Bloodstone (Talisman) Read online

  “Go on, Shi. Try not to howl at the moon,” Charlie announced as he struggled to form his words through his chuckles. His innocent crack dropped the corners of my mouth like a sack of wrenches.

  If you only knew, I thought silently, wrestling with a growing sense of angst. His amusement came to an end when Naomi reached over and gave him a hard, but good-natured whack.

  “Don’t listen to him. Here, Shi,” Naomi halted me as she bagged an order. “Take this to the guys in Bay 2 on your way out. They’ve already paid up.”

  “Will do,” I agreed, throwing my purse over my shoulder so I could take possession of the drink carrier and two brown sacks. Before exiting the kitchen, I spun around on my heels. “But don’t you want your tip?”

  Our brief silence broke when we both burst out laughing. Naomi chucked, “Yeah, right! Not from those two,” she claimed with an indubitable point of her finger. “If I’ve learned anythin’ from all of my years hoppin’ cars it’s, ‘The bigger the ride, the more their wallets hide’!”

  On that note, I threw them a light-hearted nod and trotted towards the door. Coach Hayes shot me a dirty look on my way out, which I brushed off. He was probably wondering where his precious menus were. I didn’t feel the least bit bad. Naomi was now covering my tables, he’s been here enough times that he could recite everything on it verbatim (backward even), and because let’s face it — he was a jerk! As I gave the door a firm shove with my shoulder and stepped onto the parking lot, a whirling blast of night air quickened my gait gruffly, almost like something was pushing me against my will. It served as rude awakening. I was finally free — free to rendezvous with my two supernatural cohorts and bring back Katie. However, at no time did I feel free from any of my doubts.

  Hopefully, I thought as I tried to relax a hard gulp that had wedged itself in my throat.

  The items I was carting across the lot reminded me that one thing still remained. Strangely, the thought of prolonging my departure put my nerves at ease. That is, until I heard Katie in my head telling me to “hurry up, hurry up” with a voice which called like Christmas morning. The rush of guilt I felt from entertaining thoughts of delaying her resurrection because of my own worries was immeasurable.

  I kept repeating over and over, Suck it up, Shiloh! That, shamefully, was all the zing I could bring.

  My eyes widened as they locked onto Bay 2 and the mammoth vehicle that had been wedged into the tight space. A bright-yellow, H2 Hummer was screaming, “look at me, look at me” parked there, barely leaving enough room between the menus mounted on the sides, let alone to clear the Drive-In’s extensive metal canopy what with its oversized roof-rack strapped with two pairs of skis. A long trailer stretched from the boxy vehicle’s rear that held a couple of equally flashy, color-coordinated four-wheelers and what looked like a mound of miscellaneous sporting and camping gear.

  Definitely not locals, I deduced as I noticed there wasn’t a speck of dirt or coal dust to be found anywhere on or around the sportsman’s chariot. A decorative license plate popped out at me that read, “Ramblin’ Wreck”, with a big, bug-eyed yellow jacket, flashing a rowdy grin.

  Georgia Tech, I noted doubtlessly and redirected my attention to the sketchy figures sitting in the front seats. As I stepped closer, I spotted two men hovering over a map that stretched between them. Clearly their thoughts were more importantly placed on routing their next destination than on my arrival.

  Yep… They’re a long way from home.

  I maneuvered myself beside the driver-side door, where a husky man wearing a bulky, pocket-laden khaki vest with hints of plaid-flannel peeking out sat studying a West Virginia road map. Still oblivious to my arrival, he ran his hand through his dark-brown wavy locks and then scratched the faint wisps of hair on his sparse beard (probably grown for the trip to look the part of a “redneck”). I felt awkward interrupting such deep thought, but seeing how time was of the essence, I gave their door two quick taps, backed up as I raised their sacks of food, and flashed a courteous smile along with their drinks. Just like ringing a dinner bell, the man’s head turned, and his eyes sprang open with delight.

  “Ahh. Thank you, Miss,” the jolly out-of-towner replied as I handed him his order. From my vantage point, I caught a glimpse of the passenger to his right, a much younger guy, easily in his mid-twenties, with identical hair and dark-brown eyes. He seemed to fit the “adventurer” role more naturally than the older gentleman sitting to his left. I waited as patiently as I could for the man to rummage through both bags at a snail’s pace, but after a check of my watch, I decided to hurry them along with a definitive, “There’s your two vanilla shakes and two foot-long ‘Coon-dogs’, complete with two large orders of crinkle-cut fries, and there’s plenty of ketchup in the bags.”

  “They smell delicious, though I don’t know if they can top a famous chili dog from The Varsity down by Georgia Tech,” he boasted confidently.

  Umm…That’s bordering on rude. Challenge taken, I noted quietly.

  “Well, our ‘Coon-dogs’ can hold their own. The cook uses his own secret recipe for the chili (I felt no need to inform him of how many blue ribbons it had won at countless local and state fairs)…and we butter and toast our split-top buns to perfection. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” I stated and shored my assertion up with a doubtless grin.

  The man’s brow arched coolly like he’d just accepted a silly schoolyard dare. He pulled his hot dog out of the bag, slid it out of its cardboard container towards him, just a fuzz, and sank his teeth down skeptically into its end. The look on his face said it all — eyes closed and mouth chewing ever so slowly to savor each bite, all while thinking, “I want three more”. Absolute heaven wrapped in a bun. When his seasoned-to-perfection morsel had finally begun its descent down his gullet, slowly but surely his gaze shifted towards me, where I spied a hint of defeat dancing in his brown eyes.

  I stepped back and gave my shoulders an innocent shrug. “Be sure to give The Varsity our regards,” I teased with a playful southern accent and over-exaggerated wink. The man belted out a laugh, which only intensified when he glanced over to his right and discovered that his son had just about killed off his entire foot-long while we’d been chatting.

  “Okay, Miss…if you don’t mind, let’s see if your directions are as good as your food. We’re up here from Atlanta on a little vacation. My son, Neil, over here just received his Masters in Chemical Engineering. He got himself a job at Union Carbide in Charleston, starting the first of February. He’ll be moving up here in a month. But this trip is his graduation gift… A month-long, outdoor excursion all over the state. Hunting, fishing, skiing, mountain climbing, caving, BASE-jumping, and four wheeling. I figured he could have some fun while he gets familiar with the area. He’ll be a bona fide local before you know it!” the man declared proudly as he grabbed his son’s head and roughed him up with an affectionate noogie.

  That’s sweet… I really miss that, I envied silently as I watched the two men playfully jab at each other. It served as yet another in-your-face reminder of my father’s abrupt departure.

  “But here’s the thing. We didn’t make reservations for tonight, and I don’t know where or if there are any motels nearby. Could you give us some of that West Virginia hospitality that y’all are known for and help us out?”

  “Sure,” I replied with a kind-natured smile. “There’s only one motel in town. The Heritage Inn. It stays pretty packed, and I think there’s a reunion in town. But, you might luck up and find a room there. Just head east on the road behind you. Route 16. You’ll see their sign in about four miles. It’ll let you know where to turn.”

  “Gotcha,” the man confirmed as he jotted the info down on the corner of his map.

  “So, what adventure do you two daredevils have slated for tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Hitting a couple of routes on the Hatfield and McCoy Trails,” his son announced with an obvious air of excitement.

  “Have fun,” I remarked a
s I glanced back at their shiny yellow, mud-free ATV’s and grinned. Those will get a proper christening in the morning.

  “Thank you, Miss, and now we’ll let you be on your way. You have a nice evening,” the older gentleman announced as he reached for the ignition.

  “Glad I could help. Have a great time and welcome to wild, wonderful West Virginia,” I stated courteously with a wave while I entertained Naomi’s on-the-money formula when it came to customers and their “tips”.

  “We will,” they replied in unison, irrefutably. I turned and started walking towards my car, but was abruptly halted — dead in my tracks — when an eerie sensation shot through me. It wasn’t exactly what I’d call a “premonition”, but something in my gut rolled with a cautionary vibe concerning these two men. The murky, foreboding feeling involuntarily whirled my body back around.

  “Stay…safe,” I hollered uneasily over the grumbling of their V-8 engine. I wasn’t sure if they’d heard me or not. They simply smiled and waved as they carefully backed their caravan onto the road and took off, just as I’d instructed. While I watched them drive off down the road, something inside me hoped that they heeded my last bit of advice.

  That was weird, I reflected warily as I strolled over to my car.

  No sooner than I’d slid down into the seat of my old Charger and slammed its door, the sound of a throat clearing — prolonged and theatrically — struck my ears like a bass drum.

  “It’s about time, Shi! What’s up with the West Virginia welcome-wagon crap? I was starting to think you were going to hop in their vehicle so you could personally escort them there and tuck ’em in!” Katie ranted.

  “Uhhh…Snarky, much?” I countered as I cranked my ignition, hoping the engine’s revs would stifle any further complaints.

  “I don’t mean to bitch. I’m just really anxious,” Katie admitted. Her words sounded as rattled as the tune my car was sputtering. “I just want to hurry up and get this over with. You try living in a sea of grays for a month with only the sounds within ear-shot or rather, ‘diamond-shot’, to keep you company and limited conversations with only one person to keep you sane.” As I twisted around restlessly in my worn-out leather seat, an uncomfortable hard lump dug into my rear.

  “I know. I know, Katie,” I agreed as I yanked the hilt out of my back pocket and recanted its invisibility spell. I placed it securely in the passenger-seat beside me and stared at the seat-cushion for a second. Hopefully there would be more than just a magical hilt that hid a sword-like diamond sitting there the next time I started up my engine. “Believe it or not, I’m just as nervous as you are. Maybe more?” I posed. “I have to actually heal your body, first. Then Bea will use her golden topaz to suspend it temporarily, so Gallia can reunite your soul to it with some stone she’s bringing. And that’s after we dig your, keep-your-fingers-crossed, ‘amethyst-preserved’ butt up. All you have to do is basically show up,” I assessed with a curt tone.

  “Sounds like a piece of cake for the old Diamond Talisman. As far as I’m concerned, if you can conjure a bolt of lightning out of thin air on a sunny day, then surely you’re up to the task,” Katie posed nonchalantly. “You know, that diamond of yours needs to be radiating more confidence than anything else. I’d hate for you to be all show and no go…especially tonight!”

  Despite my engine’s loud consistent rhythm as it idled, an abrupt silence filled the confining quarters of the car that was almost deafening. Leave it to Katie to attempt her version of a rousing “pep talk”. I should’ve expected nothing less from my bosom friend. But as I sat there struggling to summon as much confidence that I could muster, the truth of the matter was that bringing Katie back wasn’t at the root of my troubles. Even if tonight’s mystical endeavor was a success, my seed of doubt sprouted from its unknown aftermath.

  What happens after her soul is reunited with her body? Everyone thinks she’s dead. Her family… Her friends… Even the daggone West Virginia State medical examiner… Surely someone will bat more than an eye when she pops up out of the freakin’ blue… I can’t brainwash the entire state!

  As crazy as it sounded, the “after” part was never, ever discussed. Katie never felt inclined to talk about it, and I felt horrible enough about the dilemma that I sure wasn’t about to bring it up willingly. What would I say? Yay! You’re back…all snuggly warm and safe inside your body! As good as new! Oh, and by the way… Here’s a one-way ticket to Bora Bora and some cash so you can live out the rest of your life in a grass hut on your new island home, secluded, without any connection to your past existence in Welch… Except for me, of course — Your best, bosom friend — or now to be known forever as “the chick who ripped the only life you’ve ever known away when I put you into this position in the first place”.

  I don’t think so!

  “What’s wrong? Are you worried about something?” Katie queried nervously. “Doesn’t Bea think you can pull it off?”

  “Oh, ummm,” I mumbled as I gathered my thoughts. “Yeah. She said we have everything we need for the ritual,” I assured her, trying not to sound like a skeptic. “Bea’s actually been looking forward to it. She’s only seen this attempted one other time. I think it took place a couple of centuries ago.”

  “Attempted?” Katie questioned, practically shrieking. “Did she say how it went?”

  Straightaway, I cringed as I grabbed the steering wheel. I couldn’t let too much time lapse before I answered, for good reason. It hadn’t turned out so well.

  “She didn’t really elaborate too much,” I skirted.

  “You’re lying,” Katie charged. Before I even got a chance to untruthfully refute her accusation she added, “Save it! I haven’t told you this, but whenever you’re upset or tell me something that’s…not on the up and up, my gray surroundings turn black. I guess the hue reflects your mood,” she confessed.

  “Oh,” I mumbled in a low, grim tone. That unnerving confession pulled the rug right out from under me. “I—I didn’t realize,” I replied, feeling crestfallen.

  “Look, Shi…I know you and Bea talk secretly. I also know you block your conversations telepathically. My world goes kind of fuzzy then, too. It didn’t take me long to figure that one out. But you never shield your moods, just your words. I didn’t want to say anything. I figured you were only doing it to protect me. But it’s draining every ounce of what ‘being’ I have left… So, if this is how you’re going to be the whole way to the cemetery, just please, hang me on the rear view mirror and turn on some tunes so I can keep my mind positive and clear. It tends to get muddled by yours. Okay?”

  That was blunt… Truthful, but blunt.

  “Okay,” I complied as I unfastened the necklace’s clasp, granting Katie what I hoped would be her last “unearthly” request, and gently reattached the golden strand around my rear-view mirror. I couldn’t hear her thoughts or sense any of her feelings and she, to her apparent relief, was free from mine. While I watched the sparkly pendant slow to a stop as it dangled above my dash, my heart felt compelled to give the diamond a good-luck “flick” — but something in my head urged me not to. Actually, it was a mental picture of Katie in there with her hands over her head screaming, “I’m not a freakin’ fish!” That prompted me to take a deep breath and say a quick prayer before I finally threw my old clunker into “drive” and veered onto the highway, apprehensively headed for the graveyard.

  Chapter 2 — There’s One in Every Crowd

  I turned on some tunes for Katie’s listening pleasure, just as she had requested. I needed a little audio distraction myself. My bosom friend had been on an ABBA kick lately, what with her love of oldies and her newfound affinity for musicals. I supposed after hearing Mama Mia! a few too many times blaring from Bea’s TV, the soundtrack inevitably got stuck in her head. Attentively, I slid an old CD I’d snagged from Charlotte’s collection into my stereo and searched for her favorite track, Dancing Queen.

  A mile down the road and a few minutes into the song, I trusted Kat
ie was feeling more relaxed, but not even the beautiful dance melody flowing from the speakers could lull me into a state of tranquility. My mind kept reflecting on the past month, particularly about the first time I pondered Katie’s dilemma as I thought (now privately), “what will be?”

  The question first called out to me during, of all places, Katie’s funeral. Talk about uncomfortable. I could barely look either of her parents in their eyes. But I HAD to go. I was her best friend, plus I knew how that girl operated. She would’ve driven me crazy by singing some heinous song over and over until I caved. Considering how much pain she knew her parents were in, I had my reservations about bringing her along, but she swore she could handle it. Katie had this crazy idea that knowing who turned up and what they said about her would offset any sadness and in the end, “be a hoot”. She hounded me THE ENTIRE TIME to describe everything to her — who was there (and who wasn’t), the casket, the flowers, what she was wearing, what other people were wearing, and every other detail in-between. Katie actually got a little ticked when I revealed that the fire-engine red streaks she’d put in her hair were no longer there. Her mom had the stylist dye it back to its natural brunette color and fashioned it in a more conservative “do”. Katie knew her mom hated it, but she never dreamed ’ole Julia would go so far as to have “her say” in the end — lying on her deathbed. Realistically, what did she expect? Her parents were on the controlling side, right down to planning her future as the next manager of their jewelry store downtown, destined to remain in Welch. Had she forgotten about that? Sensing her outrage, I opted to lie about her attire. I told Katie that her mother had dressed her in favorite outfit, a tailored black and white horizontal striped dress that hugged her figure like a glove. I saw no need to fill her in on the loose-fitting, puffy-sleeved nightgown her mother had opted for (nor the ribbon-laden wreath of wildflowers circling her head). Though I had to admit, the gobs of crisp white fabric stuffed all around her did make her look rather angelic. I’m sure that’s exactly how Julia Stowell wanted the last image of “her baby” to be — for her sake. Katie would argue the contrary. She’d swear the look her mother had achieved was “virgin up for sacrifice”.