Chapter 2
From the outside, the house looked haunted. The windows on the second floor seemed to stare at me but, even creepier, the butterfly décor all over. Tacked to the siding. Staked as lawn ornaments. A spinning vane in the light breeze.
“Now who’s being a pussy?” Cedric taunted when I wouldn’t open the car door.
“Look at the place. It’s got horror movie written all over it.”
“I sense nothing that will harm us.”
“We just got here. You can’t know that for sure.”
“Let me out for a proper sniff then.”
I cracked open my door, and he clucked in annoyance, as he had to walk across my lap to get outside.
Cedric strode onto the front lawn and did a few slinking-cat walks back and forth before returning. “It’s safe.”
I exited the car and immediately got a chill. “Are you sure you don’t sense some evil spirit lurking?”
“Since when are you so cowardly?”
Since I had to face my worst nightmare. “You know I hate bugs, and you’ve got to admit, there’s something not right about that house.”
“You’re being irrational. It’s just a house, albeit an ugly one. I’m surprised, though, that you’ve taken such an instant dislike. I thought you liked the color pink.”
The wooden siding had indeed been painted a pastel shade, adorned with butterflies—metallic ones embedded with glass that glittered in the sun, wooden ones with peeling colors. I’d bet the wind chime tinkling had butterflies too. They infested the property.
“I doubt the house likes being covered in bugs,” I remarked.
“Houses don’t have feelings.”
“Some would say the same about trees.”
“Are we really going to argue about that again?”
Why not? It beat going into the creepy, straight-out-of-a-horror-movie abode. “You have to admit you can be pretty cold.”
“Because people annoy me. Has nothing to do with trees, which feel quite a bit by the way.”
“Bullshit,” I scoffed.
“You should have sensed their excitement when Lord of the Rings came out. So many tried to unroot and walk like the Ent. Didn’t work, of course, and more than few toppled before that became clear.”
I pursed my lips. “You’re fucking with me right now, aren’t you?”
“Am I?” I swear the cat wore an enigmatic smile. “Did I ever mention that your broken arm at ten wasn’t an accident but retribution for the tree house you built?”
My mouth rounded. “Now I know you’re screwing with me. Why would a tree be pissed about a tiny fort?”
“Did you drive nails into the trunk to affix it?”
“Well yeah.” I bit my lower lip. “I take it that hurt?”
“Let me hammer some metal spikes into you so you can tell me.”
I sighed. “Well damn. Guess I owe the tree an apology.”
“Guess you do. Now, if you’re done procrastinating…” Cedric glanced at the house and as my gaze followed, my unease returned.
I really didn’t want to go in inside and not just because of the butterflies.
Foreboding tightened my stomach. Still…we’d come for the estate sale, and it wasn’t as if we’d be in the house alone.
About a dozen other vehicles were parked on the street, and people wandered at random over the lawn, and more than a few slipped inside.
Surely if there was danger within, they’d emerge screaming.
“All right. I’m going in,” I announced as I headed up the butterfly-shaped flagstones for the front door, pausing as I realized Cedric didn’t follow. “Aren’t you coming?”
“People might find it odd if a cat accompanied you.”
“That’s their problem. I want you nearby so I know what to spend my money on.” Needed him, lest my terror at all the butterflies turn me into a sobbing mess.
“Just bid on the magical items.”
“Which will totally be noticeable,” I replied with a roll of my eyes.
“Have you forgotten I can’t sense shit?” Unlike Charlie, who had very witchy genes, I remained just a human girl waiting for her own prince charming and trying to stave off the spinster cat-lady curse. “You’ll need to give me a paw.”
“I’ll join you, but don’t be surprised if I’m refused entry,” Cedric warned as approached me.
“Not if I tell them you’re my emotional support cat.” Although… “To make it believable, we should put some kind of leash on you.”
Hiss. “Do that at your own peril.”
Judging by the flex of his claws, he meant the threat. “I’m going to guess carrying you like a baby in my arms is also out.”
“You would be correct.”
“Then what would you suggest?”
“You shall carry me upon your shoulder.”
It turned out Cedric needed to drape across them since his tom-cat size made it unfeasible for him to perch on just one shoulder.
We must have looked the sight as I strode in, chin high, as if it were totally normal to wear a cat like a stole.
I got a few looks, but no one said a thing.
Then again, upon seeing the inside of the home, a person with an emotional support kitty must have seemed normal in comparison to the eccentric woman who used to live here.
The butterfly theme might have been prevalent outside, but inside…you couldn’t look anywhere without seeing them. Some subtle and only noticeable if you concentrated. Others gaudy beyond belief.
“Geezus,” I breathed as my gaze darted around, flitting from one winged bug to another.
The white tile floor in the entrance had black butterflies embedded in each piece. The carpets, woven of bright threads, had a pattern displaying a chaotic amount in flight. The cream-colored wallpaper looked normal until you realized the silver pattern happened to be silhouetted versions.
The crystal chandelier, rather than pendants, had, you guessed it, more of the bugs.
The wooden furniture had vines and leaves carved with butterflies at rest. The cushions, more of the patterned eye sore.
There wasn’t a single object, or even part of the house, that didn’t have a butterfly.
Despite my phobia, the sheer number of fake lepto-whatcha-ma-callits, left me more amused and flabbergasted than scared.
As I wandered room to room, seeing even more horrific design choices—which would likely haunt me longer than the original Amityville movie—I left the other visitors behind and felt safe whispering to Cedric, “What the fuck? This is insane.”
“Is the décor really any worse than that lady with the gnome fetish for holidays?”
“It’s way worse because at least the lawn ornaments come down after Christmas. This is permanent and literally crazy. No one loves butterflies this much.”
“You can say that despite proof all the around us?”
“There must have been a reason behind her obsession.”
“Does it matter? We came with a singular purpose, and it has nothing to do with the artistic choices the previous owner took.”
The reminder had me grimacing. “In other words, focus on our task. Have you sensed any magic?”
“Nothing at all which is unusual. A house this old should be oozing something. The collection of antiques alone should have emitted some residue, but it’s as if we’ve entered a magical void.”
“Which begs the question, how and why erase all traces of magic?” I muttered, suddenly less reassured than when I believed the house might be a cesspool for the paranormal.
“The auction will begin shortly on the rear porch,” a male voice suddenly announced. “Please submit your information at the registration table.”
“Guess I should see what items he’s got on the docket,” I stated, heading for the stairs down.
“I’ll be along in a few. I want to explore a bit more,” Cedric declared before leaping from my shoulder.
I would go out on a limb—an oak one—and predict he’d find butterflies. Lots of them. Made me wonder if the toilet seats had been shaped like the winged bugs. Maybe I’d find out for piss and giggles before I left.
Following the crowd through the kitchen—which I won’t describe because a horror such as it should be burned and never spoken of—we exited through a door into the backyard.
Chairs had been set up on the stone slab patio stamped with butterflies.
After filling out a form, I plopped into a seat with my numbered paddled.
Basically, I simply had wave it to indicate my interest in bidding on the current item.
Hopefully nothing cost more than three hundred and twenty-three dollars, all the room I had left on my credit card until my next paycheck.
Maybe I should let Cedric steal to help pay the bills but only from bad people who deserved it.
“We shall begin the auction with the collectable ceramics,” the man declared.
A young girl trotted out a box from which the fellow pulled a few select pieces of the winged bugs and gave a brief history on their supposed provenance, rarity blah, blah.
That box, plus the next five, sold for a jaw-dropping amount, as did the collection of crystal wineglasses etched with butterflies.
Apparently, while the previous owner lacked taste in decorating, she did like expensive things.
It also didn’t seem like it would matter if any of the objects had magic because, for one, Cedric had yet to return to sniff them out, and secondly, I couldn’t afford any of the hideous butterfly stuff.
Who the fuck dropped seven thousand dollars on a lamp shade with mosaic glass featuring yellow and orange monarchs?
Sure, it might be a custom Tiffany, but seven fucking K?
I wasted my time. However, I couldn’t exactly leave without my cat, thus I remained seated in the audience as more weird shit got auctioned.
The grand piano, which I’d not even seen, that apparently had its lid shaped like…
you know what. The vanity and stool combo more suited for a young girl than the paunchy man who lovingly stroked it once he won.
Someone paid three hundred dollars for the glass cases holding some pinned butterfly corpses.
Another coughed up two for the light catchers still strung up in the windows.
As the seats emptied and only a few of us remained, I noticed we had finally entered the cheap junk part of the auction, which also happened to be when Cedric reappeared. He hopped into my lap and stared at me until I lowered my head.
“I figured out why I couldn’t sense any magic,” he whispered. “There is argencae all over the house.”
I frowned, and before I could ask what the fuck, he explained.
“Argencae is an element usually found in Infernal that inhibits magic. Usually used in the cells for prisoners to ensure they can’t escape or cause trouble.”
My brows rose, and I muttered in a low tone, “What would it be doing here?”
Before Cedric could answer, his head swiveled sharply as the young girl helping the auctioneer emerged with a jewelry-type box. Wooden, super basic in design and yet Cedric stiffened.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
“I’m fairly certain its lined in argencae.”
My brows lifted. Could the object inside be what the seers wanted us to find?
The auctioneer flipped open the lid, and I almost bolted from my seat upon hearing the flutter of wings. A glance around showed no butterflies. Nothing and yet my unease remained.
The auctioneer didn’t remove anything from the box but rather cleared his throat.
“Before anyone gets too excited, none of the jewelry is made of pure gold, and the jewels are all imitation,” the auctioneer declared.
“However, there are some interesting and old pieces that might interest collectors.” A laughable thing to say to the five of us still sitting.
He drew out a ring first, hideous, and the price of seventy-five dollars reflected it.
The bracelet with the butterfly charms went unsold, along with the next ring.
A pendant emerged on a gaudy chain, the dangling butterfly utterly hideous.
The glass in its wings cheap. One of its metal antennas gone. And yet, I couldn’t stop staring at it.
My body pimpled as my ears rang with the beat of hundreds of wings.
This was it. Even before Cedric pawed me, I was waving my paddle at the auctioneer’s starting bid, which ended up being the winning one, as no one else wanted to pay forty dollars for the ugliest necklace in existence.