A warning.
As the weak morning sun broke through the branches of Central Park, Theta sat in Miss Addie’s Morris chair beneath an old quilt while a parade of curious cats meowed and rubbed their noses against her legs. One curled up in her lap, and she happily scratched under its chin while it closed its eyes in bliss.
“How did you know to come for me?” Miss Addie asked. Her hands had only just stopped shaking. Her sister, Lillian, brought out a silver tray with a tea service comprised of mismatched china cups.
“This is gonna sound crackers, but a ghost told me to come. Mr. Bennington’s ghost. He said you were in trouble.”
“Oh, dear Reginald!” Miss Addie said joyfully, as if she were speaking of a favorite old friend.
“He said something about how you were the guardian of the Bennington. The, uh, the old witch, he called you.”
“I don’t think the old was necessary,” Lillian tutted.
“But we are, dear sister. We are,” Miss Addie said.
“Nevertheless,” Lillian sniffed. She poured the tea into three cups and handed one to Theta. “The Bennington was built for safety, you see. There has always been a Diviner in residence. Someone to be sure it would remain safe from evil spirits. Before Reginald died, he entrusted that duty to Addie.”
“I think I woulda passed on that little gift,” Theta said. “How come Mr. Bennington didn’t seem scary?”
“Not all spirits mean harm, you know,” Miss Lillian said. “Some want to help. Or they need help.”
“I’m guessing this Elijah isn’t one of those, though,” Theta said. “Who is he?”
Miss Addie’s face went sad. Her eyes seemed fixed on a point in time long passed. “He was my everything, my greatest love. And one day he was taken from me, cut down in the prime of his youth.”
“Gee. I’m sorry,” Theta said. She tried to imagine losing Memphis. It hurt so much she didn’t want to even think about it. She grimaced as she sipped her tea. “What kind of tea is this?”
“Dandelion! It will ease your dreams. It will help you come into your power.”
“I … I don’t have any power,” Theta said quickly.
“Yes, you do. I can always tell. I could tell about your friend who came to see me, the boy with the boater hat, and his green-eyed friend. And I could tell about your Miss O’Neill.”
“My sister has always been gifted,” Miss Lillian said. She squeezed Addie’s hand. “And I have been her protector.”
“You have great power,” Addie said to Theta. “You mustn’t be afraid of it, child.”
Ha, Theta thought. You don’t know what I can do. Then you’d be afraid, too.
“Tell me, do you have family near?” Miss Addie asked.
“I’m an orphan,” Theta said.
“You’re wrong.” The old woman blinked up at the ceiling, her fingers waving in the air. “You do have family. I see it in your aura. They’re … they’re all around you.”
“Sorry, Miss Addie. But if I got family, they’ve done a good job of hiding it for the past seventeen years.”
Miss Addie picked up Theta’s cup. She read the tea leaves, frowning.
Theta got nervous. “What is it now? You see something bad?”
“Some ghost does wait for you. This is a bad ghost. You must not let it win.”
“Okay. Now you’re scaring me.”
“We’ll read the signs. Come along, Archibald,” Lillian said. She pushed herself out of the chair and grabbed one of the cats and a curved knife. The cat squirmed in her arms, meowing his displeasure.
Theta jumped up. “Wait! What are you gonna do with that cat?”
“He’ll need to be sacrificed, of course. To read the signs.”
“Nothing doing!” Theta ripped the cat from Miss Lillian’s arms. She pressed him tightly to her chest. Archibald meowed loudly. “Nobody’s killing any cats.”
Miss Lillian glowered. “It’s what we’ve always done.”
“Yeah, well, I’m changing how things are done.”
Miss Lillian started to protest, but Miss Addie cut her off. “Very well. We could stand to change.” She smiled. “I do believe that Archibald likes you. You should take him home. He can be your familiar.”
“My what?”
“Your witch friend.”
Theta looked into the ginger cat’s green eyes. He meowed again and licked her cheek, and Theta knew she was going home with a cat. “Swell. Just what I need.”
“I’ve made mistakes,” Addie said, fidgeting with her lace handkerchief. “And I have tried to make amends for that. I’ve tried to do good in my life. I want to help you. All of you.” She pinned a brooch to Theta’s dress, a silver filigree heart. Dead leaves rattled around in the chamber.
“What’s in there?” Theta asked.
“Wolfsbane and rosemary, birch bark and sweet basil. It’s for protection. And this”—Miss Addie removed her own silver locket and slipped it around Theta’s neck—“this is a bloodstone. It is for courage.”
“Miss Addie. I can’t take this. It’s yours.”
“And now it’s yours, my dear,” Addie said, squeezing Theta’s hand. “Bloodstone asks you to work for the good of others. It demands courage.” Miss Addie swept an age-spotted hand across Theta’s brow, and for a moment, Theta thought of her as the grandmother she’d always wanted but never had. “You’ve been very hurt, my dear. But you’re safe with me. And it’s high time to stop hiding from your power. It will find you out, you know, whether you accept it or not. Best to let it in, show it who’s boss.”
“I’ll think about it,” Theta said, cuddling the purring Archibald close. “But I’ll be counting the cats when I come over. There better be the same number each time.”
The next day, the Diviners gathered as usual in the library. They were on edge, like the prophesied storm was already happening inside them.
“Good afternoon,” Will said as he and Sister Walker swept into the room, where the Diviners were seated around the long table, silent and scowling. “What’s the matter? Did the city run out of jazz?”
“Why did you breed Diviners as part of your Project Buffalo?” Ling blurted out.
Sam groaned and buried his head in his hands.
“Ling, what part of ‘keep our traps shut’ didn’t you understand?” Henry said under his breath.
Ling appraised him coolly. “I understood fine. I simply didn’t agree. It’s silly to pretend we don’t know when they have the answers we need.” She turned to Will and Sister Walker. “How do you expect us to work for you when you’ve been lying? You owe us the answers. You owe us the truth.”
Sam readied himself for further stonewalling, but to his surprise, Will nodded at Sister Walker.
“You’re right,” she said. “We do.”
Will started a fresh fire, poking at the kindling and newspaper until it roared to life. Then he took up his pacing, as if he could outrun the truth, while Sister Walker stood beside the fireplace quite still, her hands clasped at her waist like a schoolmarm ferreting out trouble.