Red Witch: Book Two of the Wizard Born Series (28 page)

“Hadn’t thought of that. She can wash her hair in there while she’s at it. It sucked having to do that.”

It sucked?
Fred scowled in the darkness.
She acted like she liked it.

“Don’t put her in the shower, though,” Rita said. “Not with the bracelet on. Too much warm water will ruin it.”

“She can just lean over the tub, then. I don’t mind dumpin’ water over her head. I just don’t like haulin’ all that stuff in and out of the bedroom.”

“Don’t blame you. Don’t see me doin’ it, do you?” They both tittered like overgrown birds. “So even if she don’t do the bond, we can make good money off her. Long as the little bitch keeps makin’ potions.”

“I got that,” Cassandra said.

Their voices trailed off to mutters, and Fred stared at the dark ceiling.

So they think I’m a bitch? I’ll show them what a bitch is…no, what a firecracker is. They’ll regret it, soon as I get out of here.

All I have to do is figure out how.

* * *

Fred woke well after sunrise.
Wish I knew what time it is. They won’t even give me a clock.
She looked around her room, trying again to figure a way out of her prison.
In the movies, someone always steals a fork or something to pick the lock.
But the two witches had only given Fred plastic utensils, even when she made the healing potion.

I have no idea how to pick a lock anyway. If Jamie were here, he could just touch the ankle cuff and it would pop open.

If only he were here. God, Jamie, where are you?

She’d spent the better part of her time asleep searching for his dreams, without success. Though she did brush up against a couple of dreams that were close by, which she was certain must’ve been Rita’s and Cassandra’s. One of the dream-minds seemed bitter and angry —
that had to have been Rita’s
— and the other seemed to consist of layers of carefree contentment masking a deeper level of sadness.
Bet that one was Cassandra’s. Something awful must’ve happened to her once.

She sat up on the edge of the bed and opened the box of Pop Tarts.
This could be my prison for the rest of my life,
she thought miserably.
If I don’t do the blood bond, they’re gonna keep me here forever. The witches will die of old age, and I’ll starve to death, then somebody will find me here, a shriveled-up corpse with a chain on her ankle. It’ll make the news, and people will wonder who I was. By then, all of my friends and family will have forgotten me.

She stared at the floor, the unopened pack of Pop Tarts still in her hand.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Cassandra entered and said cheerfully, “Good morning. Did you sleep okay?”

What a phony
. “I guess. But I think it’s almost noon, isn’t it?”

“Noon, schmoon. Who keeps track?” She pulled something shiny from her pocket. “Hold out your arm.”

Fred did and watched as Cassandra reached to fasten a silver bracelet on Fred’s wrist. Cassandra said, “This is going to make things easier on me.”

Next thing Fred knew, she opened her eyes and noticed she wore a different dress. Her shoulders felt damp, too. “Did you wash my hair?” Fred touched her wet curls.

“You did most of the work,” Cassandra said. “I put the Compliance Bracelet on you and unchained you. I took you in the bathroom and helped you wash it over the tub.”

“Did I, uh, do anything else?”

“You used the toilet, but I didn’t watch.”

How embarrassing
. She pulled up her dress and saw that she had clean panties on. “Well, you took care of just about everything, didn’t you?”

“I even cleaned your pot. It was getting smelly.”

Sure, you cleaned it. I heard what you said last night
. Fred pictured herself as a walking zombie, carrying the chamber pot and dumping it into the toilet.
Gross. I probably washed it out, too. Could this get any worse?

* * *

The entrance to the Hendersonville Police department was at the rear of the City Office building. When Jamie turned his car onto 6
^th
Avenue toward the parking lot, he was surprised by the mob of people he found there.
Huh
, he thought, looking for a parking space.
It’s full
. He pulled his car into the lot next door and parked.

Two white television trucks with antenna dishes on top sat on the street nearby. Jamie pushed through the crowd to see his father near the building’s entrance, standing behind some microphones, a slew of reporters and cameras in his face. Fred’s parents stood behind him. Larry wore a brave face, but Lisa looked haggard and pale. Jamie couldn’t hear what his father was saying, but it must’ve been about Fred.

Jamie surveyed the crowd. Near his father, Gramma, Aunt Connie, and Grannie Darla were behind a table, handing out sandwiches to the volunteers. Bryce was there with several of their cross country team mates. Melanie and most of the cheerleaders stood near them.

“Dude!” Jamie turned to see Rollie, grinning as he slapped Jamie on the back.

“I thought you had basketball practice.”

“Coach had to cancel. The whole team revolted when he wouldn’t let us off for this, so he bagged it. He’s here too.” Rollie pointed to the other side of the parking lot.

By this time, Bryce and Melanie had joined them. Bryce shook Jamie’s hand and Melanie hugged Jamie. “Thanks for coming,” Jamie said.

“We brought help,” Bryce said.

“I can see that.”

Melanie beamed. “We’re gonna put up so many fliers…we’ll find her, Jamie. I know it!”

“Boy, I hope so.” Jamie looked across the crowd and said, “It looks like something’s happening. Let’s go see what we’re supposed to do.”

They pushed forward with the rest of the mob to the front of the parking lot, where Carl had taped an enlarged map of the town to a portable whiteboard. He was assigning sections for groups of volunteers to cover. Melanie raised her hand, and when Carl called on her, she suggested that her cheerleader friends cover the business district around Main Street. Rollie and his basketball friends were assigned the area surrounding the downtown district. People with cars were sent further out; Jamie and Bryce were to go west, out on Highway 64. Some of Gramma’s church friends volunteered to drive up and down the Interstate, putting fliers at rest stops and on telephone poles at all of the nearby exits. A few people suggested that they go to Asheville.

“Asheville’s big,” Carl said. “We don’t have the manpower to cover the whole city.” So they decided to cover the downtown area there, at least.

As everyone lined up to get their stacks of fliers, Jamie watched his father at the center of it all, giving directions and answering questions, the undisputed leader of the operation. Jamie felt a sense of pride as he looked on.
People trust him. I trust him. If anybody can bring Fred back, it’s him.

Chapter 27

Cassandra and Rita came into Fred’s room sometime after noon, carrying the coffee table again. “Uh!” Cassandra grunted as they set it by the bed. “I’m going to Walmart and buyin’ us a folding table, soon as we’re done today.

Rita rubbed her lower back and grimaced. “Get a couple of folding chairs while you’re at it.”

Fred sat on the edge of the bed. “What are we making today?”

“Not
we
…you.” Rita said as Cassandra stepped back into the hall for the cardboard box. “You’re gonna try making DUI powder. That’s a big seller for us.”

“You sell it at the Screw?”

“Yeah, and a couple other bars. Fridays and Saturdays are when we sell the most of it, so we need to make up a big batch today. Thought we might get you to make some more healing potion, too.”

“Did that sell last night?” Fred asked innocently.

Rita only shrugged as she settled cross-legged on the floor. Cassandra sat next to her with the box.

Fred slid down to the floor between the bed and the table. “Is that the only place you sell your potions and stuff? Bars?”

Rita pulled some jars out of the box and put them on the table in front of her. “Mostly, but we also sell stuff at that shop in you-know-where, remember? Big Dan takes it for us.”

“Have you ever thought about setting up your own web store?”

The two women blinked at her vacuously and Fred raised her eyebrows and said, “An Internet site…an online outlet…does any of this ring a bell?”

“Oh.” Cassandra waved one hand. “We don’t have an Internet here.”

Rita smacked Cassandra’s upper arm. “
The
Internet, Cass. Not
an
Internet. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“I don’t know. And it don’t matter, it’s too hard to do.”

“No it’s not,” Fred said. “Most any high school kid can do it.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. All you need is a computer and an Internet connection.” She sensed an opportunity.
If they give me access to a computer, I’ll email Jamie and be out of here in a flash.

Rita gave her a suspicious look. “How do we get that? And how much does it cost?”

“Your cable TV provider probably offers it. Might cost…I dunno…fifty dollars a month for the service and the web hosting.”

“That’s too expensive.”

“Don’t be silly. You could be selling potions and powders all over the
world
. If you made, say, love potions — you do make those, don’t you?” They nodded and Fred continued, “How many of those do you sell a night at a bar?”

Rita shrugged. “Depends. Sometimes one or two. Sometimes none.”

Fred threw up her hands. “Do you know how many high school kids would
die
to have a real love potion? Zillions! I would’ve bought one myself if my boyfriend had taken any longer to fall in love with me.”
Oh.
She suddenly felt herself blush, but the women didn’t seem to notice.
Would I have used one on him?

“How much could we sell them for?” Rita said.

“Maybe twenty five dollars each. Is that enough?”

“We sell them for fifty now.”

“But you only sell about four or five a month. You could probably sell four or five hundred over the Internet. Every month. Maybe more, once you get a reputation for selling good stuff.”

The women stared at her with their mouths open. Fred said, “Do you want me to do the math for you?”

Rita gave her head a quick shake. “No, that’s okay. It would be hard to make that much, though.”

“Is it a potion or a powder?”

“Can be both. The best kind is when you make an amulet, ’cause then you don’t have to slip anything into a drink or nothing. Potions are better for that. But amulets are hard to make.”

Fred rubbed her chin with one knuckle. “Potions would be hard to mail. Powders would be easier.”

“Powders are best for sprinklin’ over somebody’s food,” Cassandra said. “You can pour it into a drink, too, but the person drinkin’ it might notice it floatin’ on top if it doesn’t dissolve fast enough.”

“How many can you make an hour?”

Rita’s mouth pinched and she scratched her temple with a fingertip. “Hmm…I can make a batch of about ten in less than that.”

“What if you doubled the recipe and used a bigger mortar and stuff?”

“We’ve never done that before.”

Fred let out an exasperated gust of air. “But if you really had to, how many doses could you make in an hour, say, with all of us working at once?”
I need to make them think I’m coming around to their side.
“As a production team?”

“Doses?” Cassandra blinked. “Never heard ’em called that.”

Fred clenched her fists and ground her teeth.
Try not to say anything to make them mad.
“If you absolutely
had
to,” she said levelly, “how many could you make in one afternoon?”

“A hundred?” Rita said. “Not real sure. Powders would be faster.”

“What if you had help? Could you get any other witches to work with you?”

Rita shook her head. “There aren’t a hell of a lot of good witches around. It was hard enough finding you.”

“There are a few in…in a nearby city,” Cassandra said, “But they wouldn’t want to help. They’re our competition.” She chuckled. “They hate us, actually.”

Imagine that
, Fred thought with a straight face. “Well, you could probably get someone to help with the logistics, and then you could —”

“The what?”

“The nuts and bolts of a business…gritty details, like addressing and mailing orders, or even just putting the powders in packets. Somebody’s got to do that, you know, and you don’t have to be a witch to go to the post office.”

Rita looked at Cassandra. “Geraldine could do that. She’s lookin’ for a job.”

“Sure.” Fred nodded. “You could set up your own little mail order operation for less than a thousand dollars, counting the cost of a computer, and rake in the cash.” Rita’s eyes grew bright, but Cassandra still looked unsure. Fred said, “Cass, don’t you want to make more money?”

“Well, yeah, but —”

“Wouldn’t you love to have boatloads of fancy clothes and drive a nice new car? How old is the car you have now?”

“It’s a nineteen eighty something-or-other, but Louis put a new motor in it and it runs just fine. Just got some rust spots, is all.”

Rita gave her a hard look. “Well, I wouldn’t mind havin’ more money. I’m tired of just getting’ by.”

“Good. We’ll talk more about this later.” Fred clapped her hands and looked at the stuff on the table. “Now, how do we make this DUI stuff?”

As the women finished setting out the ingredients, Fred thought,
I don’t know about Cassandra, but I think Rita’s ready to go for this. If I play this right, maybe she’ll let me off this chain without making me do the blood bond.

Then I can get the heck out of here.

* * *

The sun was well below the tops of the leafless trees when Jamie thumbtacked a flier to a telephone pole in front of a gas station at the farthest edge of town. Bryce stood nearby, hands buried in the pockets of his heavy coat, shivering, his dark hair ruffled by the wind.