Pages and Premonitions, page 2
Gathering her things in a hurry, the young woman dashed up the interior stairs hidden behind the store's stockroom with Harper following her, for once not bothering to be sure she’d shut off the lights in the bookshop. She locked the apartment door behind them and went around turning on every light.
Collapsing onto her overstuffed couch, Shelby tried to slow her still panicked breathing. She couldn't stop replaying the bizarre and terrifying incidents over and over in her mind, analyzing every detail of the unbelievable experiences.
Had her cat spoken to her?
Had she really seen a book floating in midair, lifted from the counter by an invisible hand?
No, it wasn't possible. She fumbled for explanations. She must have knocked her head harder than she realized that morning, resulting in the vivid hallucinations. That had to be the only plausible solution.
But despite her best efforts, Shelby couldn't banish the lingering uneasy feeling that she hadn't imagined any of it. Something strange had happened in the bookshop after she’d fallen off the ladder. She didn’t know what that something was - but she intended to find out.
Shelby looked down at Harper, now snoozing on her lap as if nothing was amiss. "What do you say, should we do some investigating?" she murmured.
The only response was a flick of a gray ear.
Trying to ignore her fear, Shelby picked up the new novel she had placed on the coffee table when she’d come home. She stared blankly at the pages without comprehending the words, too distracted by racing thoughts to focus on the story. Sighing in defeat, she set the book aside.
She had a mystery of her own to occupy her thoughts.
2
After dozing off for a few minutes on the comfortable sofa in her cozy living room, Shelby woke with a start, her head still reeling from the bizarre events that had happened at the bookshop. She couldn't erase the image of a novel hovering in mid-air or the sound of Harper's voice speaking words only she seemed able to hear.
"I must have hit my head a lot harder than I thought," Shelby muttered, absently stroking the cat snuggled on her lap. Harper lifted her head, fixing her intelligent green eyes on Shelby's worried face.
“You're not losing your mind, Shelby. I really can speak to you now.”
Shelby jerked in surprise, nearly toppling the purring cat from her lap. "Did you just ... talk? Did you really just talk?" she asked incredulously.
Harper flicked an ear, looking faintly amused. “Of course. We have a lot to discuss now that you're able to hear me.”
"This isn't possible," Shelby objected faintly, even as her mind raced to comprehend the implication of carrying on a conversation with her formerly mute pet. "Cats can't talk."
Harper sat up regally, wrapping her plumed tail neatly around her paws and said, “Perhaps not under normal circumstances, but you suffered a blow to the head, which seems to have awakened your psychic ability that allows you to understand my speech.”
Shelby carefully set the cat on the floor and stood up, pressing both hands to her still-tender head. "Psychic powers? You must be joking. I need to lie down. I think I have a concussion."
With a gentle nudge of her head against Shelby's leg, Harper directed the unsettled young woman back to the couch.
“Your mind is clear,” the cat told her. “This is no concussion or hallucination. You were always sensitive, though you suppressed your intuition in favor of logic and reason. Your injury disrupted the barricades around your inner eye.”
Shelby stared at the talking feline with a dozen arguments right on the tip of her tongue, but gazing into Harper's eyes, she felt her doubts fade. On some level, this all made sense. Shelby had experienced strong intuition and hunches her entire life, though she often dismissed them as imagination. Maybe her perception really had been enhanced somehow when she hit her head.
"Okay," Shelby said slowly. "Let's say I believe you, and this new ability to ... to read your mind is real. Why me? And what does it have to do with the strange things I saw in the bookshop tonight?"
Harper settled back down, tucking her paws underneath her. “You have a bright spirit that’s receptive to sights and sounds beyond the ordinary. As for what happened after you closed the shop, I suspect someone from Hamlet's past was trying to make contact.”
A shiver danced down Shelby's spine at the memory of the book floating in the air. "A ghost, you mean?"
“Yes,” Harper replied. “There are many restless souls tied to this land. You may have the power to help lay their burdens to rest.” The cat didn’t want to say anything more, not wanting to overwhelm her owner.
Shelby leaned her head back against the soft cushions, her brow furrowed. She had never given serious consideration to Hamlet's haunted history and exciting tales of witches, ghosts, and magic. Some of her family members had written off the supernatural stories as fanciful legends meant to draw in tourists. Could there be some truth to the local lore after all?
The sound of footsteps mounting the exterior stairs to the second-floor porch outside her apartment door interrupted Shelby's swirling thoughts. She had nearly forgotten her standing movie night with her best friend Lucy Blake. Lucy, a pastry chef at a bed-and-breakfast inn in the center of town, gently knocked twice before bursting through the door, arms laden with her promised caramel popcorn and a bottle of wine.
"Hey, sorry I'm late. The caramel took longer to get to that perfect gooey stage. Hope you picked a good movie for us...."
Lucy's voice trailed off as she took in the sight of Shelby sitting motionless on the couch, her face pale and eyes wide. Her usually polished wavy hair was falling down around her face.
"Shelby, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." Lucy quickly set down her offerings and hurried to her friend’s side.
Shaking herself, Shelby tried to summon a reassuring smile for her concerned friend. "I'm okay, really. I’m just a little rattled by something that happened at the shop earlier this morning. I fell off a ladder hanging up decorations and hit my head."
"Oh no! Are you all right?" Lucy peered anxiously into Shelby's eyes, checking her pupils, then ran gentle fingers over the large lump on the back of her scalp. "That's a nasty bump. You might have a concussion. You need to go to the doctor tomorrow."
Shelby captured Lucy's fluttering hands in her own and squeezed them. "I promise to get checked out if the pain gets any worse or if I start to feel confused. It's just a bump, though. I was only out for a couple of seconds."
Lucy still looked doubtful, but she finally nodded. "Okay, but I'm keeping an eye on you tonight to make sure you don't start vomiting or passing out on me. Concussions are nothing to mess around with."
Shelby smiled. Trust Lucy to fuss over her - she had been a nurturer and a worrier since they met as children.
Shelby let Lucy coax her to the kitchen island while she prepared mugs of chamomile tea with lavender honey from a local store. Soon they were curled up together under a blanket in front of the TV, Harper joining them to bask in the extra attention.
Sipping her tea slowly, Shelby listened as Lucy chattered about her day spent rearranging furniture in the rooms of the bed and breakfast where she worked. Besides her love of baking, Lucy also enjoyed styling and designing spaces and was never content to let the decor remain the same for long.
Shelby made agreeable noises while her own thoughts drifted. She still felt unsettled by her encounter with the supernatural force in the bookshop and the unbelievable fact that she could now hear her cat talk to her. Part of her wanted to confess the baffling events to level-headed Lucy, who would set things back to normal.
But another part of Shelby hesitated. She knew once she told Lucy there would be no taking it back or pretending it never happened. Saying the words out loud would make the strange incidents real in a way Shelby wasn't sure she could handle. Maybe some fears were better left unspoken.
Shelby nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Harper's soft paw touch her arm. The cat's luminous eyes bored into hers.
“Tell her, Shelby. Don't carry this alone. She’ll understand.”
Blowing out a long breath, Shelby set down her mug on the coffee table. "I need to tell you something. Something weird happened at the store after I hit my head. Promise you won't think I'm crazy?"
Lucy muted the television and shifted to face her friend, her brow furrowing in concern again. "Of course, I won't think you're crazy. Well, maybe a little crazy,” she teased. “What's going on?"
Haltingly at first, and then with increasing urgency, Shelby described the floating book, the icy blast of unnatural cold, and the sense of a presence in the shop. Finally, she voiced the unbelievable claim that she now possessed the ability to communicate telepathically with her cat.
"I know it sounds insane," Shelby concluded helplessly. "I must have imagined it all after getting knocked out, right?"
She searched Lucy's face anxiously for reassurance, but her friend looked thoughtful rather than dismissive.
"Honestly, I don't think you made this up," Lucy said finally. She held up a hand when Shelby started to object. "Hear me out. We both know Hamlet has a long history of weird supernatural stuff happening, and you said yourself your head feels fine, no double vision or nausea. So maybe when you fell, it unlocked some psychic ability you already had."
Shelby just stared, dumbfounded, as Lucy continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "You always had great intuition. When we were kids, you'd get feelings about things that came true. You just wrote it off as coincidence, but what if you were sensing things all along?”
Lucy leaned forward; her blue eyes were full of interest. "Have you tried reading Harper's mind again since you got home? Let’s test it. Here, I'll think of a number between one and twenty. You ask Harper to tell you what it is."
"Oh, come on," Shelby laughed uncertainly. "You don't really think I can read the cat's thoughts, do you?"
Lucy kept a serious expression on her face. "Just try it." She leaned toward the cat and whispered a number to her.
Too weak to argue, Shelby looked down at the watching cat. Feeling ridiculous, she silently asked Harper, “Can you tell me the number Lucy is thinking of?”
The cat glanced at Lucy and blinked slowly. “The number is seven.”
Shelby's jaw dropped. She whirled to gape at her friend. "She said seven. Is that right?"
Looking equally stunned, Lucy muttered, "Holy crap, that's right. You heard Harper say the number to you? That's amazing. This is incredible."
The reality of what she’d done slammed into Shelby like a freight train. She really could understand Harper's thoughts. This had to be an injury-induced hallucination.
Shelby jumped up from the sofa. "I think I need some air." She grabbed a sweater and headed for the second-floor balcony connected to her apartment, ignoring Lucy's worried protests.
Outside, Shelby gripped the railing with white knuckles, gazing blindly at the town lights twinkling below as she struggled to accept this new and terrifying reality.
Harper's revelation was genuine - Shelby really did have psychic powers. She wasn't losing her mind, but it was expanding in unbelievable ways.
The balcony door creaked open behind her, and Lucy's arm slipped around Shelby's shoulders. "I know it's a lot to take in," she whispered, "but we'll figure it out. It will be okay."
Turning to her friend, Shelby’s vision blurred with grateful tears. "I'm scared. I don't understand what's happening to me."
"Shh, it's okay." Lucy pulled Shelby into a hug. "This is big and weird, but we'll figure it out."
They stood that way for several long moments until the chilly night air drove them inside. Shelby curled back in her spot on the sofa, Harper in her lap, and Lucy's shoulder pressed warmly against hers. The familiar bonds steadied her churning emotions. She took a deep breath.
"So, where do I go from here? I can't ignore what's happening to me, but I don’t know how to handle it."
Lucy bit her lip thoughtfully. "I think we know someone who can help. Let’s go talk to Fiona. I think she’s working tonight.”
Sixty-five-year-old Fiona Medley owned a little witchy boutique on Main Street called Crow's Crossing, where she sold all sorts of witch-inspired clothing and accessories.
Shelby nodded. She had often admired the New Age shop's ethereal music, intriguing window displays, and merchandise, and Fiona was always pleasant and friendly when she’d visited the store.
"This town is full of people who believe in magic. You couldn’t be in a better place to find the help you need. Fiona is supposed to be a real practicing witch. She does readings and spells and stuff," Lucy continued. "I bet she could teach you more about your abilities and how to use them."
Shelby weighed the suggestion. Learning from an experienced witch or psychic or whatever Fiona was seemed like her best option. This wasn't something she could just look up on the internet, and Fiona was discreet - Shelby didn't want her sudden extrasensory powers broadcast all around town. She exhaled, feeling the rightness of the decision.
"Okay, let's talk with Fiona. Hopefully, she can provide some guidance."
Lucy beamed. "Don't worry," she said reassuringly. "It's going to be amazing once you learn about your abilities and train them."
Despite her nervousness, Shelby found Lucy's enthusiasm contagious. With her friend by her side and a mentor like Fiona to help navigate the uncharted waters, Shelby felt a glimmer of excitement breaking through her panic. A sixth sense was nothing to fear - she would learn about it and try to make it her own. If nothing else, it would be an adventure. She hoped.
She turned to the cat. “What do you think, Harper?”
Harper bumped her head affectionately against Shelby's hand, a contented purr rumbling deep inside her. “You'll be all right. I'll help you on your journey,” the cat said to the young woman’s mind, “and Lucy will help, too.”
“Maybe I’m not losing my mind,” Shelby whispered as she stroked the soft fur, feeling grateful for the unwavering support of her closest friend and her sweet cat. She had allies for whatever lay ahead. The future felt uncertain but no longer as daunting as it had a few hours ago, now that she had Lucy and Harper standing with her.
Shelby took comfort in the ancient words of wisdom, whispering reassuringly in her heart: When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.
3
Shelby stepped out into the bracing night air with Lucy at her side and Harper's warm weight cradled in her arms. Her world had shifted in a few short hours, leaving her reeling, but talking to the friendly witch Fiona might bring some much-needed answers.
"It sure is cold," Lucy said, linking her arm through Shelby's, "but the fresh air will do us both good."
As they set off up Main Street, Shelby admired the familiar storefronts decorated for the holidays with pine garlands, red bows, and white lights. The festive charm of her little town soothed some of her inner turmoil. Hamlet was home, a place of safety - surely nothing too alarming could happen here.
As they approached the pretty facade of Crow's Crossing, Shelby's nerves returned. The store was closed, but the windows still glowed from a few lights on inside. Shelby and Lucy could see Fiona moving about in the shop.
Fiona had always seemed perfectly ordinary on Shelby's few visits to the shop's candles, crystals, and hippie-chic clothes, but learning the friendly shopkeeper practiced witchcraft made her feel uneasy.
Shelby slowed, clutching Harper tighter. "Maybe this isn't a good idea. I'm not sure I'm ready for answers about ... anything."
Lucy's hand on her back prodded her gently forward. "It's scary, I know, but you need to understand what's happening to you. Fiona can help."
With a shaky exhale, Shelby nodded. She had never shied away from life's challenges in the past – and there was no reason to start now. Hand trembling only slightly, she knocked on the door’s window glass, and in a few moments, Fiona opened it with a serious expression. “Hi there. I’m closed for the day.”
“Could we come in for a few minutes?” Lucy asked.
Fiona looked at Shelby, down at the cat, and back up to Shelby’s face. “What’s happened?” the woman asked.
Shelby stumbled over her words. “I fell off a ladder today.”
Fiona nodded and stepped back so they could come into the warm boutique.
The comforting scents of sandalwood and cinnamon enveloped them. Rune-inscribed candles and stacks of spell books filled one of the shelves. Shelby relaxed slightly, until she noticed Fiona regarding her intently, the woman’s keen eyes searching her face.
"You'd better come out back," the woman suggested kindly. With a tilt of her head, she beckoned Shelby and Lucy behind the black velvet curtain separating the store's public and private areas. “Come along, Harper.”
For a second, Shelby wondered how Fiona knew the cat’s name. She must have told her about the cat one day when she was in the store shopping.
Off the back storeroom, there was a cozy sitting room with a crackling fire and overstuffed armchairs that surprised Shelby. She had pictured bubbling cauldrons, not comfy sofas. Fiona busied herself preparing tea while Lucy prodded Shelby into a cushioned seat.
"Drink this. It will calm you." Fiona pressed a floral teacup into Shelby's tense hands and settled in a chair across from her. The steaming infusion smelled delicate and honey-sweet.
After drinking a fortifying sip and absent-mindedly touching the gem on her necklace, Shelby began haltingly recounting the day's bizarre events – falling off the ladder, the floating book, and being able to hear Harper speaking to her. The words spilled out in a rush, her tone begging Fiona to deliver a reasonable explanation.
The witch listened intently, absently stroking Harper, who had curled up beside her. As Shelby's story wound down, Fiona smiled and nodded.
