Murder Out By Caster Bridge

Chapter nineteen

In the morning, after deliberately delaying the inevitable talk that I wasn't going to like, I stepped into the kitchen where Norman was cradling a cup of what smelled like chamomile tea while my grandmother sat there with a stern look on her face. There was nothing in her emotions that I could detect and that worried me even more.

Suddenly, her eyes glared at me. "Weston, dear, there you are."

As I sat down, none of us spoke a word and the intense awkwardness was causing me to shift in my seat until I couldn't take it anymore.

"Grandma, you said we needed to talk. Can you do it now? This atmosphere is making me uneasy."

Norman glanced between us. "You know what, I think I am going to leave. This seems like a family matter. I want to thank you, Ms. Ruth, for letting me stay. It meant a lot. I'm much better."

"But, Norman, your bike..."

"Don't worry. Thanks for the help last night, Weston." He then stood up and ran out the front door before we could stop him.

"That's great. I think you scared my new friend, Grandma."

My grandmother glared at me sternly. "I did no such thing. Now, why don't you tell me what happened and where you went last night?"

I told her everything. When I was done, I looked at her nervously.

"Weston, before I tell you anything, I need you to test something important."

"Like what?" Something about this upcoming conversation was making me feel extremely uneasy.

Instead of answering me, she just sashed over to the fridge. She then placed a stool before she stood on it and grabbed an old brown box from it sat. I had noticed the box many times but never questioned the contents inside. I figured it was best to not ask. After she stepped down and came over, she placed the box on the tabletop and then opened the lid.

I leaned over and looked inside.

There was a red jacket inside.

"What is this, Grandma?"

"This is a jacket you wore when you were four."

"Okay," I said, confused. "Why are you showing me this?"

"I need to confirm something and the only way is for you to touch it."

"What?" Why did she want me to do this?

"Please do this for me."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and sigh. Instead, I reached in. The second my fingertips touched the rough fabric, emotions of happiness then fright then terror zapped through me before a strange unpleasant surge of electricity traveled through my arm and pain exploded in my head making my vision tunnel to white.

In the whiteness, I felt waves of terror before hearing screams of what sounded like a thousand people all yelling about a fire before I was drowning in engulfing terror as a strange taste of sea salt assaulted my sense of taste.

As fast as I could, I jerked my hand back and the connection broke instantly. I found myself coughing as though I had been in the water. "What...was...that?" I managed to croak out.

My grandmother slid a cup of orange juice to me. "I want you to sip on that. It will bring your strength back."

I took the drink. I wanted to gulp it down but my grandmother told me to sip on it and I trusted her. I didn't want to anger her right now anyway.

After taking a sip, I asked, "What just happened to me?"

"Did you see anything?"

I shook my head. "No. I just saw whiteness, but I could hear screams and feel different emotions. And then I could taste salt water."

My grandmother closed the lid on the box. "Have you been drinking caffeinated drinks? Didn't your mother explain to you that you cannot drink them?"

My eyes widened in surprise as to how she knew that I had been drinking caffeinated drinks, but I also furrowed my brows as I wondered what that had to do with what I had just experienced.

"Well, did she?"

I shrugged. "She just mentioned that I had a problem with caffeine. Some kind of intolerance."

She sighed heavily. I could feel the anger bubbling before dispersing. "I told her to explain it to you."

"Explain what?"

"Your true talent isn't empathy. Yes, I know about your ability and your magic. I always have. It's a family trait that runs on my side of the family. Your father, my son, was a powerful wizard. And as such, witches and wizards possess a special talent only reserved for them. Your true talent is technically psychometry. This means, through contact, you see memories."

"But I touch things all the time. I never experienced any memories of the past. Besides, I didn't see anything. Just heard screams and felt emotions."

She sighed. "You must not have consumed enough caffeine."

"I don't understand."

"On your first day of second grade that's when your abilities manifest. The school contacted me after they couldn't get ahold of your mother. When I got there, lights were flickering and you were curled up in a ball far away from the other students and crying. You were terrified and unresponsive. After bringing you home and talking to your mother, we decided it was best to suppress your abilities. So, I crafted a potion. But gave your mother specific instructions. I should have known she wouldn't tell you."

"Wait. If psychometry is my true talent, then what about the ghosts?"

"That goes back to when you were a child and very nearly drowned."

"I don't remember that," I said.

"I imagine not. That is why I kept your jacket. For this occasion. I was hoping with your ability, we could fully understand what happened that day."

"I'm not sure what you wanted to happen, but it didn't work. I didn't see anything."

"I know. But tell me what you heard and felt?"

"I don't know what I felt exactly. There were several emotions. All mine. It was like I was a little kid again. I felt curiosity, and excitement before feeling scared and hearing screams of people saying something about a fire before true terror hit and then I could taste seawaterer. It felt like I was drowning."

My grandmother let out a hiss before swearing. She never swore. She was too much into going to church. She believed swearing was a road to Hell. She then apologized and prayed before looking at me. "Honey, I think the result of my potion and the caffeine has somehow split your psychometry into two separate abilities: empathy and clairaudience."

"What is clairaudience?"

"It's where you hear things others can't."

"Like hearing memories but not seeing them?"

"Exactly."

"I still don't understand anything. The more you talk, the more confused I get."

"I know. I'm sorry." She took a breath. "Okay, let's go back to when you were four. You see, it was your birthday. Your father and I took you to this amusement park. For a while things were great. But then, as we were getting food, yowandereded off on your own. Your dad and I panicked and searched for you. Suddenly, one of the stands caught on fire and people freaked out and it got harder to find you. However, someone screamed that a child had fallen into the nearby lake. Someone must have collided with you in fright. But you weren't old enough to know how to swim. Your dad dove in after you. He got you out. But you weren't breathing. To save you, he transferred his life force to you. You see, your mediumship abilities were your father's. He gave you all of his energy to save your life."

"I didn't know that. So, it was my fault."

She gripped my arms. "Never think that, Weston. Your father did it so you could live. He would give up the whole world to protect and save you. I would have done the same thing."

"What happened after that?"

"Your father disappeared. Like disappeared magically. He became magical particles."

"Weird."

"Not really. I can't explain how it works. But, anyway, the real event happened when you were six. Your abilities activated both your psychometry and your father's mediumship ability because that is usually when talents appear. After the incident with the school, I decided to give you a potion to suppress your powers. However, as part of your psychometric power, you developed empathy because you connect to both the living world and the undead. I didn't realize how potent that talent was until your mother wanted me to get rid of it completely. But I couldn't. It's deeply attached to you."

I stared at her in shock. "That explains why my abilities have been off kind of. Though, my empathy had been acting up before I had my first taste of caffeine."

"That's because the potion was wearing off. You were supposed to take it again on your birthday, but that didn't happen obviously."

"That explains the headaches and overwhelming emotions."

"Precisely. Even as a child, you would complain about headaches and emotions. It made you feel strange that your mother would keep you home from school. The reason it's stronger now is that it also suppressed your father's ability. Meaning that as soon as the potion wore off, well, it reactivated most of your powers. Ironically, it's made you a target."

"Grandma, why are you telling me this all now?"

"Because I feel you will need this information if you keep getting wound up in dangerous situations. Situations that I can't help you with."

"Can't you just make another potion to suppress my abilities again?"

"No."

"Why? You did it once. You could do it again."

"You were a child then. This time, it could kill you."

I stood up quickly. "This is all way too much." Without much else to say, I stormed out of the kitchen and ran to my Jeep. As soon as I got inside, I placed my hands on the steering wheel. My head was pounding so much that I was a bit nervous to drive. But I needed to get away before my grandmother could come and get me.

So, I put the Jeep in drive and skidded out of the driveway.