The Geis: Awakening Part 3

A twisted knot of leather that surrounded a gleaming red gemstone caught my eye. The stone looked like the one in Aunt Avril's snake ring. The colors swirled in a pattern that looked like tendrils of colored smoke.

With my finger, I followed the path of the winding leather. It circled back on itself until my finger met back at the beginning. The Celtic knot reminded me of the elaborate patterns on the Irish dancers' dresses. Antic.i.p.ation fluttered like a bird in my stomach. This time the excited feeling mingled with an uneasiness that pulled the blood from my fingers and toes. I rubbed my hands to improve their circulation, clanging the necklaces together.

I waited in the car, twisting the loose ends of the leather knotwork around my fingers. After more than twenty minutes went by, I rationalized that Aunt Avril didn't expect me to wait this long.

I got out of the car and followed a cobblestone path to an overhang where waterfalls flanked either side of the door, each ending in a pool teeming with koi. The formidable wooden door loomed above me, reinforced with iron scrollwork that continued onto the rock and provided a lattice for the vines of ivy that flourished along the wall. Above my head a stained gla.s.s window arched over the door, the colored gla.s.s puzzled together to form a mountain landscape that mirrored the view of the valley behind me. Whoever lived here had money-lots of it.

I knocked on the door and it shifted open.

"Puzzling to be sure, and a tragedy," Aunt Avril's voice came from my left, sounding smooth and fake. I wondered what she saw. I turned to the sound of her voice and found her in a large-and far from medieval-kitchen. A stone hearth arched over a range and grill next to antique mahogany cabinets that rose higher than a person could comfortably reach. Two marble-topped islands stretched the length of the kitchen, each held up by columns that completed the mash-up of primitive castle and modern convenience.

"I'm not sure why you came out this way at all, ma'am." A policeman stood in the kitchen. He had a dark-tanned complexion and his black hair was shaved close to his head. His tan uniform was tucked into green pants that hid most of his scuffed black boots from view. "Tell your superiors that we can handle this."

"It's so kind of you to indulge an old lady's fancy. I'll be sure to let them know." Aunt Avril stepped around the policeman and into the adjoining living room where a white-haired woman sat on the couch. Her eyes looked red from crying, but otherwise she looked put-together, from her cream colored, tailored pantsuit to the regal way she held herself.

The officer rounded the counter and came toward me. I pressed myself against the wall and tried to look as if I belonged. It didn't work.

"Who's this?"

Aunt Avril whipped around. When she saw me, she sighed, motioning for me to sit next to her on the couch across from the mourning woman. "This is my niece, Officer Ba.s.sett. McKayla, come on over here."

Officer Ba.s.sett shook his head and left the room, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Crazy old bat."

I took my shoes off before stepping on the beige carpet, and sat down next to Aunt Avril. When I looked up at the woman whose house we were in, I couldn't help but stare. Up close, she was much younger than I had thought. Her flawless skin and exotic eyes were striking. But what really caught my attention was her hair. It curved in waves down her back and it was white-not dye-it-super-blonde white, but more like a whiter-than-a-lily white. She glanced my direction before turning her attention back to Aunt Avril. A surge of annoyance made me catch my breath and I clenched my jaw, wishing I'd stayed in the car. Then the sensation dissipated and I settled back against the cushions.

Aunt Avril asked the woman questions. "Did you hear anything out of the ordinary last night?"

"No, I went to bed before Jonathan, and I didn't wake until morning," said the white-haired woman. She reached for a tissue, dabbed her nose, and then added the tissue to the growing pile on the coffee table. "I don't understand how this could happen. Jonathan was in great shape. He ran every morning."

"We don't know what caused his death yet, Mrs. Saddlebury, but anything that you can tell me will be helpful."

I fiddled with the woven knot again, circling the gemstone with my thumb as I studied a chandelier that hung from the cavernous ceiling.

"The police said he might have had a stroke or heart attack in his sleep." Mrs. Saddlebury struggled to stem back her emotions.

"Were there any signs of a struggle? Did he miss any of his other medications? Is there anyone who would have wished to see him dead?" Mrs. Saddlebury shook her head after each question, but when Aunt Avril mentioned death, a fresh flow of tears began. She reached for another tissue, only to find that the box was empty. Aunt Avril rummaged in her purse for another tissue.

Mrs. Saddlebury stiffened. I followed her gaze to see Aunt Avril's dagger, half hidden in her purse.

I couldn't believe that Aunt Avril brought the weapon inside. As I looked at the knife's notched edges, I both feared and hated the object. My breath hitched in my throat and my heart raced as if I had been running for my life. Wave after wave of rage flushed my face with heat. Angry tears spilled over my cheeks. Nausea swept over me, and I clutched my stomach.

"Are you all right, dear?" Aunt Avril asked. Mrs. Saddlebury knelt next to me near the couch, her face full of concern. I struggled to breathe, wishing that she would move away from me. She leaned over to look at the dagger, and Aunt Avril closed her purse with a snap. I focused on Aunt Avril's face, and the sickly feeling subsided.

"I'm fine," I said, wiping perspiration from my forehead. "Really, I just felt queasy." I was still upset, but the intense anger had simmered down to a low boil. I stared up at the chandelier, trying to clear my head and wondering what in the world had brought on this sudden surge of emotion that was ten times worse than PMS.

"I'd better get her home." Aunt Avril steered me to the door. "If anything comes up, you'll let me know?"

"Of course." Mrs. Saddlebury followed us onto the porch. I felt her watching us as we got into the car.

As soon as I sat down, my head throbbed. I was so mad-so, so, mad. Air swirled inside the car as Aunt Avril climbed in, making the hair of my arms stand on end.

"What were you thinking, bringing that weapon into her house?" I picked up her purse, and pulled the snap open with a pop. There lay the dagger, menacing and deadly. Aunt Avril s.n.a.t.c.hed the purse away before I could pick it up.

"Look at me," she said.

"The poor lady's husband just died, for crying out loud!"

"Look at me!" Aunt Avril said it softly, reaching for my hand. I took it and lifted my head to meet her gaze.

Energy drained from me like sand through a sieve. I shivered as chills went down my arms. "Do you feel better?"

I took a deep breath and nodded. I did feel better.

"Now look at Mrs. Saddlebury."

She stood on the porch, and when I caught her eye she waved, her face a picture of loss. I waved back. Intense hatred filled me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting to hide from the emotion that made my stomach churn like a boiling pot of soup.

Aunt Avril reached for the necklaces that still hung around my neck, and I found that I had been clutching the leather knot in my hand the entire time. I didn't want to let it go, but I handed it over with the necklace. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you, child. It's fine, just fine." Aunt Avril released the Celtic knot from the chain. She took my hand in hers and folded my fingers around the knot. "What did you feel?"

I struggled to express the ma.s.sive mood swing I experienced. "You were visiting with Mrs. Saddlebury, and all of a sudden anger rushed through my body." Realization clarified my thoughts. "I was angry at you."

Aunt Avril slipped the necklaces back over her head. "Angry at me? That is interesting. It appears Mrs. Saddlebury is not quite what she would seem." She pulled the dagger out of her purse and opened her door.

"What's going on?" My hands shook and adrenaline pumped through me. Aunt Avril wasn't making sense.

"You weren't feeling your own emotions, McKayla. You were feeling the emotions of that woman in the house." Before I could respond, Aunt Avril jumped out of the car, running back to the castle. She paused on the now-empty porch where Mrs. Saddlebury had watched us, then walked in the open door.

I clutched at my door handle with a shaking hand, unsure of what to do. I wanted to make sure Aunt Avril was safe, but every nerve ending in my body screamed for me to get away. I was certain the car keys were in Aunt Avril's purse. A heavy feeling settled in my stomach. I couldn't leave Aunt Avril here.

Seconds later, Aunt Avril appeared in the overly-tall doorway, her phone to her ear. Her free arm punctuated her conversation as she paced on the expansive porch. I forced myself to relax my clenched jaw muscles.

"What are you doing?" My voice came out in a screech when Aunt Avril finally climbed back into the car.

"I needed to check on something." Aunt Avril put her hand on my arm, as if noticing for the first time that I was freaked out about her going back into the house of someone who hated her so much. She patted my arm, and then fished her keys out of her purse. "Mrs. Saddlebury is gone."

I took a shaky breath. Gone? I hadn't seen anyone leave through the front door. "Where would she go?"

"She told the police that she needed to take a walk to clear her head, but something tells me she won't be back for a while. That's enough investigating for today. Let's go get some lunch." She pointed the car down the canyon, glancing at me as she drove. "Are you still angry at me?'

I searched my feelings. I was confused and upset, but not angry. I looked at Aunt Avril's poufy hair that was even wilder from her run through the castle. The intense loathing was gone. I shook my head.

Trees rushed past the window and I tried to wrap my mind around what she had told me. "I experienced those feelings because that's what Mrs. Saddlebury felt?" Exhaustion overwhelmed me and I blinked back tears.

Aunt Avril took her eyes off the road to look at me. She bit her lip and focused ahead. "Ever since you were a little girl, I wondered if you might have a gift. I used to watch you dance, and wondered at the emotion you could evoke."

"Hang on, I don't have any psychic power or anything."

Aunt Avril's laughter filled the car like the jangle of a wind chime. "Psychic power, or whatever you want to call it. It's not like that though, really."

"No offense, Aunt Avril, but I don't really believe in stuff like that."

She sighed. "I know. Your mother wants you to be normal. She wants it so badly that she blocks out what is right in front of her."

The emotions I'd felt in Mrs. Saddlebury's presence had been overwhelming, and real. Was it possible that I could have some heightened sense of empathy, some ability to sense others' feelings in the same way that Aunt Avril could see what happened at the scene of a crime? I thought of her coaxing impressions from the air.

"What did you find when you were outside the house?"

"Nothing pleasant." Aunt Avril slowed the car as she pulled into Afton. I waited for her to continue. "Unfortunately, it will take a few days before the police have the results of the autopsy and learn the cause of death. But if I'm right, they won't find anything out of the ordinary in the meantime. Until then, the police won't suspect what I can see."

"What do you mean, what you can see? Do you know how her husband was killed?"

Aunt Avril kept her eyes on the road, but her words sent a chill right through me. "Mrs. Saddlebury killed him."

"She actually said you have psychic powers?" Christa yanked through my hair with a brush. "You are so lucky."

I rolled my eyes, and then realized that Christa couldn't see my face. I swiveled on the kitchen stool. "I'm not psychic. I just had an anxiety attack, or something."

"I prefer the term psychic empath." Christa turned my head to face forward. I stared out the sliding gla.s.s door into the field behind her house.

When I told Christa that Aunt Avril thought I had some kind of ability, she was quick to latch on to the idea that I was psychic, too. I had left out the part when Aunt Avril said Mrs. Saddlebury murdered her own husband. I still didn't know what to think about that.

Before she'd taken me home, Aunt Avril had stopped by the Freedom Arms firearms company in the small town of Freedom. When she'd come back to the car fifteen minutes later, she'd been carrying a heavy bag, which she'd gingerly placed in the backseat.

"You bought a gun?" I'd asked.

"The .454 Casull is one of the most powerful handguns out there." Aunt Avril had winked at me. "I bought insurance."

One of Christa's brothers ran through the kitchen, chasing his little sister with a dinosaur. She shrieked and ran outside, with her brother "roaring" after her. The strumming of a banjo reached us from the living room. It didn't actually sound like a song, more like tw.a.n.gy screeching.

Christa raised her voice over the chaos. "That's so cool! Did your aunt really 'see' what happened at the crime scene?"

I pictured Aunt Avril sweeping the air with her hands. "I think she did."

The music stopped. Christa's brother Josh came into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Pulling out a brick of cheese, he crossed to the table and watched us, breaking off chunks of the cheese and loudly chomping them down.

"Going out?" Josh asked.

"Out? Just to dance cla.s.s." Christa took the hairpins from her mouth and smirked. "It's a girl thing, Josh. Leave us alone."

"Hey, don't get so uptight. It's not my fault you don't have anywhere to go out to." He made no attempt to leave the room. Breaking off a piece of cheese, he offered it to me.

"Thanks, but I ate an apple."

Josh shrugged.

When Christa saw that Josh had no intentions of leaving, she ignored him, twisting a braid with one hand and securing it with a pin. "There, that looks bea-utiful."

I touched my hair. Christa had attached loops of braids all over my scalp. Sometimes she came up with neat hairstyles, but this time I looked like a Swedish milkmaid.

"If you want, I could do Christa's hair tomorrow." Josh winked at me. "That way you won't have to be embarra.s.sed to go to school looking like that." His own head of hair needed a trim. It curled over his ears and at the edges of his neck.

I grinned.

Josh ducked as Christa threw her brush at him. She missed and hit the tabletop. Undeterred, she grabbed it and chucked it again as he ran from the room, still holding the brick of cheese. The banjo complained once more.

"Brothers are such a pain. Be glad that yours can't talk yet."

"I don't know which is worse, being teased or changing diapers. I think it's a toss-up."

I moved over to the counter and looked at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Braids crisscrossed my head. Yep, milkmaid, I thought. "I think it looks nice," I said.

"Hey, I thought of something." Christa came up behind me and looked in the mirror. "Next summer I'll be working at the bookstore fulltime. When the weather is good, maybe we could afford to drive ourselves to Jackson and take those dance lessons."

"That's true." I latched onto the idea. If I got more driving hours in, there was a chance Mom would let me drive the hour to Jackson. But the end of the school year seemed like an eternity away.

Unwinding the satin ribbons of my pointe shoes, I pried the protective lamb's wool away from a newly formed blister. "Ouch."

"Do you think Ms. Slannon wants to work us to death, or is she just excited to have the recital over with?" Christa sat on the floor of the high school gym that doubled as our dance floor, her toes pointed toward either wall, her stomach flattened to the ground.

"I don't know, but it felt great to work up a sweat," I said, pulling a few Band-Aids out of my bag. "I'm going to talk with Ms. Slannon," I said, stuffing my shoes into my bag. "Don't wait for me. I texted my mom to come and get me."

I crossed the floor to where Ms. Slannon talked with some of the girls, and waited until she packed up her things.

"Thank you for the lesson, Ms. Slannon."

"Oh, McKayla, you're welcome. I was going to stay after and practice some ch.o.r.eography, but I think I'll go home. Come on, I'll walk you out."

"Do you need me to help you clean up?"

"I don't have to clean up after cla.s.ses anymore. The new janitor is great." She waved to the girls who were calling their goodbyes back down the hall. "How are you feeling about your solo the other night?"

"Good. I was nervous, and I forgot a few steps, but I had fun."

"You danced beautifully." She looked me in the eye. "I'm hoping to solo you in a few more dances this quarter. But I can't do so if you continue to disregard the rules. Curtain time is mandatory."

"Yes, ma'am."

A light rain drizzled down the gla.s.s doors, and it was getting dark. I could see my mom's car through the rain.

"Do you need a ride?" Ms. Slannon pushed open the door.

"No, my mom's here." I hung back. "Ms. Slannon, what do you know about Irish dancing?"

She stepped back inside. "Irish dance? I've never done it, but I know that it's been around for a while. Why do you ask?"

"I saw some girls doing Irish dance when we were in Idaho Falls the other night, and I really want to learn how."