Deegie was amazed at how quickly the snow had been retreating from her back yard. It was as if spring was in a hurry to make everything fresh and new once more, and that suited her just fine. After the horrific events of the past winter, she was more than ready for a change of scenery. She shifted her attention from the nail she’d been pounding into the porch railing to a small patch of whitish mist drifting across the yard next to the old bird bath. “Looks like Lisbet’s cats are enjoying this nice weather too,” she said to Zach Altman, who was now officially her boyfriend.
Zach put down his hammer and followed the direction of Deegie’s pointing finger. One of the many ghost cats that roamed the old house at 14 Fox Lane was busily exploring the sun-warmed mud. “Amazing,” he said. “I never thought I’d get used to seeing ghosts almost every day.”
“I never thought I’d get used to seeing you every day!” Deegie winked to show she was joking, and finished nailing a length of chicken wire in place. “Now come on, let’s finish up here. I’ve already had two calls this morning, and we’re not even open for business yet!”
Deegie’s cat sanctuary, a lifelong dream of hers, was nearly complete. Once the back porch was screened off, it would make a perfect spot for her feline wards to take in a little sun without the danger of them wandering off. Two of the downstairs bedrooms had been outfitted with anything and everything a cat might need for a comfortable stay. She had decided to call it Lisbet’s Place, after the gentle ghost she shared her home with.
Zach’s brother, Gilbert, poked his head out the back door and squinted against the bright sunshine. “I got the doughnuts,” he announced, holding up a fragrant, grease-spotted bag. “I drove past The Silent Cat on the way home, and I saw a girl pounding on the door even though the sign clearly says SORRY, WE’RE CLOSED. Jeez, do people not know how to read?”
Deegie rolled her eyes and took the bag from Gilbert. “It happens. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow morning.” She selected a powdered doughnut from the bag and passed it to Zach. “So are you going to help us finish the porch, Gil?”
Gilbert reddened and tugged at his shirt collar. “Uh, no. Nix and I are, uh, going on a little day trip to the coast.” He pulled his ring of keys out of his pocket and jingled them for emphasis. “In fact, I’m late picking her up.”
Zach smirked and licked powdered sugar off his fingers. “All the more doughnuts for us.” He kissed Deegie’s cheek, leaving a white smudge. “More privacy, too,” he added with a wink.
“Ugh,” said Gilbert, “too much information.” He glanced at his watch and winced. “She’s gonna kill me. Gotta go.”
Deegie had no doubts that Nix would be annoyed at Gilbert’s lateness; the tiny blonde witch was a genuine spitfire, yet she and Gilbert had somehow managed to hit it off. However, Deegie still caught him gazing at her with lovesick puppy eyes despite the fact that she was deliriously happy with Zach. She dismissed the matter from her mind for now; there were homeless cats to rescue.
When Deegie opened The Silent Cat the following morning, she was both amazed and dismayed to see the number of messages on the shop’s voice mail. Upon replaying them, she discovered they were all hang-ups. “Well that’s annoying,” she told Bast as she let him out of his carrier. “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to be dealing with another weirdo today? There’s only room for one weirdo in this shop—me!”
Bast leaped up onto the counter and regarded her with his golden eyes before he resumed his duties as shop mascot. He was almost full-grown now, and his long, sleek body took up a great deal more counter space than it had when he was a kitten. He yawned hugely, showing his bristled pink tongue, and then settled down for his second nap of the morning.
“I can see how concerned you are.” Deegie patted his head and set about opening the shop for the day.
A nagging feeling of impending doom took root in her head and began to grow. Something about all those hang-up calls was sending out caution flags. It was most likely someone’s idea of a prank, but still, there seemed to be an ominous chill in those non-verbal messages. She took a black candle from the candle shelf—she had just made a fresh batch last week—and placed it next to the register and lit the wick. The black color and strong patchouli scent would banish any negative spirit that might be trying to work its way in, should that be the case. After the horrifying events of the past winter, it was better to be safe than sorry.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to work on negative humans.
A bright red compact car barreled into the parking lot, nearly going into a racing-style drift before coming to a stop. A frazzled-looking blonde wearing a pink terrycloth robe over pajama pants and slippers practically fell out of the driver’s seat, and she stumbled to the door. A look of abject horror distorted her face. Her hair frizzed out around her face in a frazzled corona. She yanked open the door to the shop, almost fell over her own feet, and then braced herself against the counter, gasping, panting, and knocking over the patchouli candle. Its flame sputtered and died. “I need your help!” Her voice wavered on the edge of hysteria. “Please, you just gotta help me!”
Despite the overwrought bundle of teenage dismay wailing in front of her, Deegie just had to laugh. “Well, well, well,” she said. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Tamara Biggs, thief extraordinaire! And no, I don’t ‘just gotta’ do anything.”
“No, please, you don’t understand!” Tamara’s eyes flooded; tears spilled over her cheeks and ran down her chin. “That thing brought evil into my house! You have to help me! You just have to! I don’t know what else to do!”
“You stole something from me,” Deegie replied calmly. “Maybe it’s karma coming back to bite you in the ass, ever think of that?” She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing in an icy-blue glare. “You think I’m a fake, anyway. You told me so yourself.”
“I’m sorry, okay? Okay? I need your help! Please?” Tamara’s shriek woke Bast, and he raised his head to see what the humans were up to.
Deegie said nothing. Her expression remained grim and uncaring, yet in her chest, her tender heart stirred. Obviously something had terrorized the girl; Deegie felt the fear radiating from her in clammy waves. She’d felt fear like that before, recently in fact, and she knew how debilitating it could be.
“Sit down,” Deegie said, pointing to the reading nook at the front of the shop. “Get yourself under control, first of all.” She took a box of tissues from under the counter and thrust it at her. “And here. Wipe your nose.” She waited until Tamara had seated herself before joining her.
Deegie waited patiently as the blonde girl’s sobs finally dwindled down to sniffles and the occasional whimper. She did not offer Tamara a cup of herbal tea, something she normally did for her customers. After all, the girl had stolen a valuable antique from her. Why should she offer her a refreshment? Deegie sat in stony silence, elbows on the table, impassive expression still in place. “What happened?” she finally asked.
Tamara told her, punctuating her tale with an occasional wail and a few fresh tears. As Deegie listened intently, a flower of dread began to bloom in her chest. She’d heard tales of teenage slumber parties where some ditsy girl managed to call up evil spirits on a Ouija board, but she never expected to be sitting across from one.
“So you thought it was just fun and games, huh?” Deegie sighed and drummed her fingers on the table between them.
“Y–yes. I didn’t think anything would happen, I really didn’t. I tried to call you so many times, but … and I came over here … knocked on the door …” Tamara covered her face with her hands and whimpered.
“Stop it,” Deegie said, a bit more harshly that she had intended. “You’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you here. I’ll help you, but it’s not usually in my nature to assist a thief.” She slid the box of tissues closer to the sniveling teen. “Tell me more about the thing you saw. I need to know what I’m dealing with. What did it look like?”
“Like smoke, I guess. Like a … a tornado, something like that.”
“Did it have a smell? Like something burning?” Deegie tensed, hoping this wasn’t the case. She was all too familiar with the loathsome, smoky stench of the Underworld. If this was another case of demonic mischief, she wanted nothing to do with it.
“No, I didn’t smell anything, but …” Tamara dabbed at her eyes with the soggy ball of tissues. “It … separated. It split apart. There are seven of them.”
“What?” Deegie was beyond skeptical now. “What do you mean, it separated? Level with me, girl. Are you sure you haven’t just been smoking the wacky tobaccy or something?”
“No! I swear I’m not! I know what I saw, and—oh my God! There’s one in here! It followed me! It followed me!”