Cat-astrophic Spells

S
oothsayers were not very
common among us witches, sort of like redheads with gray eyes. But they might as well have been as common as the name Smith with the way they were portrayed in books and movies. Crystal balls, tea leaves, chicken bones, and a dozen other weird trinkets covered every surface in our homes so we could see the future, which was always filled with tall, dark strangers and long journeys. Right? Not really. In reality, depending on the augur, fortune-telling was either a rare blessing or a curse.

For Aunt Astrid, on the day Levi Cummings came into the café for his reading, it wasn’t just a curse. It was a nightmare.

“
G
o on
, honey. It will be fun,” Sarah Cummings said to her husband Levi that early Saturday morning. It was the first time Aunt Astrid was doing her Tarot readings in the newly refurbished café.

Aunt Astrid’s ability to see the future often made her look as if she were daydreaming or concentrating on a complex puzzle. The fact that she dressed in flowy, colorful, ultra-feminine dresses, wore her graying hair in loose piles on top of her head or a long braid down her back, and smelled of clove made her even more exotic to the locals. Many of them saw her on a monthly basis to get their readings.

However, Levi was not only a newcomer but a skeptic. “Sarah, you know I’m not into this stuff.” He rolled his eyes and dropped the newspaper he was reading to take a cautious sip of coffee.

“Just do it for me,” Sarah urged. “I’m telling you, you’ll be shocked by what she tells you. I just know it.”

My cousin Bea was engrossed in the directions for the new cappuccino maker. “This doesn’t seem too difficult,” she mused.

I usually left that kind of detailed project to her because reading instructions, following steps in a specific order, and doing things by the book—well, those just weren’t my style. Had the installation of the new, state-of-the-art cappuccino maker been left up to me, people would have been getting cups full of steaming hot froth and coffee grounds.

Bea’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “So, let’s crank this baby up and see what happens.” She snapped on the machine, pulled an espresso shot, and began to steam some milk. I watched, fascinated, as Bea tugged a few levers, pressed a few more buttons, and let the machine growl and gurgle its response. She placed the cup underneath the left spigot, and the foam bubbled out in a perfect peak on top of the cup.

“Here you go.” She handed the cup to me.

I smelled the sweetened coffee, raised the cup to my lips, and sipped. “Wow. That tastes good.”

She flashed her pretty smile. “You like?” Bea wasn’t just my cousin; at two years my junior, she was also my best friend and soul sister.

I nodded as I took another sip.

“Good. Then we can add cappuccino back on the menu. Even though people really should be drinking more tea.”

As a healing witch, Bea was very much into the healing power of healthy diets. That gift was also a blessing and a curse. Since Bea was a hugger by nature, no one ever suspected when she was curing their ailments with a touch. Her actions just came across as a pretty girl being friendly. Had someone paid attention, he would notice that when Bea said hello with a hug or pat, he would leave with a little more spring in his step. But she always lost a little bit of herself in the process. The transfer of energy gave the recipient a nice boost.

“I’m waiting for the day we add double cheeseburgers to the menu.” I didn’t look up from my cup as I set it on the counter.

“That reminds me. We are almost out of kale for the Green Fiend salads.”

A shiver ran down my spine.
Kale.
How did that vegetable ever catch on? I grimaced. “I’ll add it to the shopping list.”

I looked up at the Cummings. Levi was still reading the paper.

Sarah nervously glanced over her shoulder at Aunt Astrid then muttered to her husband, “Well, I booked a ten o’clock session with her, and it’s now three minutes after. If you don’t want to do it, you need to tell her so she doesn’t waste her time waiting. We can go ahead and get to that sports store you like for those thingies for your tennis racket.” Sarah looked down at her fingernails as if they held something fascinating then focused her attention out the window, avoiding her husband’s face altogether.

Levi peeked at her over his newspaper and grinned. “Oh, all right. I’m going, I’m going.” He folded up the paper and stood.

Sarah’s face instantly lit up. “Really, Levi. Get ready to be amazed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He kissed his wife on the top of her head on his way to the back of the café.

The new Brew-Ha-Ha had a nice long counter that I liked to work behind because it gave me a view of everyone coming and going. It was made of beautiful dark wood that Aunt Astrid and Bea had sanded and stained themselves. There were a dozen cozy wooden tables with mismatched wooden chairs scattered throughout the comfy dining area. The walls were painted a deep red, and we had splurged on vintage pictures of romantic old castles against vivid green landscapes and fluffy cats lounging on thick, plush pillows.

We could have been a cliché and had stereotypical pointy-hat-wearing, broom-toting, cauldron-stirring sages placed around, but we didn’t want to advertise. No one in town knew we were witches. They thought Aunt Astrid might have been a medium, but I often heard people comment that she wasn’t as good as the woman from New Jersey who contacted the dead on television.

And that was just fine with us. Witches have never been all that well-received throughout history. My thought was:
if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it
. It was better to keep our family secret exactly that… secret.

The kitchen was around the counter to the right. Our new baker, Kevin, was busy making something from Aunt Astrid’s recipe box that smelled delicious. To the left, a single booth was recessed into the wall to look like one of those romantic alcoves at fancy restaurants that were reserved for couples who wanted to be out in public yet secluded. The small area was painted a golden yellow and had sheer navy curtains draping either side of the threshold.

Aunt Astrid did her fortune telling in the alcove. She didn’t have a crystal ball or anything. She would just have her guest sit down across from her and hold her hands. Then she would talk with them and let the images and hints of the future come to her.

“Have fun, Levi,” I said as he passed.

Bea took the opportunity to sit with Sarah and chitchat for a few minutes.

I scanned the dining area. A dude with long hair, glasses, and ear buds dangling from his ears stared at his laptop, his head bobbing to some beat only he could hear. An older man with wrinkled skin was reading a good, old-fashioned book with a steaming hot mug of coffee next to him. Two college-aged girls talked as fast as birds chirping at sunrise.

I took a deep breath and stretched, then nearly jumped out of my skin when I turned to find Levi standing at the end of the counter and looking pale and sweaty. “Are you all right?” I asked.

He nodded slightly but didn’t look at me. He slowly walked up to Sarah, who had her back to him.

Bea looked over Sarah’s head, and the words stopped in her mouth. “Levi?”

Sarah turned around in her seat. Her face instantly transformed into a mask of worry. “Honey?”

“I think I need to get home,” Levi said quietly.

Sarah stood and placed her hand on his arm. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Do you want to sit down?” Her eyes darted to mine then Bea’s. “For heaven’s sake, what did she tell you?”

He shook his head. “No, Sarah. It wasn’t the fortune. I just suddenly feel out of sorts.”

I quickly poured a glass of water and whisked around the counter. “Take a load off, Levi. Here.” I held out the glass. “Drink this.”

“Yes, Levi. Please sit down,” Bea added. I could tell she wanted to place her hand on him to see what exactly was the matter.

But he flinched away from her, and she missed her opportunity. “No. Sarah, get me home.” His voice was soft.

Suddenly, I remembered Aunt Astrid. I turned, and in a few long strides, I was back at the cozy alcove, looking at my aunt, who was shaking her head and chewing her lip thoughtfully.

“Aunt Astrid, are you okay? My gosh, Levi Cummings looks like you clobbered him over the head with news worse than cancer. He doesn’t have cancer, right? Oh, please tell me it’s not cancer.”

“It’s not cancer. In fact, I didn’t get a chance to tell him anything. He told me.”

I looked back at the dining room and saw Bea on her way toward me. “How about you? Did you get a chance to diagnose him?” I asked.

She shook her head and looked at her mother. “Are you okay?” She slipped into the booth and placed her hand on her mom’s arm.

“I’m completely fine. Except…”

“Except what?” I shifted from my right foot to my left.

Aunt Astrid took a deep breath and looked around the back area of the café, past me, past Bea, and into a realm we couldn’t see. Her lips drew down, and her eyebrows inched closer together while her eyes squinted. She swallowed hard then looked at us.

“Someone is being murdered, now, this very minute.”

“
W
hat
?” I asked skeptically.

“Why would you say that, Mom?” Bea asked.

“Levi told me,” Aunt Astrid explained. “Well, it wasn’t Levi. I doubt Levi has any idea that he said anything. I’ll bet he thinks he was just struck by some unexplainable migraine, nothing more.” Still, her eyes wandered.

“Wait. Are you telling me that Levi Cummings, the guy who sells carpet, channeled some spiritual informant and gave you a tip on a murder? Did he say who? Should we call the police?”

“Hold on, Cath. Mom, what exactly happened?”

With a forlorn look on her face, Aunt Astrid told us her story.

Before Levi had even decided to come back and have his fortune told, Aunt Astrid could sense something had accompanied him into the café because of a shift in the air. It was as if a breeze gently blowing a spiral spider web had moved the dimensions she could see. She sat very still, waiting for whatever was causing the ripples to show itself.

“Hi,” he said pleasantly. “I’m—”

“Levi. I know.” Aunt Astrid smiled. Apparently, that gave Levi a bit of a start, so she added, “Your wife made the appointment for you.”

“Oh, yes, she did. She thought I’d enjoy it.” Tentatively, he scooted into the booth.

Aunt Astrid stretched out her hands, and as soon as his skin touched hers, everything changed.

Levi’s eyes rolled over white. His body went rigid, and he held onto Aunt Astrid’s wrists with a tight grip. He opened his mouth as if he expected a doctor to place a tongue depressor inside and ask him to say “ahh,” then froze.

The words that came out of him were not from his own vocal cords. They weren’t even from a person. They were from somewhere else. And there had been many of them.

Aunt Astrid shook her head at us. “But I could hear each one as clear as my own voice right now.”

“What did they say?” I asked, not sure I really wanted to know.

“‘She’s killing him, you know. She’s killing him because he told her no. He’s dying right now. And she’ll get away with it, too.’”

“Did you ask him who?” Bea asked.

“Yes, but it was too late. Levi’s eyes snapped back to normal. He closed his mouth, began to sweat, rubbed his head, then just said sorry and excused himself. I didn’t dare tell him he had been channeling.”

“Right,” I said.

“Maybe it isn’t true,” Bea said. “I mean, we have no name, no location. This could have been a transmission he tapped into from another part of the country, or the world even. Maybe it was a delayed inter-dimensional echo, something that happened a decade ago that just bounced off the café walls today.”

“No,” Aunt Astrid said. “This happened here and now. I am sure of it. Before Levi even sat down, I saw the waves. Something was pushing its way through the layers of astral plains to get to us, here, at this moment, in this place. I’ll bet we’ll hear of a murder in town before the day is over.”

“So what do we do?” I asked. “Just wait around?”

“What would you suggest?” Aunt Astrid asked, leaning back into the soft padding of the booth. “We can’t very well go door to door. And I wouldn’t advise calling the police. The last thing we want to do is draw attention to ourselves. Not to mention cause any unnecessary worry for Jake. If he knew we knew something about this…” Aunt Astrid and I looked at Bea. “Well, it could cause unnecessary problems.”

Bea nodded. Jake, Bea’s husband, was a detective for the Wonder Falls police department. He had just started coming around to the fact that he was married to a witch, his mother-in-law was a witch, and her cousin was a witch. That was a lot for any man to take in, and we didn’t want to rush him.

I untied my apron and folded it neatly, getting ready to make my getaway and start snooping around. “You’re right. Maybe Treacle has heard something?”

Treacle was my cat. He was a beautiful black cat that roamed the streets like a lion, proud and dangerous if need be. We communicated by telepathy, which was my gift, and I saw no downside to it.

“Have you seen him this morning?” Bea asked.

I shook my head. “He slipped out two nights ago. I’d have heard if he was in any trouble. I’ll call him while I go for a walk. Think this whole thing through a little bit.”

“Okay,” Aunt Astrid said. I could tell she was mulling over the whole incident.

Bea was also a little preoccupied as she scooted out of the booth and took my hand. She pulled me to the front of the café. “Tell Marshmallow not to mention anything to Peanut Butter. He’d just worry, okay?” Bea said, wringing her hands.

Marshmallow was Aunt Astrid’s fluffy white cat. She used to belong to a magician, and she was the most powerful of all of our cats. Peanut Butter was Bea’s young, brown cat.

“Of course. I’ll be back before the lunch crowd.”

W
alking through the neighborhood
, I called out to Treacle in my mind, focusing on the animal shelter Old Murray Willis ran. Treacle usually turned up there. I got no response. For a second, I felt a twinge of worry.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t give it a second thought. Treacle was a wanderer, like the hobos who rode the rails during the Depression. I could say with a country twang the highway was his home. Yet the idea of something pushing its way through the dimensions to get us a message freaked me out just a little. I would have been better able to focus if I knew my favorite feline was okay.

Then, I saw a familiar sight. The siren of Jake’s unmarked squad car beeped at me in salutation. It was just my luck he had his partner with him, Blake Samberg. Jake and Blake, the detective duo.

Blake was a serious, no-nonsense, by-the-book, just-the-facts-ma’am kind of detective, and he had little time for anything else. On his days off, he probably did nothing but sit around watching old film noir movies and practice brooding in front of the mirror.

I walked up to the car as it swerved to the curb. Bending over, I leaned through the window.

“Hey, Cath.” Jake’s smile looked a little tired.

“Hi, Jake. What are you two guys up to?” I looked around again, searching for Treacle.

“Responding to a 419,” Blake said, barely looking up from his notepad.

“Care to translate for Mr. Manners over there, Jake?” I jerked my chin in Blake’s direction, but he didn’t give me the courtesy of looking up to see my eye rolling or my smirking. He just kept looking at his notes.

“A 419 is a dead body,” Jake said.

I hoped my expression didn’t give me away. Judging by Jake’s response, he didn’t notice I was just a little more than interested.

“My gosh,” I murmured. “Not a good way to start the day for you guys.” I swallowed. “Was it natural causes?”

“We don’t know yet. The place was neat, but there were a few bits of weirdness, and the body had no signs of outside trauma. Actually”—Jake patted my arm—“I shouldn’t be telling you this. You’ll have nightmares.”

“I’m two years older than your wife. Nothing scares me, except maybe that mug over there.” I nodded in Blake’s direction. He still didn’t look up, but his pen stopped moving.

Jake chuckled. “So what’s got you out and about? You got the day off?”

“No. I just took my break early to see if I could find Treacle. He’s on the loose again. I haven’t seen him in two days.” My voice was casual, but I couldn’t help the slight tremor in it. I hoped I hadn’t sounded too interested in all the gory details of the 419.

“That big old alley cat will be back. He knows where the food is. That’s usually what brings the drifters back home. It’s easier than chasing mice and working for a meal.”

Nodding, I looked over the top of the car anxiously—not to find Treacle, but because I wanted to get back to the café and tell Aunt Astrid and Bea about the new information I’d learned. Except Jake didn’t say it was a murder. He’d just said it was a dead body. “You’re probably right. I should get back to the café, anyway. We’ve got inventory to do. We need more flour and kale, and I think I’m going to get extra chocolates from Sweetie’s across town. You know that Marvin makes the greatest toffee you’ve ever tasted. The stuff won’t stay in the display for—”

“I hate to say it, Cath,” Blake interrupted. “But you won’t be getting any more chocolates from Marvin. He was our 419.”

My mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”

Just as I was about to press them for more information, the police radio crackled to life. A female dispatcher called for any unit in the vicinity to report to something going on a couple of blocks away.

“Sorry, Cath,” Jake said. “We gotta run. Tell Bea I’ll call her later.”

I nodded and stepped away from the car. It quickly pulled away as Blake placed the red bulb on his side of the roof.

Hurrying back to the café, I continued to call Treacle in my mind, but I wasn’t shouting as loudly as I should have been. I was distracted. Jake had said there were no marks on Marvin. Maybe the poor guy just had a heart attack. But what had Jake meant by there being weird things around Marvin’s house?

I hustled back to the café for the lunchtime rush. I grabbed my apron and hopped behind the counter. I thought I was going to explode with my news.

“Have I got to talk to
you
,” I said to Bea in between running the register and making out the list of necessities we needed at the counter. Kevin was very particular about the ingredients he used for Aunt Astrid’s recipes, so thankfully, I was able to stay clear of the massive pantry in the back.

“Oh, yeah?” she asked, looking intrigued. “Can’t wait.”

We worked together like two parts of the same machine in an effort to get everyone fed and taken care of. The clock ticked, and every minute seemed to creep by at a snail’s pace. Finally, around two o’clock, the café was empty enough that I could corral Aunt Astrid and Bea together out of earshot of the remaining customers. I told them everything Jake had said.

“I don’t believe it,” Bea said. “Marvin was a nice man, and I’ll tell you what, I don’t recall him having any kind of heart trouble. In fact, aside from a bit of a spare tire and bifocals, the guy was in good shape both physically and spiritually. Still a little sadness over his wife passing away a few years back, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that would kill him.”

“Now, girls, just because Jake happened to mention this doesn’t mean it is
our
murder,” Aunt Astrid said. “It could just be an unfortunate coincidence.”

I looked around at the few remaining customers. “Aunt Astrid, you might not want to say the words ‘our murder’ too loudly. People might overhear and get the wrong idea, you know?”

No one really seemed to be paying any attention to us. I thanked Kevin for that. His cooking was mesmerizing, and the aromas filled the entire café with warm waves of deliciousness. Murder or no murder, I was going to get a slice of the German chocolate cake he was baking before the day was over.

“Well, if you both can hang on until tonight, Cath, you’ve given me a perfect excuse to bring it up to Jake. I’ll see what I can find out,” Bea said.

Aunt Astrid handed each of us a rag. “Until then, we should just go on with things as normal.”

Taking the hint, we began to wipe down the tables. I thought it was hard waiting to tell them what Jake had told me. It was even harder waiting for Jake to get home and Bea to find out the rest of the story.

The rest of the day dragged, and staring at the phone after I got home didn’t help. Bea finally called at a little after nine o’clock. I took the phone out to my backyard. The air was cool, and the cicadas sang a haunting tune. After I answered, Bea told me I needed to get to the café right away.