Looking for Mr. Good Witch (21 page)

Water clear and water bright,

Clear my mind and make it right,

Cleanse my eyes and cleanse my soul,

Let the truth now be whole.

Emma Rhodes was next on the list. She lived in the newer part of Wilmington just off Military Cutoff Road. We passed the big branch of the New Hanover Public Library, and Dorothy squealed.

“I've always wanted to work at this branch,” she said. “I just don't want to drive every day”

“We're going to have to write down the next addresses,” Elsie informed us. “The spell on the phone book is fading.”

“I can just look them up on my phone,” Dorothy volunteered with a smile.

“I suppose you could do it that way.” Elsie frowned and muttered something about gadgets.

“She lives in those apartments.” I pointed when I saw the sign. “This time, let's be more prepared. If Zack had been the sea witch, I'm afraid we'd be dead by now.”

Elsie giggled. “Or asleep like Joe and Suzanne.”

“And Zack could kiss us to wake us up.” Olivia sighed. “Just like a fairy tale.”

“Except that Zack would be the one who'd have put the curse on us,” Dorothy reminded her. “It's unlikely that he'd want to help us.”

“I suppose that's true,” Olivia agreed. “You're not very romantic, are you?”

I interrupted. “What can we do to make sure we're safe? All I could think of was a water spell for clarity. It worked, but what I saw wouldn't have saved us. Any ideas?”

“If we had our spell book, we wouldn't have this problem,” Olivia chided.

“If you hadn't been murdered, we'd still have our spell book.” Elsie grinned at me. “There you go, Molly. Don't let her bully you.”

I smiled as Dorothy parked the car. “Ladies, this isn't a plan. Think of poor Brian. We have to find the sea witch to save him.”

“What if you're wrong and we find the sea witch but she
isn't
the Bone Man's wife?” Elsie asked.

“Then we'll save Brian, and I'll have to figure out another way to keep Joe safe.”

“You know it's not as easy as you make it sound,” Olivia warned.

“What about if we work on that spell you used at Zack's, but we do it together, before we go inside?” Dorothy said.

“Great idea!” Elsie smiled. “And I have just the thing that we can spell to see what we're really looking at.” She produced a small, handheld mirror from her bag.

“Excellent!” Dorothy said. “Come on. Fist bump!”

Awkwardly, Elsie and I bumped fists with Dorothy. Olivia did her own ghostly version of it. We got out of the car and stood under the shade of a large cedar tree. We all put our hands on the mirror. I repeated the spell for clarity, and we said it together a few times before trying to spell the mirror.

Closing our eyes, holding our tools of magic, we recited the spell until the mirror began to glow.

“I think that's got it,” I said. “Let's try it out.”

I held the mirror up to my face. It showed me with the Bone Man standing right behind me. I jumped and glanced back to see if he was really there.

“Why is it showing him, Molly?” Dorothy asked.

“The spell shows who we really are,” I replied. “In this case, it's showing a large influence in my life. You try it.”

Dorothy nodded and cautiously took the mirror from me. She was almost too nervous to hold it up to her face. “That's not too bad. Look. It's showing Hemlock and Mom's house. I guess that's who I am right now.”

“It's your house too, honey,” Olivia told her. “I'm not surprised at all that being a wealthy witch is influencing you. It's your birthright. Be proud of it.”

“Let me try.” Elsie wasn't afraid of what she'd see in the mirror. “There I am. I look amazing holding my sword. I've never seen it on fire before. What's up with that?”

We all looked at her image in the mirror. She looked strong and powerful, much more so than she looked in real life.

“Maybe you accidentally stuck it in the fire,” Olivia said. “You
can
get a little careless at times.”

“We know the spell works. We'll have to figure out a way to gaze at Emma in the mirror.” I shivered, still a little nervous after seeing the Bone Man standing behind me. “We'll deal with that once we get inside.”

Elsie insisted on carrying the mirror, since it was her idea. We found Emma's apartment easily enough. Dorothy knocked on the door, and we waited.

“Yes?”

I remembered seeing Emma at the memorial. She was very short, almost pixielike, with golden blond hair and blue eyes.

I smiled at her. “I'm sorry. I'm Molly Renard from Smuggler's Arcane. Someone at the memorial left behind a valuable antique watch. We're trying to find out who it belongs to.”

Her blue eyes widened. “I don't think I left anything
there. That poor boy. I felt so bad about his death. It could've been any of us. Would you like to come in? I have gingerbread in the oven.”

We gladly agreed and went into Emma's very modern apartment. She chatted the whole time about her job as a nurse and Sam's death. Elsie fidgeted, having a hard time sitting in one of the plastic scoop-type chairs. They were too low to the floor, and she was afraid she wouldn't be able to get up.

“I'll help you before we go,” I whispered. “Let's just get this over with. Give me the mirror.”

Emma brought us each a slice of gingerbread with dollops of fresh cream. It was heavenly, though I thought after eating it that we probably shouldn't have tasted it in case she
was
the sea witch. It was too late then.

I managed to get behind her with the mirror. Dorothy looked over my shoulder.

The only image we could see was Emma, dressed as a nurse, with a young child who looked as though she was recovering from cancer. Her small, bald head and thin face were pathetic.

“What are you all looking at back there?” Emma laughed and grabbed the back of her blue top. “Is my tag sticking out or something?”

“Yes.” Dorothy pretended to push a tag down at Emma's neckline. “There you go.”

To further distract, Elsie pointed to a picture on the mantel of a pretty young girl with curly blond hair. “Is that your daughter? She's very cute. How old is she?”

There was no way she could have known that the dying girl we saw with Emma in the spelled mirror was the same girl from the picture. She didn't look like the same person.

“Yes. Brandy was three in that picture. She died last year. There was no magic, no medicine that could save her. I almost gave up being a witch.” Emma wiped tears from her eyes. “Then I realized that I couldn't abandon my beliefs because
of her death. I was teaching her to be a witch too. She loved writing spells.”

“I'm so sorry.” Elsie managed to push herself out of the bright yellow chair and took Emma's hand. “I can't imagine what you went through.”

“It hasn't been easy. I give everything to my job and then spend hours trying to contact her spirit.” She held up her hand. “I know. I shouldn't be messing with that stuff, but I see you have a ghost. I'd give anything to have Brandy here with me.”

Olivia dropped down from the ceiling. “Oh, my dearest woman, she is here with you right now.”

Emma got to her feet. “Really? Where? Why doesn't she show herself? I can see you.”

“It may be your sorrow,” I said. “I don't know everything about ghosts, but my mother told me once that grief can keep us from contacting our dead loved ones. You'll have to let go of it to see her.”

By this time, we were all crying, our arms wrapped around each other. Olivia was crying too, and she pressed as close as her ghostly flesh would allow her.

“Thank you,” Emma said. “Thank you so much for coming today. The watch you found isn't mine, but what you've given me is invaluable.”

“When you find her,” Elsie warned, “beware the council. They've already threatened to take Olivia from us. They might do the same with Brandy.”

Emma's face was fierce. “Let them try. Where is she now, Olivia?”

Olivia pointed to a corner where a blond doll sat on a painted chair. “She's right there. Come on and give your mama a hug, sugar. She wants to see you in the worst way.”

Until that moment, I couldn't see Brandy either. Then, suddenly—there she was. She looked as she did in the picture on the mantel, with a big smile on her face.

“Mama?”

“I'm right here, baby.” Emma sobbed as she saw her daughter's spirit for the first time. “We'll never be apart again. Someday I'll cross over and we'll really be together.”

We left Emma and Brandy together. All of us were still crying, trying to keep our eye makeup from running.

“Definitely not the sea witch.” Elsie blew her nose on her peach-colored handkerchief. “We're so lucky to have you, Olivia. That poor woman. At least they'll be together again.”

“I couldn't see her,” Dorothy remarked. “Do you have to be related to a ghost to see them?”

“No. Not usually,” I replied. “I couldn't see her at first. She had some reason that she was hiding. I hope it was nothing to do with her mother.”

“I know what you're thinking, Molly, and don't you dare.” Olivia shook her finger at me. “Sometimes a ghost has a hard time getting used to where she is, and she can't appear right away. It has nothing to do with how much the mother loves the child. And it certainly doesn't mean she was being abused or something. I can't believe you even thought that.”

I
had
been thinking that. It came from years of teaching school and trying to help children who were being abused at home. I didn't always think the worst, but I had in this case. “I'm sorry. I'm sure you're right. But how did you know?”

Olivia looked surprised by the question as we got back in the Mercedes. “I don't know. Maybe I'm learning things about being a ghost. It's taken long enough.”

“Quick,” Elsie encouraged her. “Try to pick up that tissue Molly just dropped on the floor.”

“Sorry.” I leaned forward to retrieve the tissue off the immaculate gray carpet. It was force of habit. I didn't reckon with Olivia doing the same.

Our heads collided—or would have if Olivia had been solid. Instead, her head went right through mine. Her arm went through mine too. It was an eerie experience.

“I did it!” Olivia was grinning as she held up the tissue. “I actually did it. I'm getting a handle on this whole ghost thing. It won't be long until I can look for a new lover.”

We all laughed at that even though my head and arm were still tingling from our encounter.

“Leave it to you to think of that,” Elsie mocked. “Of all the things in the world, that was the first one?”

“I think that might be the most important one,” Olivia shot back, still holding the tissue. “Where are we off to next?”

May my sword stay between myself and all danger.

May my magic protect from all who would harm me.

Blessed Be.

We stopped at Marlie Eubanks's house on the way to Southport. She also asked us in for tea and cookies. The spelled mirror saw her with a very young lover and an older man we assumed must be her husband. He didn't look very happy.

As we went back to the car, Elsie shook her faded red curls. “I'm glad this is almost over. I'm going to gain weight from looking for the evil sea witch.”

“There's only Portia de Winter left on the list,” I said. “What address do we have for her?”

Dorothy consulted the list. “She lives out here too. We're only a few minutes from her place.”

I glanced at my watch—the antique I was using as a prop to talk to the witches we suspected. “That should be fine. I'll have to go right after to get Joe.”

We were beginning to give up hope on the plan. The mirror seemed to be working, but none of the suspects had turned into dead witches when we'd looked at them in it.

“Are you sure you're doing it the right way?” Olivia asked.

“We appeared correctly in it. The other witches seemed the same. I don't know what else we can do.”

Dorothy started the car. “We only have one more witch to try. Either it will be her or we'll have to come up with a new plan.”

“What are the chances that someone working for the council is a sea witch?” Olivia asked. “I know we don't think much of the council, but surely they would check out those who work for them.”

Elsie chuckled. “That might be true, but don't call me Shirley.”

Dorothy laughed too, and I smiled.

“That was really lame, Elsie,” Olivia berated her. “You have to find some new jokes.”

We drove to an older house on the beach. The windows were boarded up. Half the roof was gone. It looked as though it had been the victim of a hurricane, but not a recent one.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Dorothy asked. “We couldn't verify the address with my phone since she's only been here a short time.”

“That's what the memorial guest book said.” I looked at the house. “There must be some mistake.”

“Or she's the sea witch and lives over there in the water and not in a house at all,” Elsie added. “Did none of you think that could be the case?”

“I think she's right.” Dorothy took a deep breath. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Portia de Winter came around the side of the old house. The ocean breezes blew at her silky silver hair and whipped at her long blue skirt. Her pale blue blouse was studded with silver stars.

“Hello, ladies!” She greeted us with a big smile on her classically pretty face. “Come around back. I'm staying in the guesthouse. I'm hoping to get this old monstrosity torn
down and build something later. I'd love to stay here in the area. It's a charming place.”

“Maybe not so much the sea witch after all,” Elsie whispered.

We followed Portia behind the house, where an old swimming pool was empty, the concrete cracked and overgrown with weeds. The guesthouse was small but perfect for one person. She invited us in for lemon meringue pie that she'd made that morning.

Elsie groaned before she smiled and accepted a slice.

“I see you brought your ghost,” Portia said. “You know the council doesn't look favorably on her being here.”

“We know,” I answered. “We don't care how the council feels about her. She's our friend and Dorothy's mother. The rule is wrong. Why feel like witches can't be ghosts?”

Portia shrugged as she cut the pie. “I think being a witch is all about the natural order of things. When you die, you move on. Don't you believe that, Molly?”

“I do. But when there is strong purpose, and not just a lingering shadow, I think there should be an exception. Olivia had no time to get to know her daughter. This is all the time she has with Dorothy.”

I didn't mention Brandy, Emma's daughter, but I knew that witches who were firmly against ghosts clinging to life wouldn't care that Brandy was only a baby separated from her mother.

Portia passed out the pie on wonderful china plates that were painted with delicate seashells and other ocean life. “I'm sure you're right. The council is stubborn and slow to change.”

The little room we sat in was pleasant in the watery sunlight. There was an old fireplace for heat and a tiny kitchen area. A bed was in one corner with a chest and lamp beside it.

It looked as though this was going to be another dead end. Dorothy was eagerly eating her pie. Elsie was only looking at hers and sighing.

I glanced at my plate, about to take a bite. But where the beautiful china had held luscious lemon pie, there was now only a piece of barnacled metal with seaweed on it.

“Don't eat it!” I dropped the plate on the tile floor. “It's not real. It may be poisoned!”

Elsie dropped her plate right away. It was too late for Dorothy.

“I don't feel very well, Molly,” Dorothy said. “I don't know what's wrong with me.”

She fell to the floor, not moving.

Portia smiled. “Don't worry. She'll be fine. What gave me away?”

I looked at my hand. The rune was seeping blood around the edges. That had also been masked by her glamour. “You're the sea witch, and the Bone Man's wife.”

Her brows lifted. She appeared pleasantly amused. “I haven't heard that term. What does it mean?”

“You haven't been here long. That's what the witches in this area call your husband.”

“Really? How does he feel about it? I'll bet he thinks it's funny. I think it's funny that he still thinks of himself as my husband.”

I got to my feet, holding my amulet. Elsie pushed to her feet, clutching her sword.

“He's charged me to bring you back to him,” I told her. “But I think you'll have to face the council for the witches you've killed.”

She laughed. “I see. You must be his personal messenger. I noticed the amulet you wear, Molly. So much power for one
old
witch. What do you plan to do with it?”

“This isn't about me. It's about you.”

“You won't do anything with it.” Her voice cracked and thinned. “He won't
let
you. It's hard for me to believe you even have it. Where did you find it?”

“He gave it to an ancestor of mine, I think.” I thought
telling her might crack her shell of amusement. I was right—I was also sorry.

Portia's appearance began to shift and change like a kaleidoscope. Colors whirled and danced until there was nothing left of her.

Nothing
human
anyway.

Elsie caught her breath, but stood her ground. I swallowed hard, wishing I had a sword too. I went to the other side of the table, where Dorothy lay prone on the floor, and picked up Olivia's staff.

“It won't do you any good against that thing,” Olivia hissed a warning. “You need your magic, Molly. You can't bludgeon it.”

I knew she was right, but the feel of something sturdy to defend myself made me feel better about facing the sea witch. We'd wanted to see her true form. We didn't need a spelled mirror now.

Portia's body turned into something green and wrinkled. She resembled a large cucumber that was going bad. There were prickly spines all over her. Her long, beautiful silver hair shriveled and turned green. Her hands became like lobster claws with spines on them. Her mouth was a hideous gaping maw filled with sharp teeth.

All that remained the same were her very human blue eyes. They were the same eyes I'd seen on the witch burned at the stake in my dream. I immediately felt pity for her as well as a kind of empathy. What had he done to her? She would have been better off dead.

“Look out, Molly,” Elsie warned. “She's coming after you.”