Bones of a Witch (29 page)

“Yes, you know, like a wolf or a
bear?”

“How `bout a big cat?”

“Sure, maybe a big cat. You seen such a
thing?”

She pursed her lips momentarily and broke them
apart with a tisk noise. “Nope, nothing like that.”

He looked to Ursula. “Miss?”

Ursula shook her head slowly, seemingly giving
more consideration to her response than Lilith had. “For certain I
have not, kind sir,” she answered, her voice sounding soft and
fragile. “But forgive me my thoughts, for I could suffer no longer
Mister Putnam’s cruelty and I pray he hath found solace with the
devil.”

Chandler thinned his lips and dropped a subtle
nod. “I see.”

We stood there then, the four of us looking at
Ursula staring down at the ground in solemn reflection. Detective
Chandler could not know the horrors she had experienced at the
hands of Putnam and those like him back in seventeenth-century
Salem, but it seemed his capacity for intimate cognition allowed
him a connection of vicarious existence with others. And I sensed
this connection he had with Ursula. In some ways I felt that he,
too, may have journeyed through stagnant glitches in time, only to
find himself standing right back where he started. I suppose
stranger things have happened.

“Well, if there is nothing else,” said Lilith,
clapping her hands clean. “It’s a long ride home.
Detective?”

Chandler shook Lilith’s hand. “Miss. Adams,
thank you.” He then shook mine, Carlos’ and Ursula’s, and stepped
aside for us to pass. We walked off together, but as we began
piling into the car, I noticed Chandler talking to the young
paramedic who had given Lilith such a hard time; or she him. He
told me when we walked off together that he heard what Lilith said.
I supposed he meant he heard what she said about her blood
pressure. If he believed it, or worse, if Chandler believed it,
then I guessed we might not have heard the last of the
Putnam/Hilton story. Lilith seemed none too worried, though, and
neither did Carlos. The first thing out of his mouth after we hit
the road was when do we eat? Some things never change, and I find
that strangely comforting.

Lilith Adams:

Tony seemed grumpier than usual for the first
week or so after we got back from Salem. He blamed it on me because
I asked him to sleep on the couch so that Ursula could have his
bedroom.

“Why can’t I just sleep with you?” he asked.
Sure, like I was going to let that happen. “It’s not as though we
haven’t slept together all night before.”

“Tony, if I let you sleep with me every night,
then you’re going to want to…you know, every night.”

“No I won’t. I’ll just be glad to have a soft
bed to sleep on so that I can go to work in the morning without
being all stiff and sore.”

“Yeah, well it’s you getting all stiff and sore
at night that I’m worried about.”

“Lilith.”

All right, so the following weekend I let him
sleep in my bed. And just as I suspected (okay, maybe planned) he
wanted to fool around all night. But I’m an understanding girl; I
figured what could it hurt? I also didn’t see any harm in
understanding again the next morning. After all, he was all stiff
and sore. Afterwards, we were just lying there catching our
breaths, when he said to me, “Man that was wild. I hope we didn’t
wake Ursula.”

“Ursula?” I said. “I think she’s up and out
already.”

“Where’d she go?”

“To the hospital to see Dominic. He’s getting
out this morning.”

“Is he?”

“Yes. You know he’s asked to see her every day
this week. I think he’s got a thing for her.”

“I’m sure he does. She’s beautiful.”

“Oh?” I rolled onto my side to give him the
benefit of looking me in the eyes. “More beautiful than
me?”

He laughed nervously. “Lilith, she looks just
like you.”

I narrowed my gaze. “Yeah, but not
exactly.”

He sighed, which made me think it was time to
kick his ass out of bed. But then he got wise and said, “Well, no
not exactly.”

“Go on.”

He traced my brow with the tip of his finger.
“She does have those high, thin eyebrows that make her look like
she’s always scheming.”

“Yes?”

He slid his fingers down my cheek and skirted
them over my mouth. “And when she smiles, her thin lips pinch a
little tight at the dimples, and you can never be a hundred percent
sure she isn’t secretly gritting her teeth.”

Okay, I admit he can be charming sometimes.
“What else?”

“Her eyes.”

“What about`em.”

“They’re so big and black that at night you
can’t tell if she’s looking at you or through you.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, too.”

“And her nose….”

“Uh-huh?”

“Ah, well there’s nothing about her nose. It’s
perfectly beautiful.”

“Perfectly?”

“Yes, but not as perfect as yours, which leads
me to the conclusion that you are by far more beautiful than Ursula
in every respect.”

“You’re damn straight.”

I rolled over onto my pillow and laced my
fingers up behind my head. As I lay there staring at the ceiling
and watching the fan swirl in lazy loops, my mind drifted off in
wonder of what might become of Ursula. I couldn’t imagine dropping
out of one century like she did and popping up in another that had
advanced exponentially over the previous three. Had she jumped from
the fourteenth to the seventeenth century I doubt she would have
noticed much difference. What must she think of twenty-first
century’s astounding advances over hers? I thought the grimoire
might have a spell or two in it that could possibly get Ursula back
to her own place in time if she wanted to go, but before I could
finish that thought, Tony said, “I didn’t see anything.”

I turned my head to find him staring up at the
fan with that same look of wonder in his eyes. “What did you
say?”

He rocked his head back to look at me. “I said
I didn’t see anything.”

“Where?”

“In the Grimoire.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You were wondering about a spell to send
Ursula back to her own place in time.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I didn’t see anything in the Grimoire
about that.”

“Tony, you realize I didn’t say that out
loud.”

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

“Huh.”

“Huh? That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. How `bout saying, hey look at
me. I was just reading your thoughts?”

“Alright, hey look at me. I was—”

“Not now, Jesus, Tony, this is what I was
talking about. You’ve got the power. The witchcraft is in you.
Embrace it. Work with it.”

“Like you did last week?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you did something, you turned yourself
into a tiger, or a jaguar or whatever it was that killed
Putnam.”

“Oh, that’s just foolish.”

“Is it?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“So, you don’t ever shape shift. Is that
it?”

“I said it’s foolish, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but you didn’t deny it.”

“Go make some coffee?”

“See, this is exactly my point. You want me to
practice witchcraft, yet you deny its potential. You never even
told me about the gate key.”

“I told you about the gate key.”

“Sure, last week, but you’ve been hounding me
for over a year to try harder, practice more, focus my attention.
Why didn’t you tell me about the key earlier?”

“I didn’t tell you because….”

“What?”

“I don’t know. The gate key was the biggest
secret my family ever kept. I guess I just couldn’t bring myself to
open up that door.”

“Lilith, you know how hard I’ve been trying to
manage this whole back to prime thing. Why would you let me
struggle so hard?”

“I told you I don’t know. Cut me some
slack.”

“You cut me some slack. Haven’t we been through
enough together already to earn each other’s trust?”

“Yes.”

“All right then.” He rolled his eyes back up at
the fan. “You know I pulled off a level three spell last
week.”

“You?” I propped myself up on one elbow and
looked at him to see if he was smiling. “now I don’t believe
it.”

“No, ask Carlos and Spinelli. I tried the
cloaking spell out on Froggy and he never saw me. It’s like I
disappeared entirely, like a ghost.”

“A ghost, huh? That figures.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, you know how it is. Every time I ask you
to do something around the house you go off and
disappear.”

“Oh, do I?” He pushed me onto my back and
rolled over on top of me. “Well what would you say if I told you
that this ghost wants to go another round with you?”

I tried to push him off but he wouldn’t let me.
“I’d say forget it. Three times is enough.”

“But ghosts never tire.”

“Tony, I’m warning you.”

“All right, fine.”

He rolled off me and climbed out
of bed. I sat up and watched him collect his pants off the floor;
the morning sun streaming through the window caressing his buttocks
in a warm candle-like glow. I began thinking that maybe I acted a
little too hastily then. I fluffed his pillow and patted the
mattress beside me. “On second thought,” I said, sizzling the
‘
S
’ a little. “I
guess it is still early. Why don’t you come back to bed and we’ll,
you know—talk.”

He turned around, allowing the sunbeam to
spotlight his more indulgent attributes. “Talk?”

I flopped back on the pillow, folded my arms up
over my head and grabbed hold of the headboard. “Yeah, or
whatever.”

I could see him thinking about it, his sensuous
stare bathing me in long, slow brush strokes as if wondering where
to start. An electric rush shot through my body as his gaze glazed
over me like honey. I stretched one leg out straight, and then the
other, kicking the sheets to the floor and pointing my toes up in
the air, wiggling them in anticipation. He smiled. I smiled. My
eyes spilled down his chest, past his washboard stomach to his
sunlit pride and the growing shadow it cast. I reached out to touch
him and he slipped back a step. Our eyes met. He was still smiling,
teasingly. I leaned toward him; my back arched, my fingers splayed
on outstretched hand coaxing him gently. Again he slipped back, and
now his smile seemed perfectly wicked to me. I propped myself up on
my elbows and scowled at him deeply. “What’s this?” I said. “Are
you dissing me?”

“Dissing you? No.” He stepped into his jeans,
buttoned the top snap and pulled up his zipper. “I’m going to go
make the coffee.”

“Yeah, well excuse me, Mister; horny witch
here.”

He shook his head lightly. “Nah, I think I’ll
pass, but thanks.”

“Pass? You think you’ll pass?”

“Yeah. You want toast?”

I grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him. “Screw
your toast, and enjoy it, because this is the last time you screw
me, buster.”

“What? Lilith, come on. You’re the one who said
no to me first. I was already out of bed and you—”

“And I, like a fool, called you back. Remember
this day, Tony.” I grabbed the other pillow and pitched it at his
head. “Now get out of my room, and take a good look around on your
way out; it’s the last time you’re ever gonna see it.”

“Lilith, please, don’t….”

“Out!”

He turned and scooted out the
door, closing it only half way, but making a noticeable retreat
with heavy footfalls down the hall on his way to the kitchen. I
dropped back onto the mattress and laid there awhile staring up at
the fan and wondering what the hell had just happened. I never
thought I’d see the day when Tony Marcella would pass up
all this
for a cup of
coffee. My instincts told me he was up to something, but a small
piece of me (a very small piece) wondered if maybe he was losing
his attraction to me. I’m not usually prone to such bouts of
insecurities, but come on, what’s a girl to think?

I waited until I could smell the coffee brewing
before making up my mind to get up and get dressed. I had just sat
up when the bedroom door suddenly shut tight. I turned to see if
the window was open. It was not, which seemed strange, because a
cross breeze coming from the hall would have blown the door open,
not closed. Off in the corner, a chair moved, as if bumped into
lightly. My heart began pounding. Something unnatural was happening
and I couldn’t imagine what. I thought of calling for Tony, but my
pride would not let me. After all, I had just told him that I’d
never let him set foot in my bedroom ever again, and by ever I
meant three days—a week max.