The Witch (23 page)

“I’m changing them now. No sense having him sleep in this mess again tonight.”

“I’m going to call Robin’s psychiatrist today and make an appointment to discuss Stephen’s problems.”

“Will he go with you? I’ve been trying to get Jacob to take Stephen to a doctor.”

“No, I’m not going to mention it to Stephen for now. I’ll ask the doctor how this should be handled. Obviously the problem is getting worse.”

“And if Jacob doesn’t make it home the problem will be even worse.”

“Jacob will make it home, Mom. He wants to live for Stephen. He’s afraid of Cathy taking hold of the boy. All the meds muddle his mind, but I think he means it when he talks about the obsession the boy has with his mother.

“Mom, do you think she was teaching Stephen witchcraft?”

Mabel stopped in the doorway with an armful of laundry.

“Jacob believes that?”

“She had all her utensils in the basement, and Stephen followed her everywhere.”

“I assumed she’d have some common sense and not involve her son.”

“I tried to bring a box up out of the basement and Stephen wouldn’t let me. He said it belonged to his mother, and she wanted it to stay in the basement.”

“What kind of a box?”

Rosemary hesitated.

“Initially it was a plain wooden box.”

“How did change?”

“I took it back to the basement and the next day I found there were images carved into it. I think somehow Stephen must have exchanged boxes.”

“You mean he hid his mother’s box.” Mabel turned and her eyes searched the room.

“Ah, no, Ma, don’t start ripping his bedroom apart.”

“He won’t know.”

“Cathy and I always knew, even though we didn’t say anything to you. Give me a few days to speak with the doctor. Please.”

“Okay, but I’m still changing these smelly sheets.”

“Actually, I could use some fresh sheets too, Ma,” Rosemary called out as her mother headed for the laundry.

“There are too many people in the house,” said the gargoyle. “They are all too nosey.”

“I could smell the sister’s scent on the box when we returned to it,” said the dog with the man’s head. “We must be rid of her.”

“But the little one’s mother hasn’t freed us to act yet,” The gargoyle’s frown grew darker
.

“Damn that woman. She moves too slowly. She wants the boy’s body but refuses to snatch it from him.”

“She wants him to come to her willingly. The body will be more pliant if he wills her to enter.” The old woman, holding the staff, nodded her head as she spoke, remembering old spells that bound living flesh to the dead
.

“The grandmother is next. I feel the tide turning against her. She doesn’t have much longer. She will be easy. If a mouse could send her into a fright, think what we can do.” The dwarf smirked while leaning on his ax
.

All the demons rested against the box. They were a part of the box, and yet separate when the sun lost the battle with the night
.

“Shhh! Here comes the sister,” whispered the snake
.

Rosemary walked over to the table and began scraping the wax off. Layers splintered and gave way as she dug deeply with a spade. Careful that she didn’t gouge the table top, she moved slowly, testing the depth of the wax.

“She thinks by banishing the evidence she can make us go away. Stupid woman.” The dwarf leaned out as far as he could to watch the sister
.

“What if she should take that spade to us?” whispered the snake. “What if she cuts up our bodies before the dark has come?”

All the demons waited in silent fear. Their bodies trembled with each jab she made into the rainbow-colored wax. The gargoyle was near to fainting. The dog with the man’s head cowered and its hair stood on end. The bird with two heads settled each head deeply under each wing. The old woman lowered the hood of her cloak over her face, shielding her face from the ravages of daylight. The snake insinuated itself under the witch’s cloak. Even the pointy tips of the witch’s shoes couldn’t drive the snake away
.

Rosemary spent the hour smoothing the surface of the table. The visible wax was gone, but when she ran the palm of her hand across the surface, she felt an even skin of wax that would be harder to remove without damaging the table.

She decided to come back later with a liquid cleaner. Turning, with the spade still in her hand, Rosemary spied the box. The figures still decorated the sides and top. She thought about how much work the artisan must have put in to do such a work. But the figures looked so ugly it seemed a shame the time had been wasted.

Reaching down, she picked up the box.

“Vulnerable,” thought every one of the demons. Their powers were not useful while they were attached to the box. Except one figure knew how he could wield at least some strength. The dwarf turned his ax slightly outward when the sister’s fingers came nearer to him
.

“Ouch!”

Rosemary looked down at her right index finger and saw a bubble of blood. What the heck could she have caught her finger on? She raised the box closer and let her eyes retrace the path her fingers had taken. She thought she saw something on the tiny ax held by the dwarf. Could the ax have been made so realistic it could cut into flesh? She wasn’t about to test it. Instead she placed the box on the table and decided to shower before taking in a movie with her mother. She readjusted the box on the table and started for the staircase.

The dwarf couldn’t keep from chuckling out loud. Rosemary stopped, glanced around the room, then resumed her climb to the basement door, all the while hearing tiny, muffled sounds she couldn’t place.

“Why did you do that?” asked the pig of the dwarf
.

The dwarf continued to chuckle and only took a slight break to say that he couldn’t help it
.

“What good is drawing blood if we can’t drink it?” The old woman placed a hand on her empty stomach. “It’s a waste. When it comes time to take her life, Master Dwarf, you may cast the first blow, and I shall be there for the first sip. But to draw blood and let it evaporate into the air is certainly a crime against all of us comrades.”

“Comrades? I am forced to tolerate each of you. Comrades are those one chooses to ally oneself with. I fell into this group by chance. None of you have the skill to fight by my side.”

“This isn’t a war being fought on a field. This is a psychological drama that chills the humans’ hearts, sending them to their places of worship for support before collapsing in front of us in defeat.” The old woman hated the constant embellishments the dwarf engaged in
.

“Pain is what the humans recognize. They know the burn of a flame, the piercing frigid feel of a dagger, the suffocating tightness of a ligature, the humbling weakness of disease, and the ache of failing organs. Bah, they know only the drive to keep themselves alive even when they should be dead. I’ve had many humans kneel before me, tears streaming down their cheeks, their bladders unable to control their flow, their bodies shaking from fear, and they begged for a painless death. And a second later they attempted to escape when I agreed to their wishes. Do you know what I did then, old woman?”

“I’m sure you kissed them softly on the cheek and allowed your bad breath to kill them instantly.”

The other demons roared with laughter, but not the dwarf
.

“I flayed them alive. I took as long as a week to finally let them die. Pain is the humans’ greatest misery. We feed on their pain when we imbibe in their blood and taste their flesh. It is the fear and pain we live off. How many of you will deny that?” The dwarf spun in a circle, looking into each of the faces until he reached the black snake. There he stopped to gaze at the recoiled snake wavering in the dimness of the basement. “You speak of love, Master Serpent. We have all heard you say you loved a human. Did that love inspire you to heights, or did it make you a lowly creature creeping around a castle hiding your true nature whenever possible? That was not a complete life and it is why you recall that time with such bitterness.”

“I should have killed her like you and I too could be bragging about my accomplishments.” The snake twisted his body away from the dwarf
.

“You lived to revenge her instead of seeking revenge on her, Master Serpent. She weakened you. The babes she gave you were all human because the seeds you spilt were not your own. They belonged to a man with no supernatural powers and so weak willed that you snatched his soul from him. I watched them die.”

The demons drew back, waiting for a battle. “They died whining and screaming just like every other human. When the guards tore my guts out I did not scream; it was the human I possessed recognizing the end who screamed. We all die multiple times, and some of us die in great pain, but we know some time in the future we will return, and then we will visit all the pain we’ve ever had on each and every human.”

The old woman followed the black snake that glided across the box, its head low, its mouth shut. By the time she reached its side, the snake had found a dark corner
.

“Were you always a spirit, or did someone curse you into being a demon?” The witch reached out a hand to the snake but did not intend to touch the scaly skin
.

“A curse fell on me the moment I was born, old woman. My life in true human flesh form ended at an early age. I barely remember the sensations of being human. Rebecca reminded me of them. I lost more than a woman I loved. I lost my humanity twice.”

Stephen caught his aunt coming up from the cellar. She held one of her index fingers between her lips. She acted startled when she saw him.

“Stephen, I thought you were going over to Mrs. Rosen’s.”

“It’s too early. Besides, Grandma says I have to do my homework first.”

“She would, being a teacher and all.” She smiled, but Stephen didn’t return the smile.

“Why were you in the basement again?” he asked. “You shouldn’t be worried about that, since you’ve exchanged boxes. Now there is a delightfully ugly box with gnomes and such all over it.”

“Stay away from the uglies.”

“I shall from now on. I managed to cut my finger on that box somehow. I’m going upstairs now to wash the wound. Is that okay?”

Stephen nodded, standing out of her path. She thanked him and lightly brushed her fingers through his hair. He watched her mount the stairs and didn’t budge until he heard her bedroom door close.

He needed to check on the uglies. Make sure his aunt hadn’t moved the box again. As he went down the stairs, Stephen still caught the scent of the fire that had burned his father. The smell would never leave. It would always remain in his memory.

He saw the box on the table. Layers of wax had been removed from the table. No doubt his aunt’s work. She wouldn’t leave things alone. His trembling hands reached for the box that seemed to jump into his tiny hands.

The uglies were all there. The dwarf even winked at him, the ax still wet from Stephen’s aunt’s blood.

“What’s that?” Robin asked from the top of the stairs, her wheelchair precariously near the edge.

Looking up he admired her wild red hair that sprang into curls in every direction imaginable. The shadows hid the freckles on her cheeks that seemed to increase each time he saw her.

“It’s just a box that belonged to my mother.”

“Was it important to her?”

“Yes.”

“Anything inside?”

“No; the uglies are all clinging to its sides.”

“The uglies?”

“You can’t see from there, but ugly demons are attached to the box.”

“Can you bring the box up here so’s I can see?”

The box became heavy in his hands.

“I don’t think they want to be stared at.”

“Then why are you staring at them?”

“They don’t mind me.” He heard a creak and immediately checked to make sure Robin remained safely on the staircase landing. “Be careful. You could get hurt.”

“But I want to see the box. Why would they be bothered by my looking at them? I promise not to stare. I’ll only take a peek.”

“They’re mean and ugly. You don’t want to see them. Suppose they don’t like you? Maybe they’ll find their way out of the basement and find your bedroom.”

Robin chuckled.

“Silly. They can’t come off the box. Besides, they’re so tiny they couldn’t climb the stairs to get out of the basement.”

“They can do anything.”

“Why don’t they slip off the box now and come up and meet me? Aren’t they social?” Her voice held a hint of laughter.

“This is serious, Robin. Momma brought them into our world. And now Momma is angry and the uglies do her bidding.”

“I’m sorry, Stephen. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. But why would your mother be angry now that she’s in heaven?”

“Momma’s not in heaven. I don’t know whether she’ll ever go there.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say about your mother. Of course she’s in heaven.”

Tears came to Stephen’s eyes.

“No, Robin, I was bad and I called Momma back down and now she’s angry at so many people.”

“Like who?”

“Molly. Dad.”

“You don’t think your mother caused those accidents, do you?”

Stephen remained silent.

“My mother said Molly was killed by some stray animal.”

“Animal?” Stephen looked back up at his cousin. “What kind of animal?”

“A wild dog. A pit bull. There aren’t any free wolves or big cats around here.”

“A wolf could have killed her?”

“I just finished telling you—”

“I gave Molly back the wolf costume she made for me.” Stephen found himself gripping the box tightly.

“So? A costume can’t kill anyone.”

“My costume came alive. Only for a little bit, but it came alive in my bedroom.”

“Don’t say stupid things like that. You only imagined it coming to life. Do you hear me, Stephen?”

“I wish Daddy had told me how she died. I asked about the costume, but he said it wasn’t right for us to ask for it back. Now I don’t know where it is or who it’s looking for.”