great-great-granddaughter. But she’d let us down. There was little hope left, and Nona would ultimately sink into a slow death.
I tossed aside the notebook and buried my face in my pillow. I couldn’t lose Nona … not in such a cruel way, the light dimming from her eyes as her memory slipped away. I’d done everything I could think of to help her, but it wasn’t enough. I felt so helpless. My dreams for her recovery were darkening into nightmares.
If I couldn’t help the grandmother I adored, I sure couldn’t help a half-sister I didn’t even like. Douglas must be one crazy spirit. I was positive we’d never met—at least not in this life. If he wanted to get a message to Jade, he’d come to the wrong person. Even if I did want to talk with my half-sister (No way! Not ever!), I couldn’t ask her about rag dolls and knives. She’d think I was nuts.
And she’d be right, I thought as I kicked off a heavy blanket. My pillow felt lumpy, so I pounded it with my fist, which felt really good. A punch for spirits that don’t show, for spirits that have impossible requests, for half-sisters that shouldn’t exist, and for fathers that lie.
Anger exhausted to weary sadness. All I could think of was glass-shattered candy and the fleeing vandal. Who was he anyway? And why did he seem intent on destroying more than candy?
Die Witches.
Obviously not a Wicca believer.
At first glance, I’d thought his message was scrawled in blood. But the gooey red liquid turned out to be cherry filling. He’d squished out his warning with a handful of chocolate-covered cherries—an edible death threat for the vandal in a hurry.
When the police showed up, it was obvious they didn’t consider this a big crime. One cop even joked that we better not eat the evidence. They might have taken us more seriously if Velvet hadn’t washed away the Die Witches message. But before the police arrived, we’d discussed whether or not to tell them about the séance. As public record, the crime could be reported in newspapers or on TV and become really humiliating.
The vote to wash away this telling piece of evidence had been unanimous.
Then we came up with a story about playing an innocent game of cards in the backroom when the vandal struck. Even with my description of the scarecrow guy I witnessed running away, the police chalked it up to a kid’s prank and weren’t going to put much effort—if any—into bringing the vandal to justice.
But this was far more than a childish prank. Hate this vicious didn’t go away. The vandal might do something worse next time. What if he attacked Velvet?
Someone has to stop him, I thought.
Only I couldn’t think of anyone—except myself and maybe Thorn. She was always up for a challenge and nearly fearless. But I wasn’t sure where to start or what we’d do if we did find the hooded guy. Without proof, the police couldn’t arrest anyone.
I longed for advice—even confusing advice from Opal would have been welcome. But when I called out to her, there was no reply.
Why wasn’t she answering? What was the use of having a spirit guide if she wasn’t around to guide me? She was probably off having fun—maybe hanging out with unreachable Agnes. While they were enjoying themselves, my life was falling apart.
Thank you very much for nothing! I thought.
Sinking farther under my blankets, I felt utterly alone. Why was everything so messed up? I’d thought my life would be perfect once I moved back with my grandmother. Instead things were all messed up. Nona’s illness was critical and now Velvet had a dangerous enemy. There had to be some way to use my psychic skill to help, but I couldn’t exactly hop over to the other side.
Or could I?
I remembered Velvet’s list of ways to contact the Other World: meditation, prayer, channeling, dreams, astral travel, and séance. Scratch off “séance” for obvious reasons. Meditating was great for relaxing, but even Opal didn’t come through that
I tossed aside the notebook and buried my face in my pillow. I couldn’t lose Nona … not in such a cruel way, the light dimming from her eyes as her memory slipped away. I’d done everything I could think of to help her, but it wasn’t enough. I felt so helpless. My dreams for her recovery were darkening into nightmares.
If I couldn’t help the grandmother I adored, I sure couldn’t help a half-sister I didn’t even like. Douglas must be one crazy spirit. I was positive we’d never met—at least not in this life. If he wanted to get a message to Jade, he’d come to the wrong person. Even if I did want to talk with my half-sister (No way! Not ever!), I couldn’t ask her about rag dolls and knives. She’d think I was nuts.
And she’d be right, I thought as I kicked off a heavy blanket. My pillow felt lumpy, so I pounded it with my fist, which felt really good. A punch for spirits that don’t show, for spirits that have impossible requests, for half-sisters that shouldn’t exist, and for fathers that lie.
Anger exhausted to weary sadness. All I could think of was glass-shattered candy and the fleeing vandal. Who was he anyway? And why did he seem intent on destroying more than candy?
Die Witches.
Obviously not a Wicca believer.
At first glance, I’d thought his message was scrawled in blood. But the gooey red liquid turned out to be cherry filling. He’d squished out his warning with a handful of chocolate-covered cherries—an edible death threat for the vandal in a hurry.
When the police showed up, it was obvious they didn’t consider this a big crime. One cop even joked that we better not eat the evidence. They might have taken us more seriously if Velvet hadn’t washed away the Die Witches message. But before the police arrived, we’d discussed whether or not to tell them about the séance. As public record, the crime could be reported in newspapers or on TV and become really humiliating.
The vote to wash away this telling piece of evidence had been unanimous.
Then we came up with a story about playing an innocent game of cards in the backroom when the vandal struck. Even with my description of the scarecrow guy I witnessed running away, the police chalked it up to a kid’s prank and weren’t going to put much effort—if any—into bringing the vandal to justice.
But this was far more than a childish prank. Hate this vicious didn’t go away. The vandal might do something worse next time. What if he attacked Velvet?
Someone has to stop him, I thought.
Only I couldn’t think of anyone—except myself and maybe Thorn. She was always up for a challenge and nearly fearless. But I wasn’t sure where to start or what we’d do if we did find the hooded guy. Without proof, the police couldn’t arrest anyone.
I longed for advice—even confusing advice from Opal would have been welcome. But when I called out to her, there was no reply.
Why wasn’t she answering? What was the use of having a spirit guide if she wasn’t around to guide me? She was probably off having fun—maybe hanging out with unreachable Agnes. While they were enjoying themselves, my life was falling apart.
Thank you very much for nothing! I thought.
Sinking farther under my blankets, I felt utterly alone. Why was everything so messed up? I’d thought my life would be perfect once I moved back with my grandmother. Instead things were all messed up. Nona’s illness was critical and now Velvet had a dangerous enemy. There had to be some way to use my psychic skill to help, but I couldn’t exactly hop over to the other side.
Or could I?
I remembered Velvet’s list of ways to contact the Other World: meditation, prayer, channeling, dreams, astral travel, and séance. Scratch off “séance” for obvious reasons. Meditating was great for relaxing, but even Opal didn’t come through that
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