Cat-astrophic Spells (11 page)

N
either my aunt
nor myself had heard the woman’s name before.

“My father said he knew her from years back before he met my mother,” Brit said. “He said they had gone on a couple of dates, but that she was always a little too clingy, you know? The kind of girl who always had to be told she was pretty. We’ve all met that kind.”

Images of Darla Castellan flipping her hair at the café and getting that poor schmuck she’d just met to carry her bags popped into my head. Yes, Brit. We had all met that kind. I felt my stomach grind over on itself at the thought of my own high school nemesis.

“So, she showed up again at my school a few years after my mother had passed away. She came up to me and asked if I was Melvin Clegg’s daughter. She made it sound like they had kept in touch over the years. I talked with her on the phone. I went to lunch with her. She told me about places she had gone and things she had done and that she was a high priestess in some Wiccan group. I don’t know. I just laughed it off.” Brit wiped her nose and stared at the carpet.

“What did your father do when you told him you were talking with her?” I asked.

Brit chewed her bottom lip. “He didn’t seem to mind at first. He told me she was a little on the crazy side when he knew her, but that she had probably mellowed by now. I liked her, sort of. We’d go shopping sometimes, and she’d ask me all about him. When I look back on it, I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. But she was really intrusive, you know?”

Still sweating and hoping my stomach would hold still if I did, I slowly leaned in a little closer as Brit continued her tale.

“She wanted to know if my father was dating. She wanted to know if I thought he’d like her to visit. And she was always asking me to tell him stuff like she had her boobs done and that she wasn’t seeing anyone and had never been married. How could I have missed all this? I just repeated it all to my father like a parrot. I don’t even know what I was hoping for. I didn’t want my father to date this woman. But yet, I kept doing what she said.”

“It’s not your fault, Brit. Some people can be very persuasive, manipulative,” Aunt Astrid said seriously. “Good-hearted people often have to learn the hard way how to spot these kinds of people.” My aunt’s face was getting angrier by the minute from the story she was hearing.

“Well, I decided to stop talking to her when I caught her with Lucas.”

“Who is that?” I murmured, quickly sipping a little more water.

“I don’t know what their official story is, but not long after I started communicating with Jennifer on a regular basis, I saw this guy with her all the time. He was a weird, gothic dude in his late forties. Too old to be wearing eyeliner, that’s for sure. How cliché.”

I rolled my eyes, thinking the exact same thing.

“He started coming with us to lunch or shopping. It was just plain creepy. Sometimes, when he thought I wasn’t looking, I’d catch him staring at me. He looked at me like I was a steak on a platter.” Brit shivered as she spoke.

“Did he speak to you?” I asked.

“No.” Brit straightened up in her chair. “He’d mumble and whisper things to Jennifer but never directly to me. I thought… and this is totally gross, but I thought they were swingers or something and were sizing my dad up for something weird. Now, I only wish they were just pervy instead of…” She started to cry again.

“What happened between her and your father?” Aunt Astrid asked, trying to keep Brit going with her story.

“Jennifer showed up at my apartment by the school. I had never given her my address. I always met her somewhere. She had my phone number, but that was all. And she started calling me first thing when I got up and a couple times a night after I got home from school and work. When she showed up all dressed in black, with bright red nails and lipstick, and her hair all wild and hanging down her back, I told her no way. She looked ridiculous. Like she was dressed up for Halloween a couple months early. And Lucas was just as bad. I honestly didn’t want to be seen with them.” Brit stood and peeked out the peephole of her front door.

“Jennifer said it was time she paid my father a visit. That she had been wanting to see him for such a long time. That he was this great guy she never forgot. Blah, blah, blah. I told her to do what she wanted. I was getting tired of her. She begged me to go with her to see him, but I said no.” As Brit sat back down again, she clenched her hands into fists. Her voice dropped to an angry drone. “That was when she told me she wasn’t just a Wiccan high priestess. She started going on and on about being some divine messenger, untouchable, a super-powerful, centuries-old witch. It was just crazy talk.”

“Oh, Brit, you poor thing.” My aunt was very upset. Those kinds of people were horrors to her because the Greenstones worked so hard to dispel that kind of thinking.

“She told me that my father and I had been chosen to be her new family. And we’d be powerful and feared and all this other crazy stuff that I couldn’t believe I was hearing. Who talks like this?”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“So I told her that sounded insane, but if she wanted to see my father, I couldn’t stop her. So off she went in her Elvira Mistress of the Night gown and tacky jewelry with Lucas strutting along behind her like the guy who scoops poop up behind an elephant in those old cartoons.”

Despite my queasiness, I let out a chuckle.

“You know what I’m talking about?” Brit asked, looking at me with the first sign of joy I’d seen on her face since we met. I nodded, and even she had to chuckle.

“Of course, I called my dad to warn him,” she continued. “He said not to worry, and that he’d deal with her. He said she was always a little weird. He told me that part of the reason he couldn’t continue dating her was that aside from her insane insecurities, she started playing with Ouija boards, reading all kinds of stuff on the occult. I mean, if you knew my dad, you’d know this wasn’t his style.”

Brit’s eyes shot to her father’s picture on the little altar with the burning vanilla votive candles. “We’re just plain people. He went to church. He liked to play solitaire and watch old cowboy movies and make candy. That was about it. Nothing fancy. Nothing weird. He was just my dad. And when he shot her down, when he refused her… she went insane.”

“When did this happen? When did she go and see your father for the first time?” I asked, wishing I could just go outside and kick all those vials far away from me.

“Maybe six months ago. From then on, she kept driving by his house. She’d leave notes at his door, but when my dad would try and show them to me, the writing would disappear right in front of us. He said he’d seen her parked across the street from the candy store. She’d peek at him around corners if he were grocery shopping or going for coffee. I told him I didn’t like any of it, but he said it was just to get attention. If he ignored her long enough, he thought she’d get bored and leave.”

“But she never did,” my aunt said.

Brit shook her head. “It made her madder. One time, I came home from school to stay with Dad for the weekend and found her sneaking around my father’s house. She was putting weird dried things around and strange trinkets and crystals. When I looked it up online, I found out that those things were supposed to start a fire if a person said some kind of chant. I told my dad, but he said he didn’t believe in that stuff, so it couldn’t hurt him.”

“What did she do when she saw you?” I asked, wiping sweat from my forehead.

“She looked at me and walked slowly back to her car then sped off.” Brit took a deep breath. “I should have called the cops so there would at least be a record. But Dad said no. Then I saw her doing the same kind of thing around his shop. When I stayed overnight at my dad’s house, which became more and more frequent, I’d hear things outside. I’d hear footsteps and mumbling and laughing. And then the cats started to show up.”

“Is that why you took Treacle?” I asked.

“Treacle? Is that your cat’s name? That’s pretty. I was calling him kitty when I had him.” She looked up at me as if she were ashamed of herself. “I am so sorry about that. I love animals. I do. But with her doing all the things she was doing, claiming to be a witch or priestess or whatever she thought she was, I started doing some research and, well, a black cat can be a lucky talisman for someone like me. It can also be quite a power shot for someone like her. Because I believe she is a witch. You can go ahead and think I’m crazy but…”

With trembling hands, Brit pulled her hair away from her face and let out a deep sigh. “Jennifer Skala is evil. She’s got a blackness around her, and she’s made friends with it. I’ve seen it. It peeks at me from around corners and knocks on my door and rattles the windows at night. It would at my father’s house, too. That was why I was looking at getting him into a community. I thought with people around, cameras, a security guard, and a few trinkets planted around, I could keep him safe. It was a long shot, but I was desperate. I just wanted the old man safe, you know? Turns out he had nowhere to run to even if he did want to go.”

It seemed as if getting this story out, even to two relative strangers, was helping Brit. She leaned back in her chair. “So the cats started showing up. They’d stare at the house and watch my father and I as we came and went. They’d be sitting outside the candy shop. They’d be at the library. They’d show up if we went to McDonald’s or did the grocery shopping. They’d show up here and stare at the trailer. Sometimes, they’d howl and fight. Have you ever heard cats fighting? It’s a very unnerving sound. The things were everywhere, and the saddest part was I don’t think they wanted to be doing what they were doing.”

“What makes you say that?” Aunt Bea asked before I could.

“Normal cats study people. These cats seemed to have a begging quality behind their eyes. Such independent animals should never be forced to sit still. And that’s what she was making them do. I believe she was making them do this. Jeez, I sound like I’m off my rocker, but it’s true.

“The cats kept showing up, and they’d get skinnier and skinnier, like whatever she was doing didn’t allow them to eat. Then one day, one of them would be gone, and another one would have taken its place until it got too skinny and disappeared. And sometimes, I’d see Jennifer peeking around the other trailers, staring at the black cat. Your Treacle.

“I would be inside, scared to death that she’d come break in. She’d talk to herself or to Lucas, saying things like ‘I want that cat’ or ‘that cat will be mine.’ Every couple of days, once she knew I had him, she was sneaking around. I don’t know if the vials really work, or if she’s just cowardly, but after I put them out and poured salt, she had to keep her distance. That was all after my father died. My father who never had a health problem in his life dies of a sudden heart attack.”

“Where is your bathroom?” I asked desperately. I’d like to say I held my own and just needed to splash some cold water on my face.

Brit pointed behind her, and I dashed off, slamming the door behind me. The power of the witches’ vials, compounded by Brit’s tale, was getting to me. The horrible abuse being inflicted on cats—the creatures witches considered valuable and powerful companions— was too much for me to bear.

I’m not sure how long I was in the bathroom. My mind kept saying ‘get up, they’re waiting for you,’ but my body said ‘don’t try to move, or you’ll regret it.’ I moved. I regretted it. But I managed to pull the door open and step back into the living room.

My aunt stood up and came to me. “You poor dear,” she whispered, pushing my hair away from my sweaty face. “We’re almost done.” She turned to Brit, who was also standing and wringing her hands nervously.

“Brit, do you have any idea where Jennifer is staying?” Aunt Astrid asked.

She shook her head. Suddenly, her eyes popped wide. “No, I don’t know where she’s staying, but I’ve got a picture of her I can show you. I took it on my phone just so she’d know I saw her. I also read I might be able to stop her by using a picture and a spell and, well… it can’t hurt, right?” She pulled her phone from her pocket and showed us the picture.

“If she’s sneaking around,” I said with slightly slurred words, “why haven’t you told the police?”

Brit rolled her eyes. “What would I tell them? This woman says she’s a witch? She killed my dad with her witchy powers, and now she’s after me?”

Aunt Astrid shook her head then took Brit’s hands. “You have no idea how much you’ve helped us, Brit. Your father would be very proud of you.” Aunt Astrid hugged the girl then let go, took my hand, and began heading toward the door.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you guys think you can do against her?” Brit asked. “I think she
is
a witch. I think she can hurt people without touching them, and I think she likes doing it. I’d suggest getting some witches’ vials and salt for your homes. Because if she didn’t know you’ve been here before, she knows you’ve been here now.”

“Oh, uh, like I said, my daughter’s husband is a detective,” my aunt said quickly. “We might be able to help.”

Brit peeked through the peephole, and after deciding the coast was clear, opened the door. The cool night air felt great, and I inhaled it deeply.

“I am sorry I took your cat,” Brit said. “But please, guard him with your life. At the risk of sounding even crazier, don’t let her get her hands on him. She’ll use him up and then kill him.”

My body shivered at the thought. “I won’t. I promise.” I hobbled weakly down the wooden steps. Before I could turn around, Brit had the door closed, and I heard the lock slip back into place.

“Do you need me to drive?” my aunt asked as I limped pitifully to the car.

“No. No. I can do it. You better uncover her jars. From the sound of it, she needs them. They work quite well… at least, on me they do. They didn’t seem to have any effect on you.”

My aunt waved her arms and sent the sheet and towel back to their places on the neighbor’s clothesline. Once both of us were in the car, she spoke. “I couldn’t see.”

“What?” I gasped. “What are you talking about?”

“I couldn’t see, couldn’t see a thing but a few shadows and shapes moving around the room. Those vials took away my vision. I couldn’t see the past, the future, another dimension, or even this one.”