The Trouble With Witches (9 page)

"Watch out!" Abby yelled.

In the road, right in the path of the SUV, stood a man dressed in an old fatigue jacket.

Instinctively, I swerved. Tossed off her comfortable position on the backseat, Lady yelped. And an infuriated squall erupted from the back as
Queenie's
cat carrier slid forward.

I slowed to a stop, shoved the gear shift into park and turned to Abby. "Are you all right?" I asked, my heart surging with the sudden rush of adrenaline.

"Yes," she said, placing her hand on her chest.

Returning my eyes to the road, I looked at the man who'd almost caused an accident.

He still stood in the middle of the road, but now stared at the SUV. His hair hung in tangled knots down to his shoulders, and a full beard and mustache covered the lower part of his face. And both the hair on his head and the hair on his face was the color of carrots. The same, strange color orange as Brandi's in her graduation picture. Like a deer caught in the headlights, he watched us for a moment longer, then turned and loped off into the woods.

"Who the devil was that?" I exclaimed while I watched him disappear into the trees.

"A rather strange man," Abby replied.

"No kidding. Do you suppose he's homeless?"

Abby shook her head. "It's hard to say, but I think we need to find out who he is. He looked—"

"Don't say it," I said, narrowing my eyes at her.

She said the word anyway. "Spooky."

"Seems to be a lot of that going around up here," I said, putting the SUV in drive and pulling forward.

A few moments later we arrived at the cabin Rick had leased for our use. Surrounded by pine trees, it sat several yards away from the lane. It was gray with white shutters, and a porch extended out on three sides. A plaque in the shape of a pineapple, with the word "Welcome" painted on it, hung above the door.

Getting out of the SUV, I grabbed Lady's leash and snapped it on her collar. Free at last, she made a dive out of the back seat and ran the full length of the leash, her nose pressed firmly to the ground.

After handing the leash to Abby, I went to the back and opened the tailgate. Two green eyes glowered at me from the depths of the cat carrier. I grabbed the carrier and hauled it to the porch. Unlocking the door, I walked inside and set the carrier down. With a flip of a switch, I released the door and swung it open. In a flash,
Queenie
sprinted out, her tail high in the air, and didn't slow down until she reached the center of the room and well away from me—just in case I changed my mind about her liberation. She stopped there, and with a twist of her head gave me an indignant look. Then, sure that I'd been properly put in my place, she turned away, twitched her tail twice, and stalked off to investigate her new surroundings. I wouldn't see her again until she heard the familiar rattle of cat chow.

Glancing out the window, I saw Lady happily dragging Abby around the yard, sniffing the bottom of all the pine trees. With
Queenie
off somewhere, enjoying her sulk, I took the time to check out the interior of the cabin.

I stood in one large room. Ceramic tile covered the floor and colorful rag rugs lay scattered about. The knotty pine paneling on the walls gave the room a soft, warm glow. The kitchen area, with cabinets, stove, and refrigerator, sat to my left, and to my right was a large scrubbed-pine table. The living area extended directly in front of me. An L-shaped couch covered one wall and curved out into the room. A wood-burning stove rested across the room from the couch, and behind the stove, large pieces of river rock, mortared together, covered the wall. On the other wall, a bank of heavy drapes stretched across the room at a right angle to the couch. Crossing the room, I pulled back the drapes. And my breath caught in my throat.

The late afternoon sun dipped closer and closer to the thousands of pine trees ringing the lake, and already shadows shrouded the shoreline. And in those shadows, the still water caught the reflection of the pines and the sky above like a mirror.

From a distance, I heard a strange call—a high, repetitive treble. I turned my head, seeking what made that unusual sound. To my surprise, I found myself standing on the deck outside the cabin, overlooking the lake. I didn't remember opening the sliding glass doors and walking through them. Nor did I realize that Abby had joined me until I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"It's a loon," she said softly as the call echoed again over the quiet lake.

A sudden breeze stirred the pines that grew on the slope leading down to the lake. Their whisper seemed to answer the poignant call of the loon.

While I stood there and listened, a sense of complete and perfect peace wrapped around me like a cocoon. With my eyes wide at the wonder of it all, I looked at Abby. "This is a place of
magick
, isn't it?"
I asked, my voice hushed.

"Yes," she said, a slow smile spreading across her face. "I believe it is."

The next morning dawned as bright and as clear as the day before. The rain Abby had predicted had missed us. Not wanting to leave the cat and dog in the SUV any longer than necessary the day before, we hadn't stopped to get groceries. Now, we drove back to Melcher, a small town about eight miles from the lake, to go shopping.

The store we found reminded me of the small corner grocery from my childhood in Summerset. Just like in Summerset, signs in the window of the small brick building advertised this week's specials. A pop machine sat next to the wire rack dispensing the town's local shopper. Bicycles in various sizes, owned by local kids, were propped against the building. I did see a difference, though, between this store and the one in Summerset. In addition to the other signs, this building had a sign advertising fresh minnows, leeches, and fishing equipment sold around back.

When we walked in, I noticed a big community bulletin board. A large poster in the center caught my attention.

Grabbing Abby's arm, I pointed to it. "Look at that. There's going to be a spaghetti dinner tonight at the city park to raise funds for the new Little League field. And look who's sponsoring it."

"I see," she said.
"PSI.
Rick was right about them contributing to the community. I think that event is one we need to attend."

Nodding my agreement, I followed Abby into the store. I pulled out a cart, Abby took the grocery list from her pocket, and we started wandering down the aisle, making our selections.

I had picked up a bunch of bananas when I felt a trickle of power in the air. Looking away from the fresh fruit, I saw a Native American man standing not ten feet from us, looking at the vegetables.

He was dressed in a faded blue work shirt and jeans and wore a slouched hat that had seen better days. A long gray braid hung in a straight line down his back. In his left hand, he carried a small shopping basket, half full. On his wrist, I could see a wide band made of white, black, red, and yellow beads.

But it was his face that drew me; skin colored a dark copper, round with high cheekbones and a prominent nose. A proud
face,
and one that had seen hard times.

I didn't realize I was staring until the man looked at me with eyes so dark they were almost black. And in those eyes, I saw a power held tightly in check. A light flared in them, and I smiled, trying to cover my embarrassment at getting caught staring. A frown tugged at the man's mouth and he looked away. I felt like I had been judged and dismissed as unimportant.

Before I could point the man out to Abby, he turned away from the vegetables and started walking toward us, his eyes downcast. As he walked, he passed a group of teenage boys standing in front of the magazine rack.

I'd noticed the group before spotting the man. They'd been standing there, flipping through the magazines and whispering. What they did next surprised me.

As he walked past them, one boy took a step back and extended his foot, tripping him. Another boy mumbled something I couldn't hear.

I felt Abby stiffen beside me.

The man righted himself, and with a single glance at the boys, kept walking. Abby made a move to say something to him, but he ignored her.

I sensed Abby doing a slow burn, so it didn't surprise me when she lifted her chin, drew herself up to her full height, and marched up to the group of boys.

Unaware of her, they stood
chuckling,
patting the back of the boy who'd tripped the man. As if they were proud of what he'd done.

"Young man," she said in a clear voice that got their attention. "Do you always show such disrespect to adults?"

The boy stepped away from his friends. "What's it to you, old lady?" he asked with a sneer on his face.

I've known my grandmother all my life, and I've heard her called many things. I also knew that anyone who called Abby old did so at their own peril.

With a look that would scorch bark off a tree, Abby reached out and took the mouthy young man by the arm.

Oh my God, she's going to zap him.

I watched the young man's eyelids open wide while he stared at Abby. His friends wisely took a step back as their friend stood mesmerized by her eyes drilling into his.

Suddenly, she released him, her point made. He staggered a bit, but his friends gathered round, steadying him and looking nervously at Abby's retreating back.

When she reached me, I whirled the cart around, away from the group of boys. "Abby," I hissed, "why did you do that?"

"That young man needed to be taught some manners," she said emphatically.

Abby always had been big on manners.

I glanced quickly up and down the aisle. The Native American man stood several feet away, watching with a sour look on his face. He frowned at me, turned,
then
disappeared around the corner.

"But did you have to be the one to do it?" I muttered in a harsh whisper.

She wiped the hand she'd used to grab the young man on her pant leg before answering me. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

I narrowed my eyes and looked at her. She didn't sound too sorry to me.

"What did you do to him?"

"Oh," she said, finding something fascinating over my right shoulder to stare at, so she wouldn't have to look me in the eye.
"Just nudged his conscience a bit with my thoughts.
He's really not a bad boy; just trying to impress his friends. I planted a suggestion that, next time, he should find a more positive way."

With that, she grabbed the cart and started down the aisle, leaving me to follow.

I did.
Shaking my head all the way.

Maybe if I hadn't been so focused on Abby, I would have noticed that the Native American man hadn't been the only one watching us.