Brooms Away

Book One in the Arabella Black Cosy Paranormal Mystery Series

 

Chapter One

 

 

“Keys!” I tossed three red velvet cushions off my couch. They skittered across the floorboards into a wall of potted ferns. I didn’t feel bad. They were scatter-cushions, after all. “Where did I put my stupid keys?”

I gathered up my dress’s flouncy teal skirt, flipped my long red hair over one shoulder, and kneeled in front of the couch. Black and faded, it sat centre-stage on my latest favourite thing: a grey, shaggy rug. I resisted the temptation to lie down and make rug-angels in the fluffy pile. Twice was enough for one day.

With a flashlight in one hand, I peered under the couch, sweeping the light-beam left and right. All I found was an impressive dust-bunny. They grew humongous if you allowed them to breed up.

I clambered to my feet and scanned my lounge/dining room. Cat hair floated about like fuzzy grey snow, disturbed by my desperate search.  I side-stepped the pile of freshly washed clothes I’d dumped out earlier so I could reuse the basket. The smell of frangipani fabric softener wafted over me as I hurried past, my skirt swishing against my army boots. I shoved a wobbly stack of garden magazines aside, causing them to slide across the pine floorboards. Yes, the boards needed vacuuming, and books, Tarot cards, crystals, and unwashed cups cluttered the coffee table, but living alone allowed a girl to live recklessly.

After coming up empty, I flopped on the couch, leaning my chin on the flashlight’s brightly lit lens.

“Mwah-ha-ha-ha!” My evil-villain-laugh needed work.

An eerie chill blew through the lounge-room, lifting loose strands of my hair, ruffling the grey rug like wind through grass. I froze. A primal reaction I could not master despite years of trying. When I gathered my courage, I shot to my feet, preparing for whatever ghosted into the room.

A translucent female slipped through my bedroom door into the lounge-room, uninvited, and what’s more, unwelcome.

Why do lost souls always find me? “You know you’re dead, don’t you?” I sounded rude, but I was late for work, and my car keys wouldn’t find themselves.

Dressed in sodden jeans and an overcoat fastened with wooden toggles, the spirit’s eyes were wide, wary. Her feet were bare, which made no sense considering her heavy winter coat, but who knew what she’d been up to when she’d died? Twigs, rotting leaves, and what looked like mud clung to her clothes, giving me some clue about her place of death. Long, black hair clung to her face. She reminded me of a character from a horror movie; one people paid good money to see. If movie-lovers had ghosts and lost souls visiting them at any tick of the clock, they wouldn’t be so yippie-ki-yay about those things.

“I don’t have time for this right now!” I waved the flashlight, trying to get the spirit’s attention. The beam of light bounced around, illuminating the jungle of potted ferns crowding the lounge and dining room walls.  “You’re leaking all over my new rug, you know.”

The spirit floated a hand-span above the shaggy mat, water puddling beneath her.

She must’ve just died!

The newly dead had no clue what to do once they missed their ride to the afterlife.

“Arabella?” The word echoed through my mind. “I’m looking for Arabella Black.”

She knew my name! How did she know my name? I stepped back, my boots catching on the hem of my dress.

“Ding?” She looked left and right, glitchy as an old black-and-white film.

Oh, my shiny stars! No one called me Ding except my sister Rebecca. Still clutching the flashlight, I backed into the couch, and, not looking away, clambered backwards, up and over the saggy velour until it stood between us. Not the best protection considering she had passed through a solid pine door.

“I’ve come over!” The spirit said, as though dying was something on her to-do-list. “She needs you.”

“Who needs me?” I knew the answer. The question was a knee-jerk reaction. Gave me time to think.

“I can’t remember…” The spirit raised a shaky hand to her head. She winced, whimpered, flickered for a few moments, and vanished.

An icy pressure spidered down my back. She was behind me. I closed my eyes, struggling against fear. I turned, slow, no sudden movements.

The spirit’s translucent face appeared inches from mine, her body ragged, fading to nothing. “She needs you.”

A smell of blood and dank, stagnating water washed over me. I didn’t flinch. A first for me. I’d celebrate the milestone later when I could think straight. Perhaps a bottle of bubbly and a party hat.

“Are you talking about Rebecca?” Our faces were so close my reflection stared back at me from blue-black, fathomless eyes. “Rebecca Black? Did she send you? Is she in trouble?”

Now Rebecca was a globetrotting computer whiz, she always texted or called me to touch base. My big sister, my over-protector. Annoying, but I got worried when she didn’t check in on me. Come to think of it, I had heard nothing from her for a few weeks. Sending a message through a ghost, though…

The soul cocked her head. Blinked. Recognition crossed her face. She smiled, triumphant. “Rebecca! You’re alive. Why are you here?”

“I’m Arabella! I’m Ding! Not Rebecca. You came looking for me.  Did Rebecca want you to find me?”

The spirit vibrated, a shudder of washed-out fog. She stilled. Frowned, as though struggling to think. I used the chance to step back and suck in a few calming breaths.

“Your name?” I said. “Do you remember your name?”

She hesitated. Nodded. “Endraya.”

I didn’t know the name. Not even one that sounded similar.

“Endraya,” I said. “Rebecca sent you to get me. Why? Is she in trouble?” Fear and frustration edged my voice. Getting upset would only unsettle this soul further. I slowed my breathing and forced a smile.

“She’s hurting,” Endraya said. “Alone and scared. You need to find her. Help her before it’s too late.”

“Where did you see her? In a town, city, forest? Were there people around? Any special landmarks or features that might help me find her?”

After years of trying to help the dead, I’d gathered a list of go-to-questions to help narrow down a ghost’s final moments.

“It was dark. I heard the water. Little waves on the shore. Frogs or crickets chirping… We were with the protestors. Then someone came with a message.”

“Good!” I urged her on. “Anything else?”

“I can’t…” she touched her forehead, wincing. “It hurts.”

“No, sweetie, it doesn’t. You’re past pain and fear now.”

If Endraya had been alive, I’d make her a cup of English Breakfast tea, sit her down, and we would sort out this carousel of confusion.

“I want to go home now,” she said. “It’s so dead over here.”

For once, I had no smart-aleck reply, despite knowing there was a goody just hanging there. I doubted I would get anything more from this poor soul. I made a decision—stuff work. Pandora’s Box nightclub could do without me tonight. I’d call in sick as soon as I crossed Endraya over. I was hopelessly late anyway, and I needed to find my sister.

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you, Endraya for your message. You were very brave. Do you see a light?”

Endraya looked at the flashlight. She blinked. Tilted her head, frowning.

“Oh!” I smiled, fumbled with the flashlight, and switched it off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to confuse you. The light you want will be bright. Full of love and people who’ve come to greet you. You can’t miss it! Focus. And try and relax. Think of someone you love who has already passed over. That sometimes works.”

“Rebecca?” Endraya asked.

I hope not! “Your mother? Father? Grandparents?”

Endraya turned, a movement too jittery for a living body to perform, a movement that never failed to creep me out. I shivered. No matter how many souls I saw, I would never get used to that.

I gasped. What looked like a bone-shafted arrow fletched with blue-black feathers jutted from the back of her head. I’d never seen an arrow like that before, let alone heard of one. The shaft had to be as thick as a pool cue. No wonder she was so confused. She’d probably been shot and tossed in a lake or something. Now I felt rotten for being so rude when she first appeared. I tried not to think of Rebecca with a nasty arrow in her head, but I couldn’t help it. Tears filled my eyes, and I scrubbed them away.

I reached forward, my hand trembling as though she was a stray dog. I’d had spirits attack me before and believe me; they’re quick. Quick as the dead isn’t a saying for nothing, you know.

Her ghostly body strobed as though something was chewing away bits of her movement. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened in a little ‘O’ of wonder.

She’d seen the Light.

Endraya smiled brightly. She really had been beautiful in an elfin, ethereal way.

Without warning, she shot forward, knifing straight through me. I dropped to my knees, clasping my chest as a freezing wind raked through me. My breath fogged the air as I gasped through the pain, and then I burst into tears.

 

Chapter Two

Still slumped on the rug, I scrubbed tears from my eyes and wiped my face with my sleeve. Crying helped no one. I scrambled to my feet. Looked left. Looked right. What should I do? Keys! I needed keys so I could drive to the police—file a missing person report. No! My phone! That’d be faster, and I wouldn’t need my car keys.

My gut knotted with fear and grief. I couldn’t do this alone. I had to call someone to help me. Tears caught in the back of my throat. I needed Rebecca. She was the strong one. She was my go-to girl when my life spiralled out of control. Sobs shuddered through me. I hugged myself, unable to think. Unable to decide what to do.

I shook myself. Struggled to clear my thoughts. If Rebecca could have contacted me directly, she would have. I needed a place to start searching. A clue. What would a proper detective do? I had watched enough whodunit and real-life forensic-shows over the years. According to Rebecca, I had enough knowledge to be dangerous. I smiled, and more tears trickled down my cheeks.

A detective would start at the crime scene.

If only I knew where that was? Darkness, dripping water, and frogs or crickets. Not a lot to go on. Was Becca with Endraya when Endraya died? I squatted, rubbing my fingers through the remains of her puddle. Was this actual water from where she’d died or had she unwittingly created it because it was the last thing she remembered? I sniffed my damp fingers. Slightly dank, earthy. I licked the moisture. Not salty, so it wasn’t seawater. So, a river perhaps? Or a lake? Nothing like that existed around here unless you counted the city’s four parks. And only one of those had a pond. So, somewhere else? Rivers and lakes were froggy environments, so Endraya had remembered that part accurately. But how many rivers and lakes existed throughout the world? Probably millions. As Rebecca was always travelling on business, there was no telling where she was. I had less than nothing to go on. Tears welled once more. I wiped them away, hurting my eyes.

I had to do something.

Maybe the Cards will give me some clue?

Trouble was, I usually got answers I didn’t want or need, like, ‘Sorry, Arabella. You’re being cheated on by your scuzz-bucket boyfriend.’

The break-up with Carl seemed trivial compared to this. If I did a reading now, the Cards might reveal information I didn’t want to know. But I needed to know. Tears pricked my eyes. I grabbed a fistful of Kleenex off the coffee table and blew my nose.

Time to think strong and be strong. My big sister needed me. No more tears, you hear? You’re smart, Arabella Jade Black. Smart because you think sideways. Everybody says so!

After a few more nose blows, I gathered up my Tarot deck from the coffee table and shuffled, careful not to flick random cards from the deck (which I did more often than not. That’s what happens when you buy a big, fancy Tarot set rather than the Rider-Waite deck that fits in an average human’s hands).

I closed my eyes, focusing on my need. “Where is my sister Rebecca Kerigan Black?” Considering my mood and what I might face, the surname Black had never felt more appropriate.

I split the deck into three piles, choosing a card from each. One by one, I laid them on the couch.

“Not good!” I stared at my chosen cards. “I should have listened to myself. But, as usual, I never believe me.”

First card: The Eagle, Sun, and Stars – An unexpected journey. Hmmm! I might be short, but I’m not a hobbit! Though a journey could mean searching for Becca. I never expected that when I got up this morning.

Next card: The Reaper, inverted – Death and upheaval leading to a fresh beginning and happiness. I looked at my messy lounge room. Upheaval was right. I didn’t want to think about the death part. Though maybe it meant Endraya? I clung to that interpretation.

The third card was Queen of the Banshee – imminent death of a loved one. One of the worst cards in the deck. My breath caught in my throat. The room seemed to spin and tilt at a sickening angle. Bile filled my mouth, bitter and hot. I ripped out more Kleenex and vomited into them.

When I felt better, I scooped up the tarot, shoved the cards back in their blue silk pouch, and pulled the draw-cord closed. The whole tarot reading was rubbish. It hadn’t even answered my question about Rebecca’s whereabouts. A lazy Reading always gave wonky answers. I hadn’t drawn a protective circle, invoked the Five Elements and centred myself or anything, so the reading couldn’t be accurate.

I only had one loved one in this world. Rebecca. Our adoptive parents, Jen and Miles Black were long dead. Goodness knows where our biological parents were? Whenever I’d asked, Rebecca had said she couldn’t say. That it was for my own good. Who was she to decide? How was it fair that she had memories of our actual parents and I didn’t? I had nothing. Not even a tatty, faded photo.

I hurled the tarot cards, shredding ferns as the pouch flew through them. I regretted throwing the deck, and retrieved my cards, placing them on the messy coffee table.  It wasn’t right to be sulky and petty about something Rebecca had no control over. It wasn’t her fault she was five when we were adopted, and I was a few weeks old. I had too many fears and nothing to soothe them. Rebecca hadn’t dropped by in weeks. She usually called or messaged me, but I hadn’t worried much until now, thinking she was probably working abroad somewhere again. Somewhere with no internet, no phones, no mail. Not even a lousy homing pigeon. Who was I kidding? She worked with computers, installing new systems and stuff.

I grabbed the picture of my sister and me off the TV cabinet. The tarnished silver frame desperately needed polishing, but I liked the patina. Made the interlaced rose pattern look old and mysterious.

We took the photo three years ago when we were on holidays in Germany. The best part had been the Black Forest. I could have stayed there for weeks, but we’d run out of time and money, so we took this selfie as a keepsake.

I wiped the dust off the glass with my skirt and looked at the photo. Rebecca smiled that warm, movie star smile of hers. Some people said we could be twins, but we never believed them. Becca, being five feet nine, was taller than me by a good four inches. She had perfect lips, the type people paid big money to achieve. I had pouty lips. Made me look sulky if I didn’t smile. Becca’s auburn hair sat in perfect waves. My hair might have been red, but it preferred to do its own thing no matter what product I tried. It was our eyes that fooled people. We had the same wide, deep blue-green eyes.

I dragged my fingers through my unruly hair and frowned at the photo. “Where are you, Becs? Where are you when I need you?” She always knew the right thing to say. She was special that way.

I had to call the police. Where had I put my mobile phone? I scanned the lounge room, searching for my mobile’s sparkly green case. Why was I so messy and forgetful? What if the cops wanted me to come to the station to make a formal report? I’d need my confounded car keys. I was sure they were in the lounge room. I remembered dropping them on the coffee table. I surveyed the room again. My potted plants filled every nook and cranny. It had a lovely forest feel. Still, I would need to stop buying them. Soon, I’d need a machete to watch TV. There had to be at least forty ferns, and goodness knows how many other plants. What typical twenty-four-year-old had more plants than shoes?

I couldn’t face searching through my plants. It would take ages.  Instead, I headed beneath the archway into the kitchen. If you could call it a kitchen, but then, you could hardly call me a cook, so in the scheme of things the room suited me. I opened the fridge and peered inside. I had been known to leave stuff in there. Keys. The TV remote control. My mobile phone. Some would call this absentminded. I liked to think of it as selective non-thinking.

I pulled open the under-bench cupboards. Plates, bowls and cups, all chipped and mismatched, sat in higgledy-piggledy piles. I really knew how to live! There were no over-bench cupboards, so that limited the search. I opened the oven door even though I wasn’t stupid enough to put my keys in there. But I was thorough if nothing else.

Muffled meowing interrupted my thoughts.

“Harvey?” I ducked, looking under the two-seater table. She sometimes slept on one of the chairs, her black and grey fur looking more like a fluffy blanket than that of a Maine coon cat. Nope. I checked for her soft, way-too-expensive-cat-bed. It wasn’t by the backdoor. She must have dragged it somewhere dark and cosy. Strange, because she was way too lazy to be in the furniture removal business.

A chilling howl cut through my cottage from my bedroom.

“Harvey!” I ran from the kitchen, bolting diagonally across the lounge, past the couch to my bedroom door. I flung it open. There was Harvey, black-tufted ears twitching, soot-and-ash-coloured fur licked to perfection sitting under my crimson quilt which she’d cat-bulldozed into her own velvet fortress. She slew her amber gaze at me and raised her chin. Aloof and snobby, as usual.

“What’s the matter?” I stood at the end of the bed: arms crossed, glaring back. “Why did you howl like that?”

“You were fluffing arrround taking farrr too much time,” Harvey answered in a female voice. A human voice. Apart from the rolling, purring quality.

My mind emptied. Totally blank. Then thoughts tumbled through my brain. My eyes boggled. I’m sure I looked like a frog. I had to be dreaming? Or dead!

Maybe Endraya killed me when she blasted through my body!

“Cat got your tongue?” Harvey licked her black paw. My cat smiled. Cross my heart! She actually smiled. “You look like a frog.” Harvey stood, arched her back, circled, and sat back down.

Glad I got one thing right today.

“I’ve made a list,” Harvey said. “Come on. You have a lot of packing to do if we hope to help Rebecca.”

“How do you know she’s in trouble?”

“I got a garbled message.”

“From Endraya?”

“Didn’t get her name. Enough chit-chat. We’ve got things to do.”