With You In Spirit (The Bassinville Witches Series) (2 page)

Caden cleared his throat, and turned his attention back to Catherine, ignoring the slight look of disappointment on Shawna’s face. “So…I was going to find somewhere to stay around here. Maybe we could meet up at some point and discuss family trees?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Shawna had over-exaggerated, of course. Catherine
had
started a history degree, but she had never finished it. And she wasn’t really a teacher at the local school; she was actually just a teacher’s assistant. “If you’re looking for a place to stay,
Mrs Delfoy has a lovely guest house in the centre of town?”

“Thank you, I’ll go and check with her now.
Come and see me tomorrow night, if you will.
Been a pleasure meeting you, ladies.” He nodded towards them, and then turned and strode out of the bar, giving Henri a thankful gesture as he left.

Catherine turned to Shawna, her gentle smile replaced by annoyance. “What the hell were you doing? And what was all that about my degree? You know damn well I never finished the thing!”

Shawna smiled slyly, and shrugged. “So? You were never gonna talk to him, and I could see you liked him. Not to mention he liked you.”

“Oh, yeah right.”  Catherine pulled herself back up onto her seat, the leather squealing uncomfortably. She pushed her glass forward towards Henri, and leaned on the bar. “Can I have another drink please, Henri? Only just make it lemonade
-I mean soda
or something, nothing with olives, or toothpaste, or tree leaves, or anything else weird in it. I’m going to die if I don’t hydrate myself.”

“Yeah, right!”
Shawna moved to her side, her plaits swinging about her head.
She tapped impatiently on the bar, indicating her own drink. Henri nodded and waved his arm at her, telling her silently to be patient. Turning back to her friend, she continued, “Look, the guy wouldn’t even look at me. He
kissed your hand.
That’s like…gentlemanly or somethin’. I’m telling you, he
wants
you, and you were just gonna sit there and stare at your drink if I hadn’t said somethin’.”

Catherine sighed, and thanked Henri as he placed two cold glasses of fizzing soda in front of them, nodding. Catherine noticed the look, and groaned, putting her head in her hands.
“Not you too, Henri.”

“She’s right, Catherine. You sit in my bar night after night, and never make a move on anyone. Pretty girl like you should have a nice man looking after her.”

Catherine scowled. “Henri…this isn’t the middle ages, you know. I don’t need ‘looking-after’. I’m fine by myself.”

Henri raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head, his blue eyes scrutinizing her. “Now you know I didn’t mean that. I just meant you should share your life with someone. Don’t end up like your mother. Damn, if you continue like this, Shawna’ll have her claws in him.”

“Hey!” Shawna interjected, and then grinned. “Actually, Henri’s right, I
would
have my claws in him. I don’t know why you’re even thinking like this!”

“Alright, alright!
I’m just…shy
with men, that’s
all.” Catherine held her hands up against her friends’ tirade.

Henri chuckled. “You never seem shy around me.”

Catherine grinned, and chuckled as well. “But that’s because you’re so handsome, Henri, I can’t help myself.”

Henri grinned widely, and a happy look spread over his old features. “Aw, come on now. You make sure you go and see that nice young man. Do you a world of good.”

Shawna hugged her around her shoulders, and giggled. “I’ll help you out, don’t worry. And we’ll do a little spell-casting tonight, help you along the way.”

Oh, the other thing about Bassinville? It was a hidden town of Wiccans, hiding deep in the Louisiana swamps,
where they could live without back-lash form
other communities. And Catherine was as Wiccan as the rest of them
, despite having no powers to speak of
…

A
s Catherine walked up towards her white-washed house, she could already see her mother
, Mya,
outside, dancing around a tree in the front garden. She grinned to herself, shaking her head. Her mother was just a little bit mad, but she wouldn’t have changed her for the world. In fact, she wasn’t mad, just eccentric. Often Catherine had come home to find her hugging trees, or trying to teach a bird to talk, or attempting to paint the colour of a stream bubbling.

They lived a little way out of town, and it was a ten-minute trek from the town to their house. It was a traditional white-washed plantation house, the veranda complete with a swinging seat. Huge old trees grew nearby, and their garden extended into an enormous field, which in turn disappeared into a swampy forest. It was late evening by the time Catherine got back, and flies were lazily buzzing their way through the humid air, the sun melting away behind the landscape.

Her mother spotted her, and waved happily, her soft blue hippy-style dress rippling with the movement. She then turned back to the tree, and began to skip around it, looking up into its branches. As Catherine drew near, she held her hand out,
letting it brush against the long grasses growing at the edge of the garden. Still watching her mother, she slumped into the grass, breathing in the fragrant scent of the wild flowers around her.

“Hi honey! Did you go for a drink with Shawna?” Her mother’s voice appeared, and then disappeared as she vanished around the thick tree trunk.

“Yeah, we had a couple of drinks. Actually, we…uh…met a guy in there. He was sort of nice.”

Mya appeared sharply around the edge of the trunk, stopping to catch her breath. She looked across at her daughter, as if she thought she had heard her incorrectly. “Did you say…a man? Like, an actual man?”

Catherine rolled her eyes, and lay back in the grass, covering her eyes with her arm. “Yes, mum.
An actual man.”

Her mother raced over, her bare feet whispering against the flowers as she ran over. She stopped abruptly, and dropped herself down next to Catherine, her coppery curls bouncing around her head. Cautiously, Catherine lifted her arm away, and squinted at her mother.

Catherine had always thought how much prettier her mum was compared to her. Mya had rusty-coloured curls, rather than Catherine’s boring brown locks, and she was petite and delicate-looking, whereas Catherine was curvy and a little on the overweight side.

“So, tell me about him? What does he look like? What does he do? Please tell me you didn’t let him go with asking to see him again?”

“Whoa, mum, too many questions.” Catherine sat up again, out of her mum’s line of sight, as if to ignore her questions, but Mya simply moved forwards, looking eagerly towards her like a puppy waiting for a treat. “Alright…his name is Caden Rouquette, and I don’t know yet what he does for a living. He’s doing some family history research here; and…” she paused, wondering if she should mention Shawna’s involvement, and then decided not to. “And I offered to help him with it. He’s very tall, probably over six
foot
, dark hair…oh, you know, just gorgeous!” Unable to help herself, she let out a giggle, blushing at the memory of him. Her mum giggled excitedly with her, clapping her hands in joy.

“Anyway mum, Shawna said she was coming over later to do some ‘casting with me, so…I should go inside and clear my room a bit.”

“Uh-huh.” Her mother raised her eyebrow at her. “You just want to get out of my questioning. Go on then, go inside. I’ll see you in a bit, darling. I’m just dancing with this tree’s singing.”

Catherine scrambled to her feet, and watched her mother skip off again, sighing. She knew why her mother didn’t think much of her spell-casting with anyone. It wasn’t as if she had ever achieved anything.

Mya actually came from a long line of Wiccan witches; ones that had originated in Ireland. When they came over in the fifteenth century, a lot of them died through persecution, and the peaceful, nature-loving people were reviled as satanic monsters. The few that escaped had found their way to Louisiana, a centre already of voodoo and magick, and founded the small town of Bassinville. It had
been hidden from human eyes back then, but in the last fifty years or so, anyone had been able to come through.

Catherine and her mother’s family had been one of those first families, although many others came later, like Shawna's family. And all of them had been amazing casters-except Catherine. Every Wiccan needed to find that perfect ‘something’ that controlled their powers. And on top of that, they had to find their own balance with nature, and realise the element that most closely attuned with them.

Shawna, for example, was an earthy kind of girl. She was strong, and forthright, and completely grounded. Shawna had also found quite by accident, that her ‘something’, her conduit, was in rocks. She had a whole collection of different stones in her house, that no-one else was permitted to touch.

Mya, her mother, used trees-as if it wasn’t obvious. Mya seemed to have an innate ability to connect with them, talking to them as if they were long-lost friends. As a result, she always carried a small, three-inch wand made of ash wood with her, which seemed in perfect
unison with her element, air.

Catherine had tried everything, from mirrors, to wood, to stones-even trying cutlery at one point. But nothing had worked. And she had a feeling that it was to do with the fact that she couldn’t work out what element she was supposed to align with. She was flexible like water, gently breaking down a barrier, but she was also grounded and naturistic, like earth. She could be fiery and creative like fire, but also day-dreamy and carefree like
air. That only left one element-
‘spirit’. But no-one had ever been aligned with that element
as far as she knew
, and no-one had any idea how it would even be possible
if there was anyone
.
It wasn’t as if there was a physical form of ‘spirit’.

Shaking the thought from her mind, she entered the house, the veranda floorboards creaking under her feet.
She swung the screen door open, flapping the flies that protested as they were flung from the screen. At least it was cooler inside the house; her mother knew how Catherine was much more used to the cool air of the North Yorkshire countryside in England, and had continuous air-conditioning on.

Catherine padded through the kitchen, into the main passageway, and across to her room. It wasn’t as though she still had a bedroom at home with her mother. Rather, it was such a large house, it seemed pointless both of them living in separate
houses. Catherine had her own living room, with a connected bathroom and bedroom,
all separate from most of the rest of the house. As she walked in, she breathed in deeply, the lilies in her room bursting with
scent. One of their three cats
sat upon the back of her coffee-coloured sofa, purring happily as she entered the room. Grinning, she slumped onto the sofa, and tickled his chin, Whisker’s green eyes closing in pleasure. Standing up again, she glanced around at the few clothes strewn across the floor, and bent to pick them up, turning to throw them into her basket in the bathroom.

Suddenly, something caught her eye, as she passed the doorway. On the floor, in the dim light of her bedroom, something had glinted at her.
Narrowing her eyes, she slowly walked in, her eyes scanning for any strange object. The same glint caught her eye, and she followed it. There was something just peeping out from under her bed. Catherine crouched down, and reached out for it gingerly.

A dagger!

With a small yell, she dropped it, jumping away as if she had been shot. Then she remembered her mother, and listened for any sounds. Knowing how panicky her mother could get, she didn’t want to alarm her unnecessarily. Taking a deep breath, she bent down again, and reached for the dagger, her hands closing around the cold metal. Bringing it out into the light of the hallway, she noticed that there was a strip of paper tied around the hilt of the dagger.

With trembling fingers, Catherine fumbled with the piece of string holding it on, cursing
herself
as she struggled to get it off. Finally she removed it, and carefully unrolled the paper, swallowing nervously as she reads the handwritten words that were printed there.

We got your father. Now it’s your turn, little witch.

A sudden banging from the front door snapped her from her shock. Shoving the note clumsily into her shorts pocket, she spun around looking for somewhere to put the dagger. Seeing nowhere else to hide it, she lifted her bed-sheets, and flung it underneath. She
smoothed her hair back, trying to appear as calm as possible before she paced through the house. Coming into the kitchen, she saw that Shawna was already in the fridge, nosing around for snacks. She grinned.

“Shawna! Don’t you know
it’s
bad manners to walk into someone’s house and take their food without asking?”

Shawna looked up, holding a bowl of chips. Her mouth already full with food, she retorted with a cheeky grin, “It don’t count in your house, Cath, you know that! I’m like the sister you never had.”

Catherine laughed at that, and grabbed the chips off her, running through to her bedroom. Shawna followed pursuit, protesting loudly. In Catherine’s room, they both fell on her sofa, laughing and throwing chips at one another. Shawna sat up and coughed, trying to catch her breath.