Zhane's Short Story: The Haunted House

We both said something was odd about the affair,” Zhane continued.
“What do you propose to do about it?”
“Someone who can silence the city corner can easily silence a beat officer.”
“And you were hoping the outcast witch could not be silenced?” Kendall prodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“The problem with being the outcast, people can pretend you are the little boy who cried wolf.”
Zhane pause to get a sense of where they were after following Kendall’s lead thus far. They were standing at the top of a hill that rushed down towards the sea. A few tress stood sentinel over a graveyard of unique markers.
“What is this?” He asked.
“The witch’s graveyard.”

“Oh” Witches and other magically creatures’ graves weren’t allowed in the churchyard. She pushed open the gate, but Zhane remained on the side walk.
“We aren’t allowed in your graveyard, but you welcome to enter ours.”
Zhane hesitated but felt walking away would be snobbish, so he followed her in. They passed a sculpture of a tree with a face in the tree, worked so well that you had to stand directly in front for the face to be more then knots in the bark. craver marked one grave, then a sundial than marked another.
“They are different markers,” he said just to have something to say.
“Bounce back. In ancient times, worker of magic weren’t allowed marks and then not being allowed with everyone else, San Francisco witches decided to leave a mark, although I hear is common throughout the country. And there is more than just witches here. There are the fairies that helped heal the first outbreak of typhon after the unveiling.”
“There aren’t many here,” Zhane commented.
“This graveyard was established after the Unveiling, when the Ladies of the Standard formed to dig up suspected witches from the church yard. That was their first mission.”
“That wasn’t right.”
Kendall nodded but did not say anything, her feet taking her on her usual route.

She paused and glazed at the simple cross. She got lost in memories of kind hugs and fierce tongue lashing, lessons of spells and morals, picnics and homework.
“Do you know this person” Zhane asked, gesturing at the cross.
“This is my grandmother.”
Zhane did a double take at the stone: Hanna Osborne.
“Why would you put up such a simple marker when you had more freedom?”
“Granny picked it out. She tithed fully, she was in church every Sunday that she wasn’t tending to the sick as a healer and the Ladies of the Standard would not let her be buried next to Grandfather in the church yard.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I wish he had died after the Unveiling. He would have been buried here so they could be together if he known.”
“I think that is enforcing the wrong rules.”
Kendall fell quiet, and Zhane let her be. His own parents and brother rested side by side as would Amy too soon if he could not get the money for a good doctor.
“I’m still going to find that dairy,” Kendall announced, settling Zhane out of picturing a cross much like the before them for his niece.
“But don’t we think Genie was murdered.”
“Yup.”
“And someone is covering it up.”

“Yup”
Zhane smirked. “And you remember that I’m a beat officer than has no pull and you are an outcast witch that the ladies of the standard are trying to run out of town.”
Liking that he added himself in, “Well it sounds like my kind of plan.”
Then she told Zhane about the tracking spell that could not make up its mind.

“So now what.”
“Well beat cop, I was thinking you could poke around at with some of the people who know acting as if you are looking for the dairy for a superior and I will go to the one person that is better at tracking than me.”
“And meet up back at your house?”
“Yes.”
* * *
Kendall was whistling as she walked down the street in slums of San Francisco. A normal girl would have been prey but her outfit let people know she wasn’t quite normal. She knew the way to the sisters of the faith mission. Her grandmother served here since …. Kendall didn’t know. Longer than she could remember and she knew granny and Ms. Dominique were remanist about when Hanna was young. Kendall waved a Sister Mary Ruth as she entered the rod iron gates.
“Where is Ms. Dominique?
The old nun smiled. “You look just like Hanna, Dominique and I was young and dancing in the hall on the square. But that was before Hanna married and I took my vows.”
Kendall smiled indulgently for Sister Mary Ruth had told her how much she looked like her grandmother since Granny passed.
“If you tell me where Dominique is, I’ll tell her to get gussied up and we’ll go dancing.”
Her eyes crinkled. “In the

gymnasium.”
“Of course.” The gymnasium was converted into sleeping area at night for the homeless and an infirmary when it needed to be. Kendall found Ms. Dominique, with her red hair curling out of its bun, kneeling in front of a little with purple bruised-color circles under his eyes, clinging to his mother’s skirts. He coughed the sound making Kendall cringed because it was too deep in his chest.
“How long has he had that cough?” Dominique swiped a damp lock off his forehead.
“About a week,” the mother answered. “We didn’t have money for the doctor and…and my husband didn’t want us to see you, but Ben is my son too.”
Ms. Dominique smiled, her smooth cheeks dimpling.
“You saved me when I was little, whopping cough”
“And I’m still here.”
“And younger than when I was a little.”
“No I just look younger.” As Ms. Dominique spoke, her fingers expertly went through the leather pouches at her belt. She took a handkerchief placed the herbs from belt inside the center, tied the handkerchief, crushed it in her hand then held it up to the boy’s mouth “Breathe,”
He did, the first breath was shallow and racked his body.
“Breath,”
The breath went deeper that time and brought on coughing. He spat out yellow phlegm.
“One more.”
The young boy breathed into the herbs on more time. This breath caught a few times but he was able to fill his lungs with air. Wrapping his hand around the handkerchief, Ms. Dominique stood to be almost eye level with the mother. “You can reassure your husband that I did not use magic. I have studied all types of healing and this was just medication. I’ll have you a few days’ worth of the inhalants. After you crushed the herbs you can get more use out of them by boiling them and inhaling with a towel over his head. Do not let him eat any of this and bring him back next week. I want to hear his breathing.”
“Thank you. How much do I owe you?”
Dominique looked at the mother. Kendal knew Dominique was assenting what she possessed to give. “I need more herbs.”
The woman’s eye budged and her spine straighten, and Kendall had to wonder what she thought was coming next.
“Is there a day next week you could help in my garden?”
The mother visibly relaxed. “Tuesday.”
“Then I will take your time in payment.”
“Thank you.”
The mother bundled her son out and Ms. Dominique watched them go before turning to Kendal.
“How can I help you?”
“I need to come down when I don’t need anything.”
“The young have a tendency to do that.” Dominique took Kendall by the arm and began walking outside. Alone, Dominique said, “I know it bothers you that your healing skills are not strong. So back to the original question. How can I help you?”
“Fell like dusting off your tracking spells.” Kendall repeated what happened with the echo spell and with Jade.
“Genie Baker is dead that is sad.”
“It is.”
“Well you are better with the echo spell than me.” They waved at Sister Mary Ruth. “I’m heading home for a bit.” The sister waved. They walked the half block to Dominique’s yellow cottage surrender by an acre garden that feed the hungry and healed the sick. Kendall took a deep breather of the sage and rosemary.
“You have been around forever.”
“I’m 624. I didn’t get meet Christ or saw dinosaurs.”
“And with the Unveiling you don’t have to pretend to age and die.”
“It has advantages. I didn’t have to start my garden again.”