Any Witch Way You Can (12 page)

“Who can what?” My mom entered the room, making her way to the stove to stir whatever she had simmering in a big pot.

“Clove and Thistle can see ghosts now.”

“We can’t see them,” Thistle corrected. “We can just hear them.”

“Them? More than one?”

“We met Edith today, too,” Clove answered.

“Well that must have been a thrill,” Aunt Tillie harrumphed as she entered the room. I noticed her gaze rested on Shane for a long moment before she turned to me.

“Is this him?”

“That’s Shane,” I acknowledged.

“Hi,” Shane greeted her shyly.

“Bet you wish you’d picked a different outfit to die in,” Aunt Tillie said.

Twila, Marnie and my mom all sucked in disapproving breaths. “Don’t you be mean to that boy,” my mom warned. “He’s been through enough.”

Shane smiled at Aunt Tillie. “I like her,” he said finally.

“That will change,” I said under my breath.

“What did you say?” Aunt Tillie looked at me suspiciously.

“I said I was glad he liked you,” I lied.

I knew Aunt Tillie didn’t believe me, but she apparently wasn’t going to pursue the matter any more right now. “Is he coming to the equinox celebration tonight?”

“Yep, and he’s very excited,” Thistle said. I think I was the only one to pick up on her exaggerated sarcasm.

“Good.”

“Why good?”

“It will just be good for him to be there,” Aunt Tillie said.

She was up to something.

“Let’s eat,” my mom said brightly, exchanging quick looks with Marnie and Twila as she tried to distract us.

Oh, great. They were all up to something.

Twelve

Dinner was surprisingly entertaining – especially when Aunt Tillie and Shane got in a snarky argument about whether or not smoking herbs or grinding them up into a poultice was more efficient for pain management

“You don’t fool me,” Aunt Tillie shook her head at Shane. “You think I’m an old lady, but I know what herbs you’re talking about smoking.”

Clove and Thistle smirked at each other – an exchange that wasn’t missed by the ever eagle-eyed Aunt Tillie.

“You two aren’t funny either,” she warned them.

I thought they were funny. I wasn’t going to tell Aunt Tillie that, though. “Aunt Tillie is right,” I admonished them. “Pot jokes are never funny.”

Thistle glowered at me. “Since you’re the one that taught us to smoke pot when we were teenagers, that’s rich.”

My mom swiveled in her chair and regarded me suspiciously. “You never smoked pot, did you?”

“Of course not,” I lied.

My mom looked momentarily placated.

“She’s lying,” Clove said.

Whoops. She was looking tense again. “Are you lying?”

“Of course I’m lying,” I admitted.

“I’m really disappointed in you,” she sniffed.

“Yeah, let’s get worked up about something that happened more than a decade ago,” I said sarcastically. “That seems like a great way to waste a couple hours.”

“There are some great rehabs out there these days. I’ve seen them on television,” Twila said gently.

I glared over at Thistle. “Are you happy now?”

“I’m not unhappy,” Thistle smiled.

“Well, I’m not going to rehab alone. I’ll make you two go with me.”

“They’re not the potheads,” Marnie argued.  “You’re the one that apparently has the problem.”

“I haven’t smoked pot since I was in college,” I shot back. “Thistle and Clove smoked before the last solstice celebration.”

“Hey!” Clove protested. “You said you wouldn’t tell.”

“Is that true?” Marnie’s eyes were narrowed dangerously as she regarded her daughter.

“I . . . I . . .I can’t remember,” Clove said lamely.

“They say that’s the first sign of a problem,” I said. “Blackouts.”

“You are so hateful,” Clove gritted her teeth.

“You started it.”

“It was funny when it was about you.”

“Maybe we can get a group rate,” Twila fretted.

I turned to her in disbelief. “Please. You have a bag of weed in your nightstand. I saw it there a few weeks ago when I was looking for candles.”

“That is not weed,” she said. “That is just a satchel to make my socks smell better.”

“You want your socks to smell like hemp? Oh, and there were no socks in that drawer.”

“Why were you going through my drawers?” Twila’s voice had risen an octave.

“It was the night the power went out. I was looking for extra candles.”

Now my mom and Marnie were staring at Twila suspiciously. “You don’t keep pot in your drawer, do you?”

“It’s medicinal,” Twila argued. “I have a lot of back pain.”

Clove was right. It was a lot more fun when the onus was on someone else.

The argument continued for another twenty minutes before Aunt Tillie put an end to it. “No one is going to rehab,” she said finally. “This is just ridiculous. If you want to spend your time in a haze, then that’s your business.”

“Says the woman that empties an entire bottle of wine by herself at dinner every night,” I muttered.

Aunt Tillie glowered at me. “You want to start something with me now?”

Did I? Not particularly.

Everyone started clearing the table in relative silence. From time to time, we all cast sideways glances at one another. I was hoping that the conversation had derailed their planned equinox celebration. I doubted I would be that lucky, though. I never was.

“Your family is all kinds of awesome,” Shane said as he sidled up to me while I was loading the dishwasher.

“If you say so.”

“No, really. They’re great. You guys talk about everything.”

“We talk about too much, if you ask me.”

“But you’re all so close.”

“There’s close and there’s co-dependent. I used to think we straddled the line to co-dependent. I think we crossed that line a long time ago, though.”

“Yeah, but everyone is always there for you.”

I looked at him contemplatively a second. “I’m sure you’re mom was always there for you.”

“She was. It was just the two of us, though. You have a big family and everyone is always into everyone else’s business. I think it’s fun.”

“It’s only fun when it’s not you.”

“I don’t think you’d trade them for another family, though, would you?”

I considered his question for a moment. “I wouldn’t trade them,” I finally said. “I’d just send them on extended vacations from time to time.”

After dinner, we all settled around the fire in the den for a cup of tea. Shane was back on the question train about the equinox celebration. I couldn’t blame him. It always sounds more interesting than it actually is.

“I asked them, but they wouldn’t tell me,” Shane said, jerking a thumb at Thistle, Clove and I. “What exactly is an equinox celebration?”

“The equinox and the solstice is when our powers are at their most powerful,” Aunt Tillie explained. I think she was warming up to Shane – despite his outfit. “Some days have special power. There are four each year. Two equinoxes and two solstices. This is technically a fall equinox. The solstices fall in the winter and summer.”

“Then why do you call it an equinox celebration?”

Aunt Tillie shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t know. It’s just something we started doing every year.”

“Do you have a celebration for each solstice?”

“We usually skip the winter one,” Aunt Tillie said truthfully.

“Why?”

“Because no one wants to dance naked in a foot of snow,” I offered.

Shane snickered.

“That’s not why,” Aunt Tillie disagreed.

“Then why?”

Aunt Tillie pursed her lips. “Don’t be smart.”

No matter what she said, that was the reason. The summer solstice was our biggest celebration, but we always played up the autumnal equinox, too. The spring equinox and the winter solstice got short shrift in the Winchester house.

Shane wasn’t going to be deterred from his questions. “But why do you dance naked?”

“To be closer to our gods.”

“Pagan gods?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t really believe in pagan gods,” I argued.

“You don’t?”

“No. It’s more a symbolic thing.”

“For you, maybe,” Aunt Tillie said disdainfully. “I believe in the old ways.”

“You do not.”

“I do, too.”

“Really? What are their names?”

Aunt Tillie huffed. “That’s hardly important.”

“Knock it off,” my mother warned me. “Don’t wind her up.”

After our tea, we all put on our coats and headed out to the woods surrounding the property.  We walked in order of age, like we always did, with Aunt Tillie leading the way with a kerosene lamp. She was wearing her traditional sparkly cape as she moved spryly in front of us. Occasionally you could see the moonlight glint off the sewn sequins in the cape.

“Why is she wearing a cape?” Shane asked.

“She thinks she’s a super hero,” Thistle whispered.

“She’s Witch Woman, able to leap tall nieces in a single bound,” Clove chuckled.

It took us about five minutes to make our way to the ceremonial clearing. We were all used to the trip, so even in the dark it wasn’t much of a difficulty for us.

Once we got there, Twila lit a bonfire – which Marnie had stacked earlier in the day in anticipation of the celebration. The circle was empty except for the fire pit. We all took turns maintaining in the spring, summer and fall. We all separated an equal distance from one another, extending our hands so they almost touched – but not quite -- and looking up to the moon. We all knew our part in the dramatic play that was about to be performed.

“I thought you were going to be naked,” Shane complained.

“That comes later,” I hissed. “And not everyone gets naked. Just the four of them.”

“Yeah, Clove, Thistle and Bay don’t do it because they’re worried they won’t stack up compared to us,” Marnie teased.

Yeah, that was it.

“Mother Earth, we call to the four points,” Aunt Tillie started, invoking her most serious incantation voice.

“What are the four points?” Shane didn’t seem to grasp how seriously the elder generations of our family took this.

Aunt Tillie shot him a death glare. Shane shut his mouth when he caught sight of the look. It may just have been a trick of the light, but I swear I saw him gulp.

“From the earth, we look to the air. From the fire, we look to the sea.”

I had heard this so many times I could practically recite it myself. Soon she would call to the night. Then she would drop her clothes and dance for an hour with a bottle of wine in her hand.

As Aunt Tillie called to the earth a few minutes later, I saw Thistle go rigid in the circle. I had seen this before – never in the circle – but on the rare occasion when she got a vision of the future. I could feel the prickle of magic as it washed over all of us – but settled on Thistle.

I heard her gasp and started to move towards her.

“Don’t break the circle,” Aunt Tillie snapped.

I thought about disobeying her, but remained in my spot. My eyes never left Thistle, though.

“They’re coming,” she said in a hauntingly empty voice.

“Who is coming?” Twila asked.

“The two faces of death.”

“The killers?” I knew there were two of them. I just knew it.

“They’ll come before the next full moon.” Thistle was saying the words, but I wasn’t sure she was conscious of them.

“The next full moon is in a couple of days,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

“Before they come, they will take another.”

“Another? Another murder?”

“When they come, they will try to take us.”

“They’ll try to kill us?” I wish she would answer me.

“When they go, they will take something from us.”

“What does that mean?” Shane was as white as a ghost – which was ironically fitting – under the pale moonlight. His gaze was focused on Thistle. It was like he was frozen in time along with her.

“Can you see who they are?”

“They’re shrouded in dark,” Thistle furrowed her brow. At least it seemed like she could hear what we were saying.

“All I can see is that it’s a boy and a girl who will die.”

“Why are they killing people?”

“They think it will bring them forever.”

“Forever? Like they’ll never die.”

“Yes.”

“Is that even possible?” I turned to Aunt Tillie.

“There are many dark magicks that have been long since forgotten,” she said. “Maybe they think they’ve discovered one.”

“In other words, they’re probably just crazy.”

“There is that.”

I could see the clouds shifting in the sky above us. They were drifting in front of the moon. I knew Thistle would lose her connection when they did.

“Can you see a name? Anything?”

“I only see the sky – and the stars are going black.” With those words, Thistle fell to her knees in the circle.

This time, I did make my way over to her side. Aunt Tillie didn’t argue. She stayed in her spot, though, and watched the two of us.

“Are you alright?” I asked Thistle.

“Yeah,” she rasped. “I wasn’t expecting that, though. I thought we would just get drunk to the point where we blacked out so we hopefully wouldn’t dream about the dancing.”

“That would have been nice.”

“What do you think?”

“I think there are two killers – although I think I already knew that,” I admitted. “I also think someone else is going to die, and we’re helpless to stop it.”

Thistle bit her lower lip. “I think someone else has already died. We just haven’t found them yet.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I saw . . . I don’t know what I saw. I saw a knife. I saw blood. And I heard a scream.”

“Could you see a face? Could you see where?”

“No, it was dark. I think it’s a girl, though. And I think she’s already gone.”

Aunt Tillie had appeared at by my side. I hadn’t even heard her approach. “We must reflect on what we’ve learned,” she said gravely.

“Let me guess? That involves wine and dancing around a fire? That hardly seems appropriate now.”

One guess who won the following argument?

Thirteen