Spirits Rising (7 page)

I also made a note to snow-blow all of their driveways at least once this winter.

Every rustle of leaves or creak in the old house startled me. I woke up as giddy as when I’d drifted off, the pressure of the lack of other an intoxicating drug of its own. Mexico had its own pulse of spirits, but the resort’s cold, commercialism had mostly pushed the ancient presence towards the temples and holy areas. Wisemen’s Cove and the entire Northern peninsula had that pulse, too, but the last day had pressed against me so heavily that breathing was difficult at times.

And now, nothing.

Each time I faded, I did not dream. I did not hear voices. No other spoke to me in my sleep. I did not relive any spirit’s memories.

And it was glorious.

I woke a few hours later to the piercing glare of midmorning sun and the smell of bacon and fresh-baking bread. I inhaled deeply.

I crawled out of bed, still wearing my clothes from the night before, and made my way down the stairs. It wasn’t until I saw Jeremy’s rumpled self that I remembered he was even there. He stood in Mrs. Saunders’s kitchen in his black boxers and grey T-shirt, barefoot despite the early September chill.

Focus, Rachel. There’s danger and trouble and spirits and people are going to hurt someone if you don’t get your shit together.

I looked away and vowed that, after this, I was moving as far away as I could from Jeremy. Like, British Columbia. Or maybe South Africa.

Get it together, Rachel.

“Mrs. Saunders isn’t allowed to eat bacon,” I said by way of greeting.

He grinned at me. “I already made her Cream of Wheat with cream on top, and a cup of tea. I used the skim evaporated milk, not the cereal milk, and I put in two packets of artificial sugar and one of regular sugar. Just the way she likes it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t put gin in it, did you?”

“It’s too early for gin. I never drink before three in the afternoon,” came Mrs. Saunders’s raspy voice from the living room.

I cocked an eyebrow at Jeremy, who chuckled.

“She has really good hearing for an old woman,” Jeremy whispered.

I laughed a little too loudly, a little too forced. Change the topic. Change the topic. “I have an idea for putting these spirits back to rest.”

He poked at the bacon with a fork. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “I’m going to try a ritual at the United Cemetery in town. Manny’s house is just down the hill from it and graveyards have a strong pull for the dead. Even if Manny’s house was where they were summoned, I’m hoping that graveyard is close enough to call them to me. “

He pulled the frying pan from the heat and put it down on a pot cloth on the counter. “Why not just do it in Manny’s yard?”

“I’m not very powerful.”

Jeremy began to protest, but I put up a hand. “I’m not talking down myself, I’m just being honest. Really, the only power I have is the ability to sense the other around us. I’m going to need all the help I can get.” I gave a shrug. “And I’d rather stab my eyes out with that fork than ask David O’Toole if I can practice witchcraft in his front yard.”

Jeremy chuckled. “I hear ya.”

“It isn’t legal to burn witches at the stake here, is it?”

“The Mounties frown on that sort of thing.” He cracked four eggs into the frying pan. They floated on the bacon grease, splattering and popping.

Mmm.

“I want to help,” Mrs Saunders said, walking into the kitchen, one hand bracing her lower back.

"You okay, Mrs. Saunders?” Jeremy asked.

She nodded her head. “I haven’t run since I was chasing youngsters! So, can I help with the witchcraft?”

I gave her a stern look. “There will be no witchcraft. I just want you to do what you did at my place.”

“All I did was say my Hail Mary.”

I snatched a piece of bacon off Jeremy’s plate and snapped it in half. I munched. Mmm so delicious. I never eat bacon, it being fattening and I being on a diet. “Well, just keep on Hail Marying. You want to come help, Jeremy?”

“Of course.” He pulled a plate down from the cupboard and offered it to me. “Mrs. Saunders asked me to make extra for you, too.”

I eyed the old lady, who returned my glare with a much-too-innocent expression. “Such a good boy. I’m going to clean up the garbage in the yard while the bread is baking. No hanky-panky while I’m gone, you two,” she said, wagging her finger at me. She traded her cane for her walker, but not before slapping Jeremy’s behind. “Put some pants on, b’ye. People will think you spent the night with me!”

I laughed when she left the house and shook my head, though a little heat did rise in my cheeks. Hanky-panky was out of my future for a long, long time at my current rate.

“She still cleans her own garden?”

“I usually come over and do the bulk of it. She still weeds her tulips at the front of the house, though.” I chewed on a piece of bacon and moaned at the greasy, smoked goodness. “I look after our vegetable garden, but she often comes out with me. She sits in the car and yells at me.” I sighed, though I did let a little chuckle enter my voice. “Some days, it’s like being thirteen all over again.”

Jeremy grew serious. “She’s lucky to have you lookin’ out for her.”

I looked away. “Anyone would do the same for her.”

“True,” he admitted, “but I think she’d rather you doing it than anyone.”

We ate in silence, leaning against the kitchen counter eating our food. Normally, our silences were comfortable, the result of a strong friendship that didn’t require endless nervous prattle. It wasn’t until Jeremy spoke that I’d realized how different this silence was, the kind that was thick and uncomfortable.

“Last night was crazy,” he said in a low voice.

I nodded, slicing up my eggs with my fork. “I’m still a little shaky.”

“Your neighbour, Tobias?”

I nodded.

“He said he’d seen a ghost when he was sixteen. Scared the life out of him. Then, both his sons said they’d once found a Beothuk burial site while they were out cutting firewood and a ghost came out of the ground and started talking to them.”

I stirred my eggs around my plate a little, the bright-yellow yolks mixing with the brown bacon bits and fat on my plate. “Mrs. Saunders said people didn’t even bother digging up the giant mounds by L’Anse Aux Meadows because folks just assumed they were burial graves and figured the dead were best left alone.” I blew out a breath. “A friggin’ Viking settlement was here and people just left it alone.” I shook my head.

“Makes it easier for people to accept what’s happening.”

I shrugged and shovelled eggs in my mouth. I watched Mrs. Saunders walk past the open porch door twice, peering in at us, a wicked smile on her face. What a brat! I scraped my plate into the garbage and put the dish in the sink. I turned on the faucet and began washing dishes.

“What’s wrong?”

I was silent for a moment, not really sure what was crawling under my skin. “I’ve never felt like I belonged here, but I really do.” Tears welled up in my eyes, but I kept my head down so Jeremy wouldn’t see them. “God, Tobe came out there with a rifle.”

Jeremy sidled up next to me, taking the wet dishes from the drip pan and drying them. “I think you’re so used to hiding that you just assume people are against you.”

I tried to speak, but the stupid lump in my throat made it impossible. Stupid vision getting blurry. “Someone taped religious tracts to my door telling me people were against me.  I just assumed it was my neighbours.”

He put his hand on my shoulder. Orange-scented suds water dampened my shirt. “I saw the tracts in Manny’s basement. I don’t think it was your neighbours. I think it was one person. You can’t condemn us all for one man’s decision.”

I took a deep breath and gave Jeremy a quick smile, before he could see the tears falling from my eyes. He squeezed my shoulder once more and I ignored the chills his touch gave me. Stupid idiot.

We fell silent again, before Jeremy asked in a sober tone, “Can you stop the spirits?”

I watched Mrs. Saunders push her walker across the paving-stone path I’d made around her yard, so that she could weed her spring tulips safely. Now, she bent down and picked up the fallen pieces of wood that the spirits had knocked over from her woodpile, one hand firmly on her walker, brakes on.

I thought of Tobe and his sons, ready to defend me, even though I’d never stepped a foot in their house.

I took a deep breath, and said, “I hope so.”

I settled on the United Church Cemetery in St. Anthony as my last stand. First, it was the nearest graveyard to Manny’s house, where the original spell was cast. Second, the cemetery was just that—a cemetery. It was the last home of the dead. Dead attracts dead, so hopefully the benign spirits resting in the graveyard would soothe the awakened spirits and help calm them.

All right, I was grasping, but I didn’t have a lot to work with. I could almost hear Mom’s voice in the back of my mind whispering how this was going to fail.

But, it was the best option. Besides, it was the prettiest graveyard in the entire Northern peninsula. It was up on a hill, overlooking both the town and the bay. It looked like a place where a spirit would want to settle down for eternity.

I had no idea if the spirits would return to Manny’s, re-form next to me, or actually be gone forever, but I decided getting into position was the best option.

We drove the short trip from Wisemen’s Cove to St. Anthony. Jeremy sat in the back, so that Mrs. Saunders could sit in the front seat. Dark clouds hung in the air and mist sprayed the windshield. I picked up speed; the moose wouldn’t litter the secondary highway in this weather. They’d be smart and head to the woods.

Still, just to be sure, I kept the high-beam lights on. Hitting a four hundred kilo animal would put a damper on my plans.

The tight pressure behind my eyes slowly reformed, pulling and stabbing at my brain. I’d had several hours of complete and uninterrupted peace and my defences were prepared. I pushed my will and focus against the pressure and steadied my thoughts.

I passed four white RCMP vehicles as I approached town, with another two parked in the Tim Horton’s parking lot. But the cops weren’t inside slurping down the stereotypical coffee and donuts; instead, two officers sat alert in each vehicle, with headlights on, and the cars idling, ready for a moment’s dash down the street.

We turned up the hill, heading towards the graveyard. In the RCMP parking lot, several cars were parked.

“Looks like they brought in help,” Jeremy said idly from the backseat. He let out a sigh. “I should be helping. Damn forced vacation.”

“I’ve never seen so many Mounties in my life,” Mrs. Saunders said, disdain in her voice. “Bunch ’f foolishness this is, summoning up the dead. Don’t these youngsters have anything better to do?”

With the rain and clouds, it was hard to tell when sundown would happen, but I’d made an educated guess by looking at Environment Canada’s website before I set out. The car’s clock said I had about twenty minutes to set up. It was cutting it close, but I didn’t want Mrs. Saunders to be outside in the rain any longer than she needed.

I pulled the car off the road as best I could. A light mist was coming down, pretty normal for early September, so I’d made my neighbour bundle up good and wear her winter coat. I’d never forgive myself if the old lady caught pneumonia.

“This made the National last night,” Jeremy said as we exited the car, referring to the countrywide news show.

“Mrs. Saunders, wait here,” I said. I opened the trunk. “We’re on the National?”

Jeremy nodded. “I called in this morning and LeBlanc told me that it’s all across the country. There’s a rumour Peter Mansbridge might even come and interview people about ‘the gangs.’ ”

“Slow news week in Canada, I see,” I said with a frown. “Normally, Newfoundland doesn’t make the news unless we kick a prime minister out of the province.”

Jeremy gave me a small smile. “In any case, it’s best we don’t make a scene. LeBlanc’s already uneasy about Manny’s involvement, not to mention the rumours about devil worship. If word gets out that we’re dealing with actual spirits...” He ran a finger across his throat. “I’ll be on the unemployment line right beside ya.”

“No pressure,” I mumbled as I started pulling my gear from my vehicle’s trunk. “Arsehole.”

Jeremy beamed at me. He watched me put the small toolkit on the ground and picked up a worn, leather bag from trunk. “What’s this?”

“Don’t touch that,” I snapped.

He cocked an eyebrow, but passed it to me. I snatched it from him.

“Sorry,” he said, confusion in his voice.

I gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. It’s fragile and I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

“It looks like some kind of native medicine bag.”

I looked down at the worn bag and ran my thumb across its supple grain. “Whoever abandoned me put this around my neck.” I held up the palm-sized bag by its strings. “Stupid thing to do, really. I could have choked on it.”