and walked quickly to the spot where I’d agreed to meet Tristan.
The whole place was packed with people! What a strange little town, with strange traditions and strange people who went to a cemetery to celebrate New Year … It seemed, though, that most people were mingling by the main gates; the deeper we got into the old parts of the cemetery, the fewer townsfolk we met.
“Joey, where are you going? I don’t think we’re supposed to come this far,” my mom whispered.
“It’s all right, he’s right over there,” I said, and turned the corner.
And then I came to an abrupt halt. Sitting on a little folded wooden chair, at the edge of the circled lawn, was old Miss Violet. She had a little candle on the floor right next to her chair, and appeared to be staring at the centre of the lawn. When my mom stopped at my side, Miss Violet noticed us arriving and turned to face us. “Ah. Hello, dears. I was thinking we were going to pass midnight without anyone in here with us tonight … Silly me.”
We? Was she talking about Tristan? Where was he?
Another voice came from the other side of the circle. An old lady’s voice. “I don’t like to boast, Violet, but I did tell you. It’s going to happen tonight. Meg has seen it,” the owner of the other voice bragged.
“Oh, shush, Margaret.” Violet scowled. I squinted my eyes, trying to see better in the dark. On the other side there was a stern-looking old lady – Margaret, of course – sitting in another folded chair. Like Miss Violet, she had a candle by her feet. She was watching us with a hard stare. This was definitely getting weirder and weirder by the second!
“Okay, what’s going on here?” my mom cut in.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I noticed a third old lady on the opposite side of the lawn. Exactly the same folded chair and candle. Even in the gloom, she seemed awfully old and pale and fragile. She sat in her chair in silence, watching us. She shouldn’t be out in this cold, at this hour of the night, I thought to myself.
“So, when are you intending to show yourself, young man?” Miss Violet asked the shadows.
I peeked at the dark bushes in front of her, just in time to see Tristan emerge and walk to the edge of the lawn. He looked a little scared and avoided looking directly at me. What the hell was going on here?
“So, what did you intend to do this night, boy?” Margaret asked gravely.
Tristan didn’t answer. He just lowered his head and stared at the ground.
“And when are you planning to tell the girl?” Miss Violet asked him.
Tristan lifted his head and there was a defiant look in his eyes.
“Tonight! I was going to tell her tonight,” he snapped.
“Joey, who …” my mom began, but I cut her off.
“Tell me what? “I asked, looking directly at Tristan. I needed to find out what the hell was going on!
“I’m so sorry, Joey. I wanted to tell you the truth, I swear! I just … I thought you wouldn’t believe me, and you’d leave. For good. I’m sorry,” Tristan pleaded, taking a step forward inside the circle, in my direction.
“Tell me what? What truth, Tris?” I asked, scared. He looked so lost.
“Joe, who are you all talking to?” my mom snapped.
“I’m talking to Tristan, Mom!” I told her.
She looked around with a confused expression. Was she blind? He was right there, in front of us!
“Where is he?” she asked, sounding puzzled.
“What are you talking about, he’s right over there!” I said impatiently.
“There’s no one there, honey,” my mom whispered, looking at me worriedly. “Just us and these ladies.”
“Of course there is. He’s right over there!” I said, pointing him out.
“She can’t see him, dear. Or hear him,” Miss Violet intervened.
“What?” I snapped.
“Only we – the occult-acquainted – can. Me, Margaret and Meg over there. And you, apparently,” she stated.
“The what? Occult what?” I said. I was at a loss.
“Well, yes, you know, those
Learning to Kill: Stories