That was what Ophelia smelled like.
And that wasn’t normal. Marty was right. There was definitely something bizarre going on with Ophelia. How did one even get to smell like decaying fruit? Maybe the rot had come from spoiled fauna, not flora. Was she hiding bodies in her basement?
I kept my face near hers out of sheer will, staring her down from only an inch away, waiting for her to blink. She did, after an unnervingly long silence.
“Be that as it may, Ms. Morton, but it doesn’t change the fact that you must declare yourself before Mabon ends. Your failure to do so before your peers has already been remarked upon in meetings.”
I had no idea what she was talking about—my peers in meetings? “Mabon?” I repeated. My neopagan knowledge was a bit rusty. My mother had married a Christian man and raised me to be a loose sort of theist. I’d dabbled in college, but that was about it.
Ophelia rolled her eyes heavenward like I was too frustrating for words. “You have four days left to decide, girl.”
“To decide what?” I barked back.
“Do you stand with those vermin out there?” she jabbed a finger at the open door of the shop. “Or do you stand with the old magic? The old world guard who have sheltered what others sought to destroy.”
I glared at her. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Remember what the humans are, gypsy girl, when you ponder your decision.”
“My decision to do what?” I blurted, unable to contain myself an instant longer. I had to step away from her, had to get away from the reek coming off her skin. And then I realized what this was about. “You’re talking about joining your cult.”
She scoffed at that. “We’re hardly a cult. We are a… society.”
“Right. Marty already warned me about that. Thanks, but no thanks.”
“You don’t understand.”
“You can stop proselytizing, Ophelia. Pack up your Necronomicon and go home because I’m not interested.”
“You don’t understand,” she said again, this time slower and with more emphasis, as though she wanted me to ask her to explain. But I wasn’t going to.
I took a deep breath. “I have to pick up my son from school now, so you have to go.”
Ophelia’s eyes grew very round, finally showing a little white at their edges. They were so dark and shiny, like the eyes of a rat. She backed away from me in slow, shuffling steps, hand coming to rest on her mouth, like she’d let too much slip.
“Hexes and hoarfrost,” she hissed. “I thought for certain... but... ack! Damnation and daemons, nightmares and numerology...”
She disappeared out my front door, still muttering darkly to herself. I was glad to see the back of her and didn’t exhale again until the door swung shut behind her, unfortunately not clipping her keister on the way out. Only then did her meaning begin to sink in.
She’d thought I was one of them, or at the very least that I should be one of them. Whatever they were. Regardless, I was convinced Ophelia was something I’d never encountered before. Not a witch, certainly, but something else. Something strange. Something... even… monstrous?
Could she be the reason for my recent string of nightmares? Hmm… that was an interesting thought.
I opened the driver’s side door and piled into the Jeep, but when I turned the key in the ignition, nothing happened. So I tried it again and still… nothing.
“Shit!” I said out loud and then pulled my phone from my purse, dialing Marty’s number.
“Hi, Poppy,” he said as soon as he answered it.
“I’m so sorry to ask you this, Marty…” I started.
“McFly,” he corrected.
“Right... McFly. The Jeep won’t start and I need to pick Finn up from school.”
“No prob, I’m on it,” he answered, and then I could hear the sound of his keys jingling. “I’m headed to the car now and it will take me maybe ten minutes to get to Finn’s school.”
“Thank you so much!” He was a godsend. And a really cute one, at that.
“Of course. I’m happy to help out.” I heard the sound of him closing the door. “Hey, do you need me to swing by and pick you up on the way back? Or, at least I can take a look at the Jeep?”
“Yes, that would be great,” I answered, so completely grateful for him.
“Okay, see you soon.”
***
Fifteen minutes later and I tried starting the Jeep again and this time, the engine turned over, much to my surprise. I immediately called Marty, er McFly, to tell him just to meet me at the house since I no longer needed a ride. Then I pulled into the street and headed home.
That was weird, I thought.
The Jeep had never not started for me before, and I could only wonder if Ophelia’s presence had anything to do with it. Maybe she wasn’t just bad news around fruit trees, but engines too?
Or maybe it was merely coincidence…
Two minutes later, my phone rang, splitting the silence in the car like a shrill scream. My nerve endings jumped to attention, hypersensitive after my run-in with Ophelia. The caller ID revealed it was Finn, and I clicked the button on the steering wheel to connect the call.
“Hi, buddy, are you home?”
Heavy breathing sounded on the other end of the phone and then Finn’s voice. “Mom, there’s a ghost in our house! Darla’s here! How is she here? Did you know?”
“Sweetie,” I started, but he interrupted me.
“She said you knew, and you allowed her to come here!”
Ah, crap and a half.
A sigh billowed out of me as Finn’s voice continued to climb. Soon he’d reach an octave only bats could hear.
“Traitor,” I muttered under my breath. Darla and I were definitely going to be exchanging words over this. And maybe even the vacuum cleaner.
“Mom?” Finn demanded.
“I’ll be home in ten minutes or less, buddy,” I answered.
Chapter Thirteen
“Darla! Get your flashy butt over here!” I hissed, wishing the grip I had on the locket would actually throttle the irritating ghost.
Darla appeared in the passenger’s seat as I hit the highway leading out of town. Darla flickered like a still image on a broken screen, and when she spoke, it sounded like a radio with bad reception. The deep pink, drop waist dress seemed faded to an almost cotton-candy color.
“Keep your skirt on, dollface.”
My anger returned in full force. I stepped on the gas again, traveling five miles over the speed limit. Finn would need more comfort than Marty could provide at the moment. Furthermore, I’d promised no more ghosts!
I ought to have tossed the pencil case Darla had attached herself to into the compost bin or buried it in the backyard. No, I should have just burned the damned thing.
“I told you not to let Finn see you! That was the deal!”
“An’ it’s still the deal!”
“No, it’s not, because you broke your end of it!” I yelled at her. To anyone driving by, I had to look like a crazy person—screaming at an empty seat beside me.
“Tell it to Sweeney,” she grumbled.