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Authors: Krista D Ball
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went through this abandonment phase as a teenager and I spent a lot of time adding and removing beads, stuffing it with things. I went through a glitzy-bead phase when I was fifteen and covered it in pink sparkles.” I shuddered. “It took mom a week to pick the glue off the leather. Now, I just keep little things in it that are important to me. It’s not so much about whoever gave it to me, but rather that it reminds me of the blessed life I’ve had.”
Understanding dawned on his face. He nodded and said, “Is there anything I can carry?”
“Get Mrs. Saunders’s walker out of the backseat. We can both help her up the hill.”
The scenery from the United Church cemetery was, dare I say it, spooky. On a clear day, the cemetery overlooked the bay. You could see the boats coming in and out, the whale-watching tour boats, and iceberg seekers, and regular locals with their boats.
Tonight, thick fog covered the water and rolled over much of the hill we stood on. The drizzle dampened my hair and my cheeks and nose turned cold. I should have worn a hat. All in all, it was a movie-perfect scene for calling forth spirits and putting them back into their eternal rest.
With Jeremy’s help, we slowly made our way up the path to the graveyard. We were about halfway up, when I heard a vehicle approach and saw the headlights through the haze. The four-way flashers went on and we heard the distinctive thump of car doors. We stopped.
“Miss Mills?” a voice called out.
My hopes brightened a little. “Manny!” I’d called his mother earlier who said, in no uncertain terms, that her son would not be allowed to practice witchcraft. So, when Manny approached with his father—ah, that explained why he’d called me Miss Mills—I was surprised.
“Miss Mills,” David said when he and Manny reached me, his voice strained from rushing in the cold uphill, “Manuel has something to say to you.”
Manny was puffing, and I suspected only part of his reddened face was from the cold. I let him catch his breath and waited. Jeremy kept the umbrella over Mrs. Saunders.
“Um, Rach-Miss Mills, I’m really sorry I got you in trouble with Dad. I shouldn’t’ve been messin’ ’round with witchcraft and spells. And I’m real sorry that you had to lie to the Mounties for me. Folks here know what’s goin’ on, for real, but no one wants to tell the Mounties ’cause they’re Mainlanders and they aren’t going to believe stuff about spirits.” He gave me an apologetic look. “Well, I guess we’re both Mainlanders, too, but you know what I mean.”
I did know what he was trying to say. Most people would have completely melted down at seeing spirits roaming the streets; here, my neighbours reacted by telling stories of the first ghosts they’d ever seen and pumping rounds into rifles.
A chill went through me and my headache pounded in time with my heart. “Manny, what are you trying to say?”
Manny looked at his father, and back down at the ground. In a weak voice, he said, “I was the one who brought these things here, so I want to help put them back.”
I glanced at David, who was staring at me, his chin held high. “Manuel can help this one time.”
I nodded my thanks. Then, I looked at Manny. “That takes courage, Manny.” Voices began to echo in my mind. “And I really could use your help.”
CHAPTER 10: Callin’ Up The Dead To Chat
“What do I need to do?” Manny asked, his voice shaking.
“No witchcraft,” David said, his voice firm and unyielding.
I rolled my eyes. We were in a graveyard, about to perform a dangerous and powerful ritual, and he was still worried about witchcraft. I reined in my temper and thought about how to word my answer in terms he’d understand. “Manny, I need you to tell the spirits to go back where they belong. That’s all.”
“That’s it?”
I nodded at the wide-eyed boy. God, he looked so scared. “That’s it.” I looked at David, who seemed placated by my
Understanding dawned on his face. He nodded and said, “Is there anything I can carry?”
“Get Mrs. Saunders’s walker out of the backseat. We can both help her up the hill.”
The scenery from the United Church cemetery was, dare I say it, spooky. On a clear day, the cemetery overlooked the bay. You could see the boats coming in and out, the whale-watching tour boats, and iceberg seekers, and regular locals with their boats.
Tonight, thick fog covered the water and rolled over much of the hill we stood on. The drizzle dampened my hair and my cheeks and nose turned cold. I should have worn a hat. All in all, it was a movie-perfect scene for calling forth spirits and putting them back into their eternal rest.
With Jeremy’s help, we slowly made our way up the path to the graveyard. We were about halfway up, when I heard a vehicle approach and saw the headlights through the haze. The four-way flashers went on and we heard the distinctive thump of car doors. We stopped.
“Miss Mills?” a voice called out.
My hopes brightened a little. “Manny!” I’d called his mother earlier who said, in no uncertain terms, that her son would not be allowed to practice witchcraft. So, when Manny approached with his father—ah, that explained why he’d called me Miss Mills—I was surprised.
“Miss Mills,” David said when he and Manny reached me, his voice strained from rushing in the cold uphill, “Manuel has something to say to you.”
Manny was puffing, and I suspected only part of his reddened face was from the cold. I let him catch his breath and waited. Jeremy kept the umbrella over Mrs. Saunders.
“Um, Rach-Miss Mills, I’m really sorry I got you in trouble with Dad. I shouldn’t’ve been messin’ ’round with witchcraft and spells. And I’m real sorry that you had to lie to the Mounties for me. Folks here know what’s goin’ on, for real, but no one wants to tell the Mounties ’cause they’re Mainlanders and they aren’t going to believe stuff about spirits.” He gave me an apologetic look. “Well, I guess we’re both Mainlanders, too, but you know what I mean.”
I did know what he was trying to say. Most people would have completely melted down at seeing spirits roaming the streets; here, my neighbours reacted by telling stories of the first ghosts they’d ever seen and pumping rounds into rifles.
A chill went through me and my headache pounded in time with my heart. “Manny, what are you trying to say?”
Manny looked at his father, and back down at the ground. In a weak voice, he said, “I was the one who brought these things here, so I want to help put them back.”
I glanced at David, who was staring at me, his chin held high. “Manuel can help this one time.”
I nodded my thanks. Then, I looked at Manny. “That takes courage, Manny.” Voices began to echo in my mind. “And I really could use your help.”
CHAPTER 10: Callin’ Up The Dead To Chat
“What do I need to do?” Manny asked, his voice shaking.
“No witchcraft,” David said, his voice firm and unyielding.
I rolled my eyes. We were in a graveyard, about to perform a dangerous and powerful ritual, and he was still worried about witchcraft. I reined in my temper and thought about how to word my answer in terms he’d understand. “Manny, I need you to tell the spirits to go back where they belong. That’s all.”
“That’s it?”
I nodded at the wide-eyed boy. God, he looked so scared. “That’s it.” I looked at David, who seemed placated by my
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