Page 8 of Casting Butterflies

The auctioneer flipped open the lid, and I almost bolted from my seat upon hearing the flutter of wings. A glance around showed no butterflies. Nothing and yet my unease remained.

The auctioneer didn’t remove anything from the box but rather cleared his throat. “Before anyone gets too excited, none of the jewelry is made of pure gold, and the jewels are all imitation,” the auctioneer declared. “However, there are some interesting and old pieces that might interest collectors.” A laughable thing to say to the five of us still sitting.

He drew out a ring first, hideous, and the price of seventy-five dollars reflected it. The bracelet with the butterfly charms went unsold, along with the next ring. A pendant emerged on a gaudy chain, the dangling butterfly utterly hideous. The glass in its wings cheap. One of its metal antennas gone. And yet, I couldn’t stop staring at it.

My body pimpled as my ears rang with the beat of hundreds of wings.

This was it. Even before Cedric pawed me, I was waving my paddle at the auctioneer’s starting bid, which ended up being the winning one, as no one else wanted to pay forty dollars for the ugliest necklace in existence.

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Despite having been eager to buy the necklace, when the moment came to pay and take possession, I couldn’t bring myself to touch my purchase. My hesitation showed when I handed over the cash but kept my hands by my sides rather than reach for the gaudy chain and pendant.

The girl shook it. “Ain’t you taking it?”

“Yeah.” I pulled my sleeve over my hand, drawing a strange look from the girl. “I’m allergic to cheap metal,” a weak excuse rather than explain the proximity of it raised the hairs on my body and churned my stomach. It didn’t help I kept hearing the flutter of wings.

“Oh. You want the box we found it in?”

The one that blocked its magic? “Yes!” I practically shouted, drawing a strange look from the girl, but I didn’t care, because the moment she dropped the necklace into the wooden box and closed the lid? Instant relief.

I smiled as I took it from her. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Gotta ask, if you’re allergic, whatcha gonna do with it?”

“Prank present. My best friend loves butterflies.”

“Hopefully she’s not as crazy as Old Lady Papillon,” muttered the girl.

“Oh, did you know her?”

“She was my great aunt, not that I ever called her auntie. Barely seen her at all. My dad”—the girl glanced at the auctioneer leaning against his podium talking to someone—“brought me by a few times to check on her, but the old lady never let us stay long. Claimed he was trying to steal her power.”

My brows lifted. “She fancied herself a witch?”

“I’m not sure what she believed.” The girl’s lips pursed. “I do know she thought the butterflies protected her. Something about the noise of their wings kept something from hearing and the many eyes on their wings from being seen.”

“Who was she worried spied on her?”

The girl shrugged. “Who knows. She was crazy. According to my dad, she returned from some trip overseas and was never the same. That’s when she began collecting and remodeling the house and apparently never set foot off the property again. She had everything delivered.”

I went to leave, only to find myself with one last question. “How did your aunt end up dying, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It started with a fall off the ladder when she tried to install some new butterfly outside the house. A passing neighbor saw her hit the ground and called an ambulance. She regained consciousness in the hospital with a broken arm and a mild concussion. but rather than let them set it and send her home, she freaked out, said she needed to get home right away, needed her butterflies for protection. Needless to say, her ranting got her sent to the psyche ward.”

The girl paused, and I couldn’t help but ask, “So how did she end up dying?”

“She choked to death, but that’s where it gets weird because when they did the autopsy…” The girl leaned close and whispered, “They discovered her lungs were full of butterflies.”

I recoiled in horror, and the girl laughed. Laughed so hard she began snorting. “Oh your face.”

“Wait, she didn’t choke on butterflies?”

“Nah. But it would have been ironic if she had, right? Auntie simply passed in her sleep. Doctors figure shock combined with age.”

Which made more sense. Still, as I left the property, Cedric trotting by my side, I couldn’t help a chill and glanced at the home as we slid away from the curb. The house no longer felt ominous and looked rather sad actually. It led to me glancing at the box sitting on the dash. I really hoped I wasn’t making a mistake bringing the necklace home.

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