Witches (15 page)

Amanda recounted everything that had happened in the last week or so as they drove through the city and nightfall descended. When she was done, she sighed, and fell silent, her head propped in her hand as she peered out at the swiftly fading reddish glow of the day. It tinted the whole world like a soft red filter. Lovely, she thought.

There was frost forming on the windows and the temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since she’d gotten on the bus that morning. Dark clouds hung low to the earth, making it seem even darker, and there was the taste of snow in the air. Before tonight, Amanda speculated as she studied the eerie light outside the windows, Boston might have its first snow of the year. Boston always looked pretty, covered in snow.

Amanda had released Amadeus from his cage as soon as she’d gotten in the car, and now she held him in her arms as he slept. He seemed to be doing much better. His thoughts stronger every time he awoke. She had recounted to Jessie how he’d gotten his wounds and Jessie was very sympathetic, petting and cooing at him as if he were a sick baby as he perched between the two of them on the car seat, or purred in Amanda’s lap. She was fond of Amadeus. She’d grown up with him and he’d protected her and Rebecca all those years, just as he’d guarded his mistress. Rebecca’s familiar, a tiny coal black mouse named Tituba, had never been half as friendly or as vigilant with the girls. Of course, being Rebecca’s familiar, he’d never been as powerful, either. Tituba, or Tibby, as everyone called him, had never gotten along very well with Amadeus, either. He had pretty much kept to himself; only caring about Rebecca.

Amanda was relieved when the cat finally opened his eyes once the car had started moving, and when he’d looked at her, they’d been lucid. He’d told her the pain was gone, though his missing ear still tingled, and he’d felt almost...human.

Amanda had laughed to herself.

Then they were pulling up into the narrow twisting driveway with the sprawling blue house at the end of it. Gravel splattered against the car’s sides as it bumped wildly through potholes and ruts and then came to an abrupt stop beside a wraparound porch covered in dying vines. Four wicker rocking chairs sat forlornly on the wooden planks with a child’s bike and a couple pairs of mud-covered shoes. A bright rag rug was in front of the door with the word
Welcome
on it.

It was totally dark outside by then. After the car’s engine noises died away, the silence was heavenly. In the murkiness of the car, Jessie twisted toward her sister and said, “You know what I think, Mandy?”

“What?”

“We should ask Rebecca to help you. I know she would if you asked her.”

“Rebecca?” Amanda laughed, stroking Amadeus’s fur. “Sure. She could sweep in on her motorized broomstick, solve the whole problem in a couple of minutes.” She snapped her fingers. “Write a new best-seller on it—then on to the talk shows. If we can even find her with all the séances, private readings, and witches’ conventions she attends.” Sarcasm laced her tone.

“Mandy. You’re terrible.” Jessie chuckled.

“She doesn’t know what she’s even talking about half the time. She’s all show and that’s all,” Amanda remarked. “We both know she’s only in it for the money. She’d never stick her neck out for anyone.”

“She would for a sister.”

“Would she?”

“Ah, come on. She loves both of us. I’ve always thought you underestimated her. Remember, she has written a couple of books on witchcraft and Satanic cults— ghosts. She knows something about them. She might be able to really help you. It’s time the petty rivalry between you two stopped, anyway—”

“Whoa,” Amanda said. “There’s no rivalry on my part and never has been.”

“Oh?” Jessie’s voice in the shadows was good-natured.

Amanda shook her head in exasperation, though she had to admit that Jessie meant well.

“It’d be too dangerous for her, anyway. Her powers are limited. I would never be able to forgive myself if she got hurt because of me. I just don’t think she can help me.”

“Then who can?”

“I don’t know,” Amanda muttered and pushed open the car door to get out, Amadeus clutched in her arms. “I’ve got to think about it.”

She helped Jessie get her luggage from the rear of the car and followed her to the back door. Jessie unlocked it and they stepped into a large entry hall filled with wood, windows, and plants everywhere. High ceilings. Lots of space. A huge stained-glass window that Jessie had created and installed herself fanned over the top of the massive door. And cats. She had pictures and ceramics and stuffed cats everywhere. Jessie loved cats. She had five living, breathing, purring felines herself—Tomas, Kitty, Felix, George, and Rory. Though, Amanda noticed, they always seemed to scatter and hide when Amadeus was in the house.

Amanda trailed along behind her sister into the roomy old-fashioned country kitchen and set her bag on the round oak table, dropping Amadeus to the floor where he sauntered off and curled up by one of the fat table legs. The kitchen smelled like fresh-baked bread. Cat wallpaper above and warm brown paneling below on the walls gave the place a homey look. White ceilings. An antique cabinet housing a tiny television and dishes, and oak cabinets lining two whole walls gleamed warmly. There was a cat-shaped family cookie jar in the corner of the counter. One of the ceramics Jessie was now into and taking classes for. Amanda commented on how pretty the cookie jar and matching mugs that she’d made were. In the middle of the table sat one of Amanda’s pots, brimming over with a collection of dried autumn flowers.

Amanda and Jessie slipped out of their coats and Jessie took them into another room to hang them up while Amanda slumped down into a cushioned chair and stretched out her cramped legs.

Jessie returned and started a pot of tea. As she ran the water, she said casually, “You know, Mandy, there is another solution to your problem.” She looked at her sister over her shoulder and her expression was thoughtful.

“What is that?” As if she didn’t already know.

“You could just stay here with us. Never go back. There’s no reason to any longer, is there? Jake’s gone. The town has never really accepted you, anyway...and now with all these murders, it seems they’re never going to. We’d love to have you stay here with us.” She smiled hopefully and her gaze roamed around and upward. “We’ve got plenty of room. Three stories. You could have the whole third floor. The loft. I’ve just finished remodeling it.”

“Jessie…” Amanda raised her hand and started rocking her head back and forth. “I couldn’t impose—”

“You wouldn’t be. Please, just think about it? Isn’t it time Abigail and Debbie got to know their favorite aunt better? And—” She paused a second, an apprehensive look in her eyes. “Our mother was killed by a renegade cult. I don’t want to lose you to one, as well.”

“Oh, Jessie, don’t do this to me,” Amanda chided, but couldn’t help but be touched at her sister’s generous offer, her love. “You know how I feel about my home in the woods...my memories.”

“Amanda, that’s just it. They’re only memories. That’s all they are now. With all the rest of this trouble, wouldn’t it just be easier to leave it all behind? Be with your family. Stay here and start a new life. There are lots of men in Boston and maybe you could...”

Amanda cut her off as if reading her mind. “No, Jessie. There’ll never be another man for me, but Jake. I told you that and I meant it. I’ll never love another man as long as I live.” There was steel in her voice. “And that house back there in the woods is my home, it always will be. I miss it already.”

Jessie refused to give up completely, though. “Well, promise me you’ll at least think about it?”

“That I’ll do and that’s all I’ll do. While I am thinking about it, I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention any of this trouble and why I’m really here to the girls or John. I don’t want to scare them. Let’s just say I’m here for a long overdue visit. I was lonely for all of you, which is partly the truth. I’ve missed you all.”

Jessie poured steaming hot tea into mugs with pictures of cats scampering all over them and brought them to the table along with a plate of chocolate-iced pumpkin cookies and some Polaroid photos of the kids from the night before dressed in their Halloween costumes. She plopped down next to her sister, one leg crossed under her and reached down to gently stroke Amadeus as he brushed past her leg.

“Okay. You’re right. It would just scare them and there’s nothing they could do to help.”

Amanda leaned over and grabbed her sister’s hands in a quick, strong grip, her caring face breaking into a smile.

Jessie squeezed her back and then met her sister’s eyes, her expression lighter, too. “Except sometimes, Abigail...”

“Ah, so you know?”

“I was hoping she wouldn’t—”

“Have the family curse, huh?” Amanda supplied knowingly and nibbled on one of the cookies. She realized for the first time that she was hungry. A good sign. “Though, it’s still too early yet to tell.” Which was a barefaced lie, and they both knew it. Rebecca had known she had powers by the time she was six. Amanda even earlier.

Amanda had already begun to wonder about obtaining a familiar for her niece. There was this one raccoon that Rebecca had mentioned in one of her last letters, who was now without a mistress. She’d died—natural causes—a while back and they were looking for a home for it. She ought to speak to Jessie about it soon. If Abigail was a true witch, she’d need training and protection soon from all the evil forces that she would unwittingly attract. A tinge of guilt rested on Amanda’s shoulders briefly. She should be training the girl. Preparing her. After all, she was her aunt.

“Do you really think she is?” Her sister’s face was comical, the look of distress so apparent.

Amanda nodded, her eyes mockingly grave. Then they both laughed.

What would be, would be. There’d been witches in their family for centuries. Someone had to do it. The world needed more white witches, not less, or evil would run rampant.

Amanda looked at the pictures. Abigail dressed as a colorful gypsy, complete with ten pounds of golden jewelry, and Debbie made up to look like a female construction worker with hardhat and tool belt dangling from her small waist. The pictures made Amanda laugh again. “I wish I could have been here to see them.” She handed the pictures back to her sister.

“Me, too. We had a great time last night.”

“Is that where the cookies came from?” Amanda joked, trying not to let the memory of her Halloween night ruin her good mood. “Leftover trick-or-treat goodies?”

“Yeah, how’d you guess? Don’t you like them? They aren’t stale yet, are they?”

“Oh, no. They’re delicious, but that’s because I’m starving.” To prove it, Amanda picked up another and started munching on it. “You make the best cookies.”

“As good as yours,” Jessie retorted.

“They should be. They’re my recipe,” Amanda reminded her. “Talking about the kids, where are they? And John?”

“They’re at the new science center over on Seventh Street, gawking at the fake dinosaurs. It opened a few weeks ago and Abigail had to go visit it for a school project.” Jessie was gobbling down her third cookie as she talked. “I sent them all away for the afternoon so I could have some time alone with you before they swoop down on us.” She grinned sweetly. “Selfish of me, I know, but the minute you called, I knew something was wrong. I thought it would be easier on you if we could talk in private first. Uninterrupted.”

“Thanks. You were right.”

“Come on.” Jessie stood up, grabbing Amanda’s right hand in one hand and Amanda’s traveling bag in the other. “I want to take you up to your room and settle you in. Show you what I’ve done to it since the last time you were here. You won’t believe it.”

“I’ll bet,” Amanda answered and allowed her sister to tug her up the two flights of narrow steps to the loft at the top of the house, gabbing at her all the way about the home improvements she’d made in the last couple of months. Showing her the crafts she’d made herself, hanging over the walls and sitting on shelves. Macramé cats. Ceramic cats. Stuffed cloth cats.

Amadeus, feeling more himself, padded along behind them and played with the shadows. Hissing every time he thought he’d discovered one of the real cats. However, they were nowhere he could see them, as usual.

“Jeez, I still can’t believe you wallpapered the whole second floor yourself and laid all the carpeting,” Amanda said in awe as they got to the top of the stairs. “You’ve been a working fool, haven’t you?”

“Well, John helped,” Jessie reminded her.

“I hope so.”

Jessie dumped Amanda’s bag in the middle of the quilted bedspread on the four-poster bed. It was a beautiful old-fashioned loft room decorated carefully like the rest of the house. There was muted pink and blue wallpaper with roses on the short walls, and a window seat under narrow windows covered in heavy lace curtains. There were paintings of cats (what else?) on the walls and a massive cherry-wood country chest of drawers and matching bureau with a large round mirror in two of the corners, an overstuffed chair next to the bed and a love chest at the end where Jessie stored extra blankets. On top of the chest was a small television. A plush oval area rug of azure blue lay on the wooden floor and disappeared under the bed. Amanda wanted to take off her shoes and rub her bare feet through it.

“The room is beautiful!” Amanda exclaimed, overwhelmed as she sat down on the bed, looking around. “You did
a great job with it.” She gazed up at her sister’s proud, anxious face. “You really want me to stay, don’t you?’’