Witches (14 page)

The bus was practically empty. No one she knew. It was Sunday, after all. There were some filthy looking teenagers in black leather jackets crammed in the back, snickering and bickering among themselves. Amanda couldn’t tell the girls from the boys. They all had long stringy hair and earrings. There was a young family seated midway on the bus. A tired-looking plump woman with frizzled hair and a rake-thin man, probably her husband, with his nose in a book as the woman tried to control the two small children, who were whining for something to eat. Two old women napped, their purses clutched to their ample coated bosoms and scarves on their heads.

The napping part looked good to Amanda.

She was glad to find a seat by the window, place Amadeus’s covered cage next to her, and yanking the hat farther down over her eyes, wearily closed them and drifted into sleep. She didn’t open them until they were entering the outskirts of Boston proper.

It’d been years since Amanda had been there. She’d grown up in Boston, but as she watched the streets flash by from the dirty bus window, all she could think about was how alien it all seemed now with its narrow twisting streets and historic buildings. Once it had been home, now it was just another city.

They rolled past the Boston Common, along Beacon Street, and then alongside the State House with its golden dome, King’s Chapel, and City Hall. They paralleled endless miles of ancient brick sidewalks on cobblestone streets flanked by rows of stately Georgian houses of rose-colored bricks. Houses and streets that hadn’t changed in centuries. Slowly, the ageless beauty of Colonial Boston overwhelmed her, as it had years ago.

It was a beautiful city. Whether it had wanted her or not all those years ago. It hadn’t been the city’s fault, but rather some of the people who’d lived in it. Underneath Bostonians were as superstitious as the people of Canaan.

Jessie lived on Hanover Street in a monstrosity of a framed house. Three floors. She and her husband had bought it when they were first married fourteen years before, and they were still there. Jessie loved her home as much as Amanda loved her cabin in the woods. She’d spent years fixing it up to be just what she wanted.

A plaintive muffled meow reminded her of her companion and lifting the cover off the cage, she smiled reassuringly through the tiny bars at Amadeus. His wounds looked better, too.

“So you’re finally awake, huh?” she whispered.

He meowed back in answer. His thoughts coming through
to her like a
radio station still out of range
,
faint and crackling
.

He
was
feeling better.

“We’re almost there.”

Where?
So low she almost didn’t catch it.

“Oh, that’s right, you don’t know. You were out of it,” Amanda said softly. By thought, she told him about Ernie’s visit, the new murders, her name in the blood, and her decision to take a brief vacation until she could get a handle on the whole affair because her magic didn’t seem to be working when it came to the cult.

Good idea.

“Sorry I had to lock you up like a criminal but those are the rules for taking an animal on a bus these days.” She scratched him through the bars and took a good look at what was left of his one ear. His other wounds were healing nicely with the help of her magic, but the ear was still gone and it made him look funny. Lopsided. Maybe it would never grow back.

Amadeus didn’t answer but closed his eyes and fell back asleep. Amanda let him be.

She stretched, staring out at the passing scenery, and tried not to let the painful memories of her years there depress her any further. Everywhere she looked held memories. Of her childhood. Her family. Her mother. Of what she was and how cruel some people could be. It’d been a long time ago. Perhaps, no one remembered her after all this time. She hoped so.

Then the bus lumbered by the place...the very spot where her mother’s accident had happened, and guilt flooded her.

Her mother had been trapped in the smoldering wreckage, according to the paramedics who’d arrived too late. All her mother’s magic hadn’t been able to save her. Amanda still didn’t know who had killed her or why, though she’d always had a strong hunch.

Amanda hid her face behind her trembling fingers and fought the awful image of her mother burning alive in a twisted hunk of metal. To die was bad enough. It was the way one had to die that could terrify even Amanda. Burning alive or hanging terrified her—or being trapped in a car underwater.

She opened her eyes again when they were long past the site.

In the aftermath of the tragedy, she’d been very...unstable. Had done some stupid things. Tried singlehandedly to track down the killer she suspected was responsible for her mother’s death. A black magic cult. She’d riled her neighbors. Of course, she’d had help in that.

She loved her mother deeply and the sad memories still hurt but a feeling of contentment suddenly washed over her at the thought of seeing Jessie and her family again.

The last time she’d seen Jessie was at Jake’s funeral, not very long ago, but it hadn’t been a happy time for her and she hadn’t been herself. Before that, Jessie, alone or with her family, used to visit her and Jake about once or twice a year. Jake had heartily refused to ever visit anyone by magic, so Amanda would witch herself to her sister’s house a few more times a year in between. Just the house. She’d never wanted anything else to do with Boston other than that. Her sister and she had never really been apart for long. This was the first time Amanda had ridden the streets or seen the city in eleven years.

She thought about all the times she’d witched herself places. According to legend, in the old days people believed witches could concoct a special magical salve out of dead things (including innocent baby parts) and when they rubbed their naked bodies all over with it, it would enable them to fly. Sometimes they’d rub it over a broomstick to make it fly. Amanda smiled cynically. The things people thought.

On the phone at the bus station, Jessie had been thrilled to hear Amanda was coming—no matter what the reason, which she didn’t know about yet. She had thought it strange that Amanda was coming in by bus. Amanda had gotten off the phone too quickly for her to ask why. Jessie said she’d be waiting for Amanda at the bus station and couldn’t wait to see her.

In spite of everything, it would be great to be with them again. It was what she needed.

The bus roared to a stop and people were stumbling over themselves trying to get off. Gathering their baggage, stretching, yawning, and grumbling. Yelling through the windows at friends or family as they scrambled down the aisle and disembarked.

Amanda waited until most of them were gone before she collected her bag and Amadeus’s cage and made her way off the bus, her hat still shading most of her face. Crowds made her nervous. She took a large breath of relief as she stepped off the last step and stood facing her sister who welcomed her with open arms and a big hug.

“Mandy, it’s so good to see you! I’m so happy you’ve finally come, no matter what the reason. The girls can’t wait until I get you back to the house. They’ve got so much to tell you. Show you. Especially Abigail.”

“Hi yourself, Jessie.”

“By the way, how are
you doing?” The look on her sister’s face made it clear that she was referring to Jake’s death and her widowhood.

“I’m doing...better,” Amanda returned softly. Then smiled. “Much better. In that department, anyway.”

“Here, let me help.” Her sister tugged everything out of her arms as if Amanda were an invalid.

“I can carry some of it, you know,” Amanda said, amused. She took back the cage.

Jessie cocked her head at her sister. “Dressed like all the rest of us today, huh?” She meant the blue jeans and jacket. Jessie had always hated the long dresses, told her it made her look like someone going to a costume party.

Amanda lifted up her head, showing her face, and smiled. “I try to conform, you know, when I need to.”

“Been in a war, too, I see.”

Amanda’s smile dissolved. “Still in one, I’m afraid. I guess I don’t look so good, huh?”

“Well, besides being as thin as a stick, with huge raccoon circles around your eyes, and a face that resembles a pincushion, you look all right.” Being a daughter and a sister to three witches had taught Jessie long ago that sometimes there were physical hazards to the profession, and she took them in stride, as with everything else.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You look great, Jessie.”

“Thank you. I work hard at it, too.” She winked.

“You cut your hair,” Amanda declared, finally figuring out why Jessie looked so different. It’d always been as long as Amanda’s and now it was short around her ears, not tied back as she’d thought at first glance.

“You like it?” Jessie preened, turning her head first one way and then another.

“I do. Soon as I get used to it. Why did you cut it?”

“Got to stay with the times, like the girls always say. Besides, I just got tired of taking care of it.”

Amanda noticed that her sister had a few gray streaks in her reddish hair, too, as young as she was, and more wrinkles in her pretty face. She’d gained some weight but tight blue jeans and an emerald-hued sweater under a tailored short coat of the same color flattered her figure and brought out the green in her eyes. It was the joy of life dancing in the depths of those green eyes, and in her sweet face, that made Jessie beautiful.

They drifted away from the empty bus toward the street, tromping through the piles of wet autumn leaves along the sides of the road.

“The car’s over to your right. I was real lucky and got a parking space close by. Amazing at this time of day.”

“Even on a Sunday?”

“Especially on a Sunday.”

Jessie grinned and headed them toward a beat-up ’98 Ford van that Amanda recognized from their last visit. John didn’t make a lot on a senior computer programmer’s salary, and Jessie didn’t work, so the car’s engine had been rebuilt, rust spots patched, and tires plugged so many times it wasn’t much to look at. It ran like a top, though. John was a wizard with cars, just like he was with computers. As hard as it was at times to make ends meet, Jessie preferred to stay home and raise her two children, run her home, bake cakes and bread from scratch, and have a four-course dinner on the table every night for her family. A woman right out of the fifties. Home and hearth the center of her life. That’s what made her so unique in these days. How lucky she was that John wanted her home, too.

“
You look tired, Amanda. Worried. You came by public transportation—that’s unusual for you.” Her sharp eyes scanned nervously around them. “Something I should know? Is something following you?” Jessie shifted her eyes to Amanda’s face after they’d finished tossing the baggage into the back of the van and climbed into the front seat.

“I hope not. That’s why I took the bus. There was trouble, but I think I’ve given it the slip—for a while.”

Jessie bestowed on her an unsettling look. “Oh, great. Just what I wanted: a witch on the run. Does it have something to do with all those cult murders?”

“Yes. How did you know about them?”

“It’s been all over the news all day. About the bodies discovered this morning and the freak storm damage. They said it occurred in Canaan. Couldn’t help but notice that’s where you live. Anything to do with you? With your trip here?” Jessie knew that white magic sometimes attracted black magic, like magnets to metal, and she was very aware of Amanda’s suspicions concerning their mother’s death.

“I’m afraid so.” Amanda rubbed her eyes tiredly, and leaned back against the car seat. “I think the cult—if that’s what it is—is baiting me. Wants me to come after it for some reason.”

“Oh?” Jessie slid her a questioning sidelong glance. “And? There’s something else, I can tell.” Jessie was very perceptive. Another one of her talents besides being kind hearted. It never would have crossed her mind to send Amanda away, even if the devil himself was hounding her. When it came to helping other people, Jessie was fearless. She’d risk her own life to help her sisters.

“I’m being...haunted. By a woman who might have been a witch back in the seventeenth century. A black witch, I’m beginning to believe. Rachel. I just haven’t figured out yet if there’s a connection between her and the cult and the murders.” Amanda was quiet for a few moments as Jessie rummaged around in her purse for the car keys.

“Gonna tell me more?”

“That’s one of the reasons I’m here. To talk. To get some advice. A safe shelter in the storm.”

“Well, that’s what I’m best at, Sis. I might not have any powers, but I have other skills.” She waited for her sister to continue.

“I keep coming up against a brick wall, Jessie, my magic is being blocked and someone or something is killing people and making sure fingers are pointing at me. Just like eleven years ago,” she commented grimly.

“So keep talking.” Jessie started the car and squeezed out into traffic, her eyes on the other cars lined up bumper to bumper, going out to the main road. Everyone trying to get home before the cold night closed in. Tires screeched. Jessie honked her horn a couple of times as a driver in a white Camaro cut them off and almost caused an accident. Then they were on their way.