Witches in Wonderland Read online

  Kenny glared at her. “That isn’t what I meant,” he said.

  “He means it’s more of a drama-mentary,” said a voice spiked with sharp amusement. Looking over I could see that it was Derek. He seemed to have found a better seat near the front and he was making the most of it, leaning back in casual sarcasm and a vague sense of mockery. “Sort of ‘Grapes of Wrath’ meets the ‘Blair Witch Project’.” He snickered a bit derisively. “Kenny’s all about the drama in life you know.”

  “Shut up, Derek,” Kenny snarled, frowning thunderously. “Why don’t you try to be helpful instead of tearing everything down. You want to come over here and do this?”

  “Lord no. You’re the drama king. Go for it.”

  “Boys, boys!” Clarissa Woo was making her way to the front of the room, obviously intent on taking over this train wreck. “The people who have so kindly come to attend this meeting aren’t interested in your little spats. They want to know our intentions and what they can expect from us. Why don’t you let me give it to them in a nut shell.”

  She turned and smiled at the crowd, and I had to admit, she was quite beautiful. Exotic, too. A sort of sigh ran through the audience as she posed as though for pictures, then began to talk in her quiet, melodious voice, explaining her position as a psychic consultant, explaining everything in a calm, soothing style that seemed to be mesmerizing the assembly. I could almost feel the hypnotic vibes.

  I turned and whispered to Bentley, “Is there going to be a vote?” I already knew what side I was on in all this.

  He made a face. “Don’t worry. I’m taking care of this. It’s cut and dried.”

  “So you don’t need me to stick around?”

  He gave a slight shake of his head. “It’s a legal matter. Not up for voting,” he whispered back. “It’s good to let people vent on all sides, but when you come right down to it…”

  “I see.” I sighed, making a face at him. “They’re going to win, aren’t they?”

  “The Hollywood folks? Oh yes. They have an unassailable contract. It would take a criminal act to break it. And even then, the courts would decide.”

  “How about me?” Rennie whispered loudly as she leaned across me to get to Bentley. “Is there going to be a move to close down my Haunted House Project?”

  He shook his head and gave her a half-smile. “Don’t worry, Rennie. I already scuttled that suggestion. They may still want to close you down, but they can’t do it here.”

  Rennie sighed. “But there’s no hope on getting these Hollywood people to leave?”

  “None.”

  Rennie moaned and I nodded. That’s what I’d thought. Suddenly my gaze settled on a familiar-looking head—it was Oliver, dressed like the butler he was, watching from the sidelines. Obviously monitoring the scene for Gran Ana. I tried to catch his eye, but he was intent on the speaker. I gave up.

  “Okay then. I’ve got something I need to go do.” I turned to Rennie. “Neither one of us has to stay. Let’s get out of here.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Do you have a key to my Haunted House? Can you get me in to take a look around?”

  Joy filled those sparkly eyes. “Sure honey. I’ll take you over.” She bounced in her chair a little in anticipation. “Fun! Let’s go. They ought to be busy here for another hour. We can take our time.”

  I nodded, gave Bentley a wink and squeezed his ice-cold hand as a good-bye gesture and we slipped out. And I didn’t even stop to see if Shane was watching.

  Rennie drove, which was a good thing, since I had no idea where the house was--one of the many drawbacks of having lost the first twenty years and more of my memories. As we approached the corner where the house sat, a nervous flutter started up in my chest.

  “Is that it?” I asked her, nodding toward a large structure built with spires and balconies and dominating the area like a large, brooding cat.

  “That’s it. Super spooky, isn’t it? I mean, it’s a great old Victorian and with the sun setting behind it, the light comes through the windows making it look exactly like the old traditional classic haunted houses. I’ve been using pictures of it as the headliner on my ad campaign. Gets them every time!”

  I swallowed, not really ready to say anything more. The light was fading fast, making me wonder if this was really such a good idea. It was going to be dark soon. We’d waited until dark to go explore a haunted house. That sounded like the premise for every brain-dead Saturday afternoon movie ever made. All we needed was some crazed guy with a machete lurking inside and we’d be ready to film. I stopped at the ironwork garden gate and looked back down the street, feeling almost ready to make a run for it.

  “Hey,” I said to Rennie, and I knew it was just a delaying tactic. I leaned on the gate. “Listen, you do understand that these Hollywood people have an iron-clad contract to stay in the house, don’t you? I mean, there’s no way you’re going to get them to leave.”

  “I know that was what Bentley was saying.” She stared at me. “You’re the one who is supposed to develop a spell that will have them heading for the highway, you know,” she added, somewhat resentfully. “You’re not doing anything. Why aren’t you doing anything?”

  It pained me to see her simple reliance on me. “Because I can’t, Rennie. You know that. I’m not going to do it. They are staying and that’s a fact. Face it.”

  She shook her head as though completely disgusted with me.

  “Here’s what I don’t understand,” I said. “If the Council and Gran Ana agree that they don’t want the semi-documentary about our ghost population to air across the land, why are they ok with your ads for the

  Haunted House.”

  “Because that’s considered all make believe. Like Disney advertising for Mickey Mouse. No one expects real mice out of the deal. This TV show wants to make the case that ghosts are real. That’s a whole different thing.”

  She was half-smiling now. “I’m facing it that they’re here to stay. I only hope the Council can face it. And in the meantime, I’m plotting alternative methods. You just wait and see. I never give up.” She raised a fist. “Never surrender!”

  I shrugged. “Okay,” I said, mostly because I couldn’t think of anything else.

  I’d noticed a man walking toward us with a large, woolly dog on a leash. As he neared us, he slowed and frowned.

  “Hey, aren’t you the mayor’s wife?” he asked sharply.

  Rennie turned toward him, quickly putting on her mayor’s wife smile. “Why, yes I am,” she said in a friendly fashion.

  His frown deepened. “I voted for your husband.”

  “Oh, I’m so pleased.” Rennie’s smile widened. “And you are?”

  “Bernie Krandall. I live down the block.”

  “Lovely.”

  “Oh yeah? All I can tell you is that I voted for him, but I wouldn’t do it again. Now that I know his wife is involved in this short term rental scam you’ve got running here.”

  Her smile was beginning to fade. “But Mr. Krandall, I think you don’t understand. What we’re doing is for the good of the neighborhood. If we didn’t advertise and bring in the renters, this place would be standing empty all the time and…”

  “I don’t care. I like it empty. At least that’s quiet. What I don’t like is all the noise. These short-termers come and go, dragging in their friends and party lifestyles.”

  “Well, thank you for your input.” She turned to go up the walk, but he wasn’t finished.

  “I suppose this is like one of those things you read about in the papers, AirHouse or Airbub or whatever.”

  “No! You see…”

  “No, I don’t want to see. And I don’t want strangers on my street. I don’t want to hear the parties and the fancy sports cars racing up and down and scaring my dog.”

  “So nice to have met you, Mr. Krandall. Good bye now.”

  Rennie took my arm and marched the both of us toward the house, leaving the unruly neighbor behind, still complaining. />
  “And you thought all this community organizing I do was all lollipops and gumdrops, didn’t you?” she hissed to me. “Stupid man.”

  I was laughing. I couldn’t help it. She looked like steam was coming out of her ears.

  “Come on,” she said, charging on through the gate and toward the huge front porch. “It’s the neatest house. You’re going to love it.”

  “Am I?” I asked softly, following her and wishing I didn’t have to.

  She pulled out keys and began rummaging at the door, chatting away the whole time. I wasn’t listening to what she was saying. Every clang of the keys rattling together sounded like a giant gong to my ears. My breath was coming fast and my heart was beating hard.

  I tried to calm myself. After all, it was just an old house. It had been a few years since anyone from my family had lived in it. I wasn’t likely to see anyone I knew, dead or alive. Was I?

  But maybe that was it. That was exactly what I was afraid of. Rennie pushed the door open and went inside. Swallowing hard, I followed her in.

  The entry hall was large and lined with a hat rack and a long couch on one side, empty display cases on the other. We walked through and entered the foyer.

  “Can we turn on the lights?” I asked. It was rapidly moving from gloomy to dark and I was less than comfortable with that.

  “Oh no. There’s no electricity. Those who stay in the haunted houses have to use flashlights. That’s all part of the experience.”

  “Oh.” How fun. I walked to the center of the room and looked down. The inlaid wood of the flooring was shaped like a large pentagram and must have been beautiful once. I turned in the middle and wondered if I wasn’t standing in the heart of the house.

  “Can you feel it?” Rennie twirled in place as well, eyes sparkling as she looked around. “You’re much more attuned to the spirit world than I am. You must feel it.”

  I felt it alright, and I didn’t like it. But I wasn’t going to chicken out. I took a deep, cleansing breath and lifted my head.

  “Yes, I can feel it,” I said as crisply as I could. I looked around the room. “And I just want all the spirits within the sound of my voice to know that I don’t want to meet anyone tonight. I’m just here to get a quick lay of the land, that’s all.”

  A cold wind seemed to come up from a door open to a stairway that probably went down to a dank basement or something equally sinister. It blew through as though in answer to my statement. I gasped, but managed to hide it pretty well. It never helped to let spirits know you were afraid of them. They tended to lord it over you if you did.

  “Listen,” I said severely. “I’ve got my spirit radar turned to mute. I’m not in the communicating mood tonight, and I’d appreciate it if you all stood back and let me do my thing on my own. Okay?”

  The breeze came through again, but this time it merely ruffled the curtains. A feeling of relief swept through me. I took that as an answer and nodded.

  “Good,” I said. I looked at Rennie. She was staring at me as though she wasn’t really sure what the heck I was doing. I gave her a quick smile. “So show me this house,” I said. “I’m sure you remember more about it than I do.”

  “You got it.” She handed me a flashlight from a stash of them near the front door and took one for herself. “Come on. Kitchen first. This way.”

  I braced myself as we went in through the swinging doors. I knew I should have the ability to see any ghosts who might want to spook me. If we found any hanging around, I was firmly prepared to pretend I couldn’t see them at all. But it would be hard to do, so I was glad there didn’t seem to be anyone in the kitchen.

  Still, it was my kitchen, in the house where I grew up. I looked around at the white tile counter, the old fashioned, freestanding stove and range top, the bulky refrigerator, and tried with all my might to let it jog my memories. Did it look familiar? Was there anything I could point to?

  No. Not a twinge. Not a speck. I shrugged. Too bad.

  And yet, there was the hint of something in the air. Not a scent exactly, more a feeling. Suddenly, I shivered as though an arctic wind were blowing at us.

  Chapter 4

  Meanwhile, Rennie was going on and on about the old days. Her old days. There was no way I could pretend they were mine.

  “Your mom made the best cookies and brownies in this kitchen,” she was saying, happy remembrances shining from her eyes. “We would walk home from school together and your mom would lean out the kitchen door and call me in. ‘Rennie,’ she would say. ‘Will you come in here and try this new recipe I have for peanut butter fudge? Haley is no use for testing. She refuses to try anything new.’” She grinned. “Your mom was always trying out weird recipes for the café. She was the best. And since my parents were sort of hit and miss, I really enjoyed her. And the cookies.”

  I was still studying the kitchen. “Is this the same equipment that was here when I was young?” I asked her. “Same furnishings in the house?”

  She looked around and shrugged. “I think so. I don’t know why any of it would have been changed out. No one else has lived here.”

  “Interesting.” I poked at a pile of strangely shaped cardboard boxes stacked against the far wall. “What do you suppose these are for?”

  Rennie looked over. “Oh, I know what they’re for. They’re ghost carriers.”

  I pulled back and stared at her. “Seriously?”

  “Yes. You can pack about six in there at a time. It’s a handy way to carry them about.”

  Carrying ghosts about was not something I felt the need to experience. But that was a reminder that they were here, and all around us no doubt. And that seemed to get to Rennie all of a sudden.

  I started to go out into the main rooms of the house, but she grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the kitchen.

  “We need to talk,” she said, and for once, she truly looked scared and worried.

  I squeezed her hand and said, “What about? Rennie, you look like someone stole your cat.”

  “That’s a pretty good description of how I feel.” She sighed. “Okay, here’s the deal. Your grandmother read me the riot act this afternoon.”

  “You too?” I muttered, surprised the dear lady had room for lecturing others when she’d done such a marvelous job on me. “What about?”

  “The tourist situation. These Hollywood people in your old house. The fact that they are going to show the world about our ghosts. She doesn’t like it and she wants it stopped.”

  I shrugged. “So? You tried.” Ugh-that word again! “You can’t do anything if what’s going on is according to contract. Your hands are tied.”

  “Try telling her that.”

  “I know she’s tough, but….”

  “Tough! Listen, she more or less implied I ought to do something about it. I mean, physically. On my own. Force them to leave.”

  “Force them? How would that work?”

  “You got me. I don’t think me with a shotgun is going to do the trick. Maybe if I could get Chuck to back me up with a couple of colt 45’s.”

  “Rennie! That’s nuts.”

  “I know. But she definitely acted like I had to do something. Or else.”

  “Or else what?”

  “She left that up in the air. But I’m telling you, while she was talking, I was getting scared. I mean, she seemed to mean it!”

  We talked that over a while longer. I was puzzled, but vaguely worried. Gran Ana seemed to be falling into obsessive behavior. What do you do with a sorceress gone wild?

  We got back to the job of exploring the house. It was getting dark enough that we needed the flashlights. I turned mine on and started through the other rooms on the first floor. There was a library, a washroom, a music room, though the piano was missing, you could see where it had been by the indents in the carpet. We started up the stairs to the second floor and Rennie got a call on her cell.

  “Oh, it’s my little brother, Gordon. He’s supposed to be watching Chuck for me.” />
  I smiled. Some might find it odd that she would feel the need for someone to watch Chuck, her husband, a grown man and the mayor to boot—but Rennie liked to be prepared, just in case. Chuck did have his whimsical moments.

  “Listen, I’m going to go outside to take the call,” she said. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  I didn’t think twice about it. Climbing the stairs and looking down over the foyer, I wondered how often I’d done this before. It felt very strange, knowing I should be remembering this. But that just wasn’t going to happen. I let my flashlight play against the steep stairs. Nothing sparked for me.

  On the second floor, there were four doors leading off the central landing and I began to go through the rooms they led to one at a time. They were ordinary rooms, furnished with simple beds and dressers, nothing personal. Nothing had been left behind that would remind me of anything at all. No pictures on the walls, no pencil marks on the wood trim. I had no idea which room had been mine.

  Which reminded me as I went into the last bedroom—where was Rennie? She’d been gone too long. I turned toward the door just in time to see it slam shut with gusto, as though this was a really good joke on me. Then the lock turned to closed. Just like that.

  “Hey!” I cried, leaping toward the door, but before I got there, my flashlight went dead and I was in the dark. “Oh no you don’t!” I cried out to the spirits I knew were behind this. The first rule of dealing with such things was—never show fear!

  “I told you I wasn’t into chatting tonight,” I said loudly, trying to sound tough. “Leave me alone. Let me go.”

  Something screamed right near my ear and for that moment, I was glad it was dark so they couldn’t see how completely terrified I was. Every hair on my body went “twang!” and I held back my own scream with much difficulty. The sound was bone chilling, soul wrenching. I gasped and clutched my chest, holding back panic.

  “Cut it out!” I managed to grind out. “This is no way to form a communication. If you’ve got something you have to get out into the open, do it now. I’m not sticking around for the encore.”