Salem's Daughters (24 page)

Johnny Rocket brought his hands together in a loud clap. “We’d better set up. We have a lot of work to do,” followed by two more quick claps in rhythm. “Chop-chop. Let’s go.”

Emily needed to know more about the crew since the show was being shown live in just nine hours. Especially Denise Forsythe. Ned Leeds was clearly the leader as he was the host, and Johnny Rocket was the producer. But the energy emanating from the TV hostess was much stronger than the rest, and she was the eye candy the audience related to.

Emily planted a question in Debbie’s head.

“I have to admit,” Debbie said as she stepped in front of Johnny and addressed Denise. “I’m a little more open than my husband to spectral incidents. What’s your background, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Denise, never one to shun the spotlight regardless of the audience, was happy to oblige.

“I was raised in Happy Valley, Pennsylvania. My father’s a Pentecostal preacher. You could call him a holy roller.” She laughed. “Heck, if—you know those Picture Dictionaries they have now? Heh. Look up ‘Holy Roller’ and my dad’s image will be the meaning. His brothers were the church elders. They believed in healing, casting out demons, and miracles.”

Johnny raised his wrist in the air and tapped his watch with an impatient dramatic flair. Denise smiled as she purposely ignored her producer and recollected her childhood in a succinct manner.

“Dad and his anointed elders did things that, to this day, I can’t explain by logic or normal physics. People would come up to the stage, get prayed over and have hands laid on them, and then toss aside crutches and rise out of wheelchairs, dancing and running across the sanctuary of our church. I’ve seen just about every type of phenomena that falls outside of the traditionally accepted realm of the five senses.

“The blind saw. The deaf heard. Limbs grew where before they were stunted. The healed laughed for the first time in years and spoke with new tongues. My father, well, I can assure you he had no fear. He didn’t care what the skeptics thought about him. Their results healed and converted people.”

Debbie’s nod was slow and somber. Emily had to keep the questions and answers coming. She planted a second question.

“That is certainly interesting,” Debbie said. “Fascinating, actually. How did you three meet?”

Denise’s eyes darted to the two twins. “I met Ned and Henry in college while at Penn State. We were in a philosophy class together.”

“Unlike Denise,” Ned interjected. “I don’t believe in any particular religion. I do, however, believe in the existence of extra dimensions. This is where angelic and demonic spirits could live. These living beings could convert from energy to mass and then back to energy, freely crossing back and forth from their realms into ours.”

Bob squelched a grin by pressing his lips into a firm straight line. “Um, okay. If you say so.”

Emily looked up at Ned’s brother. He was the quiet one. Okay Henry, you’re next.

Debbie shook her head and laughed “Amazing. You lead such intriguing lives. A far cry from anything I’ve done. Henry, your turn. What’s your story?”

Henry stepped forward. “When I was sixteen, I was out with friends on a Friday night and we were in a horrible car accident. They died. Three of my best friends. I had a near death and out of body experience. I remember vividly looking down on myself as the ambulance took me to the hospital. I saw the doctors and nurses working on my broken body. I died three times on the operating table. But miraculously, they were able to save me. After the third revival, I reentered my body.”

Debbie looked awestruck. “That’s just, wow, I mean that is truly incredible.”

Bob sighed and looked away.

“It took me a full year to recover from my injuries. I had plenty of time to read and research out of body experiences. I know they’re real. I’m living proof.”

“So that’s our story,” Denise said. “We have different backgrounds and belief systems. But the one common thing we want to do is show the world life exists in a miraculous and elegant manner beyond the confines of what most people have been brainwashed into thinking is the one and only reality—that which we see on the surface.

“And worse?—duped into believing,” she banged her hand on the hard wall surface. “This material ‘real’ world is all that there is, and nothing else can exist beyond their man-made intellectual borders—borders?—hell, more like conceptual imprisonment.”

Johnny shoved his way between the much stockier Leeds brothers. “Okay, people. We really need to get a move on. We got us a ton of work to do before tonight’s show.”

Emily started to get up and leave but, wait, Denise, what’s she doing? The atmosphere and collective mood in the room became charged. Denise had her eyes closed, her head tilted back, and took a slow deep breath as she leaned backward. Her hair rolled off her back and seemed to flow as she swayed back and forth in place. She began humming a barely audible tune, beautiful and melodic.

Emily thought the scene was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic, the way Denise swayed to and fro with her hair following a moment after; like a weeping willow with its long branches swinging in a gentle breeze. She was amazed the woman held the pose and didn’t fall. Both cameramen turned on their hand held cameras and zoomed in on the emerging starlet.

Emily focused on Denise Forsythe, trying to discern what was transpiring in Debbie’s kitchen. Was she a fraud, acting out for the audience? Or did she possess paranormal gifts that helped discern elements beyond her normal five senses. She strolled around the table and settled in one of the cat beds for a better look.

Bob started to say something. Ned put his forefinger to his lips to signal silence. Even the Goths and vampire wannabes were held spellbound, eyes and mouths wide open. Anticipation replaced Emily’s usually patient demeanor. After a few minutes she planted a thought in Bob’s head to break the silence.

“Is she okay,” Bob whispered.

Ned let out a near silent laugh. “Yes. Denise does this when she senses something supernatural.”

Debbie looked worried. She grabbed Bob’s arm tight. “Does she perceive something out of the ordinary?”

“Some people would think this is very normal,” Denise responded, keeping her eyes closed.

Ned spoke. “What is it? Are you getting something?”

Denise responded without opening her eyes. “That would be a definite yes. There’s a major disturbance in the basement. It took a few minutes to recalibrate my senses. But trust me, my insides are on fire. One thing is for sure. Murcat Manor is the mother lode of supernatural activity.”

Denise maintained her swaying posture, but her head cocked to the side and her forehead creased. “Strange. I’m not sure what it—that—means.”

“What do you see,” Ned asked.

“I’m embarrassed to even say it. It sounds so stupid.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense. Just blurt it out.”

Denise scoffed as she spoke. “I see large dented cans of fruit cocktail. Lots of them strewn across the basement concrete floor. It’s as if they were pushed from a higher elevation. Repeatedly.”

Emily’s senses were on fire. Denise wasn’t a fraud. She was now officially a threat.

Bob turned to Debbie, who was already locked onto the paranormal crew. She looked petrified when Denise mentioned the dented cans.

Bob shook his head, as if this was the dumbest thing he had ever heard. “Well, there’s nothing down there except supplies.”

“Heh heh, and thirteen cats that often congregate there,” Debbie added.

Denise opened one eye. “Thirteen?”

“Um, yes. Thirteen. That’s right,” Debbie responded.

The hostess stood up straight and fixed her hair with her fingers. “What a convenient number,” she said through a sly grin.

Denise panned the kitchen and looked at the cats, then to Emily’s surprise, focused on her. Her grin widened as if she had exposed an evil hidden secret the house was trying to hide. Denise Forsythe nodded her head and let out a subtle laugh as if to tell Emily
checkmate
.

“Guys,” she continued. “We need to set up cameras in the basement, too. Tonight, we find out what’s causing all these deaths at Murcat Manor. And, if we’re lucky, what caused the fires on the two previous properties here.”

Emily didn’t need to see anything else. “Emergency meeting. Everyone. But not in the basement. Once the crowd disperses, we’ll make our way to Bob and Debbie’s bedroom.”

Emily waited as Raymond helped the crew to their rooms. The Goths and Vamps followed up the stairs like zealots in a cult who’d found new idols to worship.

The twelve cats, led by Rebecca, made their way through the animal door into Bob and Debbie’s bedroom. Emily felt a sense of relief once the kitchen was quiet. She and her followers would devise a scheme to destroy the cast of
American Ghost Stories
.

As she strutted toward the bedroom, one last guest arrived. An elderly man. Alone.

His presence in the kitchen caused Emily to stop mid stride. She slipped under a chair and studied him from the other side of the kitchen table. Something about him was different, yet very much familiar.

Friend or foe?

It was as if she knew him. But from where? She sensed from when might be a better question.

Chapter 39              Joseph Meicigama

Emily watched from a crouched position as Bob and Debbie welcomed their last guest. Bob extended his right arm and shook the visitor’s hand. “Hello. Welcome to Murcat Manor.”

“You’re the last booking,” Debbie said. “You must be Joseph Meicigama. I hope I pronounced that correctly.”

“Close enough,” the man said with a docile smile as he looked around the kitchen. “You have a wonderful place here.”

“Thank you,” Debbie said as she spread her arms out. “I call the kitchen my home away from home. I spend so much time here cooking meals for everyone.”

The elderly man smiled graciously. “I’m looking forward to some home cooked meals. I’ve done more than a little research on this place. I understand your dinners are what help make this bed and breakfast a favorite destination.”

Emily rolled her eyes when Debbie blushed at the old man’s charms.

“Are you local, Mr. Meicigama?”

He winked. “Yes. Generations of my family have lived in this area longer than just about anyone else.”

“We’re happy to have you stay with us,” she said with much respect. “You’ll be staying in the Frontiersman Room. I’m sure you’ll love the accommodations.”

Every fiber in Emily came to life. She carefully deliberated the strange man whose presence triggered her internal alarm system. Early to mid-seventies, but in great shape. His mind was clear and sharp. Soft spoken, but dauntless. He had dark weathered skin contrasted against ghost white wavy hair. He combed it back over his head behind his ears and tied it into a long lock drawn against the back of his head.

The stranger wore blue jeans and a light blue buttoned up collared denim shirt. Cowboy boots completed his attire. He could fit in any crowd and not stand out. Except the Goths and Vamps.

But Emily wasn’t fooled. He was trying to conceal himself in plain view as an unassuming, yet charming senior citizen.

But the old man did wear something odd around his neck; a thin silver braided chain. She discerned there was something mystical attached to it hidden under his shirt.

She sent out a communication to her followers. “Hold up, ladies. There’s one more arrival. He’s alone and trying to fly below the radar. I’m convinced he came in last to avoid attention. I don’t trust him.”

Back to the old timer. Emily thought hard where she might have met him. And what was the meaning of his silver chain? Time to place another thought in Debbie’s head.

Debbie leaned into Joseph. “That’s an interesting piece of silver around your neck. May I ask what it is?”

“Oh, this?” Meicigama pulled out a small silver object with a turquoise stone set in the middle. “This is a gift handed down to me from my grandfather,” he said with great pride. “It helps me to interpret dreams.”

“Are you Indian?” Debbie caught herself. “I mean, Native American. Not the East Indian, of course.”

His smile was congenial. “Yes, ma’am. I’m a native, of Ojibway descent. But you know us better as Chippewas.”

The hairs on Emily’s back went porcupine in alarm mode.

Meicigama continued. “I’m retired now, but I held a tenured professorate at Western Michigan University for thirty years, teaching general Native American Culture as well as more specific subjects like Shamanism, the Ancient Practice of Strong Medicine, Shaman Dream Weaving and Interpretive Practices.”

Had Emily been a porcupine, her quivers would have launched in fright and flight mode. But she stayed put, riveted by what she was hearing.

“You don’t say,” Debbie said, with obvious intense interest. “You know, Mr. Meicigama, Bob had a really strange dream a couple weeks ago.”

Bob flinched. “Debbie, please, don’t bother our guests with my dreams, I—”

Joseph Meicigama cut Bob off. “It’s no bother. Trust me, Mr. Stevens. It’s a gift my family has developed over many generations.”

“Honey, I really don’t want to do this.”

“Actually,” Debbie said, undeterred. “It was three dreams. Do you think you can tell us their meanings?”

Joseph rubbed the amulet between his fingers as he looked at Bob. “Yes, I do. Tell me the first of the three.”

Bob hesitated, but Debbie elbowed him. “Go on. Tell him.”

“Okay. I’m eating breakfast and everything in my world is blue. I’m sitting by a lake and there are two guardian angels, one male and one female.”

Joseph nodded his head. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s not much. But it was so vivid. I can see everything just as if I dreamt it last night.”

Another nod from Joseph. “That’s enough. And the second?”

Bob looked down, his eyebrows furrowed. “Everything is gray. I’m eating lunch and I’m alone, traveling back and forth through time. I see places to get off, as if I’m on a train or subway.”

He looked back up, straight at Joseph. “But I don’t know which exit I need. So, even though I have the ability to stop, I have no control of where I’m going because I don’t where to get off. I’m speeding forward, faster and faster, all the while passing by people and events I should be enjoying.”

Meicigama gave a sagacious tilt of his head. “I see. And the third dream.”

“It’s night time. After a long hard day of back-breaking work, I’m in my driveway leaving my car. I walk down a path and I want to go into my house and eat dinner. But the path swerves around the house into the backyard where I walk to the fence on the boundary line. Just before I reached out to grab it, I woke up.”

“What do you suppose the dreams mean,” Debbie asked.

Meicigama put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. Emily knew the interpretation was not going to be good news for Boring Bob.

“These dreams, they are absolute and straight forward in their essence. But I hesitate to tell you what they mean.”

“To be honest,” Bob chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not much of a believer in dreams forecasting my future. So hey—take your best shot.”

Emily was on edge, waiting for the shaman’s next words. This was no ordinary man. Although Boring Bob and Debbie welcomed him as a docile guest, Emily knew he presented a serious threat. To what extent, she wasn’t sure. She stayed under a chair, listening.

Joseph stared at Bob, looking as though he was assessing the man’s ability to take what he was about to say. He blew out a breath of resignation and complied with the request.

“Your first dream is easy to interpret. The guardian angels represent your parents who act as spiritual guides. Blue represents grace, hope, heaven, truth, and wisdom. These are what your mother and father imparted for your young life’s journey. And the setting is breakfast. This tells of your youth until you left home.”

“Bob had wonderful parents,” Debbie said with pride. “His father’s gone now. But his mother lives in Auburn Hills.”

Joseph smiled, brief, then became staid. “Your second dream is your current life, being that the setting is lunch. Gray indicates fear, fright, depression, ill health, ambivalence and confusion.”

He paused, again appearing to assess Bob’s demeanor, which seemed tenuous, but intent on listening.

“To dream about time and travelling through time tells me something happened to change your world from blue to gray. Your desire is to escape from your present reality. This includes people as well as circumstances. You want to go into the past where life was safe or jump forward to the future where your personal hopes are realized. For the present, your fears are of not being able to cope with the pressures and stresses of everyday life.”

“Nailed that one right on the proverbial head,” Bob said, looking at Debbie.

Joseph stroked his chin, his visage morphing into somber. “In your third dream, the setting is dinner and represents your future. You want to go home where there is safety. But you are on the wrong path. And the color is black, meaning it is nighttime. And this represents death.”

Bob winced—just a quickie—but then didn’t seem fazed. “Well, we’re all going to die someday.”

Meicigama continued to rub his omelet. “Unfortunately, in your dream you reach the boundary line of your acreage. That you are about to grab the fence, the outermost limits of your property, tells me your time is short.”

Bob and Debbie were silent for a laborious and lengthy pause. So was Emily. The Indian could tell a good story. Or perhaps, he had a gift worth noting, one that could rival
American Ghost Stories
or even exceed it.

Bob spoke. “Good thing I don’t believe in dreams.” He chuckled, but it sounded silly, almost goofy.

“I’m not so sure,” Debbie said, her hands coming together in a mild wringing. “Mr. Meicigama, is there anything we should do? I don’t want my Bob to die.”

Bob half-laughed, more of a cough. “Honey, I’m not going to die.”

“J-just—stop, Bob,” Debbie admonished him with hand up. She turned back to Joseph. “Please, is there anything we can do? You know, just in case the dreams are real.”

Joseph laughed. “You? No. There is not. But, perhaps, there is something I can do.”

Debbie’s countenance lifted. “Well, that sounds promising. Can we help?”

Meicigama made and abrupt turn and started to walk toward the living room. “I’m sorry. I need to rest. I’ll show myself to my room.”

He stopped short, turned back and looked hard at Bob and Debbie. “I suggest you two leave Murcat Manor tonight. Have a date night. Go to dinner then see a movie. There’s a midnight showing of
Ghost Busters
in Jackson.”

The old sage walked around the table and past Emily as if she wasn’t there. He went out of his way to do this. She was sure he got her attention, then ignored her on purpose. The act was purposeful. He was staying at Murcat Manor for a reason. And Emily was convinced his visitation involved something to do with her.