Witch Catcher (18 page)

"I'm right here, Jen," she said softly.

"Where's Dad?"

"Still sleeping, I suppose." She smiled and took my arm as if nothing had happened between us. "How about break fast?"

Loathing her touch, I pulled my arm free and followed her downstairs. Tink waited at the bottom, his slim body tense, his ears erect.

Moura opened the refrigerator door. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Just cereal." I went to the cupboard and reached for a bowl. "I can fix it myself."

"I could make you an omelet," she offered. "Cheese, tomatoes, fresh herbs."

I shook my head, suspicious of the herbs she might have in mind.

"Have it your way," she said. "While you can."

I looked up from the milk I was pouring on my raisin bran. "What do you mean?"

She smiled and busied herself making coffee. "You must realize you can no longer count on getting your way. Rudeness and disrespect will be punished, as they were last night. I'm simply giving you the opportunity to make a fresh start today." She shrugged and filled the coffee maker with water.

"Your father and I have reached an agreement," she continued. "He realizes he has spoiled you since your mother's death, given in to your every wish and whim. No longer."

Moura looked at me with open dislike. "He has no problem with my disciplining you. Indeed, he thinks I'd do a better job than he has."

Dad chose that moment to appear in the doorway behind Moura. His smile disappeared when he saw the expression on my face. "Jen, surely you're not quarreling with Moura again. What's gotten into you?"

"Me? Nothing's gotten into
me.
What's gotten into
you?
"

Dad winced at the frown on Moura's face. "I can't allow you to talk like that. Apologize to Moura."

"For what? I didn't say anything to her."

Grabbing my shoulders, Dad said, "I won't tolerate your jealous, spiteful behavior, Jen. Moura has tried her best to get along with you. I expect you to treat her with respect. She's done nothing to earn your animosity."

"Nothing? What about my kittens? Ask her where they are. ask her what she did to them."

Dad frowned. "They were feral cats, Jen," he said slowly. "They've gone back to the woods. To their home."

Moura nodded. "Once feral, always feral. Dangerous, untrustworthy, ready to turn on you in a second."

"You—"

"That's enough," Dad said. "Not one more word, Jen!"

Without looking at me, Moura poured two cups of coffee, one for herself and one for Dad. The two of them sat down at the table as if I were invisible and began discussing their plans for the day.

"Are you still taking Jen shopping?" Dad asked.

"Of course." Moura darted a wicked look in my direction. "What better way for two females to bond?"

"I won't—" I began, but was interrupted by what felt like a bite on my ankle. Startled. I glanced under the table. Three mice stared up at me. their whiskers atwitch. The aunties were reminding me of my reluctant promise.

"Of course you'll go, Jen," Dad said in a firm voice I didn't like. "I have some rewiring to do. Tedious work. I expect it'll take most of the day. I need peace and quiet or I might end up electrocuting myself."

"But—" Nippety-nip on my ankle—a little harder this time. Soon I'd be bleeding.

"No buts," Dad said, more firmly than before. "Moura's looking forward to it. She knows the best shops." Eyeing my faded T-shirt and shorts, he added, "You really do need some fashion advice. I haven't got a clue myself."

Moura tapped my wrist with her long crimson nails. "You won't know yourself by the time I'm finished with you."

I cringed, sure I saw more in that remark than Dad did. He simply laughed and said. "Now, now, Moura, let's not go to extremes. I still think of Jen as my little girl. I don't want her to grow up too fast."

"No need to worry about that." Moura said, regarding me with a slight smile—more of a sneer, really.

Chills raced across my skin, but my father sat there calmly finishing his coffee, oblivious to the true meaning of Moura's words.

"Dad," I said, but he was already out of his chair and rinsing his cup in the sink. I wanted to ted him everything, but the words wouldn't come. Someone had my tongue and it wasn't the cat.

Moura was still watching me, the sneer even more of a sneer now that Dad's back was turned. "We might as wed get started, Jen," she said. "By the time we get to Charles Town, the shops will be open."

"Dad," I tried again. "Don't let—" But that was all I could manage.

He smiled at both of us as if he hadn't even heard my faint protest. "Have a good time." he said.

I ran to him and hugged him. "Don't make me go with that woman!" I blurted out.

To my shock, Dad yanked me into the had and pushed me against the wall, holding my shoulders firmly. In a low, angry voice, he said, "Get this through your thick head. I love Moura. She's a wonderful woman, and I'm lucky to have her. If you do anything to ruin my relationship with her, I'll never forgive you. Do you understand?"

"Let me go," I begged. "You're hurting me."

Dad gave me a shake, something he'd never done. It was as if he'd turned into a stranger. Even his voice was different, cold and full of anger.

"Moura's right," he said. "I've been too easy on you. You'd better start showing me some respect. I won't have a daughter who behaves like this."

"Dad ... Dad." I began crying. "What's she done to you?"

Instead of answering, he turned to Moura. "Take her shopping. Maybe by the time she comes home, she'll keep a civil tongue in her head."

Moura marched me down the hall and out the front door. Holding me by one arm, she opened the car door and thrust me inside, forcing me to share the seat with Cadoc. I tried to open the door, but she'd already pressed the lock button—the child-resistant kind that made it impossible for me to escape.

"Now," Moura said, "you're about to discover what happens to nosy, interfering little girls." The car accelerated, and we sped down the driveway and out onto the road.

Peering through the window, I saw three crows dying in a row parallel to the road. The aunties. Please, please, let them be the aunties.

I glanced at Moura, but she paid no attention to the crows. She stared straight ahead, her mouth set in a hard line, her long fingers gripping the steering wheel. Like his mistress, Cadoc kept his eyes on the road. He showed no interest in me. Or the crows.

Without looking at me, Moura said, "I suppose you think you were very clever helping Kieryn to free her brother. But none of you is clever enough to thwart me for long. The fairy brats are hidden where they'll never be found or released. I would have preferred to kill them, but their mother's spell of protection was stronger than I expected."

She turned to me then, smiling that cruel smile. "But you have no sped of protection to save you."

I returned her unblinking stare and said nothing.

"So what do you think will happen to you?" Moura asked.

My heart pounded, but I didn't answer.

"Wed, dear," she went on. "As I see it, you're destined to die today under tragic circumstances, struck down by an auto when you run across the street into the driver's path. Mr. Ashbourne won't be able to avoid you. I'll weep and tell the police I tried to stop you, but you were too angry with me to listen."

Moura smiled. "It won't be the first time a willful child has died defying an adult."

I gazed out the window at the three crows. Despite their presence, I shivered. Suppose Moura's power was too great for them to overcome?

The witch drove steadily calmly, her eyes on the road. "If you think your father will pine away with grief, I won't allow that to happen. No, I shall be his solace. We'd marry soon after your death." She glanced at me, her lips curved into that dreadful smile. "Unfortunately, the poor man's happiness will be short-lived. Once I have what I want, I won't need him anymore."

To hide my fear, I kept my eyes on the crows. They flew just above the treetops, keeping pace with the car. Please, please, don't fail me, I implored them.

M
OURA BEGAN HUMMING
an eerie tune, disquieting, strange, yet somehow familiar. I put my hands over my ears, but I could still hear it. Like her perfume, the tune made it hard to think. It filled my head fill there was no room for anything else.

"It's not too late, you know," Moura said suddenly. "You can still save yourself and your father."

I looked at her fearfully. "What do you mean?"

"It's so simple, dear child. Give me the pendant. I know you have it."

"No," I said, remembering what Binna had told me. "I'll never give it to you."

Cadoc raised his head, disturbed, I gathered, by my loud voice.

"Ah," Moura said. "I suppose the fairy brat told you it's hers, and you, foolish child, believed her. The truth is, her kinkind stole it from my kinkind years ago." She touched the red pendant she always wore. "All that remains of my kinkind's former power is this—an inferior stone whose magic is unreliable at best."

Moura's ringers tightened on the steering wheel. "The fairy kind took the throne from us, the rightful rulers. Since then they have persecuted us, exiled us from our home, rained misery upon us. You now have the power to redress the wrong done to us."

Her head swung toward me like a serpent's, and her eyes glittered. "Where does your loyalty lie, Jen?" she asked softly. "With your father or with liars and tricksters?"

Moura's perfume filled the car. Confused and dizzy, I felt myself wavering. Dad deserved my loyalty. He was my father. I loved him. He loved me. I had to save him.

But Binna's words ran round and round in my head—Her
cannot get it unless ye give it to
her. her
cannot get it unless ye give it to
her. I resisted the urge to unsnap my pocket and give Moura what she wanted.

"Dear child." she said softly "Give me what is mine, and I will give you what you deserve. Is that not fair?"

I tried to understand what Moura was saying. She'd give me what I deserved, she'd give me, she'd.... I shook my head, sure those words hid another meaning but too muddled to know what that might be.

If only I could open the window and let fresh air into the car. Maybe then I could think clearly. I pressed the button, but the window didn't move.

"Well?" Moura held out her hand. "The pendant, please—that's ad I ask."

My hand burrowed into my pocket, and my fingers closed around the pouch. I must give her the pendant. I had to. It was hers, not Kieryn's. Then she'd reward me and vanish. Everything would be exactly as it used to be, just Dad and me.

But just as I took the pendant from my pocket, three deer bounded into the path of the car. To avoid them, Moura swung the wheel hard, and the car veered off the road and struck a tree. The windshield shattered, and cool, fresh air filled the car, dispelling the perfume.

Horrified at myself, I shoved the pouch deep into my pocket and resnapped the dap. I'd almost given in to Moura.
Almost.
If it hadn't been for the three deer—the three aunties—I'd have ruined everything.

While I sat there close to tears, Moura cursed softly got out to check the car. Eager to hunt, Cadoc leapt out after her, but the deer were gone.

After a quick inspection, Moura called Cadoc. With a swirl of her gauzy black skirt, she reseated herself behind the steering wheel.

"Now, where could those deer have come from?" she asked in a voice laced with sarcasm. "Strange that three deer should appear at such an opportune moment."

I turned my head away and said nothing.

"No matter," Moura said. "Old is old. Those three are no match for me."

Gravel spun from the tires as she swerved onto the road and headed again toward Mingo. Unnoticed by anyone but me, three crows left their perch in the tree's branches and followed us all the way to the Dark Side of the Moon.

With Cadoc at her side, she dragged me from the car and marched me up the sidewalk. If anyone had been nearby, I'd have shouted for help, but the street was deserted.

She thrust me into the shop and locked the door behind us. In the dim light, the antiques loomed in the shadows. Here and there a mirror caught a ray of sunlight, reflecting a Chinese vase, a stack of old books, grim faces carved on a chest. Dust motes floated in the air.

Moura led me to the kitchen and sat me down at the small oak table. Cadoc lay down at my feet, as if to guard me.

"I think a cup of tea would be lovely, don't you?" Moura asked.

I shook my head, afraid to drink the sort of tea she'd serve me.

Ignoring my refusal, Moura busied herself filling a kettle. As she set it on the antique stove, she began humming the same eerie tune she'd hummed in the car, oddly familiar yet never quite what I thought it was going to be. Insistent, irritating, it drove my own thoughts out of my head.

Trying to ignore it, I looked out the window and saw three crows perched in an apple tree. Feeling stronger, I returned my attention to Moura and the simmering kettle. She'd set two cups on the counter and was waiting for the water to boil, still humming but tapping the counter impatiently with her long scarlet nails. The morning light illuminated the lines etched on her fine white skin, showing her beauty for what it was—harsh and brittle.

At last the kettle began to whistle. Moura filled the cups with boiling water and set them on the table.

"One for you," she said, "and one for me."

"I told you I don't want any."

"Oh, yes. you do." Moura stared into my eyes, holding my gaze like a snake. "Go on. Jen, drink it."

Unable to resist, I lifted the cup. But before it reached my lips, the shop's doorbell rang loud and long. Her sped broken, Moura muttered to herself and went to the door.

The second her back was turned, I switched the cups, an old trick but one I hoped would work. Cadoc growled softly, his breath warm on my bare leg. I shifted my position, but he moved with me.

I heard Moura open the door and say, "The shop is closed today. Perhaps you could return tomorrow?"