The Trouble With Witches (4 page)
After a purifying bath in sea salt, I dressed in a loose-fitting robe and went to the den located in the rear of my house, overlooking the trees that ring my backyard. It was my space, the space I'd created for
magick
.
I was still damp from my bath while I moved around the room lighting candles. A lot of questions tumbled through my mind, so I lit only the candles that would increase the energy I needed to seek my answers. When I finished, seven candles of black to bind me to the earth, and seven candles of indigo to increase my psychic awareness, lit the room with soft yellow light. My shadow danced across the bookcases as I walked to my desk.
Nestled there on the shiny surface was my collection of crystals. Amber for creativity, green fluorite for balance, rose quartz for love and harmony, emerald for healing; they glowed with the colors of the rainbow. I passed my hand over the shimmering crystals several times, and each time felt their combined energy vibrate around them. Finally, I selected the ones that would help me the most. I picked up a piece of hematite for grounding and an amethyst to increase my psychic energy and placed them in the pocket of my robe.
Walking to the center of the room, I set one silver candle in the middle of the polished wood floor. The energy of the silver candle would assist me in interpreting whatever I saw.
Starting at the north, I walked slowly clockwise while pouring a thin line of salt on the floor, creating a wide circle made of salt around the candle. The circle would protect me against any nasty energy lurking about, seeking a place to call home. But before I could start, I needed a few more things—a notepad and pen to record my impressions, a square of linen, and of course the runes.
When I picked up the worn leather bag that held them from the top of the desk, I felt the stones quiver inside the old sack. Almost as if they were excited to be of use again. Stepping carefully over the circle of salt, I sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of the candle and lit it.
Next I spread out the linen square. Laying the notebook and pen to the side and the runes on my lap, I took the hematite and amethyst out of my pocket. Holding the hematite in my right hand and the amethyst in my left, I concentrated on clearing my mind. And while I did, I tried to pull energy from the earth, up through my body. When I felt at peace and connected with the earth's energy, I framed my question.
"What will we find in
After laying the amethyst and hematite in front of the candle, I reached into the bag and let the stones slip through my fingers until one felt just "right." After placing the stone in front of me on the linen, I repeated the process two more times.
The runes seemed to glow with a light of their own as they lay there on the linen square.
A nice straight line of three; the
Norns
, the Three Sisters.
Urdhr
—the past,
Verdhandi
—the present, and
Skuld
—the future.
I turned the first one over.
Othlia
.
"
Oath-awe-law
," I said aloud, pronouncing each syllable slowly to myself. Okay, it means a vision, an ideal, one who might be consumed by the past. Could mean Rick, or it could be the reason Brandi got involved with the group. She was consumed by an idea.
I moved on to the next one.
Ansuz
.
"
Awn-
sooze
."
I repeated it as I had
Othlia
.
Hmm, to take the advice of someone.
Someone older and respected.
Well, that definition certainly fit Abby. So the advice of the runes was to listen to Abby. What a big surprise.
I hesitated before turning over the last rune. It was in the "future" position. I knew enough about
magick
and the runes to know they didn't lie. Did I
really
want to know the answer? What if the answer was one I didn't like? The future always had the potential of holding some nasty surprises. My hand hovered over the last stone. With a sigh, I flipped it over.
Perthro
.
"
Perth-row
."
I said it softly.
Mystery, secrets, the occult.
Now what in the hell did that mean?
The occult?
Because most people associated the occult with witches, and Abby and I were witches?
Mystery?
No kidding, mystery. We had a missing girl on our hands.
Frustrated, I picked up the notebook and pen. I tapped the pen on my chin while I stared thoughtfully into the candle's flame.
The flame seemed to brighten and dim in a rhythmic pattern, while the air currents eddied around it. The sight was mesmerizing, and I don't know how long it held my attention. When I finally shook myself out of staring at the flame, I was surprised to see how far the candle had burned down. I'd only stared at it for a few moments, hadn't I?
I looked down at my lap at the notebook and my hand that still held the pen. Suddenly, the pen slipped from my nerveless fingers and rolled toward the candle.
Across the once clean, white surface of the paper, written about a hundred times, and in my loose scrawl, was one word.
Magic
.
And I didn't remember writing it.
Monday morning I stood at the bottom of the flight of steps leading to the library and looked up at the old limestone building. Until last fall, the library had been my home away from home. When I'd taken the job of Summerset's librarian five years ago, after Brian's murder, I used the job to hide emotionally from everyone except Abby. I'd come to Summerset broken, swamped by feelings of guilt over my failure to stop Brian's murder in time. The vision I'd had witnessing the murder had come too late to save him.
It had been Rick and the events leading up to Adam, Benny, and Jake's capture that had finally knocked down the wall I hid behind. I'd been forced to accept who and what I was, to embrace my talent, to follow my destiny. And for that, I owed him.
Now I had to face my next problem. How to explain my trip to my assistant?
Darci
was a leggy, busty blonde who most people wrote off as an airhead. I shook my head. If they only knew what went on behind those big blue eyes. She possessed a sharp mind and the ability to figure things out faster than most. Sometimes it seemed like she was the psychic, not me. And she always wanted to be right in the middle of what she called "my adventures." And when I told her about Rick's phone call, she would insist on going to
But my answer had to be no.
Reluctantly, I trudged up the stairs. Pausing at the top, I hoisted my backpack firmly on my shoulder and swung open the door.
Darci
stood behind the counter, filing library cards. Her long red fingernails clicked against the countertop as she picked each card. When she looked up and saw me standing there, she smiled. "Good morning. Hey," she said, pointing a figure at me, "that eye makeup looks really good on you. Makes your brown eyes pop."
I touched my face self-consciously and nodded. Thanks to
Darci
, my medicine cabinet was full of things she had assured me I needed—blush, eye shadows, mascara, and all the girly stuff I'd never paid much attention to. And if I didn't use the entire gunk she picked out for me, it hurt her feelings. Now my morning routine had been extended by twenty minutes.
"How was your weekend?"
I crossed to the counter. "Okay," I replied, and stowed my backpack on one of the shelves.
"Nothing too exciting."
She eyed me suspiciously. "I doubt that. Didn't you tell me Henry was coming by with some pictures?"
"Yeah, but it didn't work. I didn't see anything that could help him find his missing person. The man's dead.
A suicide.
But I couldn't tell him where to find the body."
"How did Henry take it?"
"In typical Iceman fashion," I said, picking up my own stack of cards and thumbing through them. "He wasn't going to let on how disappointed he was, but I could tell. He really wanted to be able to give the man's family some kind of answer." I stopped, feeling the frustration pick at me once again. "Some answer other than, 'He's dead and we don't know where.' "
"I'm sorry. I know it's hard when you don't see things clearly."
"Yeah.
Well, it's going to be harder on his family while they wait until his
body's
found." I turned away from the counter and grabbed a pile of returned books from the shelf. Setting them on the counter, I flipped the cover open. "
Ahh
,
Darci
, there's something else I want to tell you. Rick called—"
She grabbed my arm.
"Really?
When? Is he coming back to Summerset?"
I held up my hand, stopping her. "Calm down. He called late Saturday night, and no, he's not coming to Summerset. Umm, he has a little job for us. He wants us to come to
"Great, when do we leave?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
I gave her a pointed look. "
Darci
, when I said 'us,' I meant Abby and me."
Her face settled into a pout. "Why can't I come, too? You might need my help."
"I also need you to stay here and take care of the library while I'm gone. I've got all the arrangements made with the library board, and we're leaving tomorrow," I said, my tone final.
"I don't think that's fair. You're always trying to keep me away from all of the excitement."
"I'm also trying to keep you out of harm's way. Look, the girl was mixed up with some kind of
cultlike
group, and I don't know what we'll be walking into when we arrive. I'm going to have a hard enough time keeping an eye on Abby, without worrying about you, too."
"Humph," she said, not buying my excuse. "I suppose I can't force you to take me with you." She stopped and eyed me thoughtfully. "What does Henry think?"
The sudden shift in conversation startled me. "What do you mean?"
"Does Henry think you should go?"
Darci
asked in an even voice.
"I don't need his permission," I said indignantly.
"You're right, you don't." She traced a finger across the counter. "But I imagine he's not going to like it."
I lifted my chin a notch. "I don't care whether he likes it or not."
Darci
looked at me skeptically.
"Well, I don't. And don't be manufacturing another one of your imaginary romances starring me and Henry," I said, shaking a finger at her. "There's nothing between Henry and me. He barely likes me."
She arched an eyebrow.
"I mean it," I said, and paced over to the bookshelves with an armload of books. "I've got enough to think about right now. So much has happened to me since last fall that Henry
Comacho
is the least of my concerns."
Darci
walked over and stood beside me. "Like what? What else is bothering you?"
"This town," I said, shoving a book onto the shelf. "Haven't you noticed all the sideways glances I've been getting?"
"Well, you have demonstrated a real talent for finding dead bodies. Last fall, Butch Fisher, and then this spring you found Gus."
I winced when she mentioned Gus Pike. Another friend I'd lost thanks to Charles Thornton. Gus had been a harmless old man, a recluse, and my friend. Charles, in his fervor to stamp out witches, had assumed Gus was a witch and had literally scared the old man to death. Then he buried Gus's body in a ditch, hoping I'd find it. I had. Tripped and fell right on top of the spot Charles had buried the remains. Only Henry, Abby, and
Darci
knew of the vision I'd had that led me to the ditch and Gus's shallow grave.
"Look," she said, lightly touching my arm. "It will all blow over eventually."
"When?"
Darci
shrugged.
"Soon.
When the next big deal happens.
Just don't find any more bodies in the meantime."
"No problem." I shuddered. I
hated
finding dead people. "But what do you think will happen when it comes out at Charles's trial that he suspected Abby and me of being witches?"
"Nothing."
She shrugged again. "He's nuts." I hoped
Darci
was right, but I doubted it. What would the conservative little town of Summerset think when they learned that, yes, witches were among them?
Chapter Three