Spirit Storm (20 page)

When no alarms wailed, I let out the breath I was holding and lifted the top of the case just enough to reach in and pull the amulet toward me. I slipped the chain of the golden amulet over my head and tucked the necklace under one of the outer layers of black fabric. Okay, half done already.

I grabbed the flap of the pocket holding the replica amulet, but it lifted with a loud ripping sound as the Velcro tore open.
Son of a dung beetle.
The Velcro was loud enough to wake the dead. Now that was a comforting thought. I froze, hand hovering over the offending pocket, and held my breath waiting for the firing squad. Instead I felt a vibrating from another pocket. Fortunately this pocket wasn’t sealed with Velcro. Pulling my phone out, I covered the screen with my body and checked the text message.

“U ok?” Simon asked.

“Y,” I answered. Texting was really difficult with gloves on, even the thin ones that allowed me to use Simon’s lock picking tools, so I gave up trying to send a more detailed message.

I lifted my hand, once again, to pull the replica from my pocket when a dark shape ran across the floor. Please God, tell me that wasn’t a killer monkey.
Please, please, please.

I glanced around, eyes wide, looking for whomever or whatever was in the room with me. Pulse hammering, I tried not to think of all the nasty things a witch may use to deter thieves from stealing their wares. I nearly threw up when something brushed against my leg. Shaking, I looked down to see two eyes shining back at me. It took me a moment to realize the dark shape was that of a black cat.
Oh.

I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or even more frightened. I knew the shop was owned by practicing witches and had read a little about witches using cats as familiars. The fact that it was a black cat, brushing back and forth, crossing my path over and over wasn’t making me feel very lucky.
At least it wasn’t killer monkeys.

Trying to ignore the cat, I lifted the top of the glass case and inserted the replica amulet into the original display. I lowered the glass with shaking hands and reached down to pet the cat, now batting something playfully between its paws.

“Nice kitty,” I whispered.

I surveyed the room and decided it was time to leave. Stepping away from the cat, I saw the shine of plastic in its paws. What was it playing with? Closer inspection showed a small plastic bag filled with catnip with a fancy paper tag stapled to the top. The cat had only made tiny punctures in the bag so far, but it was getting friskier as it rolled around with the catnip. My inner Emma screamed at me that plastic bags and staples were kitty choking hazards.

“I don’t have time for this,” I grumbled under my breath.

Reaching down, suddenly very glad for my gloves and thick ninja wrappings, I pulled the bag away from the cat and carefully emptied the catnip into a little pile on the floor.

“There you go kitty,” I said.

I tossed the empty bag in the trashcan behind the counter and quickly left the shop. As cool as the occult shop was I said a silent prayer that I would never see the Cauldron and Noose again. Looking up and down the cobblestone pedestrian street, I saw a shadow detach from an alcove across the way. Simon appeared, swaggering in his costume, twirling his cutlass in the air.

“Ready?” Simon asked. “Your coach awaits.”

Simon gestured to Emma’s car and with a flourish of black silk he was striding ahead of me. Emma, true to her word, had the engine running. I ducked into the front passenger seat, pulled on my seatbelt, and sighed.

“Did you get the amulet?” Emma asked. She had the steering wheel in a white knuckled grip, but her voice was calm.

“Yes, and I saved a kitty,” I said.

“You rock,” Emma said. She reached over and we bumped fists.

“I hate to interrupt, but the point of a getaway car is to actually drive away from the scene of the crime,” Simon said, dryly.

Emma smiled at me one more time then pulled away from the curb. She took us on a different route to leave Salem, avoiding old cemeteries, and we were soon heading north on I-95. Emma was bubbling with questions and Simon was curious about the occult shop’s resident cat, but I soon found the sound of the car rushing along the highway lulling me to sleep. I was so tightly wound lately that the need to relax left me melting into a sleepy puddle. I had been so worried about the werewolf killer, about Cal’s injuries, and about surviving the spirit storm on Samhain, but now the werewolf killer had been caught, Cal was awake from his coma and steadily recovering, and I had the magic amulet. My eyelids fluttered shut as I drifted asleep.

Chapter 26

October 31
^st
Maine

I was afraid to open my eyes as my brain slowly sparked awake. Today was Halloween and twilight would mark the beginning of Samhain, when the spirits of the dead would walk the land. I reached down and stroked the amulet hanging from my neck.
It wasn’t a dream.

We really had successfully swapped the replica for the fairy crafted amulet that protected Nera on Samhain so many lifetimes ago. I had slept the entire ride back from Salem to Maine. When we dropped Simon off at the cabin Cal had come out to say goodnight before Emma drove me home.
I really hope I hadn’t been drooling.

Emma promised to pick me up later in the day and we all planned to face the spirit storm together. I wouldn’t have to face my fears alone.
My friends were made of awesome.

For the moment though it was Saturday morning and I was bone tired. I burrowed deeper into my covers, but froze when I heard tapping at my window. My bedroom was on the second floor, with no tree limbs nearby, so that was not normal.
Not at all.

I cracked open my eyes, hiding in a cocoon of blankets, and nervously peeked at the window. A black shape was outlined against a slate gray October sky. Lips trembling, I called out to whoever was at the window, but my voice squeaked and rasped like a rusty door hinge.

“Hello?” I said. I swallowed and tried again. “Is someone there?”

A loud staccato rapping against the window glass caused my heart to beat like a wild animal trying to escape the confines of my rib cage. I put a hand to my chest and remembered Emma telling me that women experienced heart attacks differently than men, but I couldn’t remember what the symptoms were. I really hoped I wasn’t having a heart attack. “Scared to death my rattling window” would make a super lame epitaph.

Sliding my fingers back to the security of my amulet, I climbed out of bed and onto the floor. I felt exposed crawling in my skelly boyshort pajamas so tried to stay close to the wall and out of sight from the window. Inching my way along the wall, the hair lifted on my arms and I tried to kid myself that the goose bumps were just from the chill air.
Yeah right.
I was scared. What the heck was at my window?

Crouching beside the window I carefully pulled back the dark curtain and saw a close up of the black feathered creature, its head tilted to the side, watching me with one black beady eye. The crow sat there staring at me from its perch. I moved out from my hiding spot to get a better look at the bird. Was it hurt? What was it doing outside my bedroom window?

The crow tapped the glass with its beak and dropped something on the window ledge. Creeping forward I could see the torn wings of a moth. The image framed in my window was eerily similar to the dream I had about the coming spirit horde. With a flutter of wings the crow flew into the gray morning fog and quickly out of sight. The crow was a messenger and his message was clear; the spirit storm was coming.

After that cheery morning wakeup call I needed a long hot shower to wash away my dismal mood. I could feel a headache coming, the dull throb behind my eyes matching the pounding of my heart. Sliding the amulet back over my head I vowed never to take it off again, especially not today.

Glancing in the bathroom mirror a golden glow caught my eye. I turned back to see a shimmer of golden light hovering over my shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it was just a bit of soap in my eye, but when I reopened them the glowing image was still there.
Now that’s not freaky or anything.

Great, Doomsday was nigh upon us and I was seeing things. Could this day get any worse? The golden light shifted closer and the room filled with the pungent smell of vinegar.
Oh yeah, this day could definitely get worse.

“Mr. Green?” I asked.

I felt a bit foolish addressing the spirit of someone who I knew to have passed over, but the golden light seemed to bob in the air and the vinegar smell grew stronger. That sounded like a yes to me. Okay, I needed to figure out what was going on. For that I needed caffeine. I shrugged a robe on over my tank top and yoga pants and stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Hey sweetie,” mom said.

My parents were sitting at the kitchen table which was currently taken up with an enormous bowl of candy.

“Now
that’s
a healthy way to start the day,” I said, grinning and gesturing at the bowl.

“Breakfast of champions,” Dad said, holding up his coffee mug and a piece of candy.

“You stay out of that,” Mom said, slapping his hand. “That’s for the trick-or-treaters.”

“Think you have enough candy?” I asked teasingly.

That was one huge bowl. It probably held twenty pounds of candy. I hoped my mom didn’t expect my dad to lug that thing to the door every time a kid came and rang the doorbell. The poor guy could get a hernia.

“You should bring your friends by for candy later,” Mom said. “Your father and I are wearing our costumes again this year.”

My dad mouthed “save me” behind her back in mock horror. I think he secretly loved dressing up with my mom and handing out candy to the neighborhood kids, but he claimed every year was “the last year I’m doing this.”

“We have a lot of plans, but I’ll see what I can do,” I said.

I rinsed my mug in the sink and waved as I left the kitchen. The room had been steadily filling with glowing shapes, mostly the golden hue I had seen before, but here and there I saw glimmers of gunmetal gray. I wasn’t sure why, but these gave me the creeps. It was getting more and more difficult to pretend they weren’t there, so I escaped to my room. The last thing I needed was my parents thinking I was hallucinating. They’d make me stay home for sure and would probably take me to the hospital, a place where people die. That was one stop I definitely didn’t want to make on the Samhain crazy train.

My room quickly filled with glowing shapes and a plethora of smells, but my headache had started fading as soon as I put the amulet on after my shower, and though the shimmering images were a new thing they seemed to lack substance. Good. I needed to get dressed and I didn’t need any grabby ghosts to get in the way. It was bad enough knowing I’d have an audience.
Ugh.

Throwing open the closet door, I pulled out a simple black, spaghetti strap, slip dress with gray contrast stitching. Laying the dress out on the bed, I added black and gray striped leggings, fingerless gloves, and a black ribbon choker. Changing was awkward, but I managed to keep my robe on the entire time. When I finally tossed the robe over my vanity chair, I was nearly done. I pulled on tall black boots with buckles up the sides and strapped on a black nylon gun holster to my right thigh completing the costume.

I didn’t want to be the damsel in need of saving or a ghoulish creature of the night. Those costume ideas all hit too close to home. No, I was going as a kick butt hunter this year, someone who wasn’t afraid to slay some zombies and stake a few vampires before you could say “brains” or “I want to suck your blood.” I slid a bubblegum pink squirt gun into the holster and strapped a rubber knife onto my wrist over the fingerless gloves. I pulled my hair up into two messy buns, stray hair sticking out like porcupine quills, and started lining my eyes with liquid eye liner. Checking my reflection in the mirror, I was impressed.
Sweet.

The weather outside was dreadful, cold gusty wind and icy rain, so I dragged out my full length gray military trench coat. I checked the time on my phone and was discouraged by the still early hour. I didn’t want to stay here with a room full of glowing dead people. Biting my lip, I dialed Emma’s cell number and hoped she was awake.

“Hey,” I said when Emma picked up. She didn’t say hello, just sighed when she accepted the call. Not a good sign.

“Unless there are poor, defenseless, fluffy bunnies in need of immediate assistance I am hanging up,” Emma grumbled.

“Did I wake you?” I asked.

“I only stopped scrubbing the makeup and body paint off like two hours ago,” Emma said. She sighed again and it sounded like she hit her pillow, or threw it across the room. “Bunnies? No? Hanging up now…”

“Wait,” I said. “I can be fluffy, and I’m definitely in need of help.”

“Give me a half hour,” Emma said. “And you’re buying me breakfast.”

“Deal,” I said.

*****

I explained my new glowing friends to Emma on our way to breakfast. We were going to stop at the local diner, I was in the mood for ice cream covered waffles, but the gunmetal gray forms were in greater numbers there, so we went to Mr. Green Genes instead. There was something menacing about the gray shimmering forms. Seeing them in such large numbers sent a shiver up my spine. They seemed focused, and hungry. I wondered if something horribly tragic happened where the diner now stood. Perhaps it was the site of an old battle or forgotten graveyard. I planned to look it up at the library, but not today.

Emma nicknamed the dark spirits “The Grays” which made me think of aliens and X-Files, but it was an apt description. I ordered veggie tofu breakfast burritos, egg for me, not for Emma, and headed to our booth with supersized lattes. It was going to be a long day and an even longer night.

“So are they here?” Emma asked. “The Grays.”

“There seems to be at least a few everywhere, but this place is filled mostly with the happy golden spirits,” I said. Okay, I didn’t really know if the golden spirits were happy, but they seemed pretty chipper compared to the Grays.