09 - Return Of The Witch (7 page)

Paige’s apartment was in the third building
, second unit on the left. Though it looked like all the others, Ursula and I would still have been able to pick it out of the lot even without the apartment number stenciled on the door.

“Cute,
isn’t it?” I said, pointing to the ceramic garden gnome standing sentry by the door.

“Aye, reminds me of Jerome.”

I smiled at that, noticing how one of its eyes appeared to follow our movements in that odd lizard-like way that Jerome’s did. “Yeah, I see what you mean. I take it back now. He creeps me out.”

I wasn’t sure what to expect, except to say that t
he woman who answered the door wasn’t at all what I imagined. I guess I figured that anyone running a blog under a clever name like Paige Turner would have to be younger than say thirty. No reason for such an arbitrary assumption, but that’s what I thought. I mean, let’s face it. You don’t generally see octogenarians mastering internet technologies. Yet, that’s how old this woman appeared to be.

She answered the door in a typical old woman stoop
, a knitted shawl gathered around her shoulders, a crooked cherry wood cane clutched in her hand. Three black cats followed her to the door, but stayed inside, uninterested in the freedom of the outdoors that younger felines might have preferred.

“
Aye?” The old woman cawed, her scratchy voice way beyond the help of a lozenge. “May I help thee?”

“
Yes, ma`am. We’re looking for Paige Turner?”

“I
am Paige Turner.”

I turned to Ursula. She
hooked her brow. I said to the woman, “Mrs. Turner, my name is Lilith Adams. This is Ursula Bishop.”

The woman looked up from her stooped posture and smiled. Her teeth were small and crooked, but her own. I saw her
gnarly index finger tap the ball of her cane. Her cats ran off. The door opened wider without so much as a breeze to help it along.

“Come in, my dearies,” she said. “I
have been expecting you.”

I felt a sudden Hansel and Gretel chill tickle the hairs on the back of my neck. I don’t know why. Between Ursula and me, I figured we could pitch that old woman’s
scrawny ass into a fiery oven if it came to that.

Still, I stepped back and presented Ursula with
first right of entry. She obliged and followed the invisible trail of gingerbread crumbs into the parlor, carefree and oblivious.

The first thing that struck me after entering the room was the feeling of décor suffocation.
Swank curtains framing the windows and thick paisley tapestries on the walls and floors created an acoustic dead zone that nearly made my ears bleed.

Worse, was the velvety wallpaper with
vertical stripes jabbing into cornice and jambs like a putty knife under the nails.

The second thing that struck me
was the subdued lighting, compliments of scented candles made necessary by the window shades, which were black and pulled down tight to the sills.

Pa
ige Turner used her cane to shoo two cats off an old camelback sofa. She used it again to point at the sofa and then told us to sit. We did, keeping our butts on the edge of the cushion and our hands folded neatly upon our knees.

She
hovered there awhile, perhaps attempting to assess our level of comfort with the accommodations. I nudged Ursula, and the two of us smiled up at her, conveying our utmost approval. Satisfied, she crossed the narrow room and took a seat on a porter’s chair, settling into the hooded back like a cobra.

“So, Lilith of New Castle,
why have thee called upon my house.”

“We
called because…. Wait a minute. I didn’t tell you I was from New Castle.”

“
Are you not?”

“
Yes, but—”

“Sister,” said Ursula, palming my wrist.

I turned to her and allowed her gaze to direct my attention to the ceiling. There, centered directly overhead, was a nine-foot wide witch’s circle, complete with brick dust, candles and a pentagram with points terminating in small circles like a sheriff’s badge.

I looked at Paige and
nodded at the ceiling. “Nice touch, but how did you….”

Her crooked smile widened. “When
thy eyes have seen the years I have, my dear, ye shall see that boundaries exist not for thee, but for those who seek to find them.”

I laughed. “Oh, I think you’d be surprised to
learn just how many years I’ve been around.”

She shook her head. “
Hast thou pressed the rite of passage one and one hundred times?”

“No, of course not. No witch
—Whoa, wait a second!” I felt my jaw drop. “Do you mean to tell me….”

She looked
at Ursula. “Whence came thee, dear lass?”

“New Castle, Milady.”

“Before, I mean. Hath thee been to Salem ever?”

“Aye
, when just a girl. Methinks it hath changed since, much for the better.”

“`
Your opinion, I am sure, but tell me. Did thee know Bridget of Salem whose surname ye both share?”

“
As I should, Milady. I knew her well.”

“
Kin, I should think?”

“Aye.”

“Grandmother?”

“
Nay, Milady. Bridget was my sister, born three and twenty years `fore I.”

“
Of course. I see the resemblance. Not at first, but I see now. I knew Bridget Bishop. A fine woman she was. Shame they hanged her. Thou doth look as Bridget looked in years of youth. How be it then, thou hath stayed so fair through so many rites of passage?”

Ursula wrinkled her petite nose and shrugged. “
I have but yet to make first passage.”

“
I do not understand.”

“I did it,” I said, buffing my nails on my chest. “I brought her back from a box of bones.”

The old woman reeled back, surprised. “Aye, the revivification spell. I have heard of it. I have of mind a Georgetown witch did that.”

“Nope.
That was me, a little ol` New Castle girl.” I sniffed and pitched a nod toward Ursula. “I dare say she’s some of my best work.”

Paige Turner nodded.
“Mayhap thy best doth lay before thee now.”

“How
so?”

“The prophecy.”

“Yeah, the prophecy. See that’s why we’re here. I believe you mentioned something about that in your blog.”

“Then
ye both must know `tis true, for it has begun.”

“What
do you mean?”

“The great battle, as forewarned by the Pendle Six.
Have thee not acquired the quintessential?”

“I have not.”

She leveled her stare and studied my face, curious, if not suspicious. “On thy word?”

I shook my head.
“Look, do you think we’d be here if I possessed the quintessential?”

“
Did ye both not make travel to the dark dimension and back?”

“
The E.S. Yes. We did, but I’m telling you. I came back empty-handed. In fact, I lost something very dear to me in the process—
someone
very dear.”

Paige Turner stood and crossed the room. She retrieved a book from a shelf above a tin-horned phonograph and returned it to her seat. The book looked like
a Grimoire, only much older than any I had ever seen before. It was tattered, dusty and exceedingly worn. Clearly, the old girl had used it a time or two.

She set
the book on her lap and laid both hands upon it. “Do you know what this is?” she asked.

“
Of course,” I said, shooting her an involuntary bite-me look. “I have one, too. Only mine was printed in days of movable type.”

She
cracked her own version of a bite me smile. “Then yours is not complete.” She opened the book to a page previously bookmarked with a black ribbon and read from it.

“
Lo the darkness what returns, for evil bides within the silent shade of night. She preys upon the weak and naïf when pale becomes the jilted moon. Be thee warned thy Guardians of Four, lest her cunning ways shalt reap what essences thou doth squander. Alas, ye art blind to her wicked deeds, for evil be thy name.

“
Yet perish not in vain, young souls, thy dust doth scatter here and yon. Behold the Pentacle Prodigy. Forfend she wilt the vile cloud. Dudgeon fuels her battle. Possessed of right and the quintessential, she shalt fear naught and availeth much.”

Paige
closed the book and looked up at me, her hooded eyes awash in the yellow glow of candlelight. “Well?”

I turned my palms up empty. “Well what? That passage i
sn’t in my Grimoire.”

“I should think not. This
is the Demdike Grimoire.”

“Demdike…Demdike. Where have I heard that name before?”

Ursula said, “`Tis Elizabeth Southerns. She and Demdike art but one and the same.”

“
Of course, Lizzy Southerns, the Pendle Six matriarch. You mean to tell me that’s her Grimoire?”

“It is,”
Paige replied. “The prophecy is written within the margins in her own hand, penned the night before her trial. See and bare witness that she speaks of a jilted moon, and of thee, the Pentacle Prodigy.”

“Me
, a prodigy? That’s rich. What are you, high?”

She stood and c
rossed the room, clutching the Grimoire to her chest in one hand and pointing her cane at me with the other.

“
Thou hast walked the dark dimension,” she said, gritting her teeth. “And in so doing did upset the counterbalance. Now the Guardians of Four are gone, their dust scattered here and yon.”

“Are you blaming me for that?”

“I blame no one, for it is written in the Grimoire. Thou hath heard with thine own ears, seen with thine own eyes that which hast come to pass already.”

“
Yeah, well even Nostradamus got it right once in a while. I mean you throw enough shit on the wall and some of it has to stick. Know what I’m saying?”

“Blasphe
my! The great battle awaits thee and yet thou doth mock the words of the Grimoire?”

“Now wai
t just a nipple-pinching minute!” I palmed the tip of her cane and shoved it out of my face. “I take the Grimoire very seriously. You can ask Ursula. I mean no disrespect to your book, but I use the standard Jamestown edition, which I am certain makes no mention of this great battle that Madam Southerns predicted.”

“
Explain thee how then what hast been foretold and hath come to pass of late?”

“
I don’t explain. How do you explain that I obviously don’t possess the quintessential? I can’t be the Pentacle Prodigy without it, now can I?”

The old woman tugged on her shaw
l and shuffled to the door. She opened it and pointed again with the cane. “It is best you leave now, Lilith of New Castle. Prepare as thou wilt, for thy battle awaits thee ready or not.”

Chapter 7

We left Paige Turner’s apartment and hopped into the car just as it started to
drizzle. I have to admit, the old woman creeped me out just a bit, which might explain why I ran the first red light we came to. Ursula screamed, and then I screamed, and only after I cleared the intersection did I realize what happened.

“Damn! I’m sorry,” I said, chec
king the rearview mirror for casualties. Aside from an old nun in a Volvo, no one had cause to be shaken up too badly. “Did you see that?” I hiked my thumb up over my shoulder. “That nun back there just gave me the finger.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah.” I turned my wipers on, which probably would have been a better idea three blocks earlier. “She’s gonna have to say a few extra Hail Marys tonight for that one.”

Ursula laughed at that. It reminded me how good it felt to be in her company again. It’s ironic that the thing I needed
most to help me deal with Tony’s death was the thing I kept pushing away. I reached across the seat and patted her knee.

“I love you, Urs.
You know that?”

“
Aye.”

We drove on for
another block. I waited for her to say something like, yeah, Lilith, I love you, too, or hey, you want to go back there and bitch slap the shit out of that nun in the Volvo? That’d be fun.

I came up to another red light and
this time I stopped for it. After sitting a minute with nothing to do but drum my fingers on the steering wheel, I decided to break the ice.

“
Listen, Urs, I um...I wanted to tell you something. I know that lately I’ve been a little—”

“
Bitchy?”

“
What? No! I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say I’ve been a little unapproachable, but…yeah, I guess bitchy fits, too. I’ll give you that.”

She shook her head. “
Think not of it, Sister. I do not pretend to know what pain thy heart doth bare. I can only but imagine in my own pathetic way.”

“No. We
have the witch’s light, kiddo, you and me. I know you’ve been hurting, too. I wanted to say I’m sorry for that. I suppose I could have been a little more…. I don’t know, understanding.”

“
There be a passage in the Grimoire,” she said, “One little known. It reminds us there is no wrong way one can go when grief doth steer the course of moons. It takes thee on what road it must to heal thy naked wounds.”

“Wow
. That’s powerful. I never knew that was in there.”

“
Aye, `tis a passage `tween the sleeping spell and the wake-me-not charm.”

“Oh,
sure, that makes sense.” The light turned green. I continued south on 125. “Anyway, thanks for understanding.”

“Thanks be not mentioned.”

“So, tell me what you think about the old witch.”

“
Paige Turner seems pleasant enough.”

“
You’re sick. You know that? What do you think about the prophecy? Is there’s anything to it?”

“
Mayhap so. Mayhap not. Thou cannot discredit that which is foretold and so hast come to pass already.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. I know one thing, though.”

“Oh?”

“If there is an evil power waiting to do battle, it’s not
Ingersoll’s Witness. The Demdike Grimoire predates Ingersoll by eighty years.”

“Who then might that evil
be?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Methinks it wise we should follow the horse by what droppings it doth leave behind.”

“What do you mean?”

She held up a slip of paper with Dominic’s handwriting on it. “I have this, what I have borrowed from my Dominic’s desk.”

I snatched the paper from her. “Let me see that.”
I scanned it briefly, alternating glances between the paper and the road until I understood what I was looking at. Ursula, do you know what this is?”

“Aye.”

I read some of it aloud. “Terri Cotta—Salem, Amber Burns—Georgetown, Wendy Skye, April Raines, Newburyport, Ipswich…. This is a list of names and addresses for the four missing women!”

“
I know. Did I do thee well?”

“Ye
s, you sneaky little cheeky monkey. You did thee very well.” I re-routed eastward onto 128. “Guess we’re going to Salem.”

Ursula pointed out the window. “Lead thee onward.”