Witch Ball - BK 3 (2 page)

I glanced over at Penny-Love sharply. Had she
set me up? But I kept my unease to myself and
shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "There's no predicting what Manny will do."

"Will you ask him?" Jill persisted with a smile
that was hard to refuse.

"Come on, Sabine," Penny-Love pleaded. "Ask
him for us."

"Sure. I'll talk to him at school tomorrow, but
no guarantees."

"Great!" Everyone smiled at me, and I felt lucky
to be part of this fun group. I didn't want to disappoint them, and hoped Manny would say yes. He
was a complex mix of ego, honesty, and ambition. He thrived on being unconventional and was respected for his fearless attitude. He'd proven himself
a trusted friend, and was one of only two people at
school who knew I was psychic.

More plans for booths were made, while pizza
slices disappeared and drinks were refilled. Talk
shifted to Penny-Love (as usual) and she told everyone about how my grandmother planned to hire
her as a "Love" assistant. Nona ran a computer dating service called Soul Mate Matches, but a serious
health condition had recently caused her to need an
assistant. I worried about my grandmother and had
recently bought a cell phone so she could contact
me if she was in trouble.

So when my phone rang, I dropped my pizza.

It was Nona-and she sounded frantic.

"Hurry home!" she cried. "It's the witch ball!"

I hid my anxiety from my friends, saying I had to
leave because my grandmother needed help defrosting the freezer. It was a lame excuse, but Penny-Love
would have insisted on coming along for anything
but a housework emergency. I did not want the
Queen of Gossip to know about the weird side of
my life.

As I pedaled home on my bike, my mind spun
faster than my legs. Nona had sounded so fright ened, worse than when her memory failed and she
couldn't find car keys or important papers. Despite
her worsening illness, she always remained upbeat
and confident. I was usually the one who leaned on
her. So having her call in a panic was really unnerving. What had she meant by her cryptic message?

The witch ball.

A distant relative had given it to me over a
week ago. The sphere sparkled with rainbow-tinted
crystal shards trapped inside clear glass. It was so
pretty, obviously a rare antique, and I'd been excited to show it to Nona. But instead of being impressed, she'd ordered me to "get that cursed thing
out of my sight!"

"Cursed?" I'd asked in astonishment. "You
can't be serious. It's just a glass ball."

"A witch ball," she'd corrected.

I was totally baffled by Nona's reaction and
wondered if paranoia was another symptom of her
illness. Sure the ball gave off strange vibes, but
that's what made it fascinating. Antiques often carried energy from the past-the older they werethe stronger the energy. From the moment I held
the ball, I'd been intrigued by the strange aura I
sensed within its depth.

Out of curiosity last week, I'd looked up "witch
ball" on the Internet. Despite the spooky name,
there was nothing magical about the glass balls. According to legend, centuries ago witch balls were
hung in windows to ward off evil from passing
witches. Any negative thoughts were supposed to reflect back to the sender. While I believed in ghosts
and spirits, I didn't believe in old-fashioned superstitions. I liked to pet black cats and thirteen was my
favorite number. Still, to pacify my grandmother, I'd
shut the ball inside my closet.

So why had she made the frantic call?

A car honked as I pedaled onto Lincoln Avenue. It never took long to ride my bike anywhere
in semi-rural Sheridan Valley. But now the short
mile back to my home seemed like a cross-country
trip.

Autumn trees, golden-brown fields, and houses
blurred as I neared Lilac Lane. There were fewer
homes on this rural road, bordered by tangled woods
that stretched to Nona's ten-acre farm. Passing our
barn-shaped mailbox, I careened into the long dirt
driveway. Gravel and dust kicked up as my wheels
churned, and through oak trees I saw Nonas weathered yellow farmhouse. It looked so peaceful, and I
felt a comforting sense of belonging. Home was no longer in San Jose with my parents, but here in the
heart of Nonas farm, and I was terrified of losing
it all.

As I neared the house, I saw my grandmother
on the porch-only she wasn't alone. Dominic
stood beside her. Part handyman and part apprentice to Nona, Dominic was still a mystery to me.
He seemed a few years older than me, but he didn't
go to school or discuss his past. All I knew was that
his mother had died, he'd suffered abuse from a
cruel uncle, and had an unusual connection to
animals.

As usual, his sandy brown hair waved out of
place and he wore rugged jeans and western boots.
He was leaning close to Nona protectively, but
when he turned toward me, his blue eyes hardened
like stone.

"About time." Typical Dominic-short on
words but high on attitude.

"I left as soon as Nona called." I dropped my
bike and rushed up the porch steps. "Nona, are
you okay?"

"Yes." Loose silver-brown tendrils of hair escaped from her paisley scarf and she pushed them
back as she offered a weak smile. "I-I suppose I
overreacted. It was just such a shock seeing . . . "

"Seeing what?" I put my arm around her shoulders and was surprised to find her trembling.

Dominic pursed his lips. "You should know."

"Well, I don't," I said breathlessly, and not only
because I'd raced here on my bike. I couldn't understand why Dominic was acting so hostile to me,
which added to the tension between us since our
trip to Pine Peaks. We'd gotten intimate in an unexpected moment, and now everything was awkward. I didn't know what he thought or if he
wondered what I thought or if I even cared. It was
safer to keep my distance, which I had-until now.

"You brought it here," Dominic told me, "so
you're responsible."

"For what?"

"Putting that up there," Nona answered, pointing high at the kitchen window. Her face was so
pale, the wrinkles stood out, as if she'd aged twenty
years since I'd left for school this morning.

I followed her gaze and saw rainbow lights
flash in the window. "Is that the witch ball?" I murmured, puzzled. "Who hung it up there?"

"You?" Dominic guessed.

"No way! I left it in my closet."

"It didn't stay there." Nona sank on the porch
swing.

"Very strange." Dominic ran his rugged hand
over his forehead. When he moved closer to me,
his nearness made my breath catch. Neither of us
said anything. I wondered if he was thinking about
the witch ball or remembering that stormy night
when a surreal moment on a dance floor led to our
kissing.

I stepped back from him. "I don't know how
the witch ball got into the kitchen. It's been in my
closet since Nona asked me to put it away. Someone must have taken it from my room."

"Or it moved by itself," my grandmother said
in a hushed tone, rocking slightly on the swing,
her hands clasped in her lap.

"Impossible," I insisted.

Dominic touched his chin thoughtfully. "The
animals have been acting strange. Keeping away
from the house."

"You can't possibly think the witch ball is
haunted."

His blue eyes darkened as he leaned closer to
me. "What do you think?"

The questions in his gaze made my heart jump.
Were we still talking about the witch ball? I gave a
firm shake of my head. "It's not haunted."

"Are you sure?"

"I haven't seen any visions or ghosts."

"So who moved the ball?"

"I have no idea," I said a bit defensively. "I've
been at school, and then at the pizza parlor-"

"With your boyfriend?" Dominic asked with a
frown.

"No. I was with Penny-Love and some friends."
I felt my cheeks heat up and wondered why he was
even asking. He couldn't possibly care whom I went
out with. He probably didn't even remember our
kiss. If only I could forget ...

I moved away from him and sat beside Nona
on the porch swing, gently taking her hand in mine.
"I'm sorry the ball upset you."

"It's evil." Nona stared up at the window. "I
refuse to go inside until it's gone."

"I offered to get rid of it," Dominic said, "but
Nona wouldn't let me."

"Not without first talking to Sabine." She
turned back to me. "I was hoping you'd have a logical explanation."

"I wish I did-but I don't. I'll go take it down."

When I entered the kitchen, I stared up, amazed
all over again by the glass ball's beauty. Dazzling colors reflected from the glittery sphere, dancing across
the walls like a rainbow ballet. The ball dangled over the sink, hung from a string loped over a nail. Despite its witchy name, it certainly hadn't hopped on a
broom and flown to the kitchen window. So how
did it get up there?

There was one explanation I didn't want to
consider, but sadly it made the most sense. Had
Nona moved the ball herself and then forgotten?
Her failing memory caused her to behave strangely;
a few weeks ago she'd left the house for a luncheon,
wearing her nightgown and slippers. Fortunately,
I'd stopped her before she'd gotten too far.

I pushed a chair over by the window, then
climbed high to reach the witch ball. It seemed so
happy in the window, as if it belonged in sunlight,
and I felt oddly guilty for taking it down. But I
didn't want to upset Nona any further. Unhooking
the ball, I carried it back into my bedroom.

"Is Nona right?" I murmured, turning the glass
ball between my hands as I sat on the edge of my
bed. "Are you haunted?"

Its not going to answer, a sassy voice spoke in
my mind.

"Hey, Opal," I greeted my spirit guide. Opal
was my go-between with the other side. She could
be really bossy, but I could usually trust whatever
she told me. So I asked her about the witch ball.

You do manage to connect yourself to the unusual, she told me and my mind-vision of her was
smiling with amusement. I cease to understand why
you call upon me to solve all your trivial concerns.

gust tell me yes or no . . . is this witch ball
haunted?"

To simply put it-since you insist of a blunt
manner of speaking-maybe.

"Maybe! What kind of answer is that?"

A true answer.

"Is there a ghost inside the ball?"

Ghosts do not reside within earthly objects. Certainly the ball is aged and carries a strange essence.
Emotions and happenings linger like a strong aroma
and can perfume a dwelling long past its occupants
have expired, but this object is ofyour world and has
no unnatural attributes.

"So it's ordinary glass?"

As ordinary as the bed you sit upon. Although I
am aware of something else ... an entity close by, but
not clear .. .

"What kind of entity?"

I am unsure ... There are strong emotions of
anger. Its very peculiar ...

"What do you mean?" I waited for a reply.
"Opal, are you still there?"

Silence.

The air around me grew chilly and the ceiling
light flickered, then went out. An odd smell filled
the room; sweet like vanilla, but so overpowering,
I almost choked.

Darkness made me nervous. I had a collection
of night-lights and always kept one plugged in.
But tonight my walls were murky shadows; the
only light flaring was from the witch ball. When I
looked down, I was startled to find the glass glowing crimson and blue, like a bleeding sky.

With a shriek, I dropped the ball on the
bed. The overhead lights flashed back on and the
chilly dampness vanished along with the sickly
sweet vanilla odor. I looked down, seeing my own
shocked expression reflected in fragmented prisms
of glass. And I sensed dark energy from something
... someone.

Nona was right about the witch ball.

It was evil.

My hands shook as I placed the glass ball inside
a cardboard box. I duct-taped the box, wrapping
tape around and around, tighter than an Egyptian
mummy. Then I buried the box far back on the
closet shelf-like an offering to darkness-and
closed the door.