Divinations and the Disappearing Dead (Ebook)

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Format: Ebook
Length: 43,189 Words
Publication Date: April 9, 2024
Publisher: Alorium Publishing

I huddled with my daughter, Grace, on our short walk from the car to the front door of the Bizzy Bean. I looped my arm around her shoulder as the chill winter air creeped in at the edges of our coats and peered up at the window display as we approached. Heather had updated it at the beginning of the week. It now featured Star, Heather’s white-and-caramel-colored cat, peeking out between the branches of a Christmas tree, with a bright-red ornament above her head, her blue eyes crossed, staring at it. The ever-evolving window art always put a smile on my face. I grinned as I pushed open the front door, and the scent of honey roasted coffee filled my nose.

Heather glanced up from her place from behind the counter, her red hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. “Hey, Dani. I’ve got a few more things to take care of. You mind waiting a few minutes?”

I nodded and closed the door behind us. After two seconds, sweat pooled between my shoulder blades as the warmth from the heater washed over me. I shrugged out of my coat and made my way over to the counter. “You need a hand with anything?”

Heather shook her head and jerked it toward the table with the Retirees. “If we interrupted them now, Betty would never let me hear the end of it.” The Retirees sat in a line behind the plexiglass cat enclosure, with rows upon rows of gift bags and name tags shuffling back and forth between the three of them as they skillfully put them together like a well-oiled machine. They were alone in the room. The newest batch of foster cats had already been gathered up and put to bed for the night in the kitten room.

My heart was full as they worked. Steven Bishop had roped Heather into helping with his latest attempt to revitalize the downtown. While not officially sworn in as mayor yet, he was still hard at work organizing winter internship opportunities for local students who couldn’t go home for the holidays, all in an effort to keep downtown busy through the holidays. For the last week, Heather had radiated nervous energy. It was really sweet for the Retirees to step in and lend a hand.

Grace hovered a few feet from their table, her jaw clenched and her shoulders square. Her dark-brown hair poked out from under her Gonzaga University beanie. Her facial expression almost matched the glowering bulldog. I tried to catch her eye, but she pointedly looked away from me. It had been almost a month since we’d asked Betty to help suppress her powers. Her nightmares were getting worse, and I couldn't do anything about it. Every night, she dreamt of a woman screaming. If she hadn’t already dropped out of university, she would have had to from lack of sleep.

For the past three weeks, the Retirees had found almost any excuse to leave whenever Grace showed up. Last week, when she’d tried to follow them on their power walk around town, they had picked up speed, their gray-and-white hair flying behind them. If I weren’t so worried about her, I would have laughed. Until now, I didn’t think there was anything Betty and company couldn’t face down. They had apparently found their match in Grace.

“Just take a seat,” Heather said. “I’ve got to finish counting out the till, and then we can get out of here.”

I nodded and walked toward Grace. I slipped my hand around her arm, but she shrugged me off and strode toward Betty.

“So, when are you going to do it?” she asked between gritted teeth.

Betty faltered as Agnes handed the next bag down the line. She dropped it onto the table, scattering its contents. “Now’s not a great time,” she said as her hand darted out across the table to capture a stress ball that rolled away from her toward the edge of the table.

“You said that the last few times I’ve tried to talk to you.” Grace leaned forward, her gloved hands splayed over the tabletop. Her ability to pick up the emotional resonance of an object by touch intensified by the day. For over a week, she’d been overwhelmed any time she touched something without gloves on. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“I’m working on it—” Agnes began.

“Then what’s taking so long? I am losing my mind. I can't sleep for more than an hour at a time.”

Betty cut in. “The thing is—”

“Another excuse? Is this a promise you can’t keep?” The dreams had left her on edge. She hadn’t been a moody teen, not until recently.

I stepped in and placed my hand on Grace’s shoulder. “They didn’t promise. They said they would try.” I stared into Agnes’s eyes, holding her gaze. “And you are going to try, aren’t you?”

“I…” She opened and closed her mouth. “I don’t entirely know how Mel did it.”

It was always strange hearing people call my grandmother by her first name. To me, she had always been Gran.

Grace slumped.

Agnes reached out, her hand hovering over Grace’s. “I have some ideas, things we can do that might help.”

“Like what?” Grace asked.

Agnes took her hand back as Heather sidled up next to us. “All done. Are you ladies ready to go?”

Sarah nodded as she picked up the next card in the pile. “Got two more name tags to go.”

Heather reached out to pick up the last one, but Sarah batted her hand away, and Agnes snatched it out from between them. She slipped the card into the name tag holder then slid it neatly into the stack. “And we are done.”

“This conversation isn’t over.” Grace hugged herself and glowered at them before turning on her heel and stomping off. She yanked open the front door and stalked outside.

Heather raised her eyebrows at me. I opened my mouth to speak, but Betty cut in before any words could leave my mouth.

“We should head out. Don’t want to be late.”

We piled the gift bags and name tags into boxes and carried them out of the café. Grace stood waiting half a block down. Her arms remained crossed, but now it was mostly from the cold. She stamped her feet to keep warm until we caught up.

We walked toward the pier, the boxes clutched to our chests. The Retirees chattered with each other as we walked, each one practically talking over the other. It was hard to keep track of their conversation. I stepped to the side to walk between Heather and Grace.

“Was it a mistake to have it be outdoors?” Heather asked.

I shook my head. “I saw Steve setting up the firepits earlier today. Who doesn’t love s’mores and hot cocoa?”

She nodded as she chewed on her lip.

“It’s going to go great.” I moved my hand out from the side of the box to squeeze her shoulder.

The box slipped out of my one remaining hand. Grace grasped it by its side. It twisted in her grasp, slipping between the smooth leather of her gloves, and plummeted toward the ground. We held our breath as the contents bounced around. Nothing fell out.

Heather started laughing first. Then we all joined in. I laughed, half wheezing, as a stitch formed in my side.

“Maybe I should carry that,” Grace said as she kneeled to collect the box.

I bent over, winded. “That’s probably a good idea.”

For the last block, we fell into a companionable silence as we took in the sights. Over the past week, the decoration committee had been hard at work. Every winter, they covered the trees in downtown Point Pleasant with string lights, but now the trees were joined by rows of lights hung high above the streets. The lights clung to power polls and twined around business signs. They had turned the entire downtown into a winter wonderland. All it was missing was the snow. The warm air that came in off the Pacific Ocean kept the winters relatively mild in the Seattle region and even milder here on Whidbey Island. Tonight was the first time all the lights had been lit up. As we made the final turn toward the pier, my breath caught in my throat.

Rows of small campfires lined the beach. Every business had spruced up their signs. Even the Crab Shack had changed out its faded black-and-gray sign to something full color and bright; the orange of the cartoon crab almost glowed under the light of the full moon. The pier was bubbling with energy. It was almost like a photo from one of the walls of the Slice of Life Diner. Willow posted photos of the town, going all the way back to its founding. My favorite section showed Point Pleasant in the 1960s, when it was a thriving small town. The community had really outdone themselves.

“Oh, Heather…” Agnes choked, her voice thick.

“It came out okay.” Heather blushed.

I swatted at her arm playfully. “Accept the compliment. This is amazing!”

Movement around the campfires drew us closer. Steve moved from fire to fire, directing the last of the setup. He wore a crisp tan suit with a red holiday-themed tie. His tight curls had been cut into a straight line across his forehead, the sides shaved into a precise fade. His smile widened as we approached.

“We are just setting up the last of the tables now,” he said. “You can set up at the entrance.”

We got to work. Boxes were unloaded. More decorations were hung. In the last thirty minutes, businesses arrived with items for their booths. The delectable scent of apple pie and fudge filled the air as Abby and Willow got to work at their food stations, each trying to outdo the other. They traded back and forth the coveted “Best Place to Eat Lunch” award from the Island County Gazette.

I stepped back from the table and shook glitter loose from my hands as I surveyed our work. The pier shimmered under the moonlight, lively and inviting. The warmth from the campfires and scattered propane heaters had left most of us with our jackets open and hats and scarves discarded. Grace still glowered. I suppressed a giggle. Her expression was at odds with the festive tinsel that had become caught in her hair while she worked.

“Let me help you with that.” My fingers worked quickly to detangle the mess before the first guests arrived. I twisted the last piece out as Heather called me over to help hand out badges.

I lost track of faces as people poured in to attend the first-ever Point Pleasant Winter Intern Extravaganza kickoff party. All the students melded together. Almost every business along Marine View Drive had at least one assigned intern for the month.

I glanced up as the next group approached. The two boys couldn't have been more different. The one on the right towered over the crowd, his shoulders broad and his smile inviting. His chestnut hair hung over his forehead, looking almost windswept. The one on the left stood a full foot shorter and was wire thin. He fidgeted with his oversized coat. The smiling one spoke first.

“Sorry. I’m not actually on the list. I’m just tagging along with my roommate. Are plus ones allowed?”

“I don’t see why not. We’ve got plenty of food.” I reached for the blank stack of name cards. “What name should I put down?”

“Jay.”

“Jay?” All of our name cards had last names.

He shuffled his feet. “Just Jay.”

I wrote the letter J and handed it over. “And you are?” I asked his roommate.

“Ethan Sawyer.”

I picked up his name tag and blinked. He was the only one interning off the main street. “You’re interning with Victor, huh?” Victor was the local medical examiner.

“Yeah. I’m studying for my MCATs. I couldn’t pass up an educational, paid opportunity.” He scrunched up his face in concentration as he pinned his name tag to his jacket. “Unlike this guy, who gets to relax all break long.”

Jay laughed. “Let me enjoy my last few months of freedom. I’ll be joining the workforce here soon enough.”

They wandered off into the crowd, and I lost track of them as I checked in the next few students. The groups slowed. Minutes passed between their arrivals until finally, the last name tag was claimed.

I stood to help Heather pack up when a woman approached the table. She wore a red peacoat, with her auburn hair loose around her shoulders. “Got space for one more?” she asked.

I pulled out one of the few remaining empty name tags. “I think so. Name?”

“Natasha.”

“You a teacher, or…?” The first signs of crow’s feet hugged the corners of her eyes. I placed her in her late thirties, a bit too old for most internship positions.

“Just visiting. It’s a community event, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“They mentioned it when I checked in at my hotel. Has James Mitchell checked in?”

The name sounded familiar, but I had only lived in town for a few months. “I’m honestly not sure. I didn’t help with that side of things.”

“I think I saw his son come in earlier.” She scanned the crowd. “Jay, or something like that.”

I grabbed a pen to write her name, but the ink was out. I switched to a different one. We had been writing all evening, and they were all out.

“Oh, I’ve got one on me.” She rifled through her bag and handed me a pen.

My hand clenched involuntarily around the pen as the muscles in my body tensed. The pen was heavy, as if it had been made of solid steel. I ran my finger along the engraving of her name on the side. I fought the urge to scan the crowd with her, as the sense of determined curiosity flowed through me from the pen.

How did Gran ever learn to deal with our psychometry ability? I refused to live in gloves like Grace.

The woman craned her head, looking past me as I jotted down her name.

“Here you go.”

She snatched the name tag from me. I held up her pen, but she had already disappeared into the crowd.

“Strange lady,” Heather commented.

“Yeah. Who’s James Mitchell?” I asked, pocketing the pen.

“He’s a real estate developer. He cosponsored this event.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Most of his projects aren’t local. I mean, he has some stuff, but I think most of his portfolio is in other countries.”

We chatted as we cleared the table. Over a hundred interns had filtered through, and with the added guests, there were at least three hundred people gathered along the boardwalk and spilling out onto the pier. It was the busiest I had ever seen in it.

I left Heather at her hot cocoa station and wandered off to find Grace. She had disappeared early into the check-in process. I found her hovering near the Retirees. They were doing their best to ignore her gloomy presence by entertaining a group of interns with town gossip. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. There was an outlandish rumor that Abby had broken into Slice of Life to steal Willow’s key lime pie recipe. But there was also an opposing rumor that Willow had broken into Eats and Treats Bistro to steal Abby’s triple-chocolate brownie recipe. The stories persisted, because everyone got a kick out of the mental image of them decked out in all black and doing ninja rolls through the kitchen. In truth, I doubted either woman wrote her recipes down. And they both had too much pride in their own work to steal someone else’s. Betty had reached the part of the story where Abby allegedly escaped out the bathroom window with the recipe card between her teeth when the loudspeaker came to life a few feet away.

“If I could have everyone’s attention, please.” Steve’s voice rang out over the group. Everyone turned toward the temporary stage at the end of the pier, where he stood with a few local businessmen gathered around him. I only recognized half of them. “I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for coming out and making the first annual Point Pleasant Winter Intern Extravaganza.”

Grace sidled up next to Agnes while Steve continued his presentation, welcoming the interns and thanking the local businesses for their participation. My gaze flicked between him and my daughter. She whispered into Agnes’s ear, her expression animated. I inched in closer, trying to make out her words over the sound of the loudspeaker.

“If you can’t help me, then at least teach me.”

Agnes seized Grace by the hand and dragged her away from the group. I followed close behind. We huddled next to the Crab Shack, just outside the warmth of the heaters.

“Mel had a plan—”

“Gran isn’t here. And I’ve read through all the notes we’ve found so far. I wasn’t part of her plan. Don’t I deserve to be part of someone’s plan?”

I wrapped my arm around Grace’s shoulders. “She’s right.”

Agnes sank against the wall. Defeated. “What did you have in mind?”

Grace’s whole body shook. “Really, you’ll help?”

Agnes nodded. “And I’ll make Betty help, too, since she brought me into this mess.”

Grace drew Agnes into a hug. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

Agnes wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “No need to thank me. We haven’t started lessons yet.”

“You’re right. There’s so much to study. This is going to be like… a witch’s school for me. Give me homework. Tell me what to do. I want to learn.”

Agnes chuckled. “A witch’s school, huh?”

Grace nodded.

“And I suppose you’ll also want lessons?” She eyed me.

I blinked and nodded. “I haven’t been a student in a long time. But studying always seemed to go better in groups.”

“All right. I’ll talk to the girls, and we’ll get a lesson planned.”

“This week.” Grace straightened.

“All right.” Agnes held up her hands. “Now, can we get back to the party? I’m freezing over here. And these old bones don’t bounce back as well as they used to.”

We retreated from the wall and rejoined the party. Betty was deep in conversation with Ethan as we walked up. She was nodding and putting an arm on his shoulder. “Change is difficult.”

“Did I miss something?” Agnes popped up at Ethan’s elbow. Her ears must have been tingling. Gossip was the lifeblood of the Retirees.

“Oh, not much. Ethan’s roommates with the Mitchell boy,” Betty said.

“Oh? Well, that’s going to be interesting for you.” Agnes grinned.

Ethan cleared his throat. “Everyone has their first year out on their own. I can't imagine how he must feel going to a party sponsored by his dad after being cut off. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

They continued chittering away, moving from topic to topic so fast, it was hard to keep up. I listened only partially paying attention. My mind was elsewhere. A witches’ school. I wanted to learn about my heritage. I chewed on my lip. Badgering Agnes for lessons hadn’t occurred to me. In hindsight, she had always been more willing to bend than Betty. That was probably why Gran hadn’t put her in charge of watching over us. She’d known Betty would say no.

Grace stepped up next to me and handed me a hot chocolate. “When is this thing wrapping up?”

“I don’t know.”

“You want to get out of here? I’m tired.”

We said our farewells, piled into the car, and headed home. Grace leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sleeping. She hardly ever really slept anymore.

I patted her gloved hand. “I’m proud of you, honey.”

She murmured something without opening her eyes.

We drove home in silence. She shuffled to her room and closed her door.

Charlie stood waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I couldn’t bring you with me today.” I took the stairs up to my room.

He meowed back, objecting.

“If you had come with me, you would have been in the car all day,” I explained as I emptied my pockets onto the nightstand. Natasha’s pen clinked against the side of my alarm clock. “And Star was in the kitten room, so you wouldn’t have had anyone to visit with at Heather's place.”

He jumped onto the bed, circled, and turned his back on me.

“Oh, don’t give me that.” I crawled in after him and pulled him close. “You know I missed you.”

He settled into my arms, purring. I scratched his chin.

A witches’ school.

When I’d first found out Grace was a witch too, I was terrified. My transition wasn’t as bad as I had expected, but it was scary. Hers was even scarier. Nightmares every night. I had trouble sleeping myself, knowing what she was going through. This was the first time in a long time that I’d felt at peace as I drifted off to sleep. We had hope again. We would get through this. Together.

• Potions and the Pleasantly Poisoned
• Tomes and the Tangled Trail
• Divinations and the Disappearing Dead
• Hexes and the Haunted House
• Spells and the Suspiciously Silent
• Grimoires and the Ghostly Guest
• Enchantments and the Eerily Ensnared
• Rituals and the Restless Remains
• Charms and the Cursed Coven