The Mystery at Sag Bridge

Chapter 35

Chapter 35

The temperature was near forty degrees but a blustery wind and cold mist made it seem frigid. Cora walked through the cemetery, her winter coat pulled tightly around her, her discomfort intensified by anxiety and fear.

Wouldn't you know it-the weather turns wicked just in time to add misery to such an important...what do I call this? Meeting's not a good word. Confrontation? Revelation?

Despite her efforts that morning, she had no real plan-she would just tell Angel about Cavanaugh and wing it, the very thing she had said she didn't want to do. Cora's talk with Father McGrath gave her a better understanding of her own conflicted emotions, but how she would go about revealing the killer to Angel would have to be spontaneous.

She paused, turned and glanced at Cisco sitting in his car, staying in the parking lot as he had promised. She could barely see his head through the windshield, and couldn't see his face, but was grateful he had insisted on coming, despite her objections. She rested her hands in her pockets; gloves didn't keep her warm enough, and covered hands took away her sense of control. Today of all days she needed to feel in control. Her mission was vitally important, a battle of sorts, and she wasn't going to go about it gloved or distracted by the weather.

Cora faced into the wind and trudged her way to the graves of Meg, Packey, and Darlin'. As Cora hoped, and felt sure she would be, Meg was waiting, seated on Darlin's grave.

Angel/Meg was dressed as before, neatly, for summer, not winter, as she would have been dressed when she was killed. She wasn't watching Cora, but looking at the woods that separated the graveyard and the road. She didn't turn at Cora's approach.

Maybe she's as nervous as I am.

"Hello, Meg," Cora greeted her. "Do you think we could move closer to the church, where there's a bench? I'd rather not sit on the cold ground. I'm not young anymore, as I'm sure you're aware."

After a moment, Meg turned to face Cora. The spirit seemed stronger today and wasn't exhibiting energy fluctuations.

Meg fixed her unblinking eyes on Cora, and then said in a hollow, flat voice, "Ground's no colder than anywhere-'tis all cold." Her voice was high and rapid, reminding Cora again of an old vinyl record played on a faster speed.

Cora sighed. "I guess you're right-from your perspective." She seated herself on the ground facing Meg, careful to place layers of coat beneath her. She shivered as the blustery wind found its way past her scarf and down her collar. Her knit hat kept her head warm, but the mist was cold and damp on her cheeks.

"You seem stronger," she observed, her voice flat as she struggled to keep from revealing her emotions.

"There's energy in the woods," Meg replied.

A sudden memory flashed into Cora's mind. "The nuclear waste-the butterflies. Is that what you mean?"

Meg met Cora's eyes but said nothing.

"I wanted to be with you when I told you," Cora said, and waited.

She watched Meg wrestle with her emotions as she realized Cora was about to disclose the reasons for her death and that of her family. Her eyes grew intense, seeming to glow with their own light source. She stood, floated, twirled in a circle, then noticed something, stopped abruptly, her gaze fixed on the parking lot, and in a low, raspy voice close to a roar she demanded, "Why is Cisco here? What are you plotting? Are you afraid of me, your Máime?" She began to float toward Cisco.

Cora jumped up. "Wait," she entreated. "He's no threat to you! If you want to know, wait! Hear me out first!"

The spirit slowed, stopped, and turned toward Cora, but came no closer.