I woke with a start. I had been dreaming about the dead. At least, I thought I had been. Like most dreams, the details began slipping away the moment my eyes had opened. I closed them again, trying hard to get back to it. I sensed someone had been telling me something, something important, but no matter how much I willed it, however much I tried, I simply couldn’t quite make the connection. Though I felt the importance of the dream, I couldn’t remember its substance.
Frustrated, I sank into my pillow and tried to fall back to sleep. The dream was gone, but its echo was still in my head, taunting me. After half an hour of pillow crunching and tossing about, I gave up. I slipped out of bed, and because Henry was sleeping downstairs on the couch, I chose not to be seen in my jimjams and got fully dressed.
The house was almost silent. I could hear Henry sleeping soundly downstairs. He wasn’t snoring, but I supposed we’d all worn him out, and his breathing was heavy and deep. I tiptoed over to where he lay and stared down at his face. I could just see him in the dark. He looked so peaceful and handsome, and I didn’t want to disturb him.
“Catherine.” The female voice in my head was loud and clear, and startled, I took a step back. I thought perhaps it was Mom, wondering what I was up to down here, but there was no one downstairs, and no movement up above.
“Catherine,” the voice said again. This time, I was sure it wasn’t Mom. Looking down, I noticed Henry slept on soundly. His breathing was as rhythmic as ever, and then he sighed and rolled over on his side.
Without knowing how or why, I knew what I had to do. I tiptoed over to the door, pulled on my poncho and boots, and carefully tugged on the door latch, careful not to disturb Henry. I heard a whimper. Scar was a footstep behind me, her eyes wide and hopeful. I was afraid she might bark and wake him up. “Shush, baby. Not tonight. Go back inside.” I leaned down and gently nudged her inward as I closed the door as quietly as I could.
The night was cool but bearable. I retraced my own footsteps, set on returning to the cemetery, sensing the eyes of the owls that I knew were all around me, watching from the shadows.
The closer I got to my ancestor’s grave, the more I sensed her. I pictured her as she was that first time I saw her, all those years ago when she appeared before me dressed in white. Would she look as I remembered her? Or had time played tricks with my memory? I knew I would shortly find out.
The spirit of Catherine Morland was waiting for me by the grave. I was not disappointed. She looked just as I recalled, her skin deathly white, her silver hair floating unnaturally about her, swimming slowly in the ley line energy that brought her to me from the beyond.
This time, I was not afraid. I could feel her need to communicate with me. This time, I had come as a grown woman, not a helpless, ignorant child, afraid of the force growing inside her. I knew I had the power to make her go or let her stay, and knowing this gave me courage. I noticed she had the same cheekbones as I had, just like my mother’s, but that was where the familial resemblance ended. Her eyes were large and black, her lips thinner, her figure gaunt. I didn’t remember seeing the marks of the noose on her neck before, but they were clearly visible now. She reached her spectral hands across to me, beckoning me to her. I approached.
“Little Catherine, my, my, how you have grown,” she said. “Come closer, so I may see you properly.” Her voice was hollow but calm, slow, and purposeful. She had crossed over from the beyond to communicate with me, and each word was pronounced carefully, leaving no room for misunderstanding. I felt only kindness in her, no evil, and I stepped forward just as she asked.
“You wanted to speak to me?” I said.
“I have oft wanted to speak to you, my child. But today, I come on behalf of another. Listen close, for I cannot tarry long…”
She closed her eyes, and her image became faint. I could tell she was slipping away. She had crossed without assistance, and the strain must have been enormous for her. I held my hands out before me, my palms facing down toward the earth. If I didn’t help her, I feared she might fade away at any moment. I focused on my azurite ring, invoking a connection with it through which I could harness my magic. Then, when I sensed some harmony, I tapped into the power of the ley lines surrounding me and spindled as much magic as I could amass. That same feeling of delight washed through me, and when it became almost too much to bear, I let it go, sharing as much as I could with Catherine. Her spectral image froze and then jumped back, surprised by the force of the energy I’d spindled. But her form became more stable, and she moved a little closer to me and away from the grave.
“I see you have grown in other ways, also,” the old woman smiled. “And I have a song for you. You must promise to remember it.”
Odd, I thought. I wasn’t expecting that. The last thing I thought she wanted was to sing to me. “I’ll try,” I said, thinking I’d made enough promises to the dead of late. That and my memory wasn’t always perfect. I hoped I wouldn’t let her down.
Catherine closed her black eyes and nodded once or twice, as if rehearsing the words in her head. And then she began to sing.
Dancing with my sweetheart and my children, one to three,
With the Goddess there beside us under shade of willow tree,
Turn the circle once then twice,
And sing out all our praises
As we thank you for our blessings on this gentle bed of daisies.
Merry meet and blessings be, we spin under the light,
We dance together, hands entwined, ‘til day turns into night,
Circle in, and circle out,
We sing with all our heart,
Receive our thanks, O blessed one, and pray we never part.
Her voice was eerily beautiful, a strange blend of hope, love, lamentation, and despair. It was not a sound I had heard from the living, nor thought I would ever hear again. It had a power of its own, and I listened to the words, completely entranced.
The song ended, and Catherine opened her eyes. Strange, though they were black and lifeless, they were now filled with tears.
“Why are you crying?” I asked.
“These are not my words, but the words of another. I can feel her pain as she recalls them. They come from a place of love and a place of regret.”
I nodded, believing I understood.
“Remember your promise,” Catherine said. “You must recite the words, exactly as I sang them. Change nothing, for the words are magic.”
It was my turn to close my eyes. I repeated the song in my head until I thought I had it. Somewhere in the cemetery an owl hooted, breaking my concentration. Irritated, I opened my eyes and found myself standing in utter darkness.
“Wait, what?” Shoot, was it merry meet and dance together, or merry dance and meet together? How was I supposed to remember that after just one hearing? I prayed I’d be able to recall it perfectly when I had to.