The Witch's Key (32 page)

“But I wasn’t Gypsy’s first born. You were.”

“Actually, I wasn’t. I have an older sister that I
have not seen in nearly a hundred years. But that is beside the
point. The return to prime resets your biological clock, and Gypsy
had just returned to prime the year she met Jake. Her days of
producing female witches rewound. Unfortunately, her first born
after that was a boy. In order for her to produce a lineage of
witches, she had to kill him.”

“Oh.” I nodded as though I fully understood. The
concept seemed simple enough. The logic, however, I could not
comprehend. I looked to Lilith, still unclear about her initial
assertion. “So, exactly where do I fit into this bizarre mix?”

“You don’t,” she said. “That’s just it. You are not
related to Gypsy. You are not related to Pops and you are
definitely not related to me.”

“Then who the hell am I related to?”

“Dickey Skittle.”

“What?”

“You, my dear boy, are Little Skittle.”

“I’m Little Dickey Skittle?”

“You prefer Little Dick?”

“No!”

“Tony, I am sorry I didn’t tell you this a long time
ago. But back when you were just a boy, both your father and Jersey
Jake dropped you and little Anthony off at an orphanage. Anthony
was about five years old and you were barely four. You both had
little nametags pinned to your jackets so that the folks at the
orphanage would know what to call you. Well, I knew this was
happening and I feared that Gypsy also knew. If not, I expected she
would eventually figure it out. I found you and Anthony crying on
the doorstep of the orphanage. So, I took you both around to the
back door, but before ringing the bell, I switched your
nametags.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did. I’m sorry, but Anthony was my little brother.
I could not let anything bad happen to him. I switched nametags and
then I hurried out of there. I believed that you would both be
taken care of, but I just couldn’t take the chance of Gypsy finding
little Anthony and….well, you get the picture.”

“So, Pops wasn’t my dad?”

“Nope.”

“And Gypsy wasn’t my Mother?”

“Uh-uh.”

“And you’re not my sister.”

“No-ho way Jose.”

“Wow!” I fell back on the bed with my arms splayed
wide, my gaze lost on a spot in the middle of the ceiling. I tried
hard to reconcile all the bits and bytes that made up the last few
weeks of my life. Still there was one thing I could not
understand.

“Help me with something,” I said, “please.” She
dropped back and joined me, resting her head on my arm.

“Sure. What?”

“It’s Pops. I could have sworn that I remembered him.
I remember sitting up on the hill with him, watching trains coming
and going from Minor’s Point. I remember that damn whistle. He
played it all the time.”

“What you remember is your father, who happened to be
a hobo. And like many hobos of the day, he had a whistle. If you
try hard enough, you’ll probably remember how he used to bathe you
in the river, or how he made you hold a tin cup out on the street
corner while he played his whistle for pennies and dimes so that
you both could eat. And if you try real hard you just might
remember how he cried like a baby the night before he left you on
some stranger’s doorstep because he wanted a better life for you
than what he could provide.”

“I do,” I said, noticing how the spot on the ceiling
started to wobble for the tears pooling in my eyes. “I do remember
that stuff.”

“I’m sure you do. You and a thousand other little
boys and girls, because that is who your father was. He was Jersey
Jake, Dickey Skittle, Milwaukee Mike, Scratch Jones and an army of
great guys just like them.”

I thought about what she said, and it warmed my heart
to know that whoever my father was, all he wanted for his boy was
an opportunity to succeed. For years, I harbored a deep-seated
hatred for the man that abandoned me like a stray dog. But now, as
I find myself at the dawn of a new life, a new beginning, I can go
forth treasuring the few memories I have of my father, knowing that
they are some of the best I will ever know. I turned to Lilith and
saw that she was already looking at me. Our noses touched. I pursed
my lips and kissed her softly.

“So, we aren’t related,” I said.

I watched two pin-sized dimples drill into the
corners of her cheeks. “Nope.”

I kissed her again, and this time she kissed back as
if she were running the show. I put my hand on her thigh and walked
my fingers up to her hip. “So then, do you want to….”

She slapped my hand lightly, stopping my marching
fingers in their tracks. “I don’t know if we should now,” she
said.

“Why not? A while ago you were all over me. Had I
known then what I know now, we’d still be doing it.”

“Oh? You’re that sure of yourself?”

“No. I’m that sure of you, you little dynamo.”

She smiled at that. “If we do it, the entire dynamics
of our relationship will change. You know that, don’t you?”

“Lilith, after this past week, nothing about our
relationship will ever be the same.”

She pushed me away. “Still, I don’t know.”

I reeled back. “Oh, I see how this works. You only
want it from me when it’s your idea. It’s a power thing, isn’t
it?”

“No, it’s not a power thing.”

“Yes it is. A minute ago you couldn’t keep your hands
off of me. Now that I’m making the moves, you pull away. Well, I
know what you need. Leona told me.”

“Leona Diaz?”

“Yes. She suggested I give you something.”

“Did she now?”

“Yes, she did. Wait here.”

I got up and ran to my room, hoping Lilith would stay
put just long enough for me to return with her present. When I came
back, I found her sitting up on the edge of the bed, hands clasped
together, resting on tightly pinched knees. I handed her a tiny
white box.

“Here. This is for you.”

She took the box and smiled up at me. “This better
not be a ring.”

I laughed. “It’s not a ring.”

“Then what?”

“Open it and see.”

She pulled the ribbon on the bow and opened the box.
Inside, she found a small ruffled wad of tissue paper and a note
that said, Got Ya! Her initial reaction, as expected, was one of
confusion. Her second was of anger. She held the box at arm’s
length before pitching it at me.

“That’s my present? An empty box? That’s what Leona
suggested you get for me?”

“It’s not empty. I put something in it.”

“Tissue?”

“Yes, along with something special.”

“How special can it be if I can’t see it? Unless
you…. No! You didn’t!”

“Didn’t what, make a whisper box? Yes I did. Hey, I
have an idea. Why don’t you come here and kiss me?”

“Tony.” She stood up and put her arms around my
waist. “A whisper box won’t work on me.” Then she rocked up on her
toes and kissed me square on the lips.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Kiss me again.”

“No.”

She kissed me again.

“I guess I just got carried away,” I said. “It’s hot
in here, isn’t it? You should unbutton your blouse.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

She unbuttoned her blouse. “And just so you know, you
are years away from conjuring up any kind of spell that will catch
me off guard.”

“Oh, I know that,” I said. “What was I thinking,
huh?”

“I know.”

“Hey, why don’t you show me that tattoo now?”

“Forget it!” she said, and well, I will not go into
details about how the rest of the afternoon went. But I will say
that Lilith’s tattoo is definitely not a scorpion. It is a cat’s
paw. But what do I know. Spells do not work on Lilith.