Catherine Mesick's Blog, page 2

The First Storm of Spring, Part 3 (New Short Story)

Here is Part 3 of The First Storm of Spring. If you haven't read Part 2 yet, you can find it here.And if you're ready to go, Part 3 starts now…The First Storm of SpringBy Catherine Mesick

Subee stood and moved through the gloom to a cupboard.“Where?” Garrett asked.“In the living room.”“It is very dark, ma’am, but I’m pretty sure there’s no fireplace in here.”“The fire’s going in the middle of the living room floor,” Subee said, retrieving something from the cupboard and returning to Garrett. “The house is going to be destroyed anyway. A little extra fire damage won’t hurt anything.”“There’s also the little matter of ventilation,” Garrett said. “We could very genuinely suffocate before the storm or anything else outside got the chance to damage us.”“The roof will be off soon enough,” Subee said. “Smoke inhalation won’t be a problem.”“That’s good to know,” Garrett said.Subee glanced at him sharply. “Speaking of damage, you don’t seem too concerned about the storm any longer.”“You said that mark on your arm will protect you.”“And you believed that?”“Yes, ma’am. I believed everything else you said. That part’s no stranger than the rest.”“And you believe I can protect you, too?” Subee asked.“I do,” Garrett said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me stay.”Subee stared at him for a long moment—her expression was unreadable in the dark.Then she moved to the center of the living room.“We’ll build the fire here.”She dropped a dark sphere on the floor and it cracked open like an egg. A thin tendril of flame rose out of the top and danced over the sphere.“Well, that was easy,” Garrett said.Subee sat down in front of the little flame. “We’ll have to build this fire up in a little bit. But this is good for now.”Garrett sat down opposite her. The flame threw flickering shadows over her face, and he watched her in the newly created light.“So what now?” Garrett asked.“We wait, and I need to meditate. Then I’ll show you what to do.”“Before you go into your trance or whatever it is,” Garrett said. “Can I ask you a question?”“Of course.”“What did you do to me back when I first arrived?” Garrett asked. “How did you knock me out?”“Earth smoke,” Subee said.“Earth smoke,” Garrett repeated. “Is that some kind of magic?”Subee smiled faintly in the light of the tiny fire.“No. It’s just an herb. But it can be very effective against an enemy if you know how to use it right.”“Is that how you saw me?” Garrett asked. “As an enemy?”“Yes.”“Is that how you see me now?”“No.”Garrett thought he saw Subee smile again, but the flickering of the flame made it hard for him to be sure.Subee closed her eyes then, and while she sat quietly, Garrett listened to the howling of the wind and the driving rain as it railed at the house—roof, walls, and windows. The tiny building began to shake, and Garrett heard ominous creakings from the roof—it sounded as if it were in imminent danger of being torn off.To Garrett’s great relief, Subee eventually opened her eyes.“We’d better start building that fire,” she said.She stood and walked a short distance. Garrett quickly followed her.In front of them stood a coffee table and a small uncomfortable-looking couch that was little more than a wooden frame with cushions.“We’ll need to chop these up,” Subee said, pulling an axe out from under the couch. “We’ll also need to chop up all the furniture in the bedroom and in the dining room.”She glanced around the room. “Sorry I only have one axe. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here.”“That’s okay, ma’am,” Garrett said. “There might be a heavy knife or something like that I can make do with in the kitchen. Do you have a flashlight?”“Yes, I do. And for the last time, just call me Subee.”Subee produced a flashlight from one of the kitchen cupboards and handed it to Garrett. And while she got to work in the living room with the axe, Garrett took the flashlight and a sturdy steak knife and went down the short hallway to the bedroom.The bed was much like the couch—a spare wooden frame with a mattress on it, and there was also a dresser and a little wooden nightstand.Garrett attacked the bed first, propping the flashlight up on the nearby nightstand, and as he worked, the storm howled and buffeted the house so fiercely that it seemed as if it were in imminent danger of being carried off.Garrett realized ruefully that that was probably the case.After a short time, he returned to the living room with his first armful of firewood, and Garrett saw that Subee had already produced a bright, blazing fire in the middle of the floor. Around it in a wide circle was a thin ring of flame, and above it was a hole in the roof through which smoke was passing. The ring of flame was not connected to the larger fire, and it held steady—the ring was not increasing in size or feeding on any fuel—it was more of a border than anything else.And the hole in the ceiling above the fire let out the smoke but didn’t let in the rain.Garrett stopped and looked up at the roof. “How did you do that?”“I can touch spirit,” Subee said. “And that includes the spirit in the elements. I can control them in a way. So I’ve created a selectively permeable barrier. It lets the smoke out, but stops the rain from getting in.”“A selectively permeable barrier?” Garrett said.“Yes.”“And how did you make the hole in the roof?”Subee reached for an object on the floor.“I did it with this.”By the light of the fire, Garrett could see a long, thin metal tube that looked something like a fire iron—but it was clearly hollow.“And what is that?” Garrett asked.“I made it myself,” Subee said. “I call it a fire staff, and I use it to channel the flow of fire. I’ll give you one to use too. Luckily, I always bring a spare.”“So you shot a hole in the roof with this using fire.”“Yes. The roof really will be gone soon, but as you pointed out before, proper ventilation is important. And thanks very much for the firewood.”Garrett glanced down at the dismantled pieces of furniture in his arms. “You’re welcome. There’s plenty more back there.”“Bring it all out,” Subee said. “We want this fire to be as big as we can get it.”Garrett and Subee continued to feed the fire, and eventually they had a blaze going that lit up the house even brighter than daylight.But no matter how high the fire blazed, it never moved beyond the circular fire barrier that had been drawn around it.“I assume this is keeping the fire under control in some way?” Garrett asked, pointing to the ring of fire on the floor.“Yes,” Subee said. “And I’ll do something similar to protect you.”“From the fire?”“From the fire, from the storm, and from the evil spirits.”“That’s a tall order for one circle,” Garrett said.He glanced at the gold leaf on her arm.“And you’re sure that little mark will protect you?”“It has for many years.”“Does it protect you against the storm or the spirits?”“It protects me against the storm,” Subee said. “I protect myself against the spirits.”Once the furniture was exhausted, Subee stood back seemingly pleased with their work. “Well, that’s done now.”“And what am I going to do exactly?” Garrett asked.“You are going to tend the fire.”“Ah,” Garrett said.“It’s a vitally important job,” Subee said. “I need to have a reserve of fire to draw on.”“You’re going to fight the evil spirits with fire?”“Yes. Fire is the only element that is like spirit—it’s the only element that isn’t a solid, liquid, or gas. It is, by its very nature, diffuse—it’s pure combustion. Because of this fire can be used to disperse evil spirits—break them up when they concentrate and send them off alone so they can do less harm. And that’s what we’re dealing with here—a concentration centered in this storm.”“Well, I’ll take your word for it that that works,” Garrett said.“It does,” Subee replied. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”She took the metal tube she had in her hand and dipped it into the fire. The fire filled the tube, and a thick plume of flame came out at the top of it.Subee then used the flame to draw another, wider ring of fire on the floor which encompassed the earlier ring and fire at its center. Then she stood back.“This circle is for you,” she said. “Step in.”Garrett glanced at her curiously, but he stepped inside, taking care not to let the fire singe his clothes as he did so.“And you’re going to need this.”Subee pushed the metal cylinder into his hands.Garrett was surprised to find that the cylinder was cool to the touch. He held the flaming end away from his face and glanced back at the big fire that was roaring behind him.“This situation feels a little hazardous,” he commented.“Don’t worry,” Subee said. “The circles I’ve drawn should keep you safe. The first one will contain the fire and keep it in place. The second one will keep the spirits from getting to you.”“Getting to me?” Garrett said.“Yes,” Subee said. “The spirits are going to attack the fire. I need you to protect it.”“With this?” Garrett indicated the fiery cylinder in his hands.“Yes. The spirits cannot cross the barrier, but they will go after that big central fire. The spirits bring profound cold that they’ll use to put the fire out—they know it’s the only thing that can destroy them. I need you to walk around the perimeter of the fire and ward off the spirits with the fire staff.”“And how do I do that?” Garrett asked.“Just wave the staff, and it will respond,” Subee said.Garrett gave the staff an experimental shake, and a jet of flame shot out from the end of it.Garrett was so startled that he nearly dropped the staff, and he was relieved to see that the flame died back down as soon as he stopped moving it.“That certainly seems to be effective,” he said. “How do I refuel it?”“You won’t need to,” Subee replied. “I’ve linked it to the main fire, so as long as that one is still going, you will have plenty of fire to fight with.”“What about the wind and the rain?” Garrett asked. “Won’t those put the fire out?”“No—my barriers will keep those out, too. All you have to do is keep the spirits from getting too close to the fire and putting it out. The cold they bring is a spiritual cold, and I can’t stop that with my barrier. Just be sure to stay inside the circle yourself—you’re safe in there from the spirits and the storm. But once you step outside, you’ll be vulnerable to both.”“I’ll have to watch my footing, then.” Garrett said.“See that you do—you won’t last long against either one of them.”Subee moved off to the other side of the fire, and Garrett got to work with the staff, swinging it experimentally to see how he could control the volume of the flame.As he did so, he noticed that he could hear the roaring of the fire behind but nothing else—the howling of the storm and the rattling of the house had disappeared. He stepped outside the circle just to be certain, and sure enough, the sound of the raging storm returned instantly. Garrett listened to the din outside for a moment, and he could feel the house around him shaking—he could tell it wouldn’t last much longer.He stepped back into the circle carefully, and he was enveloped again by relative calm—the only sound he could hear was the fire behind him.And he could no longer feel the shaking of the house at all.Soon Subee reappeared by his side. Her face was drawn and pale, and she was clutching her own fire staff tightly.“They’re here now,” she said. “The first thing they’ll do is tear the house apart. Then they’ll attack. You probably won’t be able to see the spirits, so don’t let that bother you. But you will be able to feel them. Concentrate the fire anywhere you feel cold. And keep moving around the circumference of the fire—protect it on all sides as best you can. And if you can’t feel the cold—just keep moving around and around and keep your flame blazing as high as you can.”Garrett looked at her closely. “Are you sure you want to do this?”“I have to,” she said.A moment later, there was a distant cracking sound, followed by the barest hint of a breeze.Subee gripped her staff even more tightly and glanced sharply out beyond the ring of fire in which they stood.Garrett followed her gaze, but he could see little beyond the ring itself—the air around him had taken on a hazy golden glow, and the room beyond was little more than a dark blur.“Stay inside the circle,” Subee said. “You’ll be safe in here. Don’t come out no matter what you think you see or hear.”She stepped outside the circle and was lost to his sight.
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Thanks very much for reading! I'll post Part 4 next week.
You can check out my books here.
And stop by some time and hi on Facebook. :)

The First Storm of Spring, Part 2 (New Short Story)

Here is Part 2 of The First Storm of Spring. If you haven't read Part 1 yet, you can find it here.And if you're ready to go, Part 2 starts now…The First Storm of SpringBy Catherine MesickWhen Garrett awoke, he could see the sky. It was overcast, but there was still plenty of light, and nothing in the calm, gray sky gave any indication that a powerful and deadly storm was on its way.Garrett looked down and realized that he was lying on a bare patch of dirt. He looked up again and saw that he was lying a few yards from Subee’s little house. The front door was firmly closed.Garrett jumped up and hurried to the little house. He pounded on the front door.“Miss Subee, I know you’re in there!”The shade covering the window next to the door flew open, and a moment later the window itself opened too—but just a crack.“What do you want?” said Subee’s voice.Garrett walked over to the window and peered inside. Subee was staring out at him defiantly.“What I want,” Garrett said, “is to help you. It’s my duty to protect the people in this town. And you happen to be one of them. I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”“Where?” Subee said. “To jail?”“No, ma’am. I can take you to a designated shelter or to family if you have any outside the storm path.”“And if I don’t come out?”“Then I’m going to stand right here at your door until the storm carries us both away.”Subee stared at him for a long moment.“You’re serious, aren’t you?” she said.“Yes, ma’am.”“I don’t mean about standing out in the storm,” Subee said. “I meant you’re serious about wanting to help me.”“Yes, ma’am, to that, too.”Subee disappeared from the window. A moment later, the front door opened.“You can come in again, Garrett.”“Thank you, ma’am.”“And seriously, just call me Subee.”Subee let him in and then sat down at the little dining room table. She motioned for Garrett to take the other seat.Subee sighed.“I’ll say this quickly. You have got to go, and I have got to stay.”“Why?” Garrett asked.“I’m trying to protect the people of this town just like you are.”Garrett smiled a little. “Are you proposing to stop the storm?”Subee did not smile back.“Yes.”“I see. And how will you do that?”“I don’t expect you to believe me,” Subee said. She gestured to the snakeskins on the wall. “This is part of my work.”Garrett waited patiently for her to continue.“You have a choice,” Subee said after a moment. “If you believe me, you can stay. If you don’t believe me, then I will have to ask you to leave. And you are unlikely to believe me. So then you really will have to leave—or I will get you out of here myself.”“Understood,” Garrett said.“Everyone thinks that I’ve been killing snakes,” Subee said, “and pinning their skins on my wall. But these creatures weren’t snakes. They don’t even look like regular snakes—at least not to me. I can see them for what they really are.”“And what are they?” Garrett asked.“Evil spirits. In the guise of a snake.”Subee paused as if she expected Garrett to react. When he said nothing, she went on.“This storm that is coming is like that,” Subee said. “It looks like a regular storm, but it isn’t one.”Garrett frowned. “You mean it’s a hurricane made up of evil spirits?”“Basically, yes. This is a supernatural storm. Or to put it more exactly, this is a normal storm—a naturally occurring hurricane—that is being used by supernatural forces. The storm itself would be happening anyway, and evacuation is absolutely the right thing to do—for most people. But what the storm brings with it, the evil presence that is opportunistically catching a ride—that’s what I have to deal with.”“And how will you do that?” Garrett asked.“I have the ability to touch spirit,” Subee said. “When I touch it, I can make it take physical form. Then, if necessary, it can be destroyed.”“You’re going to destroy the evil spirits in the storm?” Garrett said.“Yes,” Subee said. “Well, ‘destroy’ is actually the wrong word. The spirits can’t be destroyed. But they can be dispersed—and sent back where they came from.”“Why? Can’t you just let the evil spirits roll over everything along with the storm?”“No,” Subee said. “That’s the last thing I can do. This is a special storm. Most storms have very low levels of spiritual energy, but at times, evil energy builds up—bubbling up from the earth, from the water, even from the air. And all of this evil spiritual energy is looking for one thing: host bodies.”Garrett shifted a little in his seat. “You’re saying that evil spirits in this storm want to possess people?”“It’s a little subtler than that,” Subee said. “True possession is extremely rare. These spirits seek to attach themselves to hosts, sort of like a cloud—to use their bodies to influence the physical world. The host still retains its own spirit—but the evil one latches on to it—begins to guide it, especially when it is at its most vulnerable. Once it has taken hold, the evil spirit is nearly impossible to detect. Those who know the person only notice at first that the person’s mood has grown a little darker. As time goes by, that darkness grows and grows.”“Until?” Garrett said.“Until the person dies,” Subee replied. “Mortal flesh can only bear so much evil. Like I said, true possession is rare. But influence can occur when evil grows strong enough. And it can take hold of plants and animals as well as humans.”“Is that what these snakes were?” Garrett asked, glancing at the walls.Subee frowned. “No—these are a little different. They were never snakes—they just looked like snakes. The material that held these together is organic, but there was never an animal inside. The snakeskins were hollow—I just released the evil spirit within. These creatures were something like scouts for the main group of spirits.”“Why do you hang them up?” Garrett asked. “As a warning?”“No—as a shield. The snakeskins are organic but wrongly organic. I am surrounded by their wrongness and it masks my presence—at least for a time.”Garrett smiled. “So the evil spirits know about you?”“They do. And they’ll stop me if they can.”“So what are you going to do exactly?” Garrett said.“As I said,” Subee began, “I can touch spirit—I can make it solid. I can—not destroy it—but disperse it. I can break up its cohesion and send it back into the air and the water and the earth. And I have my tools. They help me, too. I’ll wait till the storm comes, bringing with it the evil spirits, and then I’ll come out and attack.”“What are you? Some kind of wizard?”“I’m not a wizard,” Subee said. “I’m a very ordinary person with a very bad job.”“So why do you do it?”“I didn’t really have a choice.”“Why not?” Garrett asked.“The ability to do this is hereditary—and rare. Evil poses a very real threat to the mortal world. And I have the ability to help where others can’t. I can see and touch what they don’t even know exists.”Sadie shrugged.“If I can save people and don’t, then what am I?”“It’s hard to argue with you when you put it like that,” Garrett said. “And how are you proposing to survive the storm? It’s still a real storm, and it’s very powerful.”“I’ll survive with this.”Subee rolled up her sleeve to reveal what looked like a small tattoo of a gold leaf on her wrist.Garrett looked up at Subee.“That’ll protect you?”“That’ll protect me.”Subee regarded Garrett for a moment. Then she became businesslike.“So now I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”“Why is that?” asked Garrett.“Since you don’t believe me—I’m going to have to—”“I believe you.”“What was that?” Subee asked.“I believe you,” Garrett repeated.“You can’t possibly believe me.”“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I do.”“Why?” Subee said.“Why do I believe you?”“Yes,” Subee said. “Why do you believe me? In my entire life no one has ever believed me. Why would you believe me now?”“Well,” Garrett said slowly. “There must be some reason why a perfectly normal person has done all of this.”He gestured to the snakeskins on the wall and then continued.“And you are perfectly normal. Even if you think you aren’t. Your house, your yard, and even your person are all clean and tidy—the snakeskins notwithstanding. Everything’s in good shape so to speak. When people are troubled—truly troubled in their minds, all these things start to get muddled and disordered. I know that from experience. You might think that we don’t see a lot of trouble in a small town, but working in a job like mine—you see everything, you know everybody’s secrets. I know the difference between a crazy person and a sane person. And you’re a sane person. And I do hope you’ll forgive the references to your person.”“Okay, so I’m not crazy,” Subee said. “What if I’m just plain wrong? Sane people have gotten ahold of the wrong idea before.”Garrett eyed her closely. “I don’t think so. You don’t look like a fanatic to me. Like I said, even in this small town, I’ve seen just about everything—every kind of behavior you can imagine. You don’t fit the description.”“You still haven’t answered my question,” Subee said. “Why do you believe me? You’ve only given me reasons why you don’t think I’m crazy.”“I believe you believe what you’re saying,” Garrett said. “That’s all I need to know.”“That’s not enough.”“It is for me,” Garrett said. “And you said the choice was mine. I choose to believe you.”“You can’t stay,” Subee said. “It’s too dangerous. This storm is dangerous—even apart from what it carries.”“If it’s not impolite to point it out,” Garrett said, “I already know that. In fact, I believe this entire conversation began with my pointing that out to you.”Subee sighed. “What would you do if you did stay?”“I’m proposing to help you, ma’am, and the people of this town. Just like I said I would.”“How can you help? You can’t do the things I can do.”“It seems to me,” Garrett said, “that you’ve been working alone for a very long time. And there are few jobs that can’t be improved by having a partner. I’m sure there’s something I can do.”Subee was silent for a long moment.“There is something, isn’t there?” Garrett said.“It would be dangerous,” Subee began.“I’m a law enforcement officer, ma’am,” Garrett said. “Danger is part of the job description.”Subee looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.“That’s true,” she said softly. “You risk your life every day. You know what it’s like.”Garrett grinned. “Does that mean I can stay?”“Yes,” Subee said.
The next several hours were spent in silence. Subee sat with her eyes closed, and it seemed to Garrett that she was meditating. For his part, Garrett sat and watched the sky steadily darkening through the window in the kitchen.When the wind began to pick up, Subee’s eyes flew open, and she looked over at Garrett.“The evil presence is coming. I can feel it.”Garrett sat up in his chair. “Is there something we should do to prepare for it?”“There are a few small things we need to do when the time to act draws closer,” Subee said. “But right now, all we can do is wait—we have to wait until the storm makes landfall. There’s no point in getting ready too soon.”So while they waited, the sky continued to darken and the wind grew stronger and stronger. Soon rain began to fall.The storm was starting to intensify, and Garrett glanced over at Subee. But Subee was sitting with her eyes turned down to the table, and her attention was clearly elsewhere.She appeared to be listening for something.Time passed and the rain outside began to batter at the windows. The wind began to moan, and the walls and roof began to rattle.The room had long since grown dark, and the window showed only a solid sheet of grimly determined rain. It seemed to Garrett that the entire outside world was now made of water.He glanced at Subee in the gloom.But Subee did not move.Just as the wind began to truly howl, and Garrett began to fear that the house was going to be carried off with the two of them still in it, Subee moved slightly and seemed to come out of her trance.“It’s time to get ready now,” she said.She stood.“What are we going to do?” Garrett asked.“We’re going to start a fire.” -------------------------------------------

Thanks very much for reading! I'll post Part 3 next week.
     You can check out my books here.
     And stop by some time and hi on Facebook. :)

New Short Story -- The First Storm of Spring (Part 1)

Here is Part 1 of my new short story, The First Storm of Spring...
Subee lived in a tiny house on the edge of the swamp.Although she was young—probably no older than nineteen—she lived alone, and everybody wondered why.She’d moved in about a year before, and although she went to the local grocery store every week and stopped in at the gas station and the diner, just like everyone else, no one knew anything about her except her first and last name: Subee Cantor.Subee wasn’t very friendly, and she rebuffed most attempts at conversation.“She’s running from something,” Lacey Witt said when the topic of Subee came up at the beauty parlor as it did from time to time. “Nobody knows nothing about her. The only reason we even know her last name is because Ellen down at the post office told everybody. She’s running from something. Mark my words.”The younger citizens of Brown Sugar Basin had been known to gossip about Subee, too, and the under-twelve set—as well as some of their older teenaged brethren—had breathlessly recounted to each other, more than once, that the living room of Subee’s house was decorated with snakeskins she had nailed to the wall. Conventional wisdom held that Subee had killed the snakes herself, thus earning her the appellation ‘Snake Lady.’An eleven-year-old named Roger had added a great deal of luster to his reputation by regaling his peers with the tale of how he, personally, had seen Subee out by the swamp one night killing snakes. He further said that it was under a full moon—though some thought that that was added just for effect. But the essential details of his story were not doubted by anyone.And when a man was unfortunate enough to lose a leg to an alligator in the swamp, Snake Lady was transformed by some strange alchemy into ‘Gator Lady’ for a time. Tortuous logic conjured up the argument that the woman who killed snakes had some kind of affinity for all things reptilian and had sent the gator after the hapless man.The furor over the Gator Lady eventually died down, however, and Subee became Snake Lady once again.But whether Subee was Gator Lady or Snake Lady, the children of the town were afraid of her, and they dared one another to go near her house.But Subee and the town’s other favorite topics for gossip were completely forgotten on the first day of June, when an even bigger news item dominated all conversations: Brown Sugar Basin was in the path of a hurricane.Hurricanes and tropical storms were an annual occurrence in Brown Sugar Basin, and such events, though very destructive, often carried a peculiar excitement with them, driving all other topics of conversation away. Long-time residents would recall the worst storms that they had personally seen and weathered, and all would discuss how the latest storm would stack up against past storms. And the latest hurricane was not going to disappoint: experts had predicted that the hurricane would be one of the biggest to ever hit the area, and the governor had ordered that the entire region be evacuated.The citizens of Brown Sugar Basin complied in a hurry—for the most part—and it was up to Sheriff Walt and his deputy to round up any stragglers.By noon on Wednesday, the town was all but deserted, and the sky was darkening ominously.“I’m going to check on old Mr. Brooks,” Sheriff Walt said to his deputy, “and make sure he’s actually left. I’d like you to go check on Miss Subee Cantor. You know her, right?”“Yeah, I know her,” the deputy said. “I’ve seen her before—she’s not like other folks.”“Well, just make sure she’s out of her house.”The deputy rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, I’ve got a feeling about her. I think that she’ll still be there. What if she hasn’t left?”“Then request politely that she come with you,” Sheriff Walt said. “You’re a handsome young fella. I’m sure there’s a little charm in there somewhere.”The deputy did not respond, but something suspiciously like a blush stole up under his tan.“Once you’re done out there,” Sheriff Walt said, “get yourself out of here, too. Radio me once you’re on your way out of town.”“Will do,” the deputy said.Sheriff Walt got in his squad car and drove off. The deputy did the same.A twenty-minute drive brought the deputy to Subee’s tiny house. The waters of the swamp were visible not too far off, and though the wind had not started yet, the air was heavy with the feeling of anticipation that accompanied a big storm.The deputy got out of the car and walked up to the house.He sincerely hoped Subee wasn’t at home.The deputy knocked on the door and waited what seemed to him an acceptable time. There was no answer, and no one seemed to be stirring inside.After a moment, he knocked again. As before, there was only silence.The deputy turned away, but he felt his conscience prickling. He turned back and knocked once more.This time, the door flew open, and the deputy was confronted by a young woman with red-gold hair and eyes like a stormy sky. She said nothing and simply stared at him.The deputy moved to take off his campaign hat and then realized he wasn’t wearing it.“Good afternoon, miss—ma’am,” he said. “I’m Deputy Garrett Durand. I’m here to check on you.”He paused, expecting her to say something, but the girl remained mute and continued to stare at him.“You see, ma’am,” Deputy Durand said, “a hurricane is heading this way. You may not be aware of this, but the governor has ordered an evacuation. Everyone has to leave.”“I know,” the girl said flatly.Feeling a little out of his depth, Garrett decided to reset.“Are you Miss Subee Cantor?” he asked.“Yes,” the girl said.“Well, ma’am, may I come in for a moment? I have a matter to discuss with you.”Subee stood aside wordlessly and allowed the deputy to step into the house.As he did so, a brief exclamation escaped his lips.“Oh!”Deputy Durand found himself standing in a small living room with a couch, a table—and walls that were covered with snakeskins. Each snakeskin was affixed to the wall with a nail.The deputy turned to find Subee watching him with a glittering eye.“So it’s true?” he said.A small smile quirked at the corner of Subee’s mouth.“Yes, Deputy, I am the Snake Lady. Just like they all say.”The deputy grinned sheepishly. “You read my mind. And please call me Garrett.”“As you wish,” Subee said. “What do you want?”Garrett suddenly felt himself on surer footing. He had questioned reluctant witnesses and suspects before—not that Subee was a suspect. He knew what he was doing. Friendly persuasion was what it took.“Well, ma’am,” he said. “Since you already know about the evacuation order, I would like to inquire what your plans are in reference to said order.”Subee stared at him for a moment. “Do you mean, am I leaving?”“Yes, ma’am.”“Deputy—”“Just Garrett, ma’am.”“Garrett,” Subee said. “I’m not leaving.”“Not at all?” Garrett said.“Not at all.”“Ma’am, are you aware that the storm headed this way is classified as Category Four? That means your roof could be torn off, your walls could collapse, and trees could be uprooted and thrown through the air. This storm is a significant threat to your health and safety.”“Thank you for outlining everything so clearly.”“Ma’am—”“Subee. If I’m going to call you Garrett, you should call me Subee.”“Subee, this is a serious matter,” Garrett said. “Staying here puts your life at risk.”“I know the dangers only too well,” Subee said. “In fact, I know them far better than you do.”“So you’re just going to ride out the storm?”“Not exactly,” Subee said. “But I am staying here.”“I see,” Garrett said.He glanced around the tiny living room that opened on an equally tiny dining room. Garrett went over to the little table with two chairs and sat down.“What are you doing?” Subee asked.“Well, ma’am—Subee. I’m not leaving either. If you’re going to ride out the storm, then so am I.”“What does that mean?” Subee asked.“It means that until you leave this house, I’m going to sit right here at this table.”“You can’t do that,” Subee said. “You can’t stay here. You’ll die.”“I figure my chances are just as good as yours are,” Garrett said.“You really don’t understand,” Subee replied. “There’s a lot more going on here than just a storm.”“Just a storm is enough for me. I don’t need to worry about anything else.”“So, until I start packing to go,” Subee said, “you’re going to sit right there?”“That’s right.”Subee moved to her tiny kitchen, and Garret could see her opening the cupboard next to the sink.Garrett sat up in his chair. “Ma’am—Subee, I wouldn’t worry about packing up the dishes. Right now you should just worry about the essentials.”Subee turned around quickly, and her hand flashed out. A moment later, something struck Garrett in the chest, and a strong, acid vapor, a bit like vinegar, assaulted his senses and made his eyes tear up.He stood and lurched away from the table. Then everything went black.-------------------------------------------
Thanks very much for reading! I'll post Part 2 next week.
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     And stop by some time and hi on Facebook. :)

Winter Trifle, Part 4 (New Short Story)

Here is Part 4 of my slightly ghostly mystery, Winter Trifle. If you haven't read Part 1 yet, you can find it here.And if you're ready to go, Part 4 starts now…Winter TrifleBy Catherine MesickSwift footsteps rushed into the kitchen as Hannah ducked behind the counter.Another shot rang out.“Just give me the money, and I’ll let you go!” Lisa shouted to the darkness.“Yeah, I don’t think she means that,” Hannah whispered.“What are we going to do?” Alex whispered.“I’ve got an idea,” Hannah whispered back.She tapped Alex on the shoulder, and by the light of the microwave clock she motioned him to follow her to the stove.“I can hear you moving around,” Lisa said. “This is your last chance.”“Grab on to the towel on the stove,” Hannah whispered to Alex.“What are we going to do with a kitchen towel?” he whispered back.“It’s not a kitchen towel,” Hannah whispered. “Just grab it.”Alex reached out for the beach towel that hung from the front of Mrs. Mumford’s oven.“Oh,” he said softly.The two of them pulled the towel off the stove as quietly as they could. In the dim light they could see Lisa coming toward them.“Together?” Alex whispered.“Together,” Hannah replied.As Lisa’s shadowy form walked around the corner, Hannah and Alex gripped the beach towel tightly and then launched themselves at Lisa in one swift movement.They wrapped the towel around her as the gun went off once more.“Are you okay?” Alex asked.“Yes,” Hannah said. “Are you?”“Yeah.”“You won’t be in a minute,” Lisa shouted.The gun went off again.“I think I’ve got it,” Alex said. “Let go of the towel.”Hannah released her grip on the towel, and Alex wrenched it and the gun out of Lisa’s hands.Then he ran for the door.“Get after him!” Lisa screamed at her brother.Hannah heard a few scuffed footsteps in the darkness. Then a heavy body rushed past her and pounded after Alex.Alex reached the front door and wrenched it open. Then he ran outside into the snowy night.A moment later, Hannah could see Jonah rushing out after him. She started toward the door herself.She had only taken a few steps when a hand grabbed her coat collar and wrenched her backwards. Then her feet were kicked out from under her.“Give me my money!” Lisa shouted.Hannah saw Lisa’s dark shape looming above her, holding what looked like a lamp.Hannah had just enough time to put her arms in front of her face before the lamp came crashing down. The impact was heavy, and shivers of pain ran up both Hannah’s arms. Then the lamp slid off her arms and shattered on the floor.Hannah rolled away from the broken shards and then scrambled to get up.Moments after she reached her feet, another object came hurtling toward her. It struck her on the shoulder and then shattered on the ground.Considering the weight of the object, Hannah had a feeling it was Mrs. Mumford’s prized Waterford vase.A moment later, yet another heavy object smashed near her feet.Hannah turned and ran as fast as she could for the door.She made it outside just in time to hear sirens and see a whirl of lights as three police cars pulled up in front of the house.
“What a night,” Alex said, sitting back in his plastic chair. “Are you ready to go home?”“Yeah,” Hannah said.They’d both been to the hospital and then to the police station, where they were still sitting. The two had been cleared to go some time ago.“Thanks for calling the police,” Hannah said, standing up.“I texted them, actually,” Alex said, standing, too. “When I first hid behind the counter. I’m just glad we actually made it out of there. And I’m glad you thought of the towel thing.”“Thanks,” Hannah said.The two of them walked toward the door and out into the night.“What do you suppose Mrs. Mumford did with the money?” Alex asked. “Offshore account?”Hannah couldn’t help but smile.“I think it was something simpler than that,” she said. “Mrs. Mumford liked things she could understand. Like auctions and the town bank. Stuff she could see every day.”“Well, at least she didn’t have to see her niece and nephew go to jail,” Alex said. “All that fuss, and they didn’t even get the money.”“Even if they had found it, it wouldn’t have gone to them anyway,” Hannah said. “Not legally at least.”“So then after they shot up the house, they would’ve had to go on the run if they did find it,” Alex said. “I’m sure that would’ve gone well.”“Yeah,” Hannah said. “Not a great plan.”“And now they get jail time, and the library gets a house with bullets in the walls.”“Yeah,” Hannah said. Her voice trailed off.She stopped walking and began to search in her bag.“I can’t find it,” she mumbled. “It must be on the floor in the house. I don’t think Lisa took it with her.”She began to walk toward her car quickly.“Wait,” Alex said. “Where are you going?”“I have to go back to Mrs. Mumford’s house,” Hannah said.“What? Now?”Hannah stopped and looked at Alex. “You’ve had a really long night. You should go home. I’ve got to do this tonight, though. Considering what happened earlier, I don’t think this will wait.”“Fine, I’m coming with you,” Alex said. “But you know the house is like a crime scene or something now.”“I know,” Hannah said.“What are we—”“I’ll tell you when we get there.”Hannah drove through the snow to Mrs. Mumford’s house. By the light of the headlights, she could see that a line of yellow police tape now cordoned off the front yard.“I told you,” Alex said.Hannah got out of the car and hurried up to the front door. Alex quickly followed her.The key was once again under the frog where it had been earlier in the evening. She unlocked the door and went in.Alex followed, switching on the lights.“I see they got the power back on,” he commented.Hannah shut the door and then rushed over to pick up a piece of paper that was lying on the floor. She read it over quickly.“Now that we’re here, you mind telling me what’s going on?” Alex asked.Hannah turned as Alex came up beside her.“I was right,” she said.“About?” Alex said.“The recipe,” Hannah said excitedly. “The answer is right here. Mrs. Mumford literally spelled it out.”She pushed the recipe into Alex’s hands, and he glanced over it.“I don’t get it,” he said.“Read out the first letter of each line,” Hannah said.Alex looked down at the recipe again.“‘W,’” he said, “‘A,’‘L,’‘L.’”He looked up at Hannah. “Wall?”“Yes, ‘wall,’” Hannah said excitedly. “And then Mrs. Mumford tried to send the message again through the last fortune cookie.”Alex frowned. “She sent you a message about a wall?”“Not so much the wall,” Hannah continued. “But the wallpaper. It’s snowflakes. And it’s new. Mrs. Mumford put it up just before she died. Here, I’ll show you.”Hannah grabbed Alex by the arm and pulled him into the kitchen. She switched on the light.Alex squinted at the wallpaper. “It’s new? It’s kind of lumpy, isn’t it?’“Yes, exactly,” Hannah said.“I’m not following.”“The last fortune cookie message said ‘when the snow comes,’ and I thought that was referring to actual snow,” Hannah said. “But it wasn’t. Or actually it may have been both. But the really important snow is right here on the wall.”“You mean the snowflake pattern on the wallpaper?” Alex said.“Yes,” Hannah replied.“And how is it important?”“Because it’s a covering,” Hannah said. “I realized how important it was when you said the bullets were in the wall.”“Still not following.”“The bullets are in the wall,” Hannah said. “And so is the money. It’s behind the wallpaper. She did it herself.”“Let me get this straight,” Alex said. “You’re saying Mrs. Mumford put four million dollars in the wall and then covered it over with wallpaper?”“Yes,” Hannah said. “And that’s why it’s lumpy. And that’s also why she was so proud of herself when she was telling me about it the last day I was here. I knew it was something simple.”“So what do we do?”“We get the wallpaper off,” Hannah said, heading for the kitchen counter.“And how do we do that?” Alex asked.“With a knife,” Hannah said, opening a drawer.“Wait,” Alex said. “Why don’t you just tell your theory to the police or whoever and let them take care of it. We shouldn’t be here as it is—you don’t want to go tearing up the house, too.”Hannah approached the wall with a small serrated steak knife.“I don’t think we can wait.”“Why not?”“Because Lisa and Jonah were just here with a gun looking for the money.”“You think they’re going to escape and come back here?” Alex asked.“No,” Hannah said. “It’s just that they knew about the money, and if they knew about it, then some other people might know about it and come looking for it, too. The sooner the money’s in safe hands, the better.”“And that’s an excuse for vandalism?”“We’ll be forgiven if we find the money,” Hannah said. “I’m going to start where the wallpaper is lumpiest.”She ran a hand over the wall and then got to work.As Alex watched, Hannah scored the wallpaper several times with the knife and began ripping off large swaths of the snowflake-printed paper.“This can’t be good,” Alex mumbled into his hand.“What was that?” Hannah asked.“Nothing,” Alex said.After a moment, a larger-than-usual section of wallpaper gave way and with it came a cascade of little objects.One of the objects bounced on the floor and rolled to a stop at Alex’s feet. He stooped to pick it up.Hannah paused in her work. “What is it?”“It’s money, all right,” Alex said. “It’s a whole penny. And it’s none too shiny at that.”He bent down to pick up the other coins that had fallen.“It’s a collection of pennies and nickels,” Alex said.“But it can’t be,” Hannah said.“There isn’t even so much as a quarter here,” Alex replied. “See for yourself.”He held out one of the coins, and Hannah took it.In her hands she held a nickel with a ‘V’ on the back. On the front was a woman surrounded by stars. On her head was a crown that read ‘liberty’ and beneath her was a date.“It says 1913,” Hannah said.“So it’s a really old coin,” Alex said surveying the ripped up wallpaper. “Are we done here?”“I think we are,” Hannah said.
On Sunday, both of Hannah’s parents returned home, and they were understandably appalled by what had happened in their absence.On Monday, Hannah stopped by Mr. Schaal’s office and gave him the handful of coins she had collected from Mrs. Mumford’s house.On Tuesday, he gave her a call.“Thanks for stopping by my office yesterday,” Mr. Schaal said.“You’re welcome,” Hannah replied.“It’s a funny thing about old coins,” Mr. Schaal said. “Sometimes they can go for a lot of money at auctions. If I can believe what I’ve read online, pennies like the ones you gave me have been sold at auction for as much as eighty thousand dollars.”“Wow,” Hannah said.“But the real prize here could be one of the nickels. There’s one with a woman on the face wearing a crown that says ‘liberty.’ The date on it is 1913.”“I remember seeing that one,” Hannah said.“Well, it turns out that this is very likely to be a 1913 Liberty Head V Nickel. There are only five known to exist in the world. One of these sold at auction for a little over four million dollars.”“Wow,” Hannah said again. “Mrs. Mumford did like her auctions.”“Of course, such a thing would need to be authenticated and appraised. And of course it’s not actually worth anything until it sells.”“That makes sense,” Hannah said.“Ordinarily, something like this would have to go through probate. And that would make it eligible to be named in a lawsuit if Lisa and Jonah find themselves in a position to sue. After all, we don’t know how Lisa and Jonah’s current legal troubles will play out.”“Oh,” Hannah said.“But, seeing as this is just a handful of coins at the moment, and seeing as the house and all its effects go to the library, I don’t see why I can’t just give them the coins right now. You did say you found them in the wall, didn’t you?”“Yes,” Hannah said.“Well, then, in that case, I propose that I turn the coins over to the library immediately, and they can then sell them—or not, as they see fit. What do you think? I wanted to check with you before I did anything.”Hannah thought she could hear a smile in Mr. Schaal’s voice. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”“I thought you might,” Mr. Schaal said. “In that case, I will take these over to the library tonight. I’ll make sure the director gets them. Thanks, Hannah. Goodbye.”“Goodbye, Mr. Schaal.”
Several weeks passed, and Hannah eventually forgot about the coins.Then she received a phone call one Saturday.“Hello, Hannah,” said the voice on the other end. “This is James Whittaker. I’m the director of the Hollyhock Public Library.”“Hello,” Hannah said.“I understand that we have you to thank for our receiving the 1913 Liberty Head V Nickel.”“Mrs. Mumford’s really the one who gave you the nickel,” Hannah said. “I just found it. And my friend Alex helped a lot.”“Quite so, quite so,” Mr. Whittaker said. “But we’re grateful all the same. And because of this, we thought you might like to see what we’re planning to do.”“Sure, I’d love to,” Hannah said.“Excellent,” Mr. Whittaker said. “Would you be free to stop by the library tomorrow at two o’clock? And please bring your friend along if he’s available.”“Yeah, sure,” Hannah said. “Okay.”“We’ll see you then. And thanks again.”
Sunday afternoon found Hannah and Alex climbing up the three short steps to the Hollyhock Public Library, and a few moments later, they were greeted by Mr. Whittaker, who’d been waiting for them in the lobby.“Thank you very much for coming, Hannah, Alex,” Mr. Whittaker said, shaking hands with each of them in turn. “Please come this way.”He led them to a display case that was about waist high and covered with a purple cloth.Mr. Whittaker cleared his throat. “We’re not big on ceremony here at HPL, but in light of what the two of you have done for us—recovering valuable property that was left to us by our late esteemed patron, Mrs. Mumford—we would like you to have these certificates.”From a folder in his hands, Mr. Whittaker produced two pieces of paper bordered with laurel leaves. He gave one to Hannah and one to Alex.Hannah looked hers over. It had her name, and then underneath it said ‘for valuable services rendered to the library and the community.’“We’ve had the items appraised,” Mr. Whittaker said. “And they are indeed as valuable as Mrs. Mumford’s attorney believed. Or, at least, they will be if they are sold at auction. The items should bring in nearly five million dollars.”“So what will you do with the money?” Alex asked. “I bet you could build a really nice library with that.”“Well, that’s just the thing,” Mr. Whittaker said. “We’ve got a generous community here. And our patrons, including Mrs. Mumford, who will be sorely missed, have always supported us well above and beyond anything we could wish for. There really isn’t anything we need at this time.”“So then what will you do?” Hannah asked.“It seems to me,” Mr. Whittaker said, “that what Mrs. Mumford gave us is a valuable thing—a special thing. All of the coins are rare. But that one in particular—the Liberty Head Nickel—is especially rare. There are only five of them in the whole world. It would be a shame to trade away something as special as that—it’s something few people get to see.”Mr. Whittaker was quiet for a moment and then glanced at the two of them.“So what we’ve decided to do is to keep the coins here on display for the entire community—sort of here in trust. That way they can be enjoyed by everybody. And then of course, if there are darker times ahead when we lose funding and we need to sell the coins, well then, we’ll have them.”Mr. Whittaker pulled off the purple cloth to reveal a glass case with all the coins from Mrs. Mumford’s house neatly arranged on a black background. Underneath each coin was a little placard describing the coin, its origin, and its rarity. And at the bottom of the case was a sign with gold letters:
Anna P. Mumford Memorial FundIn case of emergency, break glass.
The End.
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Winter Trifle, Part 3 (New Short Story)

Here is Part 3 of my slightly ghostly mystery, Winter Trifle. If you haven't read Part 1 yet, you can find it here.And if you're ready to go, Part 3 starts now…Winter TrifleBy Catherine MesickWhen Hannah awoke in the morning, the world outside was coated in a blanket of white, and light flakes were still falling. Hannah had been turning something over in her mind the night before, and as her day began, she was still meditating on the same idea.She glanced over at the box that contained Mrs. Mumford’s recipes, which she’d left on the kitchen table, and she went to the refrigerator to pour herself a glass of orange juice.But the carton of juice was empty, and Hannah absent-mindedly grabbed her bag and pulled on her coat. Then she went out and drove to the grocery store.At the grocery store, Hannah found herself wandering the aisles without much direction. Eventually, she found her way over to the juice aisle, and as she stood in line waiting to pay for her selection, Hannah opened her bag and searched until she found the recipe for Winter Trifle. She pulled it out and read it over, and she continued to look the recipe over as she paid for her juice and went out to her car.As Hannah unlocked her car door, she seemed to notice the snow for the first time. There was about an inch of snow under foot, and tiny little flakes were falling all around her. The snow wasn’t heavy enough to interfere with driving, and it was still clean and largely untouched. Hannah put the recipe back in her bag and drove home.When she arrived home, Hannah went up to the door with her bag and her juice, and as she fumbled with her keys, she realized that the door was open just a crack.Hannah rushed inside and threw her bag down on the kitchen table. She ran through the house, expecting to find ransacked rooms and smashed furniture. But everything in the house appeared to be just as she’d left it, and there was no sign at all of anything having been taken.Hannah returned to the kitchen and looked around once more. Nothing was out of place, and she figured she must have left the door open accidentally. But as she continued to look around she had a strange feeling that something was wrong.Then she looked down at the juice that she was still cradling in the crook of her arm. Hannah saw on the carton not an orange but a grapefruit.Something was wrong. She’d purchased the wrong kind of juice.Hannah put the juice down and then went back and firmly locked the door.The day passed, and the snow stopped falling. Hannah tried to get a few things done, but she kept finding herself taking out the little scrap of a fortune and the recipe and reading them both over and over again.Night fell quickly, and it was fully dark by the time Hannah began making herself dinner. As she ate, the uncertainty that had plagued her for most of the day came back full force, and before long she pushed her plate away—the food on it largely untouched. Instead, she got up and walked to the window. When Hannah saw that the snow had started up again, she made up her mind. She grabbed her coat and her bag and ran out the door.About four inches of snow had piled up on the ground from the earlier snowfall, and Hannah stood for a moment as new flakes fell around her, looking at the snow-covered road. She figured the snow would be fine to drive in, especially since she wasn’t going very far.Hannah got in the car and drove the short distance to Mrs. Mumford’s house. She found the spare key still in its usual resting place under a stone frog in the garden, and fumbling just a little with the key, she unlocked the door and rushed inside. Then she closed and locked the door behind her.Hannah stood for a moment in the dark front room, wondering now why she’d been in such a hurry to get to the house. She walked through the gloom to the nearest lamp and switched it on.The light revealed the same room she had seen thousands of times. Hannah had hoped that being back in Mrs. Mumford’s house would show her what she was looking for—but if the house knew any secrets it was keeping quiet. The only real difference in the room was that Mrs. Mumford would never return to it.Hannah walked further into the house and on into the kitchen hoping that something would jump out at her and reveal to her why she had come out.But the house remained resolutely silent.“I’m here, Mrs. Mumford,” Hannah whispered. “Show me what you want me to know.”Hannah walked through all the rooms on the first floor and then returned to the kitchen where she stood for several minutes staring at the empty shelves that had once held Mrs. Mumford’s prized cookbooks and at the wallpaper that Mrs. Mumford had put up herself shortly before she died.“She was so proud of that wallpaper,” Hannah said to herself.Just as Hannah was drawing out a chair to sit down at the kitchen table, she thought she heard a sound from the floor above, and she froze.“Mrs. Mumford?” Hannah whispered.A moment later, there was a knock on the front door, and Hannah jumped, startled.A few moments later the knock was repeated, and Hannah crept toward the door silently and peered out through the peephole.Though the evening was dark, there was enough light for her to see who was standing at the door—it was Alex.Hannah sighed in relief. Then she unlocked the door and let him in.“What are you doing here?” Hannah asked.“I might ask you the same thing,” Alex replied. “I happened to be in the neighborhood, and when I saw the light on in Mrs. Mumford’s house, I figured it might be you looking around.”“You happened to be in the neighborhood,” Hannah said. “Are you sure you weren’t purposefully checking up on me?”“So what if I was?”“How many times have you driven around the block hoping to catch me?” Hannah asked.“Doesn’t matter,” Alex replied. “Entirely irrelevant. Besides, you’re not supposed to be here, you know.”“I know.”“From what you’ve told me the house is now the property of the library.”“I’m sure they won’t mind if I look around a little,” Hannah said. “I’m trying to help.”“What do you mean?”“I’m trying to help Mrs. Mumford.”“By breaking into her house?”“No,” Hannah said, “by finding her money and giving it to the library—just like she wanted.”“How can you do that?” Alex asked. “I though you didn’t even know about it.”“I didn’t,” Hannah said. “It’s just that—”“What?”“I think Mrs. Mumford’s been trying to communicate with me.”“Communicate with you?”“Yes.”“How?” Alex asked.“Through fortune cookies,” Hannah said.“Wow,” Alex said. “Just—wow.”“Wait. Just hear me out,” Hannah said.She steered him toward the kitchen and sat down at the table. Alex reluctantly sat down opposite her.“Okay. So, I’ve been thinking about it,” Hannah said. “Do you remember the night I got the empty fortune cookie?”“Yes,” Alex said.“Well, that was the first one,” Hannah said.“The first one of what?”“The first one of the messages. The fortune cookie was empty that night. And it was also the same night Mrs. Mumford died. The fortune cookie was empty because Mrs. Mumford was telling me that she had moved on.”“Or maybe it was empty because someone forgot to put a fortune in that one,” Alex said.“Maybe,” Hannah said. “But that doesn’t explain the second one. In the second one, the fortune said a stumble would bring sweetness. And then I tripped and sent mints flying everywhere. That was Mrs. Mumford showing me that she was now ready to communicate with me in this world.”Alex shrugged. “A coincidence. Or seeing the fortune subconsciously made you a little clumsier—it planted a suggestion in your mind.”“But that’s just it,” Hannah said. “I didn’t see the fortune until after I spilled the mints. The fortune came true without my seeing it.”“A coincidence then, like I said.”Hannah persisted. “And then there was the third one. It’s the fortune cookie from Friday night—the one I didn’t show you.”“What did it say?” Alex asked.“It said, ‘when the snow comes.’”“Is that all?”“The paper was torn in half,” Hannah said. “I didn’t get the rest of the fortune. And then it started snowing.”“I don’t know, Hannah,” Alex said. “That’s not a lot to go on. Three fortunes—or actually—one-and-a-half fortunes and a little bit of snow in winter. That doesn’t exactly sound like a message from the great beyond.”“But she made a point of giving me her recipes,” Hannah said, digging into her bag. “And she wanted me to have this recipe in particular.”Hannah pulled the recipe for Winter Trifle out of her bag and held it out.“This recipe specifically calls for—”She paused and looked at the table in front of them.“The kitchen table is empty,” Hannah said suddenly.Alex looked around. “Uh, yeah, it is.”“That’s just it,” Hannah said. “The kitchen table was empty.”“Uh, what?” Alex said. “What does that have to do with the recipe?”“The recipe has fortune cookies,” Hannah said quickly. “Mrs. Mumford wanted to point out to me that fortune cookies were important. But the table is something else. I thought something was wrong earlier today back at my house, and now I know what it was. I went out and came back and the door was open, and I thought somebody broke in.”“Wait. Somebody broke into your house?” Alex said, frowning.“That’s what I thought at first,” Hannah said. “But then I thought I’d just been absent-minded and left it open myself, because nothing was missing. But now I see that something was missing—the box of recipes that was on the kitchen table. Someone broke in and took it.”“Why would someone steal those recipes?” Alex asked.There was a sound from overhead, and Hannah glanced upward.“Because those recipes could be worth four million dollars,” Hannah said. “We’d better get out of here now.”“What? Why?” Alex said.Hannah grabbed Alex by the arm and began to pull him toward the door.But before they reached it, a small figure ran down the stairs and blocked the way. The small figure was quickly followed by a much larger one.“Give me that recipe!” cried a shrill voice.“You were listening to us the whole time, weren’t you?” Hannah said.“Give it to me!” Lisa darted forward and grabbed Hannah’s bag. She searched through it until she found a piece of paper, which she pulled out eagerly.“It won’t help you,” Hannah said.“Hannah,” Alex said. “Who are these people?”Lisa snorted. “Who are we? We’re the rightful heirs. Who are you?”“This is Lisa McDonough,” Hannah said to Alex. “And I’m going to guess this is her brother, Jonah.”The tall boy behind Lisa nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m Jonah. How’s it going?”“Shut up,” Lisa said.She quickly read over the paper in her hands and then looked up.“What is this?” she demanded.“It’s a recipe for a dessert,” Hannah said.“I can see that,” Lisa said. “What it really is is nonsense.”“I told you it wouldn’t help you,” Hannah said.“But will it help you?” Lisa said. “Tell me where the money is!”“I don’t know where it is,” Hannah said.“But I thought you said my aunt’s ghost was sending you messages. So, go ahead. Share with us what she told you.”“It’s not as simple as that.”“I’m sure it’s all very deep and mysterious,” Lisa said. “Just tell me where the money is, or you and your boyfriend are going to be sorry.”Hannah and Alex looked at each other.“Oh no—” Hannah said.“We’re not—” Alex said.“We’re really just friends,” Hannah said.“Shut up!” Lisa snapped. “I really don’t care.”Then she turned to her brother.“Jonah!” she said sharply.He glanced around at her. “What?”“Take care of these two.”“What? How?”“The gun, Jonah. Get out the gun.”“Oh right,” he said.He produced a gun from his jacket pocket.“Oh, no, no, no,” Alex said.Both Hannah and Alex began to back up.“Take it easy, big guy,” Alex said. “You don’t want to get in any more trouble than you’re already in.”“How are we in any trouble?” Lisa asked scornfully. “This is my aunt’s house. You two are trespassing. We’re just protecting her home.”“The house belongs to the library now,” Hannah said as she began edging backwards. “You’re trespassing, too.”“Shut up!” Lisa said. “Just tell me where the money is!”“I already told you I don’t know where it is,” Hannah said.Lisa turned to her brother. “Just shoot them.”Jonah blinked. “What?”“Give me the gun,” Lisa said, wrenching it from his grasp.Hannah gave Alex a shove.“Run! To the kitchen!”They ran, and the loud report of a firearm followed them. They reached the kitchen, and Hannah ran to a box on the wall.“Get behind the counter,” Hannah said.Alex hurried to comply.“What are you doing?” he hissed.“It’ll be harder for her to shoot us if she can’t see us,” Hannah whispered back.
She flipped several switches at once, and the house was plunged into darkness.
-------------------------------------------
Thanks very much for reading! I'll post Part 4 next week.
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Winter Trifle, Part 2 (New Short Story)

Here is Part 2 of my slightly ghostly mystery, Winter Trifle. If you haven't read Part 1 yet, you can find it here.And if you're ready to go, Part 2 starts now…Winter TrifleBy Catherine MesickOn Thursday, Hannah left school at one o’clock and went with her mother to Mrs. Mumford’s funeral. Hannah felt tears slipping down her face as she listened to Mrs. Mumford’s friends and neighbors paying tribute to her—Mrs. Mumford and her deceased husband had had no children, and no other family members appeared to be in attendance. As Hannah left the funeral, she thought she saw a girl staring at her from across the street. But when she met the girl’s gaze, the girl looked away and got into a nearby car.Hannah had a fleeting thought that the girl looked familiar. Then she got in the car with her mother and forgot all about it.On Friday, Mrs. Lynn did indeed leave for her trip, and Hannah went off to school as usual. Around lunch time, she received a text from her mother asking her if she would feel comfortable stopping by Mr. Schaal’s office after school. Mr. Schaal was an attorney and the executor of Mrs. Mumford’s estate.“She left you something in her will,” Mrs. Lynn texted. “He said it’s something very small.”Hannah texted back that she would go.At the end of the school day, Hannah headed toward her car in the student parking lot. As she reached the car, someone stepped between her and the car door. It was the girl from the funeral.“What do you know about this?” the girl demanded. She waved a newspaper clipping in front of Hannah’s face.Hannah took a step back. “Who are you?”“As if you didn’t know,” the girl said. “I’m Lisa McDonough.”“Oh,” Hannah said.“‘Oh’ is right,” Lisa replied. “And I know exactly who you are. You’re Hannah Lynn. You’re the one who stole my inheritance.”“I haven’t stolen anything,” Hannah said.“Then what do you call this?” Lisa waved the newspaper clipping once again.“I don’t know what that is,” Hannah said shortly.Lisa lowered the slip of paper, and Hannah glimpsed a headline: Local Woman Wins the Lottery.Below the headline was a grainy photo of Mrs. Mumford.“I don’t remember that.” Hannah frowned and reached for the clipping.Lisa snatched it back.“You can claim you’ve never heard of it because it was a multi-state lottery,” Lisa said. “And this state allows anonymity. But the state she’s from originally,” Lisa jabbed at the photo, “doesn’t allow it.”“Okay, so why do you carry that around with you?”“To show you that I know.”“Know what?”“Don’t play dumb,” Lisa said. “I know that my aunt won four million dollars, and I know you think you’re getting your hands on it.”Hannah shook her head. “Mrs. Mumford didn’t have that kind of money. And if she did, she wouldn’t leave it to me.”“She—won—the—lottery,” Lisa said slowly and distinctly. “I’m sure even you can wrap your head around that. And she told me that she disinherited me and my brother.”“Did she tell you she left the money to me?”“No. She didn’t. But she was always talking about how great you were and about how my brother and I should be more like you. I know you think you conned your way into that money.”“That’s insane,” Hannah said.“So you’re saying my aunt didn’t leave you anything?”Hannah began to feel distinctly uncomfortable.“She left me something,” she said unwillingly.“What?”“I don’t know yet. I was told it was something small.”“Something small like a check?”“Don’t be crazy,” Hannah said. “I can guarantee you it’s not a check. Now, please get out of my way. I’ve got some place to go.”Lisa moved aside, and Hannah got into her car.As soon as the door was shut, Lisa banged on the window. Hannah opened it just a crack.“I want you to know you’re not getting that money,” Lisa said.“Good to know,” Hannah said. She closed the window and drove off.Hannah reached Mr. Schaal’s office in about fifteen minutes, and she was quickly ushered into the attorney’s presence. Mr. Schaal was a good-natured man with thick, white hair and even thicker black-rimmed glasses. Hannah knew him slightly, and he had been present at Mrs. Mumford’s funeral.“Thank you for coming in today, Hannah,” Mr. Schaal said as Hannah sat down in a big leather chair.Hannah waited politely, unsure of what she should do or say next.“I’ve asked you here today because Mrs. Mumford left you a small item,” Mr. Schaal said after a moment’s pause. “Ordinarily, I would meet with your parents. When a minor receives an inheritance in a will, it is customary—in fact, it is correct legal procedure to give a copy of the will and the inheritance itself to the minor’s legal guardian for safekeeping. However, in this case the inheritance is so small that it really is negligible in terms of a dollar amount. And I would like you to have the will and your inheritance as soon as possible so that you can be out of this business altogether. I explained that to your mother this morning, and she agreed with me.”Again, Hannah waited patiently.Mr. Schaal regarded her for a moment through his thick glasses. Then he slid a manila envelope across the desk to her.“This is a copy of Mrs. Mumford’s will. It is yours to keep, and you may read it in its entirety if you wish. Or, you may want to have your mom and dad look it over for you. What it says basically is this: Mrs. Mumford left her house and the bulk of her estate to the local library. And she left this to you.”Mr. Schaal rose and took a white cardboard box off a shelf. He placed it in front of Hannah and removed the lid. Then he sat down again.“You may take a look if you wish.”Hannah peered into the box. Inside were three folders stuffed with dog-eared loose-leaf sheets. On top of the folders was one sheet of notebook paper all by itself.Hannah lifted the top sheet out and looked it over. It was titled ‘Winter Trifle,’ and below the title was a recipe.Hannah looked up at the attorney. “Mrs. Mumford left me her recipes?”“Yes,” Mr. Schaal replied. “The actual cookbooks she owned she left to the library. But she left you her own personal recipes, including her famous ‘Winter Trifle.’”Mr. Schaal paused, and his eyes seemed to twinkle behind his thick glasses.“I told you it was something small.”Hannah put the recipe back in the box. “So it was just the library and me?”“Yes. You and the library are the only beneficiaries named in the will.”“Does that mean Mrs. Mumford left her niece and nephew out of her will?”“Yes, it does,” Mr. Schaal said. “She made a previous will in which they were the primary beneficiaries, and I expect they will contest the new one and possibly cause you some trouble. That’s why I wanted to see you as soon as possible and give you your inheritance. That way you can be out of this business completely.”“Unfortunately, I’ve had some trouble already,” Hannah said.Mr. Schaal looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”“I ran into Lisa on the way over here. She showed me a newspaper clipping. She said Mrs. Mumford had won four million dollars in the lottery, and that I had stolen her inheritance away.”Mr. Schaal sighed. “I was afraid something like that might happen. I’ve actually emailed both of them a copy of the will, so they should know that you only got the recipes and the library got everything else. But sometimes when money is involved, people do crazy things—and it doesn’t have to be a lot of money either. I’ve seen people do awful things over much smaller sums.”“Is it true?” Hannah asked. “Did Mrs. Mumford really win four million dollars?”“Yes, she did,” Mr. Schaal replied. “But it does appear as if it’s gone. The money isn’t in her checking or savings account, and she didn’t invest it in her retirement fund either. The only other substantial asset she had was her house, and while that would fetch a decent sum if it were put on the market, it certainly wouldn’t be worth millions. Besides, even if we did find the money, it would go to the library and not to you or anyone else. But it’s easier to blame a person than an institution. I’m sorry you’ve been harassed already.”“It’s okay,” Hannah said. She paused. “Mrs. Mumford’s death was natural, right? You said people do crazy things sometimes—”“Yes, yes, of course,” Mr. Schaal said quickly. “Mrs. Mumford knew she was ill for a long time. Her passing was not at all unexpected. She had plenty of time to arrange her affairs exactly the way she wanted. You need have no fear on that account.”The meeting concluded soon after that, and Hannah took her box of recipes out to the car and settled it onto the seat next to her. She sat for a few moments looking at the box. Then she opened the lid and took out the recipe for Winter Trifle. She read it over a few times and then folded it up carefully and put it into her bag.
“It’s been a weird day,” Hannah said. “Thanks for meeting me.”“Yeah, of course,” Alex replied.The two of them slid into their booth at the Chinese restaurant. It was Friday night, and the restaurant was packed. The night was dark and very cold, and the weather forecast said that snow was on the way. Hannah was glad to be in a warm, cheerful room full of people.“So what’s been going on?” Alex asked.Over spring rolls Hannah told him about her encounter with Lisa and her meeting with Mr. Schaal.“Wow,” Alex said. “So you’ve got an angry ex-heiress searching for missing money who believes you’ve stolen it. But all you’ve got is a box full of recipes.”“Pretty much.”“Did you ever express any interest in those recipes?”“Well, not really,” Hannah said. “I always tasted the dishes Mrs. Mumford made, though, and tried to be positive. I guess she thought from that that I liked them.”Hannah paused as their dinner order arrived, and both of them sat back as plates and bowls were arranged in front of them.“It’s kind of funny,” Hannah said once they were settled. “She gave me the recipe for the dessert I was telling you about.”“The Winter Trife?”“That’s the one. I’ve got it with me, actually.”Hannah reached into her bag and pulled out a sheet of paper which she handed over to Alex.He glanced over the sheet and then read it aloud:“Whip cream.Add strawberry jam.Layer in this order: fortune cookies (crushed), jam, whipped cream.Ladle powdered sugar over the top.”Alex handed the sheet of paper back to Hannah. “That’s the weirdest recipe I’ve ever seen.”“Yeah, it wasn’t great,” Hannah said.“And that sheet of paper looks brand new,” Alex said. “It looks like she wrote it recently.”“I know she made the recipe up a long time ago,” Hannah said. “Maybe the original got worn out, so she copied it over. She made it just about every winter while she was on her annual holiday shopping spree. She even used to take some to share when she went out to auctions.”“I think you should be careful,” Alex said.“With the recipe?” Hannah said. “I don’t plan on making it.”“No, not with the recipe,” Alex replied. “I think you should look out for yourself. I’m not sure this Lisa believes you that you don’t know where the money is. And like the lawyer said, people do crazy things when money is involved.”“What do you think she’s going to do?” Hannah asked.“I’m not thinking of anything specific,” Alex said. “Just be aware of your surroundings. Pay attention to the people around you.”“You think she could be following me?”“It’s possible. After all, she did find you in the high school parking lot. And there’s still this shadowy brother of hers out there somewhere. All I’m saying is just keep your eyes open.”“I’ll be careful,” Hannah said.They finished dinner, and when it was time to open their fortune cookies, Hannah paused with hers in her hand. Then she slipped the plastic-wrapped cookie into her bag.“Aren’t you going to open yours?” Alex asked.“Not at the moment,” Hannah said.If Alex thought that that was unusual, he said nothing, and the two of them gathered up their things and went up to the cashier.As they stepped out into the night, Hannah shivered and looked up at the sky—the heavy cloud cover made the night especially dark.“Are you going to be okay?” Alex asked. “I know your parents are out of town this weekend.”“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Hannah said.“If anything weird happens at your house,” Alex said, “don’t hesitate to call the police. And right after you call the police, call me.”Hannah couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”Alex turned and walked to his car. Hannah walked to hers, and as she settled inside, she paused with her keys in her hand. She’d intended to wait until she got home to open her fortune cookie, but something made her want to open it now. She reached into her bag and pulled out the cookie, which she quickly unwrapped and broke open.The little slip of paper inside was smaller than usual, and it fluttered out of the cookie and onto her lap.Hannah frowned as she picked up her fortune and read it. The only words on the tiny scrap of paper were these:When the snow comesThe little slip of paper had been torn in half, and the rest of the message was missing.Hannah broke the cookie open completely, looking for the rest of her fortune, but the cookie was empty. She turned the interior light on and searched in her bag next, but her bag was equally empty of paper scraps. Hannah turned the light off and settled back into her seat. Then she drove home.As Hannah reached home and stepped out of her car, a light snow began to fall.
-------------------------------------------Thanks very much for reading! I'll post Part 3 next week.
      You can check out my books here.      And stop by some time and hi on Facebook. :)

New Short Story -- Winter Trifle (Part 1)

Here is Part 1 of my new short story, Winter Trifle. It's a slightly ghostly mystery...


 Winter Trifle by Catherine Mesick  “When the time comes, I want you to make sure it goes to the library.” Hannah stared at Mrs. Mumford. “Your time’s not coming for a while yet,” Hannah said. “It might be sooner than you think,” Mrs. Mumford replied. “I’m not afraid. Not afraid at all. Just make sure it doesn’t go to them. I don’t know what happened to those kids.” Hannah was used to Mrs. Mumford’s habit of introducing topics at random. She was also used to her leaving things out. She knew from long experience that ‘those kids’ referred to her niece and nephew, who were now grown and a constant source of anxiety to her. Mrs. Mumford sighed. “They’ve finally done it this time. I’m fed up. They’ve done something I can’t forgive.” Hannah waited for Mrs. Mumford to give her the details of their latest run-in with the law, but instead she returned to her earlier lament. “I don’t know what happened to those kids.” Mrs. Mumford sighed again and became businesslike, which was unusual for her. “The state says I have to give it to them. Well, not really. I can disinherit them. But they can contest it. That’s what my attorney said.” She paused and then said as if reciting, “A disinherited beneficiary named in a prior will can seek to challenge the validity of the current will.” A little bell dinged, and Mrs. Mumford got up and bustled over to the oven. “Be right back, dear.” A moment later, she returned to the table and placed a plate in front of Hannah. “Ginger snaps. Go on, dear. Have a few while they’re nice and warm.” Hannah eyed the cookies before her. She picked one up and carefully took a bite. The cookie was brown in color, but that was all it had in common with normal ginger snaps. It was dry and tasteless and somehow seemed to be all flour—it was even a little gray on the inside. Feeling Mrs. Mumford’s eyes on her, Hannah smiled and made appreciative noises. “Do you like them?” Mrs. Mumford asked. “They’re my own recipe. Well, actually I took one from one of my old books and improved it. You know how I like to experiment.” Hannah nodded as Mrs. Mumford turned away and began to prepare a new batch of cookies for the oven. Hannah quickly concealed the rest of the cookie in her paper napkin and was considering hiding a second one there when Mrs. Mumford returned to the table. “There now,” Mrs. Mumford said, huffing and puffing as she sat down. “Standing up and sitting down isn’t as easy as it used to be.” Hannah glanced over at Mrs. Mumford. She was staring straight ahead and seemed to be really struggling to breathe. “Are you all right?” Hannah asked. Mrs. Mumford nodded and waved a dismissive hand, breathing heavily all the while. Then her eyes shifted to Hannah’s plate. “You’ve barely touched your cookies. Go on, have another. You’re a growing girl.” Hannah smiled wanly and picked up another cookie. She was relieved to see that Mrs. Mumford’s breathing was going back to normal, and she bravely bit into another cookie. “So how old are you now?” Mrs. Mumford asked. “Sixteen?” “Seventeen,” Hannah replied. “I remember when Lisa—my niece—was seventeen,” Mrs. Mumford said wistfully. “She’s twenty-four now. Seventeen seems like a lifetime ago. I don’t know which one went wrong first—her or that brother of hers.” Hannah glanced at the little sideboard table. She seemed to remember that an old picture of the niece and nephew with Mrs. Mumford and her deceased husband had once sat there. The table was now bare. Mrs. Mumford shook her head. “But as I was saying, they can contest it. And I don’t know what will happen. I don’t really understand it. But I want to make sure they don’t get it. I want it to go to the library.” “What is ‘it’?” Hannah asked. “Do you mean the house?” “Yes, the house,” Mrs. Mumford said. She winked. “By the way, do you like the wallpaper?” Surprised by the change in subject, Hannah turned to look at the wall. It was covered with paper bearing a blue-and-white snowflake pattern, and the paper itself was noticeably marked by bumps and creases. Hannah frowned in an attempt to recall what the wall had looked like on her last visit. “Is it new?” “Yes, it is—I just bought it online. I put it up myself.” Hannah hesitated. “Isn’t it a little lumpy?” Mrs. Mumford laughed. “Yes, it’s lumpy all right.” She winked again. The timer dinged once more, and Hannah got up. “I’ll get those cookies for you, Mrs. Mumford.” “No, that’s all right, dear.” Mrs. Mumford waved Hannah back down and rose herself with some effort. “It’s important for me to do what I can while I still can do it. And I’ll make you a plate of those cookies that you can take with you.”   “How was your visit?” Hannah and Alex were sitting in a booth at a Chinese restaurant the next day, which was a Sunday. It was their lunch break. “I don’t know,” Hannah replied. “I love her, and—” She stopped. “And?” Alex prompted. “And it was confusing. Mrs. Mumford said she wanted to tell me something, but she never actually did. She said she didn’t want her niece and nephew to get something after she died, but she never said what that something was. I think she disinherited them.” “Why?” Alex asked. “What did they do?” “I don’t know,” Hannah said. “Mrs. Mumford just said it was bad.” “What are their names?” “Lisa and Jack—no, Jonah,” Hannah said. “Lisa and Jonah. McDonough. McDonough was Mrs. Mumford’s maiden name.” “How do you spell that?” Alex asked. Hannah spelled the name for him. “Why do you want to know?” “I’ll look it up tonight.” “It may not have been something you can look up,” Hannah said. “Maybe it was personal—you know, family related.” “From what you’ve told me about those two, I bet it was something I can look up,” Alex said. “A little googling will turn up the truth.” Hannah glanced at her phone. “We’d better get back to the bakery.” Alex glanced at his phone, too. “Yeah. It’s about that time, isn’t it?” The two rose and went to pay the cashier. As they finished their transaction and stepped out into the cold, mid-December afternoon, Hannah stopped abruptly and turned back. “I forgot my fortune cookie.” “You and your fortune cookies,” Alex said. Hannah hurried to the table and picked up her little plastic-wrapped cookie. Then she hurried outside to join Alex. As the two began to walk toward the bakery, Hannah broke her cookie open. “Oh!” she said. “What is it?” Alex asked. “My fortune cookie,” Hannah said. “It’s empty.” Alex shrugged. “So?” “So, I want my fortune,” Hannah said. “You know they’re mass produced in a factory somewhere, right?” “I know. It’s just that—” “It’s just that you’re superstitious.” “I’m not superstitious,” Hannah said. “You totally are,” Alex replied.   The next morning Hannah went to school, and when she returned home, she found her mother in a state of distress. “I’m so sorry, honey,” Mrs. Lynn said as Hannah set her bag down on the table. “What’s wrong, Mom?” Hannah asked. “I know how close you were to Mrs. Mumford.” “Mrs. Mumford?” Hannah felt a chill run through her. “What’s happened?” Mrs. Lynn rushed to give her daughter a hug. “I’m so sorry, honey. She’s—she’s passed on.” “Passed on? You mean she’s—” “It was kidney failure. Apparently, she’s been ill for a long time. She passed away yesterday.” “Oh,” Hannah said quietly. Suddenly, she couldn’t move—she could scarcely breathe. “I knew she wasn’t feeling well,” Hannah began. She felt the tears slipping down her face. “Have a seat, honey,” Mrs. Lynn said gently. Hannah sat down, and the world in front of her dissolved in a haze of grief. When she was calmer, Hannah looked up at her mother. “When is the funeral?” “It’s Thursday,” Mrs. Lynn said. “I’m going to cancel my trip to the expo this Friday.” “No, Mom, you need to go. You’ve been looking forward to this expo forever.” “Handmade soaps can wait,” Mrs. Lynn said. “You’re sad right now. Besides, I don’t want to leave you alone. With your dad off visiting his brothers, you’d be alone all weekend.” “Dad will be back Sunday night.” “I still don’t want to leave you alone.” “I’ll be okay,” Hannah said. “Don’t cancel your trip.” “I don’t know,” Mrs. Lynn said doubtfully. “We’ll see how things go.” “Please don’t cancel it,” Hannah said. “We’ll see,” Mrs. Lynn said again.   Tuesday after school, Hannah went to work at the bakery. “Are you okay?” Alex asked as Hannah tied on her apron. She looked up at him. “Yeah, sort of.” “What’s wrong?” “Mrs. Mumford died on Sunday.” “Oh, Hannah,” Alex said. “I’m really sorry.” “Thanks.” “You okay with being here today?” Alex asked. “Yeah. It’s better to keep busy.” And Hannah and Alex were indeed busy. The bakery soon filled up with customers stopping by at the end of the work day. The two of them rushed around behind the counter while Elise, the owner, ran the cash register. “Was everything all right with Mrs. Mumford’s death?” Alex whispered as they worked. “What do you mean?” Hannah whispered back. “Was it—natural?” “Yes, it was” Hannah said. “Why?” “I just wanted to be sure,” Alex said. “I know you’d mentioned her niece and nephew being in trouble recently.” “Why? Did you find out something about them?” “No—I looked them up, but I didn’t find anything. I just wanted to be sure, that’s all.” Hannah nodded. “So, do you want to get some Chinese food tonight?” Alex asked. “Tonight?” Hannah said. “After work?” “Yeah,” Alex said. “Maybe we could have kind of a late dinner. In honor of Mrs. Mumford.” “I’d like that,” Hannah said. The bakery closed at seven thirty and by eight o’clock, Hannah and Alex were seated in their usual booth at the nearby Chinese restaurant. They ordered what they usually ordered and talked about ordinary things, but Hannah felt comforted by all of it. She was feeling a little less gloomy as they went up to the cashier. “Did you remember your fortune cookie this time?” Alex asked, holding up his own. “No—I forgot it.” Hannah turned to go back and banged her knee painfully on the corner of the counter. She reached out to steady herself and brought her hand down hard on a dish of mints. The mints flew up in the air and rained down all over her. “Careful,” Alex said. “It’s not worth dying over.” “Sorry,” Hannah said, but an amused waitress waved her off and began to sweep up the mints. Limping a little, Hannah hurried over to her table and retrieved her plastic-wrapped cookie. Then Hannah and Alex stepped outside. “You know, Mrs. Mumford used to make a really, well, terrible dessert out of fortune cookies,” Hannah said as they walked to her car. “She called it her finest achievement.” “Really? Do tell,” Alex said. “It was called ‘Winter Trifle,’” Hannah said. “It was layers of crushed fortune cookies, strawberry jam, and whipped cream. She always made sure the topmost layer was fortune cookies, and then she sprinkled the top with powdered sugar—so it would look like snow.” “Wow. That sounds—indigestible.” “It was a little too sweet,” Hannah said. “To say the least.” “Well, in honor of that dessert,” Alex said. “I propose a toast.” He tore open the plastic on his cookie. “To Mrs. Mumford.” Hannah tore hers open also. “To Mrs. Mumford.” They clicked their cookies together. Alex broke his open. “I got ‘You will be invited to an exciting event.’ And I also got a list of lucky numbers. What’d you get?” Hannah had broken open her fortune cookie, and she was frowning at the little slip of paper in her hand. “Wait just a minute before you tell me,” Alex said. “You’ve got a mint in your hair.” He plucked a little pastel candy from her hair and flicked it aside. Hannah did not look up. “So what is it?” Alex said. “Is it blank or something this time?” “No, it’s not blank,” Hannah said. “Then what does it say?” “It says, ‘A stumble will bring unexpected sweetness.’” ------------------------------------------- Thanks very much for reading! I'll post Part 2 next week.       You can check out my books here.       And stop by some time and hi on Facebook. :)  

Read Chapter 1 of Dangerous Creatures

In Book 3, Dangerous Creatures, Katie finds that she is being stalked by the mysterious ghost girl. Read Chapter 1 below….
Chapter 1.
THE DEAD TRAVEL FAST.
The words were written on a sheet of paper that had been wrapped around a rock.I looked up and down the street in the gathering gloom. Not only was the street completely deserted, but the neighborhood itself was quiet and still as if no one had stirred in a long time.I'd been sitting in the living room, staring out the window, watching the sun sinking behind the houses across the street and waiting for William. I'd felt a strange softness in the air, and a sense of peace settled over me that I hadn't felt in a long time. I felt as if I had no need to be afraid.Though the stars had not yet come out, I'd seemed to see them before my eyes—both above me and below me. I'd felt myself sinking pleasantly into darkness.Then there had been a sudden, sharp crack at the window, and I'd hurried out to see what it was.As I looked around now, a sensation stole over me that I had felt once before. I felt as if the silence around me was watchful—as if the very air were holding its breath, waiting to see what I would do.I shivered.I looked at the note again. Of course, it was likely just a prank. Tonight was a night that was known for pranks, so there was really no reason for me to read any great significance into the words. I probably hadn't even been targeted particularly. I imagined that someone had simply thrown the rock at the closest house and then run off.There was no need for me to be worried. Things had been quiet.But whoever had thrown the rock had disappeared quickly.I was just turning to go back into the house, when a familiar car turned onto my street. I quickly folded up the note and pushed it into the pocket of my jeans.The car slotted into place behind my grandmother's red sports car, and William got out. He was tall and lean and dark-haired, and any outside observer would have guessed him to be about eighteen or nineteen years old—but that guess would have been off by quite a bit.As William walked up to me, he gave me the crooked half-smile that I loved so much."Were you waiting out here for me?"I smiled and tried to push my uneasiness away. "Of course I was."I glanced down the street. "You didn't happen to see anyone walking—or maybe running—through the neighborhood on your way over here, did you?"William glanced at me sharply. "No. Is something wrong?""No," I said. "I just—no. Someone threw a rock at our window, and it startled me. That's all."I didn't see any point in mentioning the note—I was sure it was nothing. I told myself that it had to be nothing.William glanced toward the house. "Are you ready to go? Or should we stop in and say hello to your grandmother?""We'd better tell her we're going," I said. "Otherwise, she'll think you've kidnapped me.""That's a joke, right?""Sort of," I said.William looked at me closely. "Are you sure nothing's wrong? You look rattled.""No—nothing's wrong. It's just that—I left the front door open. I really should have closed it."I turned quickly and went into the house with William following me.GM met us in the hall—a tall, slim figure with folded arms. Her long silver hair was tied back in a braid, and the silver cross she always wore stood out starkly against her black sweater."So, you're here now, are you?" she said shortly. GM somehow always seemed to grow more formidable whenever William was around."Yes, Mrs. Rost." William, who could look quite formidable himself at times, often seemed to grow less so when confronted by GM.She sighed. "Well, I hope the two of you will have a good time at the carnival.""Thank you, Mrs. Rost," William said."And don't be out too late. I'll be waiting for Katie's return.""Yes, Mrs. Rost.""Well, you may go now. And don't do anything I wouldn't do.""Yes, Mrs. Rost. Of course not.""GM, please," I said. "This is starting to feel like an interrogation."She waved a hand. "I already said you may go.""We'll see you later," I said, giving GM a kiss on the cheek. "And you don't need to worry. Nothing awful is going to happen. Really."GM gave me a skeptical look and then walked with us to the door. As we went out, she closed it firmly behind us."Sorry about that," I said. "I always feel bad subjecting you to GM's—I don't even know what you'd call it. She just always seems to be in a bad mood whenever you're around.""It's all right. She isn't entirely to blame for her attitude toward me.""I know," I said. "I just wish things could be different."William gave me a wry smile. "I learned long ago that there was no point in dwelling on wishes."He turned toward his car."William, wait," I said. "Do you mind if we walk instead of driving?"He looked surprised. "You want to walk? It'll be dark soon, and the way over there isn't exactly well lit.""I know," I said. "I just don't feel as if I can sit still right now. And you can see in the dark, can't you?""Okay," William said. "If that's what you want, that's what we'll do."As we walked down the street, William kept glancing over at me, but he said nothing.Before long we had plunged into the neighboring woods on our way to Hywel's Plaza. In the winter months, the plaza was largely taken up by an outdoor skating rink. But in the warmer months, the plaza was used for public gatherings—concerts, farmers' markets, art fairs. Tonight, the plaza was hosting the Black Moon Carnival—which was actually a fundraiser for Elspeth's Grove High School. There would be food and games and music, and I'd heard a new statue was going to be dedicated. There would probably be quite a few people in costume, too. Black Moon Night—April 19—was also a local festival apart from the school fundraiser—it was like our own personal Halloween.As William and I walked through the trees, I was reminded unpleasantly of the day back in November when we had met two unexpected—and unwelcome—visitors in these very woods. Those visitors had come with a warning for me.Though I tried to suppress it, a shiver ran through me.William reached out to take my hand, and I was comforted by the warmth and strength of his grasp. But even though William was by my side, I was still uneasy, and I was deeply relieved when we finally spotted the lights of the carnival up ahead.We broke free of the trees.As I looked out over the carnival, my mood was lightened by just how bright and cheerful everything was. Strings of lights crisscrossed the entire plaza, creating what looked like a canopy of stars. Under the canopy, a small maze of booths crowded up against a larger-than-life straw figure of a witch, a colorful carousel, and a stage. A large object sat by the stage under an enormous canvas tarp, and I figured that that was the new statue, ready for its unveiling. I could see a crowd of people milling around—some of them in masks and costumes—and music and laughter floated up to me.I felt myself relax even further—this was just an ordinary Sunday night in a small town. I very genuinely had nothing to worry about."What's with all the witches?" William asked."Our town founder, Elspeth Quick, was unfairly accused of witchcraft up in New England," I said. "According to the story, she fled south, and guided by a thin, silver thread of moonlight on an otherwise dark night, she found her way to what is now the Old Grove. There she was able to wait out her pursuers in safety—the mysterious thread of moonlight being a sign of her goodness and purity. And even though Elspeth was innocent of witchcraft, Black Moon Night has come to be associated with witches in particular and the supernatural in general.""It's a little like Walpurgis Night," William said."Walpurgis Night?""That's when the souls of the dead are released to wander the earth for one night. And it's also associated with witches—it's the night before May Day.""It's a little early for that," I said. "Besides, don't the dead wander the earth on Halloween?""I always thought of Halloween more as a night to honor the departed," William replied. "Walpurgis Night is more like the night when the departed get to break free and revel a little themselves.""I guess this does look a bit like that," I said.As William and I walked into the maze of the carnival, I heard a splash, and I turned to look. One of the booths was actually a dunk tank, and the hapless man on the stool had just been dropped into the water by a good shot.William gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "What do you want to do first?""Let's just walk around," I said. "Maybe something fun will jump out at us."The aisles between the booths were narrow, and with the crowd of people the flow of traffic was slow. As we passed a booth that sold candy apples, William and I crossed paths with a brown-skinned girl with curly black hair, and a tall, pale boy with brown hair that was falling in his eyes—my best friend, Charisse, and her boyfriend, Branden. The two of them were headed the opposite way, and though Charisse saw me and smiled, and Branden nodded at me, neither of them made any effort to stop and talk—nor did they acknowledge William.Charisse turned her face resolutely forward, and Branden took his cue from her. The crowd eased, and they both moved on without saying a word.I looked up at William. "They don't mean anything by it."William appeared unruffled. "I know. They aren't to be blamed for the way they react any more than your grandmother is. They can't really help it."I was glad that William understood, but at the same time, I wished he didn't have to. I wished we could be like any of the normal couples that had come to the carnival tonight. I wished we actually were what we appeared to be—two ordinary high school students out having a good time.We continued on through the carnival, and I spotted Irina Neverov, who was out with her new boyfriend, Terrance. Terrance was new in more ways than one—he had just transferred to our school, and he was already a standout on the track team—even though it was the tail end of the season. There were rumors that he was a shoo-in for a starting position on the football team in the fall, too. He'd just arrived, and he was already a star.Irina and Terrance didn't stop to talk to us, but that wasn't so unusual. Irina and I had been friends once long ago. But the passing years and her love for Simon Krstic—who had also had a crush on me—had driven a wedge between us. There was nothing between Simon and me, and Irina herself had clearly moved on, but even so some constraint still remained between us.Irina's friends Bryony and Annamaria tagged along behind them. Bryony gave me a long look and seemed to be on the verge of speaking to me, but ultimately, she, too, decided not to stop to talk.William and I continued on our way, and we were just passing through an area that was full of game booths, when I heard someone call out my name."Katie! Katie Wickliff! Katie, over here!"I turned to see the familiar blond figure of Simon Krstic—he was manning one of the games. He smiled when he realized that I'd noticed him, and he waved me toward his booth.I glanced up at William. "Do you want to go over?""Why not? At least someone wants to talk to us."Simon broke into a grin as we reached his booth."Hey, Katie."He gave William a brief nod.I looked around the booth. There were several rows of multicolored balloons affixed to the far wall, and there was a row of stuffed animals and other trinkets sitting on a shelf above the balloons. Simon appeared to be running one of those games in which the player threw a dart at a balloon to win a prize."So how about it, Katie?" Simon asked. "Would you like to give it a try? It's for a good cause.""What are the rules exactly?""You get three darts for a dollar. If you break a balloon, you get a prize.""That doesn't sound too hard," I said. "Set me up."But three dollars later, I still hadn't been able to successfully make contact with any of the balloons.William seemed amused. "Would you like me to try?""Katie doesn't need your help," Simon said, his tone unexpectedly sharp. "She's doing just fine on her own.""I know Katie doesn't need my help," William replied mildly. "I didn't mean anything by it.""Of course you didn't," I said. "And I'm not offended. Thanks, Simon, for letting me play. I think this game just isn't for me." I glanced up at William. "Maybe we should move on to the next game."I began to walk away."You know, I think I'd like to give it a try."I turned back. William was staring fixedly at something on the prize shelf."Katie said she's not interested in the game anymore, pal," Simon said. "So why don't you just move along?""If you want the truth," William said, "it's not for Katie. It's for me."Simon smirked. "I get it. You're into stuffed animals. I bet you have a whole collection of them at home.""Something like that. Can I get my darts now?""Anything you want, pal."Simon placed three darts on the counter, and William threw each one in quick succession, breaking three balloons."Oh, very impressive," Simon said, clapping slowly. "So what do you want? It's the pink bunny holding the big red heart, isn't it? I bet you had your eye on that the whole time.""Actually," William said, "I'd like that green stone on that long chain."Simon raised his eyebrows. "So you're into jewelry? I should have guessed."He reached over the shelf and pulled a necklace off a nail."I'd like to say you have good taste," Simon said, holding the chain up, "but this has to be one of the ugliest things I've ever seen. I suppose you've got just the outfit to wear it with.""Thanks," William said shortly as he accepted the necklace."Would you like to try again?" Simon asked. "We've got a lovely pair of blue plastic earrings here. I'm sure they'd bring out the color in your eyes.""Simon, stop," I said. "That's enough."He shrugged. "I'm just trying to give the man what he wants.""Let's go, William," I said.William was turning the necklace over in his fingers abstractedly, and he didn't even look up when I pulled him away from Simon's booth.A few stalls away, there was a gap just big enough for the two of us to fit into, and I guided William out of the walkway into it."So what's going on?" I asked. "Why did you want that necklace so much?"William handed his prize to me. "Do you know what this is? By that I mean, do you know what this is made out of?"I looked the necklace over. The stone was thick and green and slightly cloudy in color. It was suspended from a black metal chain, and it was set into an intricately worked piece of the same black metal."I don't know what this is," I replied. "But I'm afraid I have to agree with Simon—this necklace isn't especially attractive. The stone looks like it's seen better days.""That unattractive stone is actually an emerald," William said."An emerald?" I said. "I thought they were—shinier—than this.""They are if they're taken care of properly. And one this size would be worth quite a lot. The chain and the setting are both silver—they're just tarnished. This is an antique piece of jewelry that's been moldering somewhere for quite a long time.""But you aren't interested in this as an antique, are you?" I handed the necklace back to William. "There's another reason this necklace attracted your attention.""Yes, there's another reason," William said, turning the stone over in his fingers again. "I can't understand what this is doing here.""So what's so special about it?"William looked up at me. "Are you sure nothing was troubling you earlier? Did anything strange happen to you today? Anything at all?"I thought about the note, but I still hesitated to mention it."Why are you worried?" I asked. "Is the necklace something dangerous?"William looked back down at the necklace and didn't reply.Just then, I heard a brass band strike up, and William turned to look."Sounds like they're getting ready to dedicate the statue," he said. "Do you want to go over and watch?""William," I said, "what about the necklace?"He shook his head. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what this is, but I think I've seen something like it before. There's no cause for alarm yet.""Yet?" I said.William gave me a reassuring smile. "I misspoke. There's no cause for alarm at all. This necklace is just a—curiosity.""But—""Katie, please. I really don't know anything yet." He put the necklace in the pocket of his shirt and held out his hand. "Let's go see that statue."I wasn't really satisfied with William's answer, but I could tell that he wasn't going to say any more about it at the moment. I decided to let it drop for the time being. With a sense of resignation, I took his hand, and we began to walk.As I did so, something made me look around, and I caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd—someone I'd never expected to see in this part of the world. It was a silver-haired man—and he was moving quickly through the crowd. He seemed to be headed right toward me.I blinked and looked again. The man was gone.William turned and followed my gaze."What is it? What's wrong?"Suddenly, someone careened into me, and I was knocked to the ground.I looked up to see a skinny young man with long black hair struggling with William."I'm so sorry," the man said. There was a noticeable sneer in his voice. "It's entirely my fault."The man wrenched himself out of William's grasp, and he came away holding the emerald necklace in his hand.The man glanced at the necklace and then looked up at William in surprise.Just then, a police officer, burly and paternal, pushed through the crowd and grabbed the young man by the collar."All right, son," the police officer said. "I've had my eye on you since you got here."The officer's eyes shifted to the necklace in the young man's hand."Is that yours, son?"The man simply giggled.William helped me to my feet."Are you all right?""Yes, I'm fine," I said. "I'm just a little startled."The police officer wrested the necklace from the young man's grasp and held it out to William."Is this yours?"William took the necklace. "Yes, thanks.""How about it, son?" the officer said to the young man. "How did that necklace end up in your hand? You were running through the crowd at a pretty good clip. Was it an accident?"The man leered. "Come now, officer. I think we both know the answer to that."The police officer grew stern. "Do you want to come with me to the station?"The man smirked. "You know, I really think I would like to do that."If the officer was surprised by the young man's answer, he didn't show it. "In that case, I would appreciate it if you would follow me to my car.""Of course, officer." The man turned and waved to William and me with a malicious smile. "Goodbye, kids."The officer escorted the young man away, and the two were soon swallowed up by the crowd."What do you think that was all about?" I asked."No idea." William glanced at me. "Do you want to stay? Or would you like to go home?"I thought fleetingly of the man I thought I'd seen in the crowd—there was no sign of him now. Perhaps I'd been wrong about what I'd seen—maybe my nerves were just playing tricks on me."It's okay," I said. "I don't want to go home yet. It's still early—the festivities have barely started. We should at least get to see the dedication of the new statue."William smiled. "Let's go, then."We continued on toward the stage and joined the crowd that was gathering to watch the unveiling of the statue.Just as we reached the back of the crowd, the band stopped playing and a spotlight switched on. The mayor of Elspeth's Grove, Patrick Robbins, a bearded, robust man with a perpetual smile, stepped up on stage and walked up to a microphone on a stand. The big mass of the canvas-covered statue loomed behind the mayor, broad and imposing in the artificial light.The mayor acknowledged the crowd's polite applause and then launched into a lengthy speech detailing the trials and tribulations of Elspeth Quick on her journey to our town. He wrapped up the speech by explaining that the statue represented our town's own journey from Elspeth's original flight to the safe, happy place it now was—a place where children could grow and thrive without fear.The mayor beamed out over the crowd. "The statue has been named Bridging the Years. May it remind us always of what is best and brightest in the human heart and spirit! Maestro, if you please!"The mayor lifted his hand, and the brass band seated behind him struck up a lively tune. He then moved toward the statue, taking the microphone with him, and the spotlight lit up the large canvas mass.The mayor smiled at the audience and then pulled on a rope. The canvas that covered the statue fell away, revealing the large stone figure of a woman. She was standing on a square pedestal with a beatific expression on her gray face. The woman was clearly intended to be Elspeth Quick, and her arms were spread out as if in a gesture of welcome. There was a large stone pool surrounding the figure of Elspeth, and standing in the pool on either side of her was a boy and a girl. The two of them were caught in mid-stride, their hands outstretched as if they were about to take Elspeth's.The mayor shouted cheerfully over the music of the brass band."Let's have the fountain now!"He raised his hand, and jets of water arched gracefully into the air from the rim of the pool.A murmur ran through the audience, and there seemed to be some sort of disturbance at the front of the crowd."Shut the water off!" a woman shouted. "There's someone in the pool!"The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, and there were more demands for the water to be shut off.Two people rushed forward. Then there were others."There's a man in the fountain!" shouted a gruff voice."No, it's a boy!""He's dead!" someone screamed hysterically. "He's dead!"The brass band stopped abruptly, and the mayor's amplified voice rose above the crowd."Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm! There's no cause for alarm. I'm sure this is just a harmless Black Moon Night prank."From where I stood, I could see a limp figure being pulled from the fountain. As it was lifted out, there were screams."Ladies and gentlemen, please! As I said, it's just a prank!""It's no prank!" cried a voice. "It's true! He's dead!"The entire crowd surged forward then, and William and I were suddenly pushed along with everyone else. Soon I could see the dark shape of a body lying in front of the fountain. There was a thick silver rod protruding from the chest of a teenaged boy—the body was most definitely real, and it was most definitely dead.The face was turned toward me, and it was a horrifying sight—the eyes were wide and staring, and there was a dark smear of blood in the corner of its mouth. Adding to the horror was a strange, mottled-gray pattern like a spider web that ran all over the body's face and neck and hands.But the most horrifying thing of all was that I recognized the face.His name was David Hutchins. And he had gone to school with me.
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Read Chapter 1 of Pure

I'm working on a new short mystery titled 'Winter Trifle,' which I will post soon :) And in the meantime, you can read Chapter 1 of Book 1, Pure, right here:

I leaned my forehead against the dark window, welcoming the feel of the cool glass against my feverish skin.
I could feel the night calling to me, though I didn’t exactly know what I meant by that. It had been happening more often lately—it was a strange tugging on my mind.Something was pulling me out into the dark.In an unguarded moment, GM had told me that my mother had had visions. The way the night called to me, I wondered if this feeling was the beginning of a vision.I wished I could talk to my mother. I’d been wishing for that more and more often lately.I turned away from the window, trying to shake off the feeling that tugged on my mind, and I picked up the framed photograph that always sat next to my bed. In the photo, a man with curly brown hair and a pale, blond woman smiled as they kneeled on either side of a laughing, fair-haired girl of five. The inscription on the back was hidden by the frame, but I knew well what it said. In GM’s busy scrawl were the words Daniel, Katie, Nadya.My father, me, my mother.Though the memories were faint, I did remember those early days in Russia. I remembered the big apple tree and the roses that grew at our house. I remembered playing with my red-haired cousin, Odette.I remembered, too, the day GM had taken the picture. Little had she known then that her son-in-law and her daughter would be dead soon afterward.My father had died first in an accident in the mountains. My mother died just a few weeks later of a fever, and GM had moved us to the United States shortly after that. We’d been here for eleven years now, and my old life was beyond my reach for good.I set the picture down.The darkness continued to call to me, and I tried to force my mind back to reality—back to what was normal and safe and unrelated to the unknown out in the dark.I thought of my friends—and school—but even as I did so, I felt a sudden, sharp tug on my mind, and I was seized by an irrational desire to run out into the night—and to keep running until I found the source of the summons.I closed my eyes and willed the feeling away.After a moment, the night calling began to subside. I concentrated harder, pushing it further away from me. In another few minutes, the feeling was gone entirely. Relief flooded through me.I was free.I stood for a moment, breathing hard and looking around at all the familiar objects in my room, as if to reassure myself. Then I climbed back into bed and turned out the light.I was just drifting off to sleep when I was jolted wide-awake by the sound of a car tearing down our street. The car screeched to a halt somewhere below my window, and then turned sharply into our driveway.I sat up. I heard the muffled slam of two car doors outside, and I heard GM, who usually kept late hours, hurrying toward the door.I got out of bed and fumbled in the dark to find a robe. I was puzzled—who could possibly have come to see us in the middle of the night?As I hurried out of my room, I heard a heavy pounding on the front door, followed by a woman’s cry.“Anna! Anna Rost! Annushka! Open the door!”I froze in the hallway. Only GM’s oldest friends called her Annushka—and there were precious few of those.I heard GM quickly unbolt the door and open it.“Galina!” GM shouted in shock. Her voice rose even higher. “Aleksandr? Is that you, Aleksandr? How tall you are! I scarcely would have recognized you.”I wished I could see who was at the door, but I knew that if I went downstairs, GM would just order me back to my room. She clearly recognized her visitors, and they were clearly people she had known back in Russia.And GM never allowed me to get involved in anything that had to do with the past.I crept to the top of the stairs but remained in the shadows—the better to hear without being seen.“Annushka!” Galina cried. She had a heavy Russian accent—much heavier than GM’s. “Annushka! I had scarcely allowed myself to believe that we’d actually found you! Oh, Annushka! After all these years!”“Hush, Galina, hush,” GM hissed. “You’ll wake my granddaughter. Come in. Quickly, now.”I could hear the clack of a woman’s footsteps in the hall, followed by a man’s heavier tread. The door was closed and the bolt reset.GM led her visitors down the hall to the kitchen.I tiptoed down the stairs and sat on the bottom step. I wouldn’t be able to see into the kitchen from my perch without leaning over the banister, but I knew from experience that I would be able to hear.GM’s voice floated down the hall to me. “Since you’re here, Galina,” she said, “you and Aleksandr may as well have a seat.”I heard chairs scraping on the kitchen floor.“You’re not entirely happy to see us, are you, Annushka?” Galina asked.“I am happy to see you,” GM said stiffly. “I am not happy about what it is that you bring with you.”“And what is that?” Galina asked sharply.“Superstition,” GM said wearily. “I have a feeling that this conversation is going to be difficult. However, we may as well try to be civilized. May I offer you both a cup of tea?”“Yes, thank you,” Galina said.I heard water running as a kettle was filled.A moment later, I heard GM sit down at the table. “I suppose you have a good reason for storming my house in the middle of the night?”“Annushka, we need your help,” Galina said urgently.“Then why didn’t you just call?” GM snapped. “Why fly all the way here from Russia? You did come from Russia, didn’t you?”“Yes, we did.”GM snorted. “Ridiculous. Again, I say, why didn’t you just call?”I figured that everyone in the kitchen was too absorbed in the conversation to notice me, so I risked a look over the banister. GM was sitting with her back to me, and I could see that she had pulled her long silver hair into a ponytail that flowed like silk down her back. She was resting her elbows on the kitchen table as she regarded her visitors.Facing GM was a woman who was young enough to be her daughter. She was blond, and she wore a nondescript beige coat with brightly colored mittens. Next to her was a young man who seemed to be in his early twenties. He was wearing an olive-green military-style coat, and his hair was an odd shade of brown—sort of a cinnamon color. There was a strong family resemblance between the two of them, and I guessed that Galina and Aleksandr were mother and son.Aleksandr must have felt my eyes on him, for he transferred his gaze from GM to me.I felt a flash of panic as Aleksandr’s eyes met mine, and for just an instant, a feeling of strangeness—something wildly foreign—washed over me. I quickly pulled my head back behind the banister.I froze, waiting to hear if Aleksandr would tell GM that he had seen me.But Aleksandr didn’t say a word, and silence settled on the kitchen. I relaxed.“Why didn’t I just call you?” Galina said at last, breaking the silence. “I feared you would not listen. I feared you would hang up on me. Was I wrong about that?”GM did not reply.“I tried to keep in contact with you,” Galina said mournfully. “You didn’t answer any of my letters or phone calls.”“I didn’t answer you,” GM said, “because you wanted to involve my granddaughter in your nonsense. You wanted to make her believe that nightmares are real.”“I wanted to teach her,” Galina replied angrily.“So that’s what this is all about, then?” GM snapped. “You, in your great wisdom, have decided that the time has come for you to drag my granddaughter into your world of darkness and ignorance?”“I did not choose the time, Annushka,” Galina said. “It was chosen for me. I feared something like this would happen, and if I’d been working with Ekaterina all the time, maybe we could have prevented this.”I was startled to hear Galina call me by my Russian name—no one ever did that—it was almost as if the name weren’t even mine. To my family I had always been Katie—my English father had been responsible for that.“I don’t want to hear your nonsense, Galina,” GM said curtly.“Annushka, you have to listen!” Galina cried. “He’s free! You know who I mean—”“You will not speak that name in my house!” GM shouted.Just then the kettle began to whistle, and I jumped.I heard GM get up, and the whistling soon stopped. There were other noises as GM clattered around, getting the tea ready.No one spoke.“I am sorry,” Galina said softly, after some time had passed.I heard GM’s chair scrape as she sat down again.“I will not discuss this if it upsets you,” Galina added.“You don’t believe in the supernatural, do you, Mrs. Rost?” Aleksandr asked.GM snorted. “The mischievous spirits and the vampires? No, I do not. Those are just stories designed to scare people—tales about the supernatural are nothing more than a way to spread fear.”“They aren’t all mischievous spirits,” Aleksandr said lightly. “They say the Leshi, for example, is actually quite a good fellow. Though you make an excellent point about fear—there are darker things than vampires in Krov.”“You are too young to believe in such foolishness,” GM said wearily. “Why can’t any of you from the old village have a normal conversation? Look at me. I started over here. I lead a safe, comfortable life now. Can’t you do the same?”“I heard you are a graphic designer,” Galina said.“Yes, I am,” GM replied.“I don’t even know what that is,” Galina said, and there was a note of wistfulness in her voice.“There’s so much that you miss,” GM replied quickly. “How are you doing, Galina? How are you really? Are you happy? You know that in my heart I miss you. And don’t you want good things for your son? How about you, Aleksandr? How are you?”“Still unmarried. Ask my mother,” Aleksandr said in amusement.“Shut your mouth, Aleksandr,” Galina snapped, her tone unexpectedly sharp. “Don’t be a fool.”“Galina, why don’t the two of you move somewhere else?” GM asked.“We can’t leave—”GM broke in hurriedly. “I don’t mean leave Russia. I mean leave the village—leave tiny little Krov. Move to Moscow. Or another big city. Russia is such a beautiful country. You don’t have to stay in that dark, tiny corner of it. Move some place where there is life—where there are new things.”“Though you will not admit it,” Galina said, “you know why I can’t leave.”Silence settled on the kitchen once again.“Annushka, there are lights on at the Mstislav mansion,” Galina said after a time, her voice low and edged with fear. “The house has been deserted for a long time. You know when that house was last occupied—it was eleven years ago.”“Perhaps his son has decided to take over the place,” GM said evenly. “It would be nice for someone to sweep out the cobwebs. It was a grand old mansion, and it should be restored to its former beauty. The house itself certainly never did anything wrong.”“They opened the old airfield two weeks ago and began fitting up a plane,” Galina said. “That’s what made us decide to come here.”GM was unimpressed. “So? It would be nice for everyone in the area to have a proper airfield. It might encourage good things.”“Annushka,” Galina said urgently, “his house is lit up again. And it was his plane they were working on. You know the one I mean—he bought it when he first amassed his fortune.”“I saw his plane myself,” Aleksandr interjected. “I believe he reached the U.S. ahead of us—it took us time to get our travel documents in order.”“Quiet, Aleksandr!” Galina snapped. “Annushka, please. It’s him. He is free. And he will seek out—”“Galina, I warned you not to bring this up.” GM’s tone was sharp.“Annushka!” Galina cried.“He’s dead, Galina,” GM said sternly. “Enough!”“He’s returned!”“Nonsense!”“Annushka! How can you say that? He killed your daughter!”A chair scraped back violently.“Superstition killed my daughter!” GM shouted.“Annushka! You must listen!” Galina wailed.“Get out of my house!” GM cried.I heard porcelain shattering against a wall, and two more chairs scraped back.I got to my feet.I watched in shock as Galina and Aleksandr ran down the hall to the front door. GM came running after them.Galina fumbled with the locks, and then she and Aleksandr escaped out into the night. GM ran after them.I quickly followed.The cold night air cut through my thin nightclothes as I hurried down the concrete driveway in front of the house.GM was standing in the middle of the driveway, breathing hard. Strands of silver had worked their way free of her ponytail and settled in scattered array around her head, glinting softly in the moonlight.Galina and Aleksandr jumped into a car that sat just behind GM’s own. The engine roared to life, and the car took off, tires screeching.I watched the car’s red taillights disappear into the night, and then I glanced over at GM—I had never seen her so angry.“GM, what’s going on?” I asked.GM whirled around. She stared hard at me for a moment and then looked down at the silver cross she always wore. She wrapped her fingers around it and gripped it tightly.“I’m sorry,” GM said quietly. “I wanted to spare you all of that. I never should have let them in.”“Are you all right?” I asked. “Who were those people? Why did the woman—Galina?—why did she say a man killed my mother? I thought she died of a fever.”Anger blazed in GM’s eyes. “Your mother did die of a fever. Galina doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”GM’s expression softened as she continued to look at me. “Come back into the house, Katie. It’s too cold out here.”GM put her arm around my shoulders and guided me back toward the gold rectangle of light that streamed out of the still-open door.I stopped suddenly. I’d thought for just a moment that I had seen a tall figure standing in the shadows near the house. I blinked and looked again.The figure was gone.“Is something wrong?” GM asked, looking around as if she feared that Galina and Aleksandr had returned.“No, it’s nothing. I thought I saw something, but it’s gone now.”GM steered me firmly into the house and locked the door behind us. Then she guided me into the kitchen. “How about a hot drink?”I looked around the room. Three of the kitchen chairs were standing awkwardly askew. On the kitchen table were two of GM’s blue-and-white china cups. One of the cups lay on its side, its contents spilled on the table—a brown puddle on the white surface. I could see shards of a third cup littering the floor, and a brown stain ran down the far wall.“Did you throw a cup of tea at those people?” I asked.GM simply made a derisive sound and waved her hand. Then she went over and kneeled down to examine the broken teacup. I knew that she was very fond of that tea set, and she wasn’t the type to lose her temper easily.“GM, what made you so angry?” I asked.She ignored my question. “It occurs to me now that it was a bad idea to bring you in here. I’m sorry you had to see this.”She straightened up and calmly retied her ponytail. Then she put her hands on her hips and looked over at me.“I think this will all keep till morning. Never mind about that drink now. We’ve had enough excitement tonight. It’s up to bed for both of us.”“GM!” I cried as frustration welled up within me. “You’re acting like nothing happened!”GM gave me a puzzled, slightly wounded look, and I felt a wave of contrition wash over me—I wasn’t used to shouting at her.I went on more quietly. “Why won’t you answer any of my questions?”“I did answer one—about your mother,” GM replied, averting her eyes.I wasn’t going to let her get away so easily. “No, you told me something I already knew—my mother died of a fever. You didn’t tell me why anyone would believe she’d been murdered. That is what Galina was saying wasn’t it? That a man from your old village had killed her? And why wouldn’t you allow Galina to say his name?”GM looked at me, and I could see a distant flicker of pain in her eyes.She held out her hand. “If you will go upstairs with me, I will tell you a story. It will help to explain.”I hesitated. Too often, GM had distracted me when I had asked questions like these—she had diverted my attention from the past and sidestepped my questions without ever refusing to answer them outright. I feared she would talk around me again.My questions would evaporate the way they always did.“Please, Katie, come with me,” GM said, her voice low and pleading. “You know the past is difficult for me.”I resigned myself and took GM’s hand.We went up to my room.GM switched on the light. The lamp by my bed had a faded shade with yellow sunbursts on it. I’d kept it for years, refusing a new one when GM had wanted to redecorate. My mother and I had painted the shade together one summer long ago.GM smoothed back the quilt on my bed. “Let me tuck you in.” She sounded sad and tired.After I had settled under the covers, GM sat down beside me.“I will tell you something I have never told you before, Katie. The night your mother died—”GM’s voice quavered, and she stopped.She composed herself, and then went on.“The night your mother died was the worst of all—for the fever, I mean. It had raged through her body, and she had reached a point at which she could no longer find comfort of any kind. She couldn’t eat or drink; she couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t even close her eyes for more than a few moments to rest—she said closing them made the burning behind them worse. On that last night, she kept calling for your father, and of course, your poor father was already gone—dead in that terrible accident. She was crying out for him to protect you. Even in her delirium, she knew she wouldn’t last long.”GM paused again. Her chin had begun to tremble.She composed herself once more and went on in a low voice. “When I could make her understand who I was—when I could make her understand that I was her mother—she begged me to protect you. She said, ‘Swear to me that you will always protect Katie.’ She need hardly have asked for that—the desire to protect you had been in my heart since the day you were born. But I swore it to her then, and I swear it to you now. On my life, I will always protect you.”GM stared at me steadily as she said the words, and I felt tears stinging my eyes. Soon they began to fall.“After I made my promise,” GM said, “Nadya seemed to grow calmer. She asked to see you. I brought you in, and she kissed you on the forehead. You were sleeping and didn’t wake. Then she sang her favorite piece of music—no words, just a hum. Do you remember it?”I nodded. When I was a child, my mother had often sung the same melody to me. It was from a piece of music by Mussorgsky.GM went on. “Not long after she finished singing, Nadya was gone. I swore to her that I would protect you, and I have. And I will. That’s why I moved you out of the old village. That’s why I moved you out of Russia right after your mother died. I had to get you as far away as I could from people like Galina. She is a good woman, but her thinking is trapped in the Dark Ages. She would warp your mind as she warped your mother’s. She has nothing for you but superstition and shadows.”GM rose. “I love you, Katie. Believe me when I say there is nothing out there. There is nothing in the dark.”She pressed a kiss to my forehead, as she’d said my mother had once done, and then left the room, closing the door behind her. And I was left feeling less comforted, rather than more so.I was grateful to hear a story about my mother, even though it was painful—I could feel her love reaching out to me across the years. But as I had feared, GM hadn’t actually answered any of my questions—instead she’d left me with more.Why had she said there was nothing in the dark?What was she afraid of?
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Thanks very much for reading!

This is the official description of Pure:

Sixteen-year-old Katie Wickliff lives quietly in the small town of Elspeth's Grove, unaware of the troubled past that forced her grandmother to flee Russia with her when Katie was only a child. When people in the town begin to disappear, and Katie's own home is attacked by a terrifying creature, Katie and her grandmother return to Russia to find answers.

Pursuing them is the handsome William – who just might be a vampire. Katie discovers that William is indeed partially a vampire, but he is also one of the Sidh, an ancient clan whose members are gifted with great power – a clan to which Katie's deceased mother also belonged.

Soon, Katie discovers that her mother's seemingly natural death was actually murder, and she is forced to confront the question she wants to face the least: Is William her otherworldly protector, or is he the dark creature who killed her mother eleven years ago?


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