Cinnamon lived with her mother, who watched her babies while she worked her butt off for me and went to night school to get her degree in accounting. I just wished the girl would come to her senses and see the jerk for what he really was: a lazy bum who would only drag her and the children down.
“How do you feel about that?”
“I miss him, and the boys barely know him. It’s just that … today he called. He said he can’t afford to live with us.”
“Halfway house?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, he says he doesn’t have the money to pay for a place for me and the kids. He said if I want to live with him, I’ll have to front the apartment myself. Emerald, what am I going to do?”
Maeve was waiting for me, but I didn’t want to leave Cinnamon hanging. “What does your mother say about all of this?” I had met Mrs. Juarez several times and had a pretty good idea of what she thought of the boyfriend issue.
Cinnamon broke into a pale smile. “Ma thinks he’s bad news. I thought by moving in with him I could take some of the burden off of her, but she says she’d rather have the kids and me stay with her while I finish up school than try to make it a go with David.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Your mother’s a pretty smart cookie. I know you love David, but babe, this dude has been nothing but bad news since you met him. He has three kids and yet goes out and pulls a stupid stunt and gets himself busted? If he really cared about you and the kids, he would have gotten a job at Big-well’s instead of ripping them off. And for what? Fifty dollars? Do you really want that kind of influence affecting your children? He’s more of a sperm donor than a father.”
She shifted from one foot to the other. “That’s what my mother said. I guess I have some thinking to do.”
The shop bells tinkled and she glanced over at the door. “I’d better get back to work. You just know Amanda Withers is going to ask me about every single item in the shop.” Cinnamon giggled and I flashed her a wide grin. Amanda was a pain in the ass, but the woman spent so much money in the Chintz ’n China that neither one of us really meant it when we complained about her.
“Dry your tears and go help her. We’ll talk about this later. I promise. You don’t have to decide anything today.”
As she bustled off, I headed into the tearoom, poured myself a cup of apple spice tea, and dished up a slice of rhubarb pie. I settled at Maeve’s table and she glanced up, giving me one of her efficient, yet friendly smiles.
“Emerald!” She folded her magazine and put it aside. I saw that it was something to do about llamas or knitting or maybe both. She saw my glance and held it up.
Modern Llama.
“I guess they have a magazine for every interest,” I said, biting into my pie. In my opinion sugar was one of the primary building blocks to life and I hadn’t had my quota for the day. Time to catch up. I was also jonesing for more mocha. Starbucks was definitely on the itinerary when I headed home. I swallowed a mouthful of tea in hopes of fooling my caffeine cravings.
Maeve gave me an approving look. “I like a woman who isn’t afraid to eat. Too many prissy-misses out there today. You look tired, my dear. There are dark circles under your eyes. What
have
you been doing with yourself?”
One thing I could count on with Maeve: She would say exactly what was on her mind. No pussyfooting around for her, and I rather liked it that way.
I frowned. “Maeve, some strange stuff has been going on. I’m not sure what the hell’s happening, to tell you the truth.”
“Not another murder, I hope?”
I shook my head. “No, not another murder. I think the lot next door is haunted, but I have no idea by what. And our cat’s missing. And Miranda’s new boyfriend—her first—just got caught in that awful fire. He’ll be okay, but his parents are in critical condition.”
“Fire can be so destructive. I hope the boy weathers this, and I hope his parents recover.” She paused for a moment, staring at her hands. “Your cat will come home. Members of the feline population have a remarkable resilience. I’m sure she’ll be back. As to the lot next door, I know you all too well to take what you say at face value. What’s going on? If it were just any little spook, you’d know what to do and probably wouldn’t even mention it.”
“You’ve got me there.” I told her about the dancing lights. She listened to my story all the way through without speaking, but I could sense that she was taking in every word, reading between the lines.
“It sounds like you have yourself a swarm of faeries.
Ignis Fatuus
, to be precise. Or corpse candles, as they are called in some areas. Surprising, within the confines of a town. But then again,” she added, appraising me with a gentle smile, “perhaps not, given your nature.”
“Corpse candles? That can’t be good. I’ve never heard of them, or of the
Ignis Fatuus
.” I believed in faeries, though not in the way a lot of people looked at them—as cute Victorian stylized cherubs. No, I knew enough about the history of the fae folk to pay them some serious respect and caution. But I’d never heard of
Ignis Fatuus
or corpse candles. A shiver ran down my spine as I turned the names over in my head.
“In common parlance, my dear, you have a field full of Will o’ the Wisps. And you’d best tread carefully, because they usually mean business.” She leaned forward so no one else could hear us. “These creatures are nothing to mess with, Emerald. Don’t let your children go over there.”
I swallowed the last bite of pie, my throat suddenly dry. Maeve was deadly serious, with emphasis on the word
deadly.
“What are they, then? Balls of light or energy, right?”
“They tend to take that shape, yes. Balls of light, dancing lights, energy orbs. Nobody really knows for sure. Science laughs off the existence of creatures like this, insisting on some idiotic notion that they’re swamp gas or methane jets alight. But trust me, they’re real and they’re not at all human in nature. At least now, if they ever were.” Her eyes flashed. Maeve might insist that she didn’t have the Sight, but she had knowledge. And knowledge was power.
“I can tell they’re of supernatural origin,” I said, sipping my tea. “What do you think they are? Nature spirits? Astral beasties?”
She sighed, toying with her cup. “There are several legends. One says that corpse candles are spirits of the dead barred entrance to paradise, yet not cast into hell. Another insists they’re faeries bent on destruction. Whatever the case, they’re associated with moors and graveyards. In fact, there’s a whole new set of ghost hunters out there looking to capture what they call ‘spirit orbs’ on camera. They have no idea what they’re messing about with. These creatures aren’t kindly souls waiting to guide others.”
Spirits of the dead caught between heaven and hell? I wasn’t a religious woman. In fact my beliefs about the afterlife centered around a vague notion of reincarnation, though I wasn’t even sure about how that was supposed to work. But I was certain that our souls lived on after death. I’d learned that the hard way, through ghosts and ghoulies, as well as through Nanna’s gentle visits.
“Could they be trapped in the Otherworld, unable to move on?”
Maeve caught my gaze and held it. “That’s a commonly held thought. And it may be the answer. I can’t tell you for sure, but I do know that, be they faerie or spirit, they congregate around sites where there’s been great trauma and tragedy. And sometimes, they lead mortals to their death. Unlike the
Bean Sidhe
—the banshee. Will o’ the Wisps don’t warn of death so much as bring it with them.”
I played with my cup, relieved that I’d told the kids to stay out of the lot. I’d have to reinforce my warning. “What can I do to clear them out? We must have stirred them up when we began excavating the brambles.”
She looked alarmed. “Oh no, you can’t just clear them out. There must be a reason why they’re there. Until you find out, I don’t recommend having anything to do with them. You could endanger your family.”
Even as she said it, I knew she was right. There was nothing I could do until I found out what they wanted. And that wasn’t going to be easy. I thanked her for her time and reminded her about my birthday party, then headed toward the door.
Cinnamon was busy with another customer as I left, waving. The afternoon had slipped away and dusk was crowding in. Daylight was in short supply here in cloud country during the autumn months, and I pulled my jacket snugly around my waist as I hopped into my car. My mood shifted suddenly, falling into depression as I started the engine and pulled out of my parking space. Life couldn’t go along without a hitch, could it? There was always some snag, some danger in wait. Forcing myself to focus on the road, I navigated my way through the short lines we called rush hour traffic in Chiqetaw.
Joe was waiting for me when I got home, sitting at the kitchen table with a troubled look on his face. I tossed my purse on the table and sat down next to him. He was nursing a tall bottle of cola and looked like he needed another.
“What’s wrong, honey? Didn’t you get the steps cleared?”
“Oh yeah, they’re clear now. I haven’t been down to check out the basement yet, but that’s not what’s wrong.” He shook his head. “I got a call from my lawyer about half-an-hour ago. He told me to stop work on the lot, that I may not be able to go through with the sale after all. He said the owner wants to back out of the deal.”
“What? Why?” Yet another glitch.
With a shrug, he said, “I don’t know, Em. He’ll have more information tomorrow. Until then, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, resting my head on his. He was warm in my embrace, warm and loving and breathing quietly. Not angry, not fuming, just confused. Joe was so different from Roy, my ex, that it was hard for me to believe he was for real, but he was, and he was here in my kitchen.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “If it comes down to it, we really don’t need the space. It would be nice, but it won’t be the end of the world if the deal doesn’t work out.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said, stirring a little out of his funk. “How’d it go down at the shop?”
“Nerve-racking.” I was about to tell him about my conversation with Maeve when the kids broke through the back door.
“Mom! Mom! We saw Samantha. We think we know where she is!” Randa’s eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed from the chill and from running. Kip, behind her, nodded, so excited he could only stumble over his words.
“You did? Where?” It was about time this family had a bit of good luck.
Randa and Kip both stopped short and Randa winced. “You’re going to be mad when we tell you.”
That was usually Kip’s line. “What have you been up to? Where were you?” And then I knew. “Oh no, you weren’t next door, were you?”
She slowly nodded. “Yeah. But Mom, we saw her run in there and we had to follow. She ran down into the basement—and …”
“And you followed?” Heaven help me, they’d never make it to twenty. “You went down in that basement after I told you not to?” I took a step forward, furious. “Do you realize how dangerous that is?”
She sniffled. “I know, but we saw Samantha! She’s down there, I think she’s stuck in a secret room. We saw her run down the steps and when we followed her, she disappeared. But we heard her crying. Mom, she could be hurt.”
The looks on their faces stopped the explosion that I felt rising. They were worried and afraid. Of course they were going to follow her down into the depths of hell to save her.
“Okay, listen to me. This is not over. But we’ll go have a look. The two of you stay here, do you understand me? There are dangerous energies running loose over there and I won’t have you hurt, even for Samantha’s sake.”
They nodded. Joe had already grabbed the flashlights and now, with a curious look at me that said he wanted the whole story as soon as we had the chance, we trooped over to the lot next door to save Sammy.
Five
From Brigit’s Journal:
It was a difficult morning. I’d finished feeding Mab her bowl of milk, and was trying on my good dress for Mass this morning when I realized the zipper barely closed anymore. It’s not going to be long before everybody notices. Mother Mary, what should I do? I’m no closer to a decision than I was a month ago, and I’m getting little help in the matter. I must admit, weakness of spirit was not a fault I’d expected to find in my love, but there’s no denying it. Whatever ’tis done, will be at my bidding, and my bidding alone.
There’s the evening supper bell. Goodnight, diary, and thank you for listening. I have no one else here, in this land of strangers. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve no friends at all, though I know I’m stupid to think so. But when you can’t bring yourself to tell your friends what secrets you’re hiding, then are they really friends? I don’t know.
AS JOE AND I made our way through the rubble of debris still littering the empty lot, the hairs on my arms began to stand at attention and I brought up short, reaching out to touch him on the shoulder. Just ahead, the lights were dancing furiously, bobbing and weaving around the back end of the foundation.
Joe inhaled sharply and stopped in his tracks. “What the hell—”
“You see them, then?”
“Faintly—they look like little twinkles to me, like Christmas lights. They’re pretty.”
“Trust me, those twinkles are a lot bigger than you’re seeing them, and a lot more dangerous than Christmas lights. I was going to tell you about my conversation with Maeve when the kids rushed in. Joe, those things are Will o’ the Wisps, and they’re dangerous. Don’t listen to them, don’t follow them, don’t try to interact with them.” I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. Over the years, I’d dealt with some strange beasties and spirits, but had little to do with the faerie realm. If Maeve was right, then that’s where these critters originated; faeries somehow connected with the dead, of another world and yet touching ours.