Page 76 of Haunting the Deep

I walk toward her. As soon as I reach the curtain, she moves away from it and the cloth hits me in the face. The girls follow me into the round room, with its black velvet curtains, wrought-iron candelabras, and multicolored rugs.

Redd sits on a pillow next to the table and fills five small cups from an old teapot.

“You were expecting us?” Mary asks, looking at the cups.

“Do not confuse the fact that I knew you were coming with the idea that I am happy to see you.” Redd looks at me. “I told you I didn’t want to be involved. I thought I made it clear.”

“I know. I’m…” She doesn’t want an apology. “There was no one else we could go to and we need help.”

“I’m not in the business of helping anymore. I helped this town for years. I’m sure they told you.” Redd gestures at the girls.

“You had a store with herbal creams and tonics. My mom always said they were amazing,” Susannah says, her hands neatly folded on her black high-waisted skirt.

Redd lifts her chin in the air. “They were the best. People came to me with their sore backs and their headaches, their hair loss and their skin problems. I helped them all.” She puts down the teapot and frowns. “But all they did was bicker and complain. Couldn’t recognize a good thing when they had it. Drink your tea.” She gestures toward the cups like she’s swatting a fly. We each take one.

“What if we told you that we didn’t need you to get involved, but just wanted you to point us in the right direction?” Mary asks, and lifts her teacup.

“Not a chance. Not since that fiasco in the woods last fall. And not with you four walking around broadcasting your business to the world. You’re a freight train headed for a brick wall that I have the good sense not to board.”

How much does she know about what happened in the woods?

“I’mverycareful about my information. I—” Alice’s tone is defensive.

Redd raises her hand. “Your protection spells are mediocre at best.”

I sip my tea. Honey-lemon-ginger, I think. “Why did you warn me last week?”

Redd sits up a little straighter, and her bracelets clink together. “Because of your general incompetence. Which was very nice of me, if I do say so myself. And more than I should’ve done.”

“No one warns someone because they’re incompetent, unless they actually mean to help,” Alice says.

Redd looks pointedly at Alice.

“What if we—” Mary starts.

“Don’t try to bargain with me. You think you’re the first people to show up on my doorstep asking for something?” Redd laughs. “Foryears,people showed up almost every day. I’ll tell you what I told them: no. I think you’ve stayed quite long enough.”

I put down my cup.I’m not leaving until I’ve said my piece.“We think someone may have put a spell on the spirits ofTitanicpassengers. And last night we unknowinglyhelpedthat person trap one of the passengers. What’s more, when I sleep, I’m able to go there—to theTitanic.It’s as if the whole ship has some sort of time amnesia.”

Redd’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t tell me to shut up.

“You warned us. And thatwasnice of you,” I say. “But if you know something we don’t and you don’t tell us, you will be helping this person get away with whatever it is they’re doing. And that means the ‘death’ you talked about will be partially on you.”

“It most certainly will not….How can you…You are rotten children for trying to guilt me like this,” she says, and drums her fingers on the table. Her jewelry clinks in rhythm. Her expression morphs from one emotion to another, like she’s arguing with herself. “Fine.” She smacks the table, rattling our cups. Susannah flinches. “I will help you this one time, but after that you don’t bother me again. Ever. Agreed?”

We all nod our heads, and I hide my smile. She’s cranky and a seriously odd duck, but she isn’t a bad person.

“Many years ago, when I was a small girl, there was talk of a warlock who saw spirits like you do.” Redd looks at me. “He was a dark sort. There were whispers he was trapping and collecting the spirits for some purpose. But no one knew who the spirits were or why he was doing it.”

“Do you remember his name?” Susannah asks.

“Never knew it,” Redd says. “And if others knew, they were careful not to say it. They called him the Collector.”

“Did anyone try to find out what he was doing?” I ask.

“A few people did.” Redd frowns.

“What happened to them?” Mary asks.