Dizzy Spells (12 page)

“Hi, Kayleen,” Craig said meekly.

“Hi Kayleen yourself!” She stormed off in a
huff, all eyes in the restaurant on her.

“What was all that about?” I asked him.

Craig shrugged, and avoided eye contact.
“Who knows? She’s crazy.”

Call me suspicious, but I was beginning to
put two and two together. But really, Craig and Kayleen? That was
how it was beginning to look. Still, I counseled myself not to be
so distrustful. I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. After
all, there could be an innocent explanation.

After Kayleen’s outburst, we ate our meal in
silence. Craig was unusually subdued. I tried to engage him in
conversation, but all my attempts failed. It wasn’t a pleasant
meal, with Craig’s manner and with Alder watching me from the
corner. I refused dessert. I just wanted to get home.

“Well, if you don’t want dessert, I’d better
get you home,” Craig said. His mood had changed abruptly, and he
was now beaming from ear to ear.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” I
said.

Craig winked at me. “The evening’s not over
yet.”

I hope he didn’t mean what I suspected he
meant.

Chapter 18

Craig stopped his car in front of my house,
and jumped out of the car before I could say anything. I joined him
at my front gate. “Thanks again,” I said, hoping he’d take the
hint.

He didn’t. Instead, he smiled as he reached
to open the little iron gate.

Oh gosh, what to do? “Good night,” I said
firmly, hoping that would work.

“Huh? Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Craig asked, quirking a brow.

I’m never good at thinking on my feet. I
typically think up something brilliant to say, but always a good
day or so after I need to say it. “Well, remember how you got sick
in the house? I spilled some perfume, like a lot, a whole bottle.
It doesn’t bother me because I’m used to it, I suppose, but it
obviously made you sick. I need to air everything out,” I finished
lamely.

“I don’t smell anything, though,” he said.
“I’m willing to take the risk,” he added, winking at me.

Clearly, the fact that I hadn’t invited him
in was lost on him. “Well, good night then, Craig,” I said loudly
and firmly. “I will see you some other time. I’m going now. Good
night.” I slipped past him, and shut the gate between us,
exaggerating the movement of shutting the latch. I hurried up the
path.

I was fumbling in my purse for my keys when
I heard a noise behind me. I swung around to see Craig coming up
the path. Oh dear, he was going to make this difficult.

Craig held up his hands in surrender. “Okay,
so you don’t want to invite me in,” he said. “Okay, I get it.
You’re a good girl.” He smirked at me. “How about just one little
kiss?”

I did not like his tone, or his actions, for
that matter. “No, Craig,” I said. “No. You will have to leave
now.”

“But that was an expensive bottle of French
champagne,” he whined. “Surely that deserves one little kiss.”

I was horrified. How had I been such a bad
judge of character as to think Craig was dating material? “What do
you think I am?” I said in a raised voice.

Craig simply smiled. “I like girls who play
hard to get.” He stepped closer to me and put his hands on my arms,
as his lips approached mine.

Just then, there was a booming sound and
Craig flew backward. He landed on his behind at the bottom of the
porch steps.

“How did you do that?” he stammered, his
face as white as a sheet.

“I’m an eighth degree black belt in Aikido,”
I said. “Like Steven Seagal, if you’ve ever watched one of his old
movies.” I had no idea why I said that, but it was the first thing
that came to mind. “Leave now before I do something worse. Never
come back here again—oh, unless there’s a fire, of course.”

Craig picked himself up, turned and ran.

“Thank you,” I said to the house after I
watched Craig drive away. “I don’t know what I would’ve done
without you.”

The encounter had left me shaken up, so I
hurried next door to Camino’s.

Camino’s door slowly opened, making an
eerie, creaking sound. “Oh, Amelia. It’s you! Is everything okay?
You look a bit distressed.” Camino ushered me inside. This time,
she was wearing a big, brown fleece wombat onesie, complete with
giant furry wombat slippers. “Come into the living room, dear.
Would you like some tea? We can talk about whatever it is that’s
bothering you.”

“Sure, if you don’t mind,” I said.

Camino waddled out of the room to fetch the
tea, and I crossed to the old fireplace. Above it was an archaic
image, an ornately framed oil painting of a regal woman from
decades, perhaps centuries, ago. On the mantle below the painting
was a medium-sized wooden box that was outlined by a golden frame
encrusted with jewels.

Inside the box was a long, wooden object
with a pink gem of some sort jutting out from its end.

“Entertained by odd looking things?” Camino
asked, marching in with two cups of steaming tea in her hands.

“Oh,” I said, turning around. “I was just a
bit mesmerized by the box, and then that pink jewel…”

“It’s a crystal called rose quartz. It’s a
beautiful wand. I rarely use it any more.”

“Thyme told me that wands are used for
casting circles,” I said.

Camino nodded. “I used to be a Wiccan
priestess, and so I used it then. It’s just not necessary now for
the spells I do these days. Still, I keep the wand, as it’s an
important reminder of my past. Holding onto the past is crucial,”
she continued. “Take that painting over the fireplace, for
instance. I wouldn’t say it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever
seen, but she is one of my ancestors. If you look around, you’ll
see the influence of years past everywhere. It’s difficult to
understand the future without knowing about your history, so I like
to collect what you might consider oddities.”

I smiled. “That’s part of the reason why I
always run to your door when I’m in a jam,” I said, earning a
chuckle from Camino. “You seem to know a lot more about this stuff
than most people.”

“Well, that comes with being old, I guess,”
Camino said with a laugh, “not that I feel old. Now, what is it you
needed me for this time?” She handed me one of the cups of tea.
“Please have a seat and tell me your troubles.”

I sat on the sofa. “Thank you,” I said.
“It’s about my house again.”

“What happened this time?” she asked. “Is it
closing its walls on another poor soul?”

“Yes, but not just anyone this time.”

Camino’s brow furrowed. “Tell me what
happened.”

“It’s Craig. When he came over to pick me up
for our date, he said he wasn’t feeling well and kept making
comments about the walls closing in around him. I got him out of
there as fast as I could.”

“Hmm, well that is a bit peculiar,” Camino
replied. “There must be something about Craig that the house
dislikes, but what could it be? He’s always seemed like a nice,
pleasant man to me.” She leaned forward in her seat and scratched
her chin, looking up toward the ceiling as if it would offer her
some sound advice. “Are you sure that he’s as nice as you think he
is?”

I shook my head. “That’s just it,” I said.
“No, he’s not. I found that out tonight. I suspect he’s involved
with Kayleen the post lady, and after dinner, he wanted me to
invite him inside. I didn’t, but after I tried to get rid of him,
he followed me to the front door and tried to kiss me. The house
threw him into the yard.”

Camino stood up and walked over to the
fireplace. She looked back at me and sighed. “Goodness me,” she
said. “What a state of affairs. The house always knows. The house
always sees things that we miss. Well, you have had a lucky escape,
my dear. I just hope you’re not too upset about discovering the
man’s true character.”

I thought for a moment. “No,” I said
honestly. “I was attracted to him when I first moved to town, but
it was just a bit of a crush. The problem now is, what if he’s the
killer?”

Camino looked taken aback, so I pressed on.
“As everyone in town knows, Kayleen works part time cleaning at the
hospital, so I figured she might be able to steal insulin. What if
she has an accomplice, Craig?”

“But what possible motive would Kayleen have
for doing away with that poor man?”

“Is there a spell or something that we can
cast to find out why the house dislikes someone?” I asked.

Camino shook her head. “No, not as such. Yet
sometimes figuring that out is not simply a matter of casting
spells. We have to do our own part. For example, there is no use
doing a spell to get a job if one doesn’t answer job applications.
The two must go hand in hand. We just have to look at things with
an investigative eye.”

“Okay, but how do we do that?”

“Easy,” Camino said. “We need t more about
Craig.”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure what you
mean.”

“Until today, you saw Craig in a different
light from what your house does. Tell me what you saw,” she
said.

“Well, whenever he was around me, he was
usually polite, even sweet. He was never rude or unpleasant in any
way.” I rubbed my forehead. “That’s why I was so thrown off by the
interaction between him and Kayleen, and the way he acted when he
took me home. I can’t possibly see how he’d be the one framing me.
I’d believe it of Kayleen, but not of him. I just wish I could
communicate with my house and understand what it’s doing and
why.”

“It’s doing what it is to protect you, as
I’ve said time and time again,” Camino said. “We might not
understand how or why, but that’s what it is trying to do. The
house might think not think he’s murderer. It could be something
such as cheating on girlfriends, or it could be something much
worse. It’s impossible to know until we figure out what the house
is focusing on. There must be some negative energy coming from
Craig, but there’s just no way to determine what’s sending those
vibes to the house.”

I nodded. I turned my back to the window and
glanced around the room. The wand still sat in its wooden box over
the fireplace as Camino’s ancestor watched over it. On the far wall
was a bookcase of old tomes with titles in Latin and various other
lost languages embossed on them with a gold flourish. A shelf
opposite the bookcase held various bottles of potions and
elixirs.

Camino walked over to the sofa and sat next
to me. “We need to be grateful to the house. For all we know, he is
a no good cheater or a liar, and you deserve much better than
that.”

I nodded, looking out the window. I wondered
where Craig was at that very moment. Was he with another,
unsuspecting woman? Was that why my house didn’t like him? Or was
it because he was a murderer?

Chapter 19

I was on my way to Ruprecht’s shop with
Thyme. It was just turning to dusk. The streets were aglow with
artificial orange light reflecting from the rain-drenched streets.
Camino had been the one to propose the meeting. She had come up
with the idea to perform a spell designed to reveal my enemies.

Once again, I found myself at the forefront
of a dangerous game, one that I wasn’t sure I wanted to play. The
only things that made me feel safe were my friends. It was amazing
to me to think that few months ago I had been a normal young woman,
fresh out of a relationship, unsure where life was going to take
me. Since inheriting my aunt’s house and moving to Bayberry Creek,
everything had changed I was no longer content to see where life
took me—now, I was the one taking charge. And despite the fact I
didn’t always make the right choices, I was happy that I had
choices to make.

Ruprecht’s shop was dark when we parked in
front of it, although I could make out a dim light burning.
Ruprecht himself answered the door, pulling it open a moment before
Thyme could knock.

“Hello, my dears,” he said with a smile. “Do
come in. You’re the last to arrive.”

“This one is always running late,” Thyme
said, hitching her thumb at me.

I shrugged. “It’s either a character flaw,
or a charming quirk.”

“I think it’s quite charming,” Ruprecht said
over his shoulder. “Except when I’m the one waiting for you.”

I laughed and apologized. We followed him to
the back of the shop. Camino and Mint, Ruprecht’s granddaughter,
were already sitting at the table. Ruprecht took a seat at the head
of the table.

“Friends,” Ruprecht said with a soft smile.
“I’m glad you could all make it, at the behest of our dear Camino.
I think perhaps we should get to work before any discussion,
because that in itself will set our discussion on the right
path.”

The others nodded their agreement, and
Camino stood. She picked up a bag from the ground beside her chair
and pulled a few items from it. The first was a thick candle made
of yellow and purple wax. It had a long white wick that had yet to
be burned. After she placed the candle on a fireproof dish, she
reached into her bag and pulled out a small vial of yellow liquid.
She set that on its side next to the candle and continued
extracting items from her bag: a piece of thin parchment paper, and
a grease pencil. Camino sat down once more, and then took up the
grease pencil as she smoothed the parchment out before her with one
hand. She began to write.

I watched with interest. I craned my neck to
see what Camino was writing, but I couldn’t quite make it out.

Thyme produced a book of matches and prized
one free from the others, closing the flimsy cardboard lid over the
end of it, and striking it along the scratchy strip. It lit at
once, a small yellow and orange flame that danced in the dim light
of the store. Thyme reached across the table and lit the candle.
When the wick caught, it produced a much larger flame than the
match, and began to crackle and sputter, almost like a firecracker.
The flame died down and danced slowly along the wick, twisting this
way and that as it rose into the air, the flame turning into a
spiraling gray stream of smoke.