Chapter 4 Natalya
As it turns out, the tour guide isn’t at the hotel when we stop at the reception desk and ask. I do find out that her name is Ellie. She works the night shift and is scheduled to return tonight. When I ask Hayride if he’ll come with me after the Fear Farm closes, he agrees.
We ride back to town, and he drops me in front of the Butter Bliss Bakery. My car is still nearby, parked in the same spot where I left it.
Hayride remains on his seat as I hand him his helmet. “Got to leave you, gorgeous. I’ve got church.”
“Is that a biker meeting?” I guess, wondering if they discuss chrome, leather, and whiskey, or if they’re like the popular TV show and smoke, plan murder, and talk shit.
Hayride laughs, and the deep timbre of the sound is sexy as hell. I can’t help my attraction, but it’s the worst timing. I don’t have the luxury of hopping into bed with the hottest guy I’ve ever met. He’s the bad boy I never got to take a chance with, and it’s far too appealing now.
My focus needs to remain on finding Thad.
“Yeah, gorgeous. It’s a club meeting,” Hayride confirms.
“I’ll see you tonight? At the festival?” I ask, unsure if he’ll have time. I’ve no clue what to expect. From what I saw online, it seems like this place gets pretty wild after dark.
“I’ll make time for you,” he promises. “Wear something warm. It gets cold in the cornfields.”
I don’t get a chance to ask him what he means because Hayride rides off, never looking back.
Once he’s out of sight, I face the Butter Bliss Bakery and decide to stop inside for a treat. The line isn’t nearly as long as earlier today, and I buy a cinnamon roll along with a few chocolate chip cookies.
There’s an older woman behind the counter, and beside her, a younger version who has to be a family member. They share the same smile, dimples, and height.
“You must be new here,” the younger woman says. “Welcome to the Butter Bliss. I’m Cami. This is my grandmother, Granny Jo.”
“Hi! I’m Nat. I came for the historic hotel tour, but I can’t wait to check out the Fear Farm.”
“Oh! Isn’t it creepy? I haven’t gone in ages.”
Granny Jo sets a to-go cup on the counter. “Everyone who visits the Butter Bliss for the first time gets a special tea.”
Special? “What’s in it?”
“It varies with every guest, but I’m guessing you’re a honey, citrus, and herbal blend.”
“Actually, yes,” I say with a surprised laugh. “How did you know?”
Granny Jo taps her temple. “Intuition and plenty of years on this earth.”
Cami laughs. “It’s a witchy sixth sense.”
“And don’t you forget it.” Granny Jo lays her hand on mine as she leans forward. “You keep smiling, sweetheart. Everything is going to work out.”
I almost falter. “Thank you.” She doesn’t know what that means to me right now with Thad missing.
“You’re going to spook her,” Cami says with a snicker. “She doesn’t know how crazy you are.”
“Nope. She’s made of sturdier stock than that.” Granny Jo winks at me and backs away, bumping her hip against Cami’s.
I like the older woman. She’s sweet and feisty. Cami seems nice, too. “Thank you. What do I owe you?”
Granny Jo shakes her head. “First tea and treat are always on the house.”
“Well, now you’ve earned a customer for life.”
“That’s the plan.” Granny Jo gestures to the cup she just filled. “Take a sip.”
I lift it to my lips and immediately moan at the taste. It’s the perfect blend of spice, tea leaves, and honey. The most delicious cup of hot tea I’ve ever had, and I tell her that.
“Yep. Still got it,” she laughs, swishing her hips as she moves to the next customer.
Cami hands me a pink box. “Enjoy. I hope we see you again soon.”
They will. I plan to come inside the bakery and try something new every day as long as I’m here. The bell above the door dings as I leave, but the sweet aroma of cinnamon and icing follows me outdoors.
After I finish the cinnamon roll and the tea, I wrap the cookies in a napkin and drop them into my purse.
It’s the perfect weather for a walk along Main Street and I peruse the shops, killing time until it’s dark.
I feel a bit restless and guilty for enjoying the treats with Thad’s disappearance.
I should be looking for him, but I don’t have a clue where to start.
The only lead I have is the conversation with Ellie, and I can’t talk to her again until later this evening.
With a sigh, I walk among the tourists and locals, growing a bit bored until I see a colorful tent located close to the Fear Farm.
It’s not far from the pavilion where I ate lunch.
It wasn’t here earlier, or I didn’t notice it.
Either way, I see a wooden sign that intrigues me with the words Psychic Reader.
I’m not opposed to seeing a clairvoyant if that helps me find Thad. The flaps on the front of the tent ripple in the wind, and I push them aside to enter.
“Hello, dear. Have you come to see Madam Serena for a palm and tarot reading?”
Madam Serena sits at a round table covered with a beaded tablecloth in a rainbow of colors.
It’s hard to tell her age, but I guess she’s probably in her late forties or fifties, judging by the crinkle of lines around her eyes and mouth that aren’t deep but beginning to form.
She’s wearing a lavender colored beaded dress and a silky shawl with a matching floral design.
As I take the empty seat and face her, I see the stack of tarot cards and a crystal ball that faintly glows a pale, cloudy white.
Above our heads, strands of twinkling white lights hang and illuminate the tent’s interior.
There’s a poster depicting all of the astrological signs hanging nearby and another painting with Madam Serena’s name.
Behind her, a table is erected and fills most of the remaining space.
Various items are placed upon it, but I don’t have a clue what they’re used for, and it doesn’t matter. I’m here for information about Thad.
“Hi. No tarot cards. Just the palm reading.”
She nods, reaching her hand toward me. “Your palm.”
I rest my arm on the table as she cradles my hand, palm side up, and studies it. “You have a long lifeline,” she murmurs.
That’s good. Right?
Her fingers are slightly cold, but not enough to bother me. The tip of one glides along the surface of my skin. “There’s a new man in your life. He’s different. Beware of secrets.”
Her gentle warning seems like something she says to everyone. It’s not too specific.
“You’ve experienced a recent loss.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “Yes.”
She starts humming, and it’s a little disconcerting since she’s holding my hand. Without warning, she grips it tighter. A gasp leaves her mouth. “Martha, you’re here.”
Huh?
“I’m not Martha. My name is Natalya.”
She shakes her head. “Martha, you’ve finally returned home.”
I try to correct her, but it’s no use. She keeps insisting that my name is Martha, that I’ve been to Raven’s Crest in the past.
“Martha Scott.” She smiles. “You’ve been missed. Stop by the graveyard. The ancestors want to speak to you.”
I yank my hand away and pop to my feet, creeped out by her words. “I’m here for —”
Madam Serena cuts me off. “Your brother.”
I jolt. Maybe she does know something that can help.
She gestures to the chair. “Sit.”
Since I want answers, I obey. My ass hits the seat, but I squirm, keyed up for no reason other than my anxiety and worry for my brother. Maybe her insistence that I’m someone else has me a bit spooked, too.
“He’s in danger.”
I give her a skeptical look. That’s far too vague.
“Thad, your brother. Dark forces are pulling on him.”
Dark forces? What kind of crap is that?
“He needs your help.”
Well, duh. I already figured that part out. “Where is Thad?”
She shakes her head. “It’s too clouded. I can’t see.”
I open my mouth to reply, but she holds up her hand.
Sitting back against the chair, I wait for her to connect to the spirits or whatever witchy entity she’s seeking for answers. If it helps me find my brother, I can put up with Madam Serena’s eccentricities.
She’s odd, but I guess all clairvoyants seem a bit strange.
Madam Serena’s eyes close and flutter. She begins to sway as I watch with fascination, murmuring words I can’t make out because her voice is too low for me to hear. She jolts. Once. Twice.
“Trust,” she gasps. “Trust the dark one.” She pauses. “The man with the wings and sword.”
What the hell does that mean?
Madam Serena’s eyes snap open and lock onto me.
Her mouth stretches wide in a silent scream as I scramble to my feet in horror.
Blood begins to seep into the material of her silky shawl that’s draped across her shoulders and rests over her chest, and soaks into the pretty beaded dress she’s wearing.
A growing spread of crimson fills her torso as my hands slap over my mouth.
What the hell just happened?
Outside, I hear footsteps that indicate someone is there, behind Madam Serena’s side of the tent.
There’s a dark chuckle, and I freeze, overcome with the urge to flee, but terrified to move.
Madam Serena falls forward, and her body slumps over the table, knocking her crystal ball to the ground.
It lands with a thud on the grass beneath our feet.
Her eyes remain open, staring, but there’s no longer a soul inside to give her life.
Protruding from her back is a large knife.
The blade sank deep, probably hitting a vital organ and severing arteries.
My gaze lands on the hole in the tent where someone must have thrown the blade. Hard enough to fly through the air and pierce the fabric. With enough strength to ensure it’s embedded in flesh and inflicting deadly trauma.
Why would anyone want to harm a psychic reader?
My fingers tremble as my body decides that flight is better than fight, afraid that I’ll be the next to die. I don’t make a sound as I rush toward the flap on the tent, push through, and race away from the dead woman I just met.
I never look back as I run. I’m too frightened of who or what I’ll see. My arms pump, and I rush through Main Street, not stopping until I reach the sheriff’s office.
The door is shut when I arrive. Panicked, I begin to pound on it with my fist until I see Boomer striding toward me.
He’s frowning as he unlocks the door and opens it. “Nat?”
I push him in my haste and enter, shoving the door closed behind me. I’m heaving air into my lungs as I stare out into the street. No one followed me. It looks normal outside.
“Are you okay? Is someone following you?”
“No. To both,” I pant, finally spinning around to stare up at him.
“You wanna tell me what has you so spooked?”
“I just went to see Madam Serena.”
He tilts his head. “She give you a message or something?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not the issue.”
“You’re gonna have to do better with an explanation, Nat.”
“I can’t,” I croak. “She’s gone, Boomer. Madam Serena is dead.”
He blinks. “Shit.” Boomer guides me away from the door and over to the nearest set of chairs. “Sit. Tell me what happened.”
I describe everything I can remember, trembling as I clench my fingers in my lap when I finish. “I don’t get it, Boomer. Why would anyone want to harm her?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out. Stay here. I’m going to make a few phone calls and tell my deputies to secure the scene.”
“Okay.” Where else will I go? I’m too afraid that the second I leave, whoever murdered Madam Serena will come after me next.
My mind wanders as Boomer paces, making his calls, until he finally returns to me with a mug of coffee.
“Here. Drink this. It’ll help with the shakes.”
My fingers tremble as I accept the drink.
I’m twitchy and feel off-kilter. Everything seems to happen in a blur, like my mind can’t catch up. I drink from the mug, vaguely realizing it’s strong coffee with a bit of cream and a sweetener. It’s hot but not scalding. It feels good on my throat.
A loud knock makes me jolt as I turn toward the door.
“It’s just Hayride. Scythe sent him to stay with you.”
Oh. That’s good. I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t care if that makes me seem pathetic or helpless. I just saw a person die. I’m probably fucked up for life.
Hayride rushes inside as soon as Boomer opens the door. He pulls me up from the chair, and then his warmth engulfs my body, wrapping around me in a welcome hug.
His reaction is a bit surprising since we’re not more than strangers, but I need this human contact, and to feel like I’m not so alone. My fingers grip his shirt as my cheek rests over his heart. For a few minutes, we stand there. Locked in a moment. Breathing.
I’m no longer cold. Hayride’s heat has chased the chill away.
He finally speaks, and it’s not what I expect, although I don’t mind. “I’m staying with you for the night.”
I have a chance to tell him if I don’t want to be here or with him or if I want to return to the Hanging Tree. But I don’t want any of that because I’m too close to losing it and breaking down. I’m a pane of splintered glass, and the cracks are beginning to spread. “Okay.”
“Good.”