Witches (16 page)

“Yes. I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit it.” She spread her arms. “I did this all so you wouldn’t be able to refuse.”

Amanda lowered her eyes that were filling with tears, and just shook her head. A simple thank you wouldn’t do it. Jessie had put her whole heart into this. Her fingertips brushed over the soft bedspread that had once belonged to their grandmother, Jessie. It was one of her sister’s prized possessions.

“When do you expect the horde back home, anyway?” Amanda inquired, sniffling the tears away and looking back up.

Jessie peered at her wristwatch. “Another hour or so. Just enough time to get supper going. Homemade stew and corn bread. You said you were hungry. Want to help make supper?”

“Sure. Just tell me what to do.”

“Okay. You peel the potatoes, carrots, and onions while I fry the meat. Just like old times.”

“Yeah, just like old times.” Amanda shook her head again. Then, “Jessie, it’s sure good to be here.”

“Well, it’s sure good to have you here, Sis. I’ve been worried about you. Especially since I heard about those murders.”

“I know,” Amanda whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

Amadeus was unexpectedly in Amanda’s lap.
Bad thing going to happen. Got to go. See. Be back soon.

Then he dematerialized right before their eyes.

“That cat,” Amanda complained, as if she didn’t know what to do with him. Although she was glad to see him back to his old self.

“Will he be all right?” Jessie asked, sitting down on the bed beside her sister.

“Sure. He can take care of himself,” she said like she always did, but a tiny frown creased her brow. Lately she wasn’t really sure he could take care of himself. Especially after last night, but he was gone, doing whatever he thought he should be doing and Amanda knew better than to try to call him back. She’d seen the fanatical glint in his feline eyes. To him the game was afoot. She’d just have to wait until he returned and let her in on it. His warning continued to disturb her, though. What was coming? Was it coming here? Could it hurt her family? The frown deepened and spread to her eyes—Jessie caught it.

“You know, Sis,” Jessie said somberly. “I’ve been thinking about that cult, too. I had this crazy idea. It just popped into my mind when we were talking earlier.”

“What?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that the cult may not be all human acolytes? That that dead witch you’ve been seeing has gathered together a coven from hell?”

“A coven of demons?” Amanda was astounded that Jessie could stumble onto such a bizarre notion.

“It would explain the butchery of the killings, and the inhuman powers that have been demonstrated, wouldn’t it?”

The hair on the back of Amanda’s neck was prickling, her face stricken. Yes, it would explain a lot of things.

Oh, my God. Am I the one who has helped Rachel call them from hell in the first place with that damned spell I wove last week to bring Jake back from the in-between world? Oh, no.

If so, she was to blame for all the hideous deaths so far. The destruction. It was her doing!

“Amanda, are you okay?” Jessie was clutching her sister’s arm, a concerned look on her face.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Amanda lied, putting a phony smile on her stiff lips. If demons headed or formed the coven, even partly...then even she might not be strong enough to fight their combined power. There’d be more deaths—and worse. Soon. It was a thought that drove shivers of ice through her already guilty heart.

If it was true, her staying away would only make matters worse.

She had to go back. As soon as she figured out how to stop them. Fight them. Before they began their real killing spree. Demons soaked up strength from torturing and killing. The more they maimed and killed, the stronger their power would become.

Amanda and Jessie went back downstairs and started supper.

Later that night, surrounded by Jessie’s noisy family, eating the delicious stew they’d made together, Amanda was unusually quiet. Her mind was full of the horror she might have released, and the horrors to come. Her heart was heavy; her mind indecisive to what she should do now. She wasn’t a coward, but she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to fight what was waiting back in Canaan for her. Even though she didn’t care if she died herself in the trying, she did care if she failed and left the hellish cult (if there was one) to terrorize her family and all those she cared about, and to ravage the world.

That she couldn’t allow to happen.

* * * *

After the rest of the family had gone to bed and the house was quiet, Amanda stood in the dark by the loft windows in her nightgown and robe and gazed out into the wintry night. She had been right and now the snow, light and wispy, swirled silently outside. It brought back memories of other winter nights in the snug cabin with Jake. It made her lonely, even with all those people sleeping below her.

She wondered if Mabel was all right. Oh, if only she could use her magic to see.

She’d watched the late night news with Jessie and John and there hadn’t been any more incidents reported back in Canaan. So far.

Again, if only she could risk using her sight—but she didn’t dare.

Well, she thought, dropping her robe to the floor and slipping into bed, she’d have to go back sooner or later to fight them. She plumped up her pillow, and lay back, watching the window and the drifting snow. The room was full of a pearly light from it, lifting the darkness. There was a draft in the room, so she snuggled deeper under the covers and tried to stop her shivering. Old houses had drafts; it was part of their charm.

She fretted over Amadeus’s absence. Where had he gone and why hadn’t he asked her first? Should have asked her, she grumbled to herself. She was the witch, and he was the familiar. He was supposed to be doing what she wanted him to do. Not scouting out on his own. Then again, Amadeus had always been a rebel. Always acting on his own. She had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he’d saved her butt many times just because he was that way.

Everything she was worried about kept chasing around in her mind like mice in a box. She couldn’t seem to stop them. She couldn’t ignore the tiny stirrings of fear. It’d been a long time since she’d been afraid of anything. She didn’t like it.

She tried to dwell on the nice evening she’d had with her sister and her family. The kids and John had come home right about the time the stew had finished simmering. They’d all sat around the big table and eaten it, along with freshly baked bread and tall glasses of milk. Chocolate pie with whipped cream on top for dessert.

They’d all mentioned the cuts on her face and she’d trotted out the same lie as before, much as she disliked lying. By evening, the special cream she’d been using had nearly healed the wounds and it was easy to convince everyone that they weren’t that bad.

The two girls had talked about what they’d been doing in school, and John, a short balding man with wire-rimmed glasses and a subtle wit who’d always had a special brotherly fondness for Amanda, had bragged happily about his promotion and what his new duties were. Jessie had woven humorous stories of her craft classes at the college and some of the sights she and the girls had seen while out trick-or-treating the night before.

They’d asked about Amanda’s pottery, and about Mabel. The last time they’d been there before Jake’s death, Jake had driven over and picked up the old woman so they could meet her. She never got out much and Jake had wanted to treat her. The two girls had taken to Mabel right off. Now they always inquired about her.

Then after supper, they’d gotten cozy in the living room with a big crackling fire and watched rented science fiction movies until it’d been time for the girls to go to bed. The adults had stayed up longer and talked.

The night had been fun, except for the gloomy thoughts churning around in Amanda’s mind. Jessie, sensing this, walked her up to her room at the end of the evening and again suggested trying to see if Rebecca could help.

“You know this is when having a cell phone would help a lot. I don’t understand why you two insist on not having one, though, with your magic, I can understand why you feel you don’t need them. Except, right now, you don’t want to use that magic. See, you both need cell phones.”

Amanda had sent her an exasperated look. “Oh, Rebecca has a cell, but it’s usually turned off.”

“Okay. We might try calling her agent or her publisher tomorrow morning and have her tracked down,” she’d countered. Jessie was sure she was on a book tour somewhere in the Midwest. “Someone must know where she is and if Rebecca can’t help, she might know someone who can. Another witch or a warlock. You don’t have to be alone in this, Mandy.”

Amanda, like earlier, had protested. She was afraid to pull anyone else into the eye of the storm with her. They might not come out again. After all, she was one of the strongest witches she knew of in the United States and if she couldn’t handle what was going on, she didn’t know of anyone else who could.

Amanda might have slept, or she might have thought she had when she felt another presence in the room.

“Who’s there?” she said, peering into the dim room with sleepy eyes. “Amadeus?” She sat up.

“No, Aunt Amanda, it’s just Abby.” A small voice spoke next to her. “Did I wake you?”

“Not really, I think I was only half asleep.” Amanda switched on the lamp next to the bed, and yawned. “What’s wrong? It’s late.”

The little girl in the blue flannel nightgown and fuzzy slippers stood at the foot of the bed, clutching one of the stuffed cats, Paws, that her mother had made her. She was eleven, still loved toy animals, but in every other way was older than her years. Sleep had flushed her innocent face and mussed her long hair. A striking child because of her bright red hair, glittering dark green eyes, and perfect heart-shaped face, but there was also something different about her. Amanda had seen it years ago in her strange gaze; the way she listened and seemed to understand things most children never did. As if she weren’t a child at all. She probably saw things most children didn’t see, either.

That the child was a born witch, Amanda had no doubt—or something close to it. In their family, through the generations, there’d also been seers, psychics, and healers.

“I had a nightmare. Just now. I’d fallen asleep and...and...I had to warn you, Aunt Amanda. I just had to!” In the faint light
from the lamp, the girl’s face was
full of foreboding, her sensitive eyes troubled.

“Do you have these nightmares often?

“Sometimes.”

“How long have you had them?”

“Oh, for years. I’ve told Mom about them. And usually they’re just dreams.” Her voice hushed. “Aunt Amanda...sometimes they come true.”

Ah, so one of her talents was she was psychic.

“Come here, Abigail.” Amanda patted the spot next to her on the bed. “And tell me about the nightmare.”

The girl slid into bed with her and Amanda gave her a hug. Abigail propped Paws up on the pillow next to them so he could watch.

“Amadeus hasn’t come back yet, has he?” the girl asked.

“No, he hasn’t.”

“I hope he’s okay. He was in the nightmare, too but he was just a regular cat.” Abigail stroked her inanimate feline, her child’s voice unsteady. Abigail, unlike the younger Debbie, knew that Amanda was a witch. Her mother had explained all of it to her a year or two ago when Abigail had asked point-blank. Abigail had suspected it for a long time. She’d had dreams
about her aunt.

The child shivered.

“Are you cold, Abigail?” Amanda tucked the extra blanket she’d had on the bed around the girl’s thin shoulders.

“No.” The child’s voice was sure. “It was the dream. It frightened me.”

“Tell me about it, then.”

The girl swung around and looked at her aunt solemnly. “It was about you, Aunt Amanda. I think you’re in some kind of trouble, aren’t you?”

It wouldn’t serve any purpose to lie. Not if the girl was clairvoyant, as Amanda suspected. “Yes, Abigail, I am. But you needn’t worry, I’m handling it.”

“Ah, I thought so. Then at least that’s true. I wasn’t just imagining things.” It seemed to soothe her. Amanda was reminded of herself long ago as a child and how crazy she’d felt when she’d started to discover her powers and her gifts. Before she knew what she was, before her mother had told her. It was easy to believe one was going insane when things first began to happen.

When you saw things and heard things—could do things—that others couldn’t do.

“No, you weren’t.” Amanda, fully awake now, smiled tenderly at her niece cuddled in her arms. “What was the dream about tonight? Don’t be afraid to tell me, I’ll understand. We’re alike, you and I.”

“Are we?”

“Yes, we are. Don’t ever be ashamed or afraid of your dreams, Abigail. They’re part of what you are. I’ll help you. I’m here for you.”

The look Abigail sent her then was one of relief. They were kindred spirits and she understood her. Abigail’s head averted, her eyes closed. Long dark eyelashes against pale skin.

“In the dream you were out in the woods somewhere. You were begging me for help, but you were dressed...funny.”