Witch Hunt (43 page)

“That’s unfortunately true.”

There was a long silence.

“And you think I should put myself in that position?”

“I think that a sixteen-year-old girl is going to end up a victim of a system guilty of temporary insanity. She’s already been judged and will be convicted.”

Katherine shook her head. “So, how will getting her out on bail prevent that eventuality?”

“If they never get to try her, she won’t be convicted.”

“So, you want me to put up bail, knowing she’s going to run away?”

Leigh pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to her. “It’s a quit-claim deed to Hawthorne Manor, made out from Vivian to you. It should more than cover your losses.”

Katherine stared at the deed.

“It’s been signed and notarized; we went to a title company this afternoon. It’s legal. All you need do is record it with the county.”

“How did you ever get Vivian to do this?”

“I did, that’s all that matters.” Leigh didn’t think it wise to tell her that Vivian was in such a state she really hadn’t understood what she was signing. She’d deal with Vivian later. All that counted now was their escape.

“I told you what matters to me.” Katherine handed the deed back to Leigh. “This wouldn’t make up for a loss of reputation.”

“I understand your bitterness, but — ”

“Do you? I don’t think so. Your man had the courage to defy the Hawthornes. Mine didn’t.”

The maid interrupted them. “Miss Winthrop, you have another guest. It’s a priest.”

“A priest? Whatever … Show him into the parlor, Maria. My visit with Mrs. Hawthorne is over.”

Cliff stood at the parlor window and watched Leigh leave the Winthrop home.
She’s the one God sent to them
, the feminine voice told him. In the past few years, the Holy Mother had begun an inner dialogue with him; it had seemed appropriate, given his roots.

“May I help you?” Katherine asked.

Cliff turned to see her looking at him without recognition.

“I’m Cliff Hawthorne.”

Katherine looked startled. “Excuse me, but Cliff died in the war. Besides, it’s unlikely that they’d spawn a Catholic priest. If this is a joke, it’s hardly — ”

“I am who I claim to be. I experienced my religious calling on the battlefield in Germany, and my family disowned me when they found out. Have I changed so much with time? You certainly haven’t, Katherine.”

She inched closer to him. “My God, it is you.”

He held out his hand to her, and after a moment’s hesitation, she accepted it.

“I’ve come a long way. Would it be possible to have some refreshment?” he asked.

“Of course. Please have a seat.” She summoned Maria and asked her to bring a tray, then sat down on the love seat next to him. “I assume you’ve heard?”

He nodded. “Father Shaw, at the local parish, tracked me down and filled me in. I got here as soon as I could.”

“Where do they have you stationed, or whatever it’s called?”

“I’ve been in Rome for several years, at the Vatican. I’ve been working to effect some changes in the church. Kind of a personal crusade, you could say.”

“I see. Does this mean that you weren’t born a, you know, witch?”

Cliff smiled. “No, I was born one, but I chose this instead.” He didn’t mention that even as a Catholic he couldn’t escape his birthright. However, it complemented, rather than detracted from, his spiritual experience.

“Oh. I didn’t know you could choose.”

The maid returned with a tray of tea and biscuits, then left them alone.

They ate and drank for a time in silence.

“Is this witchcraft evil, devil stuff?” she asked.

“Not what the Hawthornes do. Witches like the Hawthornes are gifted; God has given them extraordinary talents that they should be using for the betterment of humanity. Unfortunately, when the ego becomes involved, humanitarian concerns surrender to selfishness. That’s the greatest sin the Hawthornes are guilty of.”

“I see.” She paused. “They want me to help them.”

“And you don’t want to.”

“How they treated me.”

“Resentments poison the soul.”

Her tone became defensive. “I’m a good, spiritual person. I work with the charities. I give to the poor.”

“If it’s easy, it isn’t necessarily noble. True charity often involves some hard choices and measurable self-sacrifice.”

“You’re asking a lot.”

“Where there’s life, there’s hope. I would like to believe that, for the Hawthornes, there’s still a chance to hope.”

“It is hereby ordered that bail in the case of the State of Colorado versus Linda Sue Florey — also known in these proceedings as Lilith — be set at one hundred thousand dollars,” Judge Barker told the court. “Bailiff?”

“State of Colorado versus Melanie Hawthorne.”

Braden Avery, the district attorney, stood up. His suit was wrinkled from the summer heat — the air conditioning had been shut down at the courthouse for the weekend — and rivulets of sweat issued from beneath his short gray bangs. His voice sounded weary. “Your honor, it is our understanding that Miss Hawthorne was one of the ringleaders of this little cult. She is known within the group as Damiana and was the apparent mistress of the late Mr. Essex, the alleged murderer of Amber Whittaker. Until recently her family has always held a prominent place in our community. As I’m sure you know, there have been allegations of witchcraft leveled against the Hawthornes, and the State does not consider — given the occult overtones of this case — that Miss Hawthorne, who is a minor, should be released into their custody at this time. The State therefore requests that bail be denied.”

The people in the overflowing courtroom began to murmur. The prosecution had not asked that bail be denied for any of the other defendants.

The judge gaveled the room to silence. “Ms. Dawes?”

Jeanne Dawes was the public defender assigned to Melanie. She was young and inexperienced, but she faced the court with confidence. “Your honor, Melanie Hawthorne is sixteen years old, and is an exemplary student and citizen. She has never before been in any legal trouble. All parties agree that Mr. Essex killed Amber Whittaker. My client is accused of aiding and abetting this murder because she took Miss Whittaker to the ritual last night. The truth is that she, herself, was a victim. The two girls were invited to a party by Essex, whom they both met for the first time just days ago. They both went willingly. They were both taken prisoner; Amber was murdered while my client was forced to watch. Now, on the issue of the Hawthornes supposedly being witches, well …” She laughed. “That’s so ridiculous that I don’t even know how to address it. I respectfully request that my client be released on bail compatible with that granted to the other defendants in this case.”

Judge Barker’s sigh was audible throughout the court. Leigh leaned forward in her chair and strained to feel his emotions, but the room was filled with such chaos — fear, anger, grief, shock — that she couldn’t discern his specific energies.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “I, for one, Ms. Dawes, cannot easily dismiss the recent public charges of witchcraft against the Hawthornes, most particularly because of the blatant evidence of Satanism and the occult that surrounds this case. I’m not convinced there isn’t some kind of link between the whole Hawthorne family and the Satanic cult this unfortunate murder has uncovered. On the other hand, Mr. Avery, Miss Hawthorne apparently did not kill Amber Whittaker, and she is a minor, so I would be uncomfortable about denying bond altogether. Therefore, I’ll allow bail, but it’s to be in the amount of one million dollars.”

The courtroom exploded with commotion.

Melanie looked at Leigh with a silent plea of desperation.

Leigh had not noticed Katherine’s presence. Without any preliminaries, she leaned over Leigh’s chair and whispered in her ear, “If I couldn’t have the man, I suppose the house’ll do.”

As soon as they had Melanie home, Leigh called a family meeting. It was six o’clock. The Hawthornes, joined by the Janowskis, met together around the large dining room table.

“Okay, to begin with, let’s hear from Jason and Gil about their special little spell.” Leigh was rarely sarcastic, but she was beyond worrying about offending people.

Jason shrugged. “We figured it would put the brakes on the preacher.”

“Well, you were wrong,” Leigh said. She looked around the table. “For any who might not have yet heard, our little wizards here zapped Cody’s wife. She’s in a coma. The preacher figured us for the culprits, and he’s vowed to go for the jugular.”

“Oh, gods, how could you?” Vivian asked.

Gil looked sheepish. Jason looked as if he didn’t much care.

“Lift the spell,” Marek said, his voice soft, his tone uncompromising.

“Yes, sir,” Gil said.

“The way we set it up, we can’t ‘til midnight,” Jason said.

Marek nodded. “Just do it.”

Everyone jumped as Jason gave the underside of the table a loud kick.

“Now, to Melanie’s mess,” Leigh said. “We — ”

“Why did Katherine pay the bail?” Vivian asked.

“Because she’s a gutsy lady with a heart,” Leigh said, her tone defying Vivian to argue with her.

Vivian sputtered, then fell silent.

“We know Melanie’s innocent, but the events have tipped the scale against us all.” Leigh paused. “And from what I learned today, if we stay here I don’t believe we’re going to survive. So we’re leaving tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Glynis asked. “Where in the world would we go?”

“Who made you God?” Jason asked.

“I’m not leaving my home,” Vivian said, shaking her head. “No, I’m staying right here.”

Leigh threw up her invisible barrier for the second time. She couldn’t allow their fear and foolish defiance to affect her resolve. “In hiding there’s a chance we can fight the wave of hysteria that’s swelling. Craig wanted to fight them. His way didn’t work. Now we’re going to try it my way.”

Shocked silence filled the room. Even through her barrier, Leigh could feel their surprise at her arrogance — or maybe it was her own surprise she was feeling.

“We’ll go with you, Mom,” Kamelia said.