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The Book of Neckomanty
by Naching T. Kassa 

The woman had finally breathed her last.

Shawn stood beside the bed, pretending to tremble with sorrow. He hid his joyous smile beneath his hand.

At last, at long last, Aunt Clotilde was dead. And he could finally enjoy the fortune she had left behind.

He had to share, of course. His aunt’s only daughter, Sherry, was the other beneficiary. Sherry had been born late in Clotilde’s life, a little surprise that appeared following a one-night stand. No one had expected Clotilde to have a child at the age of 46.

Sherry would be nine in two months, too young to take control of the fortune she would inherit. Sherry would have to wait 12 more years before she could touch her half. Plenty of time for Shawn to enjoy his before Sherry had a little accident. Not the same sort of accident her mother had experienced. Oh no. There would be no insulin poisoning for her. Perhaps, Sherry would fall victim to a drug overdose or maybe a car crash due to drinking and driving. Judging by the way she was crying, she wouldn’t get over her mother’s death easily.

Dr. Pratt wrapped an arm around Sherry’s shoulder. She clung to him and sobbed.

“There, there,” Pratt said. “Your mother’s in a better place now.”

“I don’t want her to be in a better place. I want her here,” the girl wheezed. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“But you won’t be alone, Sherry. Your cousin Shawn is your family now.”

The girl glanced up at Shawn with her wide, brown eyes.

“I’ll take care…” Shawn said. He made sure his voice caught in the middle, thickening his tone so the tears sounded real. “I’ll take care of you, Sherry.”

She rushed into his arms and he held her close. He would take care of her. Good care.

***

Shawn had no trouble with Sherry. The kid was creepy but quiet. Clotilde had a large library and the girl spent most of her time in there, reading strange books. Once, he’d heard chanting coming from the musty old room, and when he’d stopped by, he’d seen Sherry sitting on the floor. She had several glass ornaments, tied with red ribbon, placed before her.

“What are you doing, Sherry?” he’d asked.

The girl didn’t look up. “Casting spells.”

Shawn grinned. “Magic?”

“Yes. It’s called Neckomanty.”

“Really? What is Neckomanty? How does it work?

The little girl’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re not going to break those ornaments, are you? They look expensive.”

“I won’t break them.” She looked up at him with her wide eyes and smiled. If he had been a different man, it might have touched him. Instead, he turned to go. She called him back.

“Cousin Shawn?”

“Yes?”

“Do you miss my mommy?”

“Of course, I do.” The lie slipped out easily. He even threw in a single tear for good measure.

“Do you wish she could come back?”

“Well…yes. But, you know that’s not possible, right?”

She nodded.

“You know what I think you should do? You should clean up this mess and get to bed.”

“Just a few more minutes. I’m almost done.”

“Alright. Five more. Then bed.”

She resumed her chanting as he left the room.

On Thursday, the third day following Clotilde’s death, Shawn piled Sherry into his Chevy Blazer, a hunk of junk he’d soon be rid of, and started out for the law offices of Harold Jasper, Clotilde’s lawyer. Jasper had called him, asking that he bring Sherry and hadn’t said why. Shawn didn’t think it was about the will. No doubt, it had to do with the guardianship he would soon be assuming.

Sherry had been acting funny all morning, her depressed demeanor replaced by a jovial one. She wore a strange and annoying grin on her face.

“Everything ok?” Shawn asked as they cruised along.

“Yup.”

“You seem happier today.”

The little girl covered her mouth and giggled.

“What’s up?”

“I have a big surprise for you.”

“Surprise? What kind of surprise?”

“I finally did it.”

“Did what?”

“I made your wish come true!”

Shawn frowned at the little girl. “What wish?”

“You’ll see.” She giggled again and refused to say more.

When they arrived at the brick building which housed Jasper’s law practice, they found Officer Henry seated in the waiting room. The big policeman seemed to be immersed in the comic pages of the newspaper and didn’t look up as the receptionist led them back to Jasper’s office.

Shawn and Sherry entered and found Jasper behind his desk. Dr. Pratt in a chair opposite, his face grave. He rose to his feet and offered Sherry his chair.

“I came as soon as I could, Jasper,” Shawn said, taking the chair beside her. “Is this about the guardianship?”

Jasper, a little man with round glasses, frowned. “It is Shawn. And Clotilde’s Will as well. You see—”

“Do you need signatures?” Shawn asked, trying to keep the eagerness from his tone. “How do we get this underway?”

Jasper glanced at Pratt and then back at Shawn. “You’re not going to be Sherry’s guardian.”

“What? Why?”

“We have a witness, one who says you murdered Clotilde. You poisoned her with insulin.”

Shawn gaped. He tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come.

The door opened behind him and someone entered the room. At first, Shawn thought the heavy step belonged to Officer Henry, but Sherry’s cry told him otherwise.

“Mommy!”

Shawn turned to see Clotilde standing behind him. She still wore the dress she’d died in and vestiges of death still marked her face. But the color was returning to her cheeks and her limbs had shed the rigor which had affected them.

Shawn scrambled up from his chair and fell against Jasper’s desk.

“H-How?”

Sherry leaped out of her chair and rushed to her mother’s side. “I read the Book of Neckomanty and did exactly what it said. The spell worked! It worked!”

Clotilde knelt and embraced her daughter.

“Sweetheart,” she said, her voice little more than a raspy whisper. “How many times must I tell you? It’s Necromancy, not Neckomanty.” She turned her lifeless gaze on Shawn and grinned.

It was the last thing he saw before Officer Henry dragged him away.

.

Fiction © Copyright Naching T. Kassa
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

More from Naching T. Kassa:

Sherlock Holmes and The Arcana of Madness: A Horror Mystery

Discover the untold mysteries of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson in Sherlock Holmes and the Arcana of Madness, a trilogy that unveils three captivating cases intertwined with the mystical allure of tarot cards, designed by the renowned, yet infamous artist, Richard Dadd.

A collection of manuscripts, meticulously penned by John H. Watson M.D., is unearthed in 2019 amidst the restoration of Broadmoor Hospital, found inexplicably in the grave of Richard Dadd. The manuscripts’ concealed journey and their remaining unpublished raise a myriad of questions, enveloping them in a veil of mystery.

Available on Amazon!