The Witches on BellaRow Street

12. Zion's calling me. No, Seriously.

I am water. I am wine. I am time.
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I bit the corners of my lips, glimpsing at Aunt BeeBee's purses scattered across our sofa while searching for her missing ID. A car zooms in the distance; the muffler rattles as it passes by. There's a subtle chill that makes me quiver as I approach our door.

I peep through our frosted glass door window, squinting at an unfamiliar face who's trying to peek inside our house. A stocky woman wearing oversized glasses, leans in, cupping her hands on our window, trying to get a closer look. Here we go, another encounter with a stranger just like the guy in the alley.

"Hello?" She jumps at the sound of my voice, then leans back. I don't know who this lady could be, but she needs to identify herself. 

A high-pitch southern accent shouts back.  "Oh, uh, Hi, is Belinda home?"

Belinda? Who dat?

The alleged stranger glances around our porch, the rocking chair, and everything else that's connected to the house. She's nosy! I tell her no one lives here by that name, but she persists, anyway. I glance back at my sisters, mouthing the name Belinda until Aunt BeeBee gives me the thumbs up.

"May I ask--" I pause, noticing how my voice changed to a more unnatural high-pitch tone I hated using. So, I clear my throat, lowering my octaves. "Who are you?"

"It's Gloria. Gloria Longstadter. Your next-door neighbor. Were you home last night?"

That's a random question. Of course, the answer is no. We were covering up a crime scene in the back of a rundown alley, but I don't think she's ready to hear that answer, so I give her the next best response.

"Yes, Why?"

"You were?" Gloria, the neighbor, sounds shocked. "Well, it's just-- Do you think you can open your door?" She laughs. "It's strange talking to you without seeing your face, don't cha think?" 

No, I'm perfectly fine with it.

"Sure," I say to her. "Give me a second."

In one swift click, turn and twist, I swing open the front door, blocking her from seeing the inside of our house. This time I'm able to see her surprise expression, especially when she roams her eyes over my tight-fitted dress and shoes from my night with Zion.

"Wow, you are, uh, you're all dolled up," she laughs again. "I haven't met you. You must be Henni."    

Henni? Who dat? Lady, I am sleep-deprived and wired. The last thing I need is someone butchering my name.

"It's Yanni. Yah-knee. Can I help you?"

I edge closer to the doorway, waiting for her reply. Whatever she has to say must be juicy by the way she glances over her shoulder every five seconds. A cool breeze whisks across my skin, forcing me to wrap my coat around my body as I study her movements. She's nervous. And she's making me nervous too. The last thing I need is more bad news.

Without further ado, Gloria locks eyes with me and leans in. "I heard strange noises coming from inside your house. Last night, 'round midnight."

That's odd. Every time we leave our house we cast a blocking spell warding off any negative energies desperate enough to get in. Maybe it was Mister Purr knocking over a few pots in the kitchen.

And speaking of Mister Purr, where is he? We let our cat live his life, but he hasn't returned yet. Odd.

"Did you hear anything else?" I ask, furrowing my brows.