The Clairvoyant

Chapter Thirteen: P.G. Anne

   Mary and Thomas were back on the road early the next morning. They did not talk about the motel. Sekhmet was whining most of the time, and both of the human passengers grew nervous at the prospect of what was to come.

    It would be a considerably long time before they would calm down.

   Less than four hours later, they were driving down a back road filled with wildflowers and creeper vines that reached their tentacles out into the road as if to grab passing cars. Mary was so distracted that she had to hand over the wheel to Thomas. She couldn't see or feel anything. Almost as if her sixth sense were blinded or cut off. Which made sense of course. Someone like P.G. Anne would not want random mediums or clairvoyants to sense her power and decide to sniff around in search of her.

    Miles of forest surrounded either side of the car and the scenery was surreally bright.

   At last, they happened upon a small cottage. The landscape was wild, though not as wild as the Greenville House's lawn had been. This was tame in comparison, and in such condition that Mary would not have been surprised if fairies had tended to the garden. Roses, tulips, marigolds, hyacinths, and lilies grew in abundance, along with mint and watercress. Apple, orange, lemon, and lime trees formed a half circle around the house, and a small almond tree had recently been planted near the porch.

  The cottage itself was small and homely. Lace curtains stood in the windows, and gingerbread caressed the roof. The walls were yellow and it smelled vaguely of cats and flowers. Sekhmet purred loudly in the backseat.

   "Looks like something out of a fairy tale," Thomas said.

   "Who says its not?" Mary stepped from the vehicle. She saw a lace curtain move. P.G. Anne must be watching whoever it was in her yard.

   Thomas and Mary walked up the path to the house.

  The door flung open to reveal a little old woman in a fuzzy pink shawl and perned hair. The only thing young about her was her eyes, which was saying something as they appeared crystal blue and ageless. She was frowning past them, at their car.

"It is entirely rude to show up to someone's house and leave your baby in the car," her shaky old voice chided with a croak.

   "Baby?" Thomas asked.

  "Mary Ripley, go get Sekhmet," the woman said. "And I forgive you and your young man for your young man's rudeness."

    Thomas watched Mary retrieve her cat wondering if this lady was crazy, searching for any sign of uncertainty from Mary. Mary was as certain as ever.

   "Are you P.G. Anne?" She asked, holding Sekhmet close.

   "Yes. But let us not be obstinate. Put her down here and she'll run to the back where my babies are.

  Hoping this was not just an abrupt trick of stealing her cat - how else could the woman explain all of her cats? - Mary did as she was told and disappointedly watched Sekhmet do just what P.G. Anne predicted she'd do.

   The old woman smiled happily.

   "Good girl. Now you two come inside for some tea while our babies have their playdate." She waddled and teetered inside her house, gesturing for Thomas and Mary to follow.

   As usual, Thomas hesitantly followed Mary, feeling very much like more of a lamb than a man. But anywhere that Mary went. Into the strange houses of women the bible might call witches they must surely go.

   The inside of the house was dainty and elegant and undeniably antique. Mary was almost afraid to touch anything lest it crumble to dust under her fingers. This cottage either once housed Sleeping Beauty and her fairies, or wealthy royals who didn't know what bathtubs were and hadn't yet ruled out the existence of dragons.

   "Please sit, dearies," cackled their host hospitably. She shuffled around the stove, taking a teakettle off of a burner.

    "Ms. Anne," began Mary. "We are sorry to bother you but you see, we have an urgent -"

   "Oh yes, yes, but wait for the tea! Things must be done properly!" She gushed, waving her hands around as she spoke.

  They waited until a pink tea pot had poured three cups of tea, was set on the table, and their hostess had settled next to them.

  "We have a few questions, I believe," said Thomas.

   "Don't believe. It's bad juju. Know."

   "It's just that the reason we came -" but Mary was cut off yet again.

   P.G. Anne's expression darkened. "I know why you're here, and I cannot help you, so please drink your tea!"

   Mary wanted to break something. Preferably the neck of a certain old woman.

  "What do you mean you can't help us, you're the fucking P.G. Anne!"

  "MARY!" Thomas yelled.

This was short. And it took a ridiculous time to write. But don't worry. The next chapter is extremely long.