09 - Return Of The Witch (2 page)

“Oh, he saw it on another witch’s web site.”

I scoffed.
“Seriously? He follows witch web sites?”

“Of course. You know he’s big into the occult.”

“Carlos, real witches don’t advertise on the web. They prefer to remain anonymous.”

“Some do. Dominic says the
woman that runs the blog he subscribes to is a real witch. Her name’s Paige Turner, and she––”

“Wait. Pa
ige Turner? Are you kidding?”

“What?”

“Carlos, if she…. No. You know what? Forget it.” I waved off the rest in hopes of terminating the entire discussion. But Carlos wouldn’t let it drop.

“Lilith, hear me out. Dominic
is convinced there’s something peculiar about these missing witches.”

“
Oh, so now they’re only missing? I thought you said they were dead.”

“Well, they are. Probably. That is, Dominic thinks they’re dead, and so does Paige.”

“Paige, the web witch.”

“Ah-huh.”

“Of course.” I turned my face to the breeze and let it sweep the hair from my eyes. “Anyone else think they’re dead?”

“You mean the authorities?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“
No bodies.”

“
Got anything that looks like a crime scene?”

“That’s hard to say.”

“Why?”

“That’s just it. It’s the strange circumstances surrounding the missing women. See, from what Dominic tells me, the only
thing anyone can find of these women is their clothes.”

“Their clothes
.”

“Yeah,
the ones they were wearing, found right there on the very spot where they disappeared.”

“I see
. So, because some woman leaves her clothes sprawled out on the floor, everyone assumes she’s dead.”

“
Yes.”

“Huh. Well,
they had better not look at my bedroom floor. They’ll think a massacre took place there.”

“
Sure, when you say it like that it sounds silly. But how do you explain the strange dusty residue inside the clothes.”

“
What dust?”

“
I don’t know, dust, or chalk or something. The point is that no one has seen or heard from these women since they disappeared.”

“What
do the Salem and Georgetown PDs say?”

“Nothing.
They don’t believe any crimes have taken place.”

“Ha
s anyone reported the women missing?”

“Yes, but
authorities can’t do much about that.”

“Why not?”

“A missing adult isn’t anything like a missing kid. I mean statistically, few missing adults are actually victims of criminal acts.”

“So the cops don’t investigate?”

“Oh, they’ll investigate if they suspect foul play. Unfortunately, a pile of dirty laundry on the floor doesn’t smack of foul play.”

“
I see, and since being a missing person isn’t a crime….”

“
Now you get it.”

We were qui
et a minute, long enough for me to pick up a shell and chuck it back into the sea. Eventually, curiosity got the better of me and I had to ask. “So, what do they think the dust is?”

“Witch dust.”

“The dust you mentioned earlier.”

“No, that’s what they think it is: witch dust. They
believe it’s some sort of ritual chalking used in Pagan ceremonies.”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s strange, maybe ominous.”

“
What’s Dominic think?”

“He thinks it’s a sign left behind by an organized hit squad.”

“Ah, hence your excitement over the word witness. You and Dominic think Ingersoll’s Witness had something to do with the disappearances.”

He shrugged.
“Who else goes around killing witches?”

“
But Ingersoll’s Witness doesn’t exist anymore. We killed the principal elite.”

“Lilith, Ingersoll’s Witness has survived for over three hundred years.
You cut the head off one snake and there’s another right behind that one ready to take the lead.”

“
I don’t know, Carlos, I think you’re making a big deal out of nothing. Just because some silly weblog reports a––”

I was going to say m
issing person, when my phone rang and interrupted my train of thought. A quick look at the screen told me it was Ursula. I turned it around and showed it to Carlos. “I should get this.”

He nodded.

“Hello, Ursula.”

“Aye, `tis Ursula of New Castle.”

“Yes, Urs. I know that. This is Lilith, presently of Gloucester Beach.”

“Sister, what terrible fate
hast befallen thee?”

“What do you mean?
”

“
Hast thou not the strength to call for kin or souls of merry meet? Surely thy legs art broken, thy arms too frail to summon help.”

“
Uh, I get it. Sarcasm. Look, I’m sorry. I simply wanted to be alone for a while.”

“Oh, `tis of no mind
, I am sure. What have we but idle time to while away our fear?”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Master Carlos. I fear he may have met with harm when off to find thee.”

“Carlos found me. He’s right here.
He’s fine.”

“Is he now? `Tis a shame then
is it not?”

“
What’s a shame?”

“
Well, surely he hath no phone, but for that which must be broken.”

“
No. His phone’s not broken.”

“Then
fancy that. Why hast thee nor he the mind to call!”

“Urs, look. I’m sorry. Carlos found me. We’re sitting on some rocks watching the tide roll in. Now keep your skirt on. We’ll be home soon.”

“I am wearing the blue jeans.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“Fine then, hurry home. I have a trick to show thee which is most exciting.”

“A trick
?” I covered the phone and whispered to Carlos, “You were right. She wants to show me a card trick.”

He
pitched a chin-up nod. “Toss her a bone. She’ll like that.”

I came back, “Look, Urs. I can’t wait to see your little trick, honest, I bet it’s a scream. But you know it’s getting late. I think by the time I get back to New Castle, I’m gonna want to go
straight home and hit the hay. How `bout you show me the trick tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Aye, that will be fine.
” She sounded disappointed. “If the magick doth still find me then.”

“
I’m sure the magick will find you. See, that’s the beauty of a good card trick. The more you practice, the better it gets.”

“
But Sister, the trick––”

“
I know. The trick is great. I’m sure, but it can wait. Seriously, I’m sooo tired.” I yawned aloud for affect. “Excuse me. So look, thanks for calling. I’m sorry I had you worrying so much. Give my love to Dominic and I’ll see you in the morning. All right?”

“
Aye, in the morning I should––”

“
Okay then. Goodnight.”

I terminated the call and pocketed the phone. “You see that
, Carlos? That’s why I get out of town when I want to be alone. I love the girl, I swear, but she’s like a puppy sometimes. She gets excited about the simplest things and then wants to show me.”

“You know you just hung up on her
, right?”

“What? No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. I could hear her talking when you told her goodnight.”

“Whatever.” I flicked my fingers to discard the subject matter completely.
“You wanna get a beer?”

“Aren’t you driving?”

“No.”

“How did you get up here?”

I smiled wickedly. “I flew.”

Chapter 2

The beachfront bar Carlos and I stopped at seemed unusually quiet for a Friday night, but that was
just fine with me. I found that my tolerance for company had greatly diminished since returning from the Eighth Sphere. Of course, it might also have something to do with Tony dying on me. In any case, keeping company meant keeping conversation, something I didn’t much care to do any more. But even though Carlos was company, he was easy enough to talk to, so this time I didn’t mind.

“Beer?” said the barkeep, wiping the bar top and dropping a couple of cardboard coasters
down in front of us.

“
Sure.” Carlos held up two fingers. “Drafts. Whatever you got.”

The man reminded me of Tiny, the barkeep from the Eighth Sphere.
Though I have to say with some prejudice, that nearly everything reminds me of the Eighth Sphere now. I think Carlos saw it, too. I could tell by the way he looked at me and smiled after the barkeep left us. He let it ride. We both let it ride.

“So,” I said. “Nice place, eh?”

“Yeah.” He looked around and nodded his approval. “You and Tony used to come here, didn’t you?”

“
Sometimes.” I joined him in his survey and nodded likewise. “Hell…. All the time.”

The
name of the bar was The Crab Trap, but the locals just called it Crabs. Its motif, typical New England nautical, painted a page right out of old Gloucester. Tattered fishnets, ropes-and-buoys, planked tables, chairs, floor and a genuine ship’s wheel hanging over the bar completed the décor.

The lighting
, diffused and discreet, came compliments of real gas lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Together, they cast a warm glow over the room reminiscent of an early sunrise. The additional flicker of firelight against the rustic timbers added to the quaintness and reminded me of a time when things were much simpler.

“She really looks up to you,” said Carlos.

I turned my head to look at him and suddenly realized that my thoughts had drifted somewhere far away.

“What’s that?”

“Ursula.” He took a sip of beer, which until then, I hadn’t even noticed arrived. He set the mug down and smacked his lips. “She looks up to you.”

“Yeah, of course.” I forced a
weak laugh, designed to mitigate the seriousness of his tone. “I know that.”

“Do you also know how you’ve been avoiding her?”

“No I haven’t.”

“
Yes, you have.”

I took a sip of beer, a really big sip. “This hasn’t been easy on me, you know.”

“I know. No one’s getting on your case about it. It’s just that….”

“What?”

He elbowed the bar and leaned in to me. “We all miss him, Lilith. I know nobody misses him more than you do, but….”

“But what?”

“Ursula’s trying to reach out to you. You keep shutting her out. It’s like tonight. She wanted to tell you about this trick she learned and you just hung up on her.”

“Carlos, I––”

“It’s okay, Lilith.” He put his hand up to stop me. “You need your space. I get that. But just try to remember, Ursula is a part of you. When you hurt, she hurts. That’s all I’m saying.”

I took another long sip of beer, long enough to see Carlos through the bottom of my
glass as the last of the suds rolled down to my lips.

He was right about Ursula. I knew she could feel my pain, just as I
felt hers. It’s the curse of the witch’s light, or the gift, however one chooses to look at it.

Still, the truth
remained; Tony was gone,
my
Tony, and not
her
Dominic. Sure, she could feel my pain, every damn cut to my heart and soul; she could feel it. Yet there was no way she could feel my loss. No. That was mine, that deep, insufferable, immeasurable sense of loss. That and the want for dying is all that Tony left me. Did Carlos think she could feel that, too?

I doubt
ed it.

“Look.”
I set my mug down on the bar and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you take me home?”

He seemed surprised by that. “Lilith, hey, if I said something w
rong, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

“No. It’s cool.” I stood and
pushed my stool back. “You didn’t. It’s all good. I just want to go home now. Is that all right?”

He said nothing more. In fact, he said
little else all the way home. At one point, I turned the radio on to drown out the silence. He turned it off. I cranked my window down to listen to the rush of wind in my ear. He shut it.

Sitting
in front of my house, I thought he might let me out of the car without even saying goodbye. When I went to open the door, he put his hand out and wrapped it around my wrist. The dome light had come on then. I could see in his eyes that he’d been crying inside. There were no tears, but that didn’t mean anything.

“Lilith.” His hand was trembling. “I want you to know that we’re all here for you. If you reach out, we’ll be there.
You know that, don’t you?”

“I know.
” I covered his hand with mine. “But you have to let me do this my way, Carlos.”

He smiled
, and the squint in his eyes brought life to his tears. “We always do,” he said, shaking his head lightly. “Don’t we?”

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“Yes. You always do.”

Inside the house, everything was just as I had left it. I don’t mean as I left it that afternoon
, or even the day before. I mean as I left it––as Tony left it––one week, two days, five hours and twelve minutes before. The only difference was the cold. It was so very cold and empty. Except for shadows of a past filled with life, nothing moved.

I dragged myself to the bathroom, stripped off my clothes and climbed into a hot shower.
There, steam and memories comingled in lazy swirls around my head. I lathered my hair using Tony’s shampoo and dressed in the bubbles of his soap. My wind-dried skin began softening in the vigor of frothy kisses. My body tingled at the touch of my hands sweeping over it, caressing me the way he used to do.

I
closed my eyes and imagined he was there, but only for a moment before a dull awakening nudged me toward reality. I tried to push it away, but couldn’t. Instead, I surrendered to the effervescence of musk and sea salt dissolving with my tears, rolling down my body in a silent parade of spent soap and suds.

I
stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in his towel and laid a trail of wet footprints down the hall to the bedroom, the only room in the house I had managed to avoid almost completely since….

Just since.

I stopped at the bedroom threshold and let the hall light spill over my shoulder. The shadows bowed before me. I thanked them with a sigh.

T
wo closets spanned the back wall at the far end of the room, each with a pair of paneled bi-fold doors. The closet on the left was mine. The other, with its doors left partially open, was Tony’s.

The c
lothes in that one hung neat and uniform within. Blue denim mingled easily with dress slacks and cotton shirts. Shoes, sneakers and slippers toed the wall in descending order of casual use. Folded sweaters filled the shelf above and empty hangers gathered in lined formation, awaiting assignments that I knew would never come.

I hit the wall switch by the door. A lamp
beside the bed blinked on, illuminating the room in a soft glow that hinted of an idle sunset.

Funny how it see
med a bit warmer then. I inhaled deeply and allowed the lingering energy in the room to fill my body and soul. It wrapped me in its embrace, familiar yet fleeting, too transparent to hold.

I
went to Tony’s closet and raked my hand along a row of starched-white shirts. Their shoulders shrugged as if to dismiss my review. I liberated one of the shirts from its hanger, dropped my towel and put it on. The sleeve cuffs hung below my fingertips, the shirttail below the curves of my butt cheeks. I buttoned the shirt up halfway and modeled it in front of the mirror.

I could hardly recognize the woman staring back at me
, her dark eyes distant and as void of life as the shadows that curtseyed upon my entrance into the room. I stepped closer to the mirror and reached for her. She reached back. Our fingers touched the cold glass together. She shook her head. I shook mine.

On the dresser, sat a
bottle of Tony’s cologne, the same brand Carlos wore at the beach earlier that evening. I tipped the bottle to my fingers and dabbed a splash behind each ear.

It came to me a
t once, a memory I had stowed away deep within the recesses of my mind. We were standing on a concrete slab, Tony and I, locked in embrace after a tornado blew my house away. We had gone through the rite of passage and emerged unscathed.

I remembered Tony squeezing
me, holding me tightly to his chest, his broad arms around my body, sheltering me from debris tossed about by the cyclone. And of course, his cologne. How it filled me with a sense of renewal, as crisp and fresh as the promise of our new lives together, a promise broken.

I turned around and plopped
myself onto the bed, burying my face into Tony’s pillow. It still had his scent imbedded in the fabric of the pillowcase. I hadn’t washed it since returning from the Eighth Sphere. I vowed I never would.

Is it okay for a witch to cry? I asked myself, tears already rolling down the bridge of my nose. Is it crying if no one hear
s it? The answer came in a silent shout muffled by the pillow. The shadows hadn’t noticed, but I heard it. I hear it every night.