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Mr. Henderson's door.
     
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    The rest of that night and the next day were spent deep in preparation. Once the rest of the coven members arrived, Birdie had them carry Fiona's limp body into a sparsely lit room at the end of a long hallway and lay her on the bed. Each member of the coven stood guard over her in shifts, as Mara and Stacy grabbed some shut-eye.
    Before Gus could rest, however, he hit the internet and trolled it hard, going through his Facebook and Twitter connections to find ways to combat the menace facing them. Finally, his work paid off and a cell phone alert woke him up before dawn, with a response to his request. He woke Mara up but, as they were leaving a note for Birdie and Stacy in the lobby, Birdie walked in.
    "Where are you two youngsters off to so early?"
    "We got a lead on a hoodoo guy near here," Gus said. "Steve Charon. He's battled this kind of thing before."
    "Steve has?" Birdie looked surprised. "Why that crafty old mule deer. He never told me a word."
    "Do you know him?" Mara asked, surprised.
    "From another lifetime ago. He asked me to go to the school cotillion with him when I was a girl. He lives way out in the boondocks. Do you know how to get there?"
    "We have GPS in the car," Gus said.
    Birdie laughed and pulled out blank piece of stationery and a pen. "GPS won't help you in the middle of nowhere. I'd best draw you a map."
    *   *   *
    It was just after dawn when Birdie awoke Stacy.
    "Come," she said.
    Groggily, Stacy followed her grandmother down the stairs and into the basement. Her eyes popped wide open when she saw Fiona sitting upright, looking sharp as ever.
    "Oh, Auntie, you're awake!" Stacy rushed over to hug her, but the woman frowned and slapped her hands away.
    Fiona looked at Birdie and something in her gaze made Stacy take two steps back.
    She flicked her eyes to her grandmother and said, "What's going on?"
    "Use your sight, not your eyes, girl." Fiona mocked.
    Only the voice was not that of her great aunt.
    "B-Birdie," Stacy stammered, looking at her grandmother for an explanation.
    "Anastasia, meet Mara's Aunt Tillie," Birdie said.
    "Excuse me?" Stacy looked from Birdie to Tillie. "But how? Why?"
    Tillie, wearing Fiona's body like a cloak, shrugged. "Birdie needed my help, I needed a vessel. Can't prepare for a Soul Stealer without hands." She looked at Fiona's hands. "These are a little small but they'll have to do."
    Stacy swooned and someone caught her.
    The girl swallowed hard as the ghost who had been bitch-slapping her just yesterday slid off the table. She stalked over to Stacy like a panther, eyeing her up and down.
    Stacy took a deep breath, wondering what else could possibly happen this weekend. Body snatchers, soul stealers, ornery ghosts...would she wake up tomorrow to a talking dog?
    Tillie circled Stacy. Twice. Then she turned to Birdie and said, "This is the Seeker? Are you certain?" Tillie frowned. "She's too damn skinny to be any good."
    Birdie nodded. "She needs training."
    "She needs a cheeseburger."
    Stacy sighed. "It's not enough you have to knock me around, now you're insulting my appearance?"
    "Don't be so sensitive," Tillie snapped. "Honestly, Birdie you must have been too soft on her."
    "Ha!" Stacy said. She looked around for Mara and Gus, but they were absent. "Where's Mara? Shouldn't she be here?" Suddenly, Stacy was struck by a thought. "Wait. She doesn't know you're doing this, does she? I don't think she's going to be happy about you being in Fiona's body one little bit."
    "Which is why we're not going to tell her. Are we, my little poppet?" Tillie smiled a cold, wolfish smile at Stacy.
    Birdie took a deep breath and said, "The ritual, Tillie."
    "Right." Tillie pointed to a chair and told Stacy to sit.
    Birdie disappeared into another room and returned with a black velvet cloth. She placed it on Stacy's lap.
    Whatever was inside was heavy and icy cold.
    Lolly was busy measuring potions and pinching off herbs, tossing