Salem's Daughters (18 page)

Chapter 28              Three Dreams

Bob woke afresh Monday morning. The sun broke through the slits of their bedroom window shutters and woke him an hour before his alarm was set to go off. He rolled back and forth, trying to find relief—both of his sides throbbed with pain.

His stirring woke Debbie. She turned, her head still buried in her pillow, eyes closed, but somehow managing to give Bob a wide smile. They ended up snuggled deep in their pillows facing each other.

“How did you sleep, sweetie.”

Bob ignored his soul mate’s morning breath. His was worse, he was sure. “The melatonin really helped. I slept straight through. Thanks for the idea.”

Debbie stroked his hair. “We need to take care of ourselves. The stress and physical demands of this place are taking their toll on our bodies and our minds.”

“Not to mention the deaths of DeShawn Hill and Paul Knudson.”

“Well, let's not dwell on that. We'll go crazy if we do. They're in the past. We need to move forward.”

Thanks to Debbie, Bob was ready to face the day with a positive attitude, even though his body felt like it was run over by a truck. He nudged six sleeping cats off the bed and tossed off his coverings. He stood and performed a few stretches, then looked in the mirror as he put on his pants and shirt.

“I had some really weird dreams last night.”

“Dreams?”

“Yeah. Three, in fact.”

Debbie sat up. “Three dreams? That’s interesting. Do you remember them?”

“Clear as day.”

“That’s memorable. They must mean something. I almost always forget mine. What were they?”

“Not that I give any credibility to dreams, however, I’m eating breakfast and everything in my world is blue. I’m by a lake and there are two guardian angels, one male and one female.”

Debbie smiled and nodded. “Okay, and then what?

“Well, that was all for the first one. I know, nothing earth shattering. In the second, I’m on a train or a subway. Everything is gray and I’m eating lunch by myself. I’m traveling forward through time and I can clearly see places to get off and get on. I know that I have the ability to stop, but have no control of where I’m going because I don’t where I’m supposed to disembark. I’m speeding forward, faster and faster, all the while passing by people and events I should be enjoying.”

Debbie’s smile was now forced, Bob knew. Two dreams in, and Bob’s concern was his wife thought he was losing his marbles. Might as well finish the third and spare Debbie asking for it.

“In the final dream, it’s night time. After a long hard day of work, I arrive home exhausted and park in the driveway. I then walk down a path and only want to go inside and eat dinner. But the path swerves around the house into the backyard. I walk all the way to the fence on the boundary line. Just as I reached out to grab it, I woke up. Oh, and you can lose the forced smile. I know this is all so strange.”

Debbie blew Bob a quick kiss. “Well, don’t fret over it. Maybe vivid dreams are a side effect of the melatonin.”

“Speaking of the sleeping aid.” Bob said, “I’m glad I got a great night’s sleep. Saturday was such a nightmare. And we worked all day Sunday getting this place back to normal. I still find it hard to believe how much work this place needs every day, even with Raymond and Maria helping. My back and sides are so sore I can hardly move.”

Bob brushed a couple more cats off their bed and helped Debbie get up and into her robe. “Let’s go to the kitchen. We can make any final preparations for today’s guests. There’re always those who show up early.”

Debbie sniffed the air. “I think I smell bacon.”

“Mmmm, I smell it too."

Bob looked at the cats, which were also sniffing the air, now wide awake and pacing the floor. “The cats can smell it too. Maria must be getting breakfast ready for us.”

The cats were running at Bob’s feet as they walked into the kitchen. “These darn cats. I almost tripped over them,” he said, steadying himself against the wall.

“Don't look now," Debbie said as they entered the kitchen. "But here come the rest.”

Bob almost tripped again as they ran between his feet. But he made it safely to the table and was happy to see breakfast and coffee waiting for him and Debbie.

“Good morning,” Maria said. “I know it’s been a rough couple days. Have a seat at the table. I’ll feed the cats.”

She filled four large bowls with scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, and melted cheese and set them on the floor. The cats converged and devoured the food.

“I’ll never get over how they eat people food,” Maria said. “They won’t touch cat food. And they love watermelon, especially since it’s been so hot.”

Bob looked at the cats gorging down their meal and shook his head. He was half way through his plate of food when he opened his laptop and checked the reservations page.

“The good news is no one cancelled. We'll have a full house. The bad news is we still have a lot of work to do. And, as usual, people will probably arrive early before the two o'clock check in.”

Debbie took a sip of her coffee and yawned. “We'd better eat up and get started. Also, I think you should write down the details of your dreams.”

“Dreams?” Maria said.

“Bob had three dreams last night,” Debbie said. She gave Maria the particulars.

“Mr. Stevens,” Maria said without hesitation. “Those are very vivid dreams. You should find someone who can interpret them. If you don’t, then I will.”

Not another mystic, Bob thought, wondering if he should have screened Maria a little more thoroughly before hiring her. Bob would normally shrug off the suggestion of an interpretation of his dreams, especially as crazy as the ones he had last night.

But with all the talk of ghosts and curses and the property being haunted, and now Maria giving him a look saying she could find a dream interpreter, he would at least leave the thought open for consideration.

Chapter 29              Double The Pleasure

Emily, along with her leaders Rebecca, Chloe, Scarlett, and Isabella, stood at the top of the stairs. The rest paced back and forth behind them, waiting for the next group of people to arrive. Raymond was mowing the front and back yards and had a full day of outdoor projects planned. Maria was busy in the upstairs laundry room, washing and drying an enormous heap of bedding and towels.

They watched from a nervous distance as Bob and Debbie each took a strange noisy monster out the dark confines of what they called ‘
The Forbidden Closet’
and proceeded to push them back and forth across the living room carpet.

These were demented creatures surely spawned in the bowels of the Netherworld. Somehow, humans had innate powers that controlled the beastly creatures.

Bob paused and peered out the living room front window. He checked his watch. “Ten after eleven. What'd I tell you, honey. The first guests are almost three hours early. Let's put the vacuum sweepers away and go outside and greet them.”

Emily blew out a sigh of relief. Bob and Debbie had once again corralled the hellish fiends and put them back in prison behind the ‘
Forbidden Door
.’ Emily had given the cats strict instructions never to open it for fear the devils would escape and swallow them whole. With the beasts now vanquished, the coast was clear to go downstairs. Emily led the charge.

“Okay, ladies. Time to pick out our next victims.”

All thirteen cats rushed down the stairs into the living room and spread out on the couches, chairs, and ottomans. The next four and a half hours brought nine more couples, three with two kids each. Emily and the cats studied each adult, looking for anything they could exploit. Weaknesses. Strengths. Habits. Emotions. Fatigue. They were patient and open to anything.

Hours seemed to drag on without mercy. It was hard for Emily to keep her eyes open. They had been awake most of the night and stuffed themselves with a huge breakfast. Scarlett dozed off, as had Angel and Esther.

Emily let her sisterhood catnap for an hour before waking them. She let the others take turns, three sleeping for an hour, while the rest studied the incoming vacationers. But as the day progressed, Emily found she was the only one still awake.

Finally, after five eternal feeling hours, the tenth couple arrived at four o'clock. The woman was loud and talking—more like barking—up a storm. Her boisterous voice penetrated through the walls and double paned windows like weaponized laser beams.

Emily could feel her anxiety and nervous intensity. She took a moment to focus on the husband. She was getting nothing, which told her he had a calm demeanor.

They were polar opposites and the energy between them was seriously conflicted. This opened many opportunities where her sisters could be most creative with their powers.

“Everyone, wake up. I like what I'm feeling about this last couple.”

The woman pushed her way in between her husband and Raymond, who was holding a half dozen pieces of their luggage. Her mouth was a locomotive on full steam ahead.

“That's right. You owe me this here vacation. I works hard for my money, ‘n all’s you do is stay at home all day watchin’ yo damn TV.”

“Aw, c’mon, baby. I be lookin’ for work.”

“Ha. You. Look for work? My cocoa brown ass you be lookin’ fo’ work. Hey, bellboy, drop the suitcases here at the door. Reginald can carry ’em up to the room. Be the first work he done in months.”

“Bellboy?”
Emily said. “How dare she? I already hate this lady.”

“Welcome to Murcat Manor,” Debbie said most graciously. “It's a pleasure to have you. Are you the Johnsons?”

“Thas right, sweetie. Reginald and Sophia Johnson. Thas who we are. Come all the way up from Detroit.”

Emily applauded Debbie for trying to be so graceful in the face of such a belligerent and obnoxious person.

“I see you've booked the Disco Room,” Debbie said. “I just know you're going to love it.”

Sophia looked around and let out a slow whistle. “Ooowee, this place’s sho' is nice. I'm glad we done booked us a solid week here.”

A week, Emily thought. Perfect. She couldn’t have scripted a better scenario.

Sophia walked across the living room to the large arched entryway to the kitchen and let out a loud long whistle. “Now this here? This here is whatcha calls a kitchen. How's the food, sweetie?” Sophia slapped at her plump belly. “I’m starving.”

Debbie caught up to Sophia. “Ah, we eat dinner in two shifts. You're on the second shift at six-thirty.”

Sophia turned and placed her hands on her more than ample hips, her head in a soul-sister neck roll. “Six-thirty? I don' think so, honey. I'm not payin’ all this money so I can eat leftovers from the first shift.”

“Oh, um, well, I'm sure we can place you on the first shift. They eat at five o'clock.”

“Damn straight. Mmmhmm. I'm on vacation, you hear? Ain’t taking no back seat to no one or no thing no how.”

Sophia returned to the living room. “Good Lord-a-Mighty. Would you jus’ take a look at all these lazy behind cats.”

“We have thirteen of them,” Bob said. “Want to take one home with you?”

“Nuh uh. Nooooo, honey. I hate cats. Had my way? I’d kill all of the useless varmints. Jus’ what kinda place you be running here? Thirteen crazy ass cats?”

Rebecca was glaring at Sophia. “This lady has no respect.”

Emily shook her head. “I feel bad for the husband. What a mouth she has. I'm almost willing to kill her and let him live.”

“Almost.”

“An’ hey—why’n the hell’s my suitcases still at the bottom of the stairs?” She smacked her palms together. “Let's go, Reginald. Get a move on, brah. This here be my vacation.
Comprendo
? Mines. M-I-N-E-S. And everyone’s gone be waitin’ hand ‘n foot on me fo’ the next seven days.”

Emily was stunned and speechless. So were the others. Their otherwise chatty mental communication airway was devoid of sound.

“Looks like we have our next victims,” Emily said, finally breaking the silence. “All in favor?”

The reply was a unanimous and resounding, “Aye!”

“Okay. We have an entire week. We should wait until the last night. Place a little more time between killing Paul Knudson and these two. If we do it tonight, Darrowby might arrest Boring Bob and shut this place down.”

“That’s my job,” Rebecca said. “When the time comes, I’ll know just what to do.”

Chapter 30              Star Child

Reginald Vincent Johnson was enjoying a deep sleep. Visions of him in high school thirty years ago, swishing buzzer-beating three-pointer after three-pointer in slow motion, swirled in his head. With every shot his defender went for the fake or couldn’t contend with his jump shot. With each swish, the crowd chanted his nickname.

Star Child.

Star Child.

Star Child.

The skinny high school senior from Detroit with an Afro so large it seemed to engulf his head would acknowledge the crowd with a fist pump.

But this was more than a dream. He felt just as much awake as he did asleep. He had free will and could make decisions.

Five seconds left. He could fake left, but decided to dribble one step to the right. Leap, fade back, release, and swish. Another buzzer-beater. More cheers of
Star Child
filled the auditorium.

Damn if he wasn’t making decisions in his dream. Time to test his theory and do something his coach told him never to do. Five seconds left. He pump faked his defender then drove the lane, dribbling past three defenders before dunking on the opposing center a foot taller than him. Yes. He was in a dream. Yet he could dictate the outcome on his own accord.

But why stop with the continuous game winners?

The crowd went wild after the center fell on his back and Reginald landed on the floor. The final buzzer sounded to more chants of
Star Child
.

Thirteen drop-dead gorgeous and built-like-a-brick-house cheerleaders mobbed him. He could read their names on their uniforms as they rushed him.

Emily.

Rebecca.

Annie.

Jacquelyn.

Chloe.

Midnight.

Helen.

Scarlett.

Angel.

Esther.

Isabella.

Rachel.

Madelyn.

His face was happily stuffed between the lead cheerleader Emily’s bountiful breasts. She grabbed him by his head and whispered with a soft sultry voice, “Reginald, dear.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Tonight—” She lolled her tongue in his ear.

“Yes—” Reginald thought he was going to explode.

“You’re going to die.”

The final word ended with a booming hiss that echoed through his head. He thought his eardrums were about to explode. Reginald woke in an instant, sitting up in bed and cupping his ears. His head was hammering. Sweat broke out on his brow.

He took a moment to catch his breath. The dream. It was so real.

He looked over at his wife. Sophia was fast asleep, a sleep mask over her eyes and a hair net covering her braid extensions. She drooled on her pillow as she snored.

Reginald sensed he wasn’t alone in The Disco Room. He scanned the four walls, the near full moon casting light through the window.

Up above the door were three shelves, one at the apex of the vaulted ceiling and two a little lower on either side. On the top shelf a single cat sat still and stared at Reginald. The red eyes pierced the night and appeared to look right through him. Invading his space. Piercing his mind.

Reginald reached to the nightstand to turn on the light. The disco ball on the ceiling came to life. Balls of color danced across the room.

He toggled the light switch to turn on the regular light. The disco ball continued to spin. He looked to Sophia, still fast asleep. He grabbed his cell phone and shined the flashlight on the feline. It didn’t budge. It didn’t blink.

There was no way for the cat to jump that high. It would take a tall ladder for someone to put the shelves there and place items on them. How the hell could that cat get up there? It must be ten feet off the floor.

“Hey Babe, wake up.”

“No,” she snorted through a half snore.

“You gotta check this out.”

“You’s not having that ol’ dream ’bout hittin’ them game winnin’ shots an being mobbed by those pretty young thang cheerleaders again, is you?”

“Oooooh yeah, baby.”

“I tol’ you t’ stop havin’ them. I don’t likes you being mobbed by all them young thangs. Even if it is in yo dreams.” She dropped her head back to her pillow.

“C’mon, baby. Wake up.”

“No. You take yo black ass back t’ sleep. And stop havin’ them dreams with them perky boobs fine ass hoes. Or I’ll whoop yo ass good. You hear me, now?”

“Forget about the dream, babe. Check out that cat.”

Sophia took off her sleeping mask and rubbed her eyes. “I tol’ Mrs. Stevens I don't wants no funky cats in my room. Throw it out. And ice them wet dreams, hear me?”

“Babes, this ain’t right. How’n the hell did that cat jump all the way up there?”

“It’s a cat, Reginald. Now takes yo’ ass back to sleep.”

Reginald got out of bed. He took off his socks, folded them into a ball, and threw them at the cat. To his amazement, the socks seem to deflect back to him as if one of his game winning shots were blocked and swatted away.

The cat didn’t blink. It continued to stare down Reginald. He stepped to his left. The head turned and the red eyes followed his movement. He stepped right. The eyes tracked him through the colored lights of the disco ball.

He looked back to his wife. She was starting to snore again. He shook the bed violently. “Wake up, woman.”

She threw the covers off, along with her mask. “Das it. I done tol’ you to take yo fool coal black ass back to sleep.”

Reginald held up his hand to ward her off. “Shhhhh. Just look,” he said in a whisper and pointed to the cat. “You tell me, how the hell that cat can git all the way up there by itself.”

Sophia leaned forward and squinted. “Yeah. That sho ’nough is weird. Even for a cat. I don’t know of no cat that can jump that high.”

“And look at those bright red eyes. Thought that only happens in pictures.”

She got out of bed and stood up straight. “It’s not moving. Maybe it’s a decoration.”

Sophia reached down and picked up one of her shoes. “Let’s see if it’s alive. I hope it is. I'll knock dat crazy ass cat off the shelf.”

“I tried that with my socks. But it’s like it has some—I dunno—some kinda force field around it.”

“Are you stupid? Socks? For real? Leave it to me.” She reared back to throw.

Reginald and Sophia jumped back when the cat hissed. The sound intensified as it reverberated through the room, growing in volume until it sounded like a jet engine before it stopped.

“Holy shit,” Sophia said. “The damn thing
is
alive.”

“And that’s the loudest hiss I’s ever done heard. That shit there could wake the dead.”

“Right now, I wants it dead.” Sophia bent back to throw the shoe and gave it a heave with a loud grunt. The shoe was deflected back and landed on the floor with a thunk.

“See what I mean?”

“Yeah. That’s real freaky. Just look at that thang. Starin’ down on us with those red eyes. It’s evil. Turn off that disco ball an turn on the normal light. Has to be somethin’ in here I can knock it off that shelf with.”

Reginald shut off the disco ball, found the light switch by the door, and flipped it up. He blinked in disbelief. Sophia gasped with her hands to her mouth. There were cats sitting, spread out all over their room staring at them.

Reginald counted out loud. “Thirteen. All thirteen cats is in here.”

“But the door’s closed. So how’n the hell’d they get in here?”

“I don’t know. But they’s going out right now.” Reginald turned the knob on the door. “Oh, now this here’s downright freaky. Door is locked.” He gripped and wrenched at it. “I can’t open it.”

“No worries,” Sophia said, picking out a brass poker by the fireplace. “I’m gonna get rid o’ these evil thangs right now.”

She took a swing at the closest cat sitting on the foot of the bed. It jumped with ease and landed on the floor on the other side of the room where it sat still, staring at Sophia.

“Oh, hell no. I don’t think so.” Sophia gripped the poker and held it up over her head.

She took more whacks at three cats. The results were the same. Each one deftly moved out of the way and found a new sitting spot where they continued to stare at the Johnsons.

Sophia bent over and grabbed her knees, wheezing and catching her breath. “Well, don’t jus’ stand there. Get yo ass over to the fireplace and grab somethin’ and start swingin’.”

Reginald grabbed the cast iron fireplace shovel, took a few practice swings, then whipped it back and forth at the cats.

“Sheeeeet, you’s getting old. You be missin’ by a mile.”

“Baby, you talk too much. Get over here and help me.”

Together they swung and thrust their weapons, but never came close. The cats jumped out of the way with ease, each time landing safely away, then sitting and staring at them.

Sophia was gasping for air. “It’s … like … these here cats,” she wheezed. “They know our every move.” Another wheeze. “Befo’ we even make it.”

A minute later, Reginald was spent. He lowered the shovel when Sophia glared at him with a crazed look. “I’ve got you now, you wicked critter from hell. You nev’r should’ve come here.”

Reginald backpedaled. “Hey wait, baby. It’s me. Put that poker down.”

“I got you. Now die, you hellion.”

Before he could react, Sophia thrust the poker deep into his chest.

Reginald's vision started to go dark. He looked at his wife as lights began to fade. “Now why you gone and done that t’ me, baby?”

And Reginald Vincent Johnson’s world went black.