on, let’s go, ya dandy.”
The Altman brothers continued to snipe at each other during the drive to Deegie’s house, but their ribbing was good-natured, and they were both anxious to see their friend again. As they turned onto Fox Lane, an enormous animal with black, shaggy fur dashed out in front of the Jeep, and Zach stamped on the brake pedal with both feet. The Jeep’s back end fishtailed, threatening to go into a spin, and Zach struggled grimly with the wheel as he fought for control. They ended on the side of the icy road, facing the opposite direction from which they had been heading. The dark creature continued on to the other side of the road, running through the snow in long, graceful strides.
“Holy shit!” Gilbert gasped from the passenger’s seat. “What in the hell was that thing?”
Zach loosened his death grip on the steering wheel; his heartbeat thundered in his ears. “A wolf,” he said. “The biggest damn wolf I’ve ever seen.”
“What?” Gilbert stared incredulously at his brother. “There are hardly any wolves around here anymore. None that size, anyway.”
“Well, I guess that one didn’t get the memo. Whoo! Scared the crap out of me!” Zach restarted the stalled engine and turned the Jeep around. “Did you see the size of that thing? I thought it was a bear at first!”
“Yeah, I saw.” Gilbert’s breathing returned to normal, and he dried his damp palms on his neatly pressed dress slacks. As they continued up the street to Deegie’s place, he kept his eyes trained on the thick forest on his right. He supposed the creature that had vanished into those trees could have been a wolf, but he had no idea they could grow so large, and the few wolves that were left in Washington State were grey, not black. As they turned into Deegie’s driveway, he put the matter out of his mind; whatever that animal was, it was long gone now.
***
“It’s still crooked.” Gilbert swallowed the last of his honey mead and waggled a finger. “A little to the right.”
Deegie climbed down from her stepladder perch and studied the glittery gold star she’d just placed atop a fully decked-out Christmas tree. “No it isn’t! That star is perfectly straight, you jerk!” She laughed and threw a balled-up cash register receipt at him. “And you guys are supposed to be stringing that popcorn, not eating it.”
Zach looked down at the half-empty bowl in his lap and guiltily brushed bits of popcorn out of his beard. “Oh yeah. I’ll make more.”
Deegie heaved an exaggerated sigh. “You guys!” She flapped her arms, feigning utter hopelessness, but the twinkle in her ice-blue eyes revealed her true feelings. She picked up a home décor magazine from the coffee table and studied the photos again. She had emulated the Christmas décor ideas with considerable success and her face glowed with a sense of accomplishment. “This looks about right, I think.”
It was more than right; it was perfect. After they had finished their Thanksgiving dinner, Deegie had abandoned the dirty dishes in the sink and led the Altman brothers into the living room, and they watched as she created a Christmas wonderland. The six-foot tall tree, its boughs heavy with bright baubles, emitted the wonderful aroma of a pine forest. Deegie had painstakingly wound more pine boughs around a wire frame to create an equally festive wreath which hung, festooned with red ribbons, above the fireplace. On the mantle she’d placed a cut crystal bowl filled with spicy potpourri and surrounded with red, white, and green scented candles. Garlands of silver and gold tinsel were draped around the windows, framing perfectly the snow-covered landscape outside. Although the calendar claimed it was only late November, Christmas was alive and well in Deegie’s house, and the early seasonal cheer belied the extraordinary horror that once lay inside.
“She thinks she’s Martha Stewart,” Zach whispered to his brother with a mischievous grin.
“I heard that!” She crouched beside the tree, ready to plug its connected strands of twinkle lights into a wall socket. “You guys ready? One ... two ... three!”
In went the plug, and the tree lit up with a constellation of multi-colored stars that competed for brilliance with the merry fire in the fireplace. Deegie clasped her hands under her chin and laughed like a child. “Look!” she exclaimed. “I made Christmas!”
“So you did! Looks gorgeous, Deeg, it really does. You did a great job.” Gilbert said with obvious wonder. “It’s hard to believe you’ve done all this as a thank-you gift for a ghost.”
“So that’s what Christmas looks like,” said Zach. “Mom and Dad let me have a little Charlie Brown tree in my room when I was a kid, but we never had anything like this.”
“Yeah, ol’ Mr. Normal One had to have his Christmas tree.” Gilbert landed a playful punch on his older brother’s shoulder, then pointed upwards, towards the second floor. “Do you think she’ll come down?”
“Maybe,” Deegie said. “If I can convince her that you guys aren’t going to hurt her, that is. I’ll try. She needs to see this; she will love it.” Stepping lightly to the foot of the wide staircase, she called out softly to the ghostly cat lady. “Lisbet? You up there, my friend? Come on down, I have a surprise for you.”
Lisbet did not reply, but Deegie knew she heard. “Remember what I said I’d do if you told me where the bad men hid the book? I kept my promise, Lisbet. Please come down. I have such a surprise for you.”
Something did come down the stairs then, but it wasn’t Lisbet. Bast came skittering down from the second floor where he’d been playing all morning. His tiny paws were dusty, and a strand of cobweb hung from his tail. When he caught sight of the tree and its dangling ornaments, he froze on the bottom step, his golden eyes huge with wonder. Deegie scooped him up before he could pounce.
“Oh no you don’t,” she told the kitten. “I know what you’re thinking, and you may not climb the tree.” She brushed the dust from his fur and kissed the top of his little round head. “Where’s Lisbet, huh? Have you seen her? Is she up there?”
She pretended not to notice the way Zach was gazing at her. A few weeks had passed since the supernatural battle at the end of the hall, and although Deegie had recovered physically, she still ached over the loss of Tiger Spirit. Her heart was full of pain; there wasn’t room for anything else right now. A sideways glance at Gilbert caught her off guard; he was staring at her too. Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, Deegie left the room with Bast, telling the brothers that she needed to check on something in the kitchen. She stopped in the hallway, a short distance from the living room, and eavesdropped on the brothers’ conversation.
“What are you lookin’ at, douchebag?” She heard Zach mutter under his breath.
“Same thing you’re looking at,” was Gilbert’s reply. “Give it up, Zach. She’s out of your league.” There was more to their conversation, but Deegie didn’t want to hear it right now. She’d made good on her promise to Lisbet, and she wanted her to see the results. Holding Bast in her arms, she climbed halfway up the stairs, calling softly to her ghostly friend. “Lisbet, everything’s okay now. Come on down and see what we did for you.”
“Bad men ...” Lisbet whispered at last.
“No, the bad men are gone. These are good men down here. They’re my friends and they want to meet you.”
Bast mewed in Deegie’s arms, perhaps in agreement with her, or calling out to his ghostly feline playmates.
At the top of the stairs, something moved: a wispy ball of grey, like a puff of wood smoke tossed by a gentle breeze. Several more appeared, in varying shapes and sizes, all of them tumbling and rolling and twining around each other. Long tails appeared, then disappeared, and Deegie caught brief glimpses of pointed ears and bristly whiskers, dainty padded paws and glowing green eyes full of ghostly mischief.
Bast mewed again, and his shadowy playmates heeded his call. Down the stairs they came, flickering in and out of view and replying to Bast with whispery mews and faint purrs.
“Hello kitties!” Deegie greeted them, delighted by their unexpected visit. She put Bast down. “Want to play with your buddies? Go on then.” The energetic kitten scrambled across the floor, his paws slipping and sliding on the polished wood, and he dove into the mass of fluffy, purring spirit energy.
Maybe Lisbet will come down later, Deegie thought, after the guys leave. Can’t really blame the poor lady; she hasn’t had the best of luck with men.
From the living room came a delicate, jingling crash: the unmistakable sound of a Christmas tree ornament hitting the floor, then the voices of both Altman brothers, calling her at once.
“Deegie! What the hell ...”
“Deeg! Come in here! Check this out!”
Bast must be in the tree, she thought. That little stinker. She hurried back to the living room to survey the damage.
She made it to the doorway, then stood and laughed in amazement at what she saw. Her carefully decorated tree was shimmying furiously. More ornaments fell to their doom. A pair of plastic turtledoves were dislodged from the upper branches and went skidding erratically across the floor, as if propelled by playful paws. Bast sat on the coffee table watching the activities, and he offered an innocent mew, as if to say, It wasn’t me!
“Lisbet’s cats are in the tree! Bad kitties! Bad!” Deegie ran to the rapidly deconstructing tree and caught it just as it began toppling over. But her laughter belied her cross words, and she called up to the second floor again. “Lisbet! Your kitties are being very naughty! Better come see!”
“Kitty, kitty ...” The voice of the ghostly cat lady drifted down the stairs.
“They’re all down here, Lisbet! Come see what they did!”
Zach gasped then, pointing to the doorway. “Look!” he whispered.
Deegie spun around, following the direction of his finger. A gauzy shape, roughly the size of a small woman, wavered in and out of focus, then fully manifested. Lisbet stood in the doorway, peering shyly at the men. One hand was tucked deep into the folds of her apron, as always, and the other was pressed to her lips, holding back giggles.
“Oh, kitties, look!” said Lisbet. “Christmas! We’re home!”
***
Warm, golden light spilled from the windows of the old house and made orderly, mullioned patterns on the snow outside. From inside came the sounds of muffled laughter, and a billow of smoke rose from the chimney as someone put another log on the fire. The silhouette of the woman who lived there passed in front of the window again, but the watcher in the woods was flat on his belly in the cold snow; there was no way she could see him. It was good to know she was still alive—for now. His lambent crimson eyes roamed over the festive house once more, then he rose up on his four legs, shook the snow out of his shaggy black fur, and slunk back to the sheltering woods.