“You were shot?”
“Smarter than you look,” she teased. “They will find the wound when they look at my body at the morgue, or wherever they’ve taken me, but I need you to find out who did this. If treaties have broken down, then...”
I tuned out as I thought back to the graffiti on the window that Kate had pointed at. She had spoken about a treaty then too. “Hang on, you said Miller was human,” I said. I hadn’t dwelled on it at the time, but it was a strange turn of phrase.
“Yes, he is, and we aren’t. You’re a witch just like everyone else in the family, Sadie.”
6
I said nothing for a minute, maybe more.
By the time I finally thought of something to say, Greta had faded into the air and I was alone with a million questions and comments and no one to talk to.
In different circumstances, being called a witch is nothing to give much mental energy to. I’ve probably used it as an insult a thousand times. Anytime a woman had been unpleasant around me I have used the word in my head. When a man is unpleasant, well... stronger language is used, let’s put it that way.
Was there a chance that Greta was using ‘witch’ as an insult? Had I demonstrated some personality trait that warranted the description and caused her to think I would be a good investigator for her murder? Could I really dismiss what she’d said, when the words had come out of a ghost’s mouth?
Standing in the hallway I watched the dimming light change the angle of shadows. The air was suffocatingly warm and a bead of sweat rolling down my forehead made me wipe at my face, bringing my attention back to where I was. I needed to open some windows, or find the AC. That might have been something useful to speak to Greta about, but she’d gone.
I knew, with certainty, that when I woke up tomorrow morning this would all be over. There was no way this wasn’t related to my exhaustion. I just had to play out the next hour at least so that I could try and get into this time zone properly, otherwise I’d have jetlag for days.
The dinner plan needed re-thinking as I’d thrown the sauce all over the kitchen tiles. I delicately opened the door again, wondering if Greta would make another sudden appearance. The room was empty. I stepped around the cheese explosion and found a cupboard full of instant noodles and other ‘just-add-water' meals.
As the kettle boiled, I cleaned the floor and walked around the ground floor of the house opening windows. The breeze began to swim through the rooms, catching the wispy hairs around my face and bringing my body temperature down. I didn’t feel as sweaty now. On my window opening quest I had located two air conditioning units and switched them both on.
I returned to the kitchen to pour hot water into the noodles and then ventured up the staircase to find the bedroom. I was so busy looking for the AC that I barely noticed what the room looked like until the cool air was blowing.
Downstairs had felt much older in terms of decoration, but the bedroom was modern and fresh. Floor to ceiling windows on one wall gave a view of the ocean and the white curtains to cover that window were wide enough to cover the entire wall. I imagined the salty air whipping the fabric on a warm, sunny morning and thought that it must be so relaxing to lie in bed listening to the water kiss the shore.
The pillows on the bed looked so plump and inviting that I dived onto the mattress and lay on my back to bask in the fancy new room I could call my own. My house back in Virginia didn’t have a scrap of style like this. My ex had owned a lot of furniture before we moved in together, so everything was his. Damaged, water-stained tables and faded fabrics filled our house, yet now I would wake up here. Bliss.
All I had to do was push all thoughts of ghosts out of my mind, avoid focusing on the fact that this place might be haunted by someone claiming to be related to me. It felt like catfishing but from beyond the grave, I wonder if they’ve made an MTV episode about that yet.
The window was east facing. This meant that I was watching the sky dance through the pinks and oranges as the sun set on the other side of the island. I had forgotten all about my noodles. The purr of the air conditioning unit was gentle, the soft white noise lulled me to sleep and I found myself dreaming of Greta.
It wasn’t a dream about anything that had happened in the cemetery, but rather just a view of her behind the counter at The Sand Witch preparing food. I was sat at a table in the far corner by a window and could see the swarms of folk lining up across the beach waiting to get in. My cafes back home had never reached this level of success, the thought of that much foot traffic was intimidating.
By the time I woke up the sun was already high enough to suggest it was mid-morning. Perhaps my empty stomach had roused me, it was then that I remembered that I hadn’t eaten. I pulled the blankets up a little higher over my shoulders and nestled in deeper within the pillows. I don’t remember when I had gotten undressed and under the sheets, but I was glad that I had.
The bright sky promised another warm day and I tried to think if I had packed anything that was appropriate for the island weather. Effie had said she would ease me into the café over the next few days so perhaps I would have time to go onto the main
