Page 86 of The Witching Hours

The kids returned to the table licking cones.

“I’m going back for more,” Dart was telling Alex.

“Nuh-uh,” Alex said. “Dad won’t let you.”

I felt some relief in witnessing normal sibling interaction even after everything they’d been through.

We chatted for a while longer about the plans for the following day. David gave me a key to the house and said he’d have his phone close by if he was needed.

I raised my water glass. “To a wonderful night’s sleep.”

Everybody clinked water glasses and said good night.

I wasn’t on the way to bed though. I was on the way to my computer to see what I could find out about holes with smoky edges and a phenomenon Mason had identified as “fiery rain”.

Found a few references to holes similar to what Mason described. One occurred in the sky above Portland, Maine a few years ago. The photographs were both terrifying and fascinating. For me, one of the most surprising things was that I’d never heard about this. With photos that looked like good movie CGI, I was shocked it hadn’t made national news and been featured on “60 Minutes” and pulp shows about oddities.

As to the “fiery rain”, there were references in the original fragments from the ancient mystery schools about such phenomena preceding visits by travelers or explorers from other worlds. That was useful.

When there was nothing else to see, I forced myself to go to bed, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling some anxiety about what the next day would bring. There were some powerful forces who may have delivered suggestions that they don’t want a visit from me.

That night was a tribute to turning and tossing. I’d anticipated that and set an alarm, but the Campbells had gotten an earlier start. At least their car was gone from the parking lot when I emerged.

I drove eight blocks to a place claiming to specialize in breakfast and ordered meat as part of my preparation. Meat keeps me grounded in this dimension in this plane of reality. In other words, a double order of bacon is an insurance policy making it less likely I’ll either disappear or be sent flying into a transformer. I got three poached eggs to go with it and skipped the carbs except for cranberry juice.

After a brief stop at a local florist, I went back to the motel for my ritual bathing which meant a full-body dunk in saltwater. For me, salt is armor.

The first step was to clean the tub with my own natural products. Second step was hot water, of course. I soaked for ten minutes with my wand, dried off with clean towels and donned clothes that had been washed in hot water and packed separately in a plastic bag: white linen pants, white leather tennis shoes, and a white tank top. Like the candles, white took the guess work out of what nuance of hue might get me an unintended result. I wore no jewelry except for a real gold Eye of Horus for protection. It was cleaned as part of my packing process before I left Savannah and the cleaning showed. It picked up every facet of light and sparkled.

I wrestled my train case down the stairs to the car, put my stash of waters in the front seat, and set off for territory unknown. At moments like these I wished I had a second; be it assistant, partner, observer, whatever. But I didn’t, so that was neither here nor there.

The house was nothing less than charming. I could see why David and Molly had been impetuous and optimistic, willing to gamble that they’d be able to afford it. Perhaps it was the fixer upper David had described on the inside, or in mechanics like electrical or plumbing, but on the outside, it had no detectable flaws. It was a pretty, unoffensive shade of yellow with black shutters and a black door. A bit of New England perfection.

Most of the offerings in Georgetown were townhouses, ideal for busy beltway professionals who were only home to sleep, but not great for raising families. A freestanding house with a small front yard, a terrace, and a small back yard was a real estate coup in Georgetown.

Stretching the family resources so thin had committed them to the nothing-had-better-go-wrong approach to budgetplanning. I suspected that half Molly’s salary went to pay the taxes alone.

If I could persuade the unwanted company to move along, and David could manage to do the fixer upping, or pay to have it done, and if the family could avoid costly catastrophes, the place could end up being a great investment. That is a lot of ifs, but fortune favors the bold.

I parked in the driveway, took a deep breath, and took what felt like a giant step getting out of the car. Pulling my rolling case along, I was wondering if I’d brought too much, but that was folly. When one has no idea what to expect, one has to employ both conjecture and muscle to be prepared.

I turned the key, opened the door, and peeked in, barely resisting the impulse to say, “Hello?”

After my rolling case cleared the threshold, I closed the door.

Good gravy.I’d just shut myself in. I might not be alone in the house, but I was definitely the only human.

From what I could see, everything appeared to be in order. No angry black paint saying, “NO!” I hadn’t known what would greet me and was, more or less, prepared for anything. At least that was my hope. But I hadn’t anticipated the utter silence.

Most homes and their residents abide with continuous noise. Refrigerators hum. A/C units turn on and off. Externally there is noise from A/C compressors, garbage collection, birds, sprinkler systems, traffic, sirens, etc.

I stood stock still and listened for a couple of minutes. Nothing. I might as well have been alone in Carlsbad Caverns or an altered states floating chamber.

Leaving my trusty magicks bag parked by the front door, I walked through the living room. It was neat, everything in its place, and furnished in modest brands that were probablybought used. Even rich people would be well advised to wait on buying nice furniture until after their children are adolescents.

After a few steps the dining room came into view.

Empty.

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