in from the sidewalk enters the broad front porch, not the house itself. What most folks call a ‘front’ door actually looks into a small walled private garden. The house had been in my family for a long time, and when I moved back to Charleston after I inherited the store, my parents were just about to move to Charlotte, so they sold me the house at a discount, and we all got a good deal.
Baxter was already yipping and squeaking when I turned the key in the lock. I paid close attention as I touched the doorknob, using my magic to sense whether anyone else had tried to open the door since I left, but it was undisturbed. Thanks to Sorren, our friend Lucinda the Voudon mambo had placed wards around my house and Teag’s place, to keep bad things at bay. I wondered whether Sorren’s people in Boston had similar wards, and whether our protections would be any good against whatever was eating ghosts. I shivered, even though the night was warm.
“All right, all right,” I said as Baxter jumped and danced on his hind legs. I set down my purse and scooped Bax into my arms, getting my nose licked in the process. My senses were on high alert as I took Baxter around the block, even though it was still light outside and plenty of people were making their way home from work or out for a stroll. Once we got home, Baxter ate his kibble enthusiastically while I heated up a slice of leftover pizza and changed into jeans and a t-shirt.
“Ready, Bax?” I asked, and he pirouetted on his hind legs. “Save the fancy tricks for the old ladies,” I said, tussling his fur as I put his harness on him. “They like it when you show off.”
Baxter enjoys riding in the car, and I have a carrier seat for him so he can ride safely and still see out the window. We didn’t have far to go. Palmetto Meadows is one of Charleston’s most popular ‘active living’ communities, and from the outside, it looked like a big turn-of-the-century seaside inn. On the inside, some parts of the building looked like a fancy condominium with apartments for the most mobile residents, other sections resembled a hotel with single rooms and a big dining hall, and a third wing had more of a hospital feel.
We headed up the walkway, past the manicured front lawn. Halfway along the sidewalk, I felt a familiar frisson of energy. Baxter sensed it too and looked up at me. Who raised wards around an old folks’ home? I wondered. Because that was exactly what the energy felt like. Very, very odd.
Everyone waved to Baxter and me as we checked in at the front desk and headed for the third wing. When Baxter and I had gone through therapy dog classes, he had done exceptionally well with Alzheimer’s patients, so that was where we spent most of our time.
“Hey Cassidy! Hey Baxter!” Judy, one of the nurses, greeted us and buzzed us into the secure unit. “What’s up? This isn’t your usual night.” She winked at me. “Although I had a feeling you might be coming.” I’d talked enough with Judy to know she had some magic of her own, including a bit of foresight.
I nodded. “Had an appointment last night, so I checked with the front office to make sure we could come tonight,” I replied. “We’ll be back on schedule next week.”
Judy laughed. “I don’t think anyone here would mind if Baxter came every day,” she said. “He’s a popular fellow.”
I swear Baxter strutted as we headed for the social room, as if he knew he was a furry little celebrity. The residents’ faces lit up when they saw him. Mrs. Macallen always saved pretzels to give Baxter, and she would slip them to him when she thought no one was looking. Mrs. Talheimer kept a bit of apple or a bite of broccoli for him. Baxter made out like a bandit, and I figured that as long as he didn’t get sick, it was fine for him to get a few treats since he made everyone so happy.
“It’s good to see you, Baxter.” Mrs. Peterson’s voice was shaky, but she had no trouble leaning over in her wheelchair to scratch Baxter behind the ears as he put his paws on her legs. He weighs all of six pounds, so he’s not going to knock anyone over, and he