Witches (17 page)

Amanda’s eyebrows went up and her eyes danced. “More than usual?”

Abigail frowned. “Yes. It was like—” Amanda could see her mind searching for an explanation. “—like you were in another time, Aunt Amanda. Like the pilgrims or something. You know? And people were chasing you...trying—I think—to hurt you.”

“Are you sure it was me? Not someone who looked
like me?
”

“Oh, I’m sure. You called out my name and everything. There was this awful man who was beating you...calling you a witch and saying he was going to punish you.” Her small face wrinkled up and she started to cry softly. “Oh, Aunt Amanda, it was horrible. Horrible. He was hurting you so bad and I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t do a thing. What does it mean?”

Stunned, Amanda rocked her as she wept, and looked out into the falling snow. That was the second warning she’d had. What was going on? Had it been just a dream, or a warning? It was too coincidental that Abigail should dream such a situation, considering Rachel had been accused of being a witch and was probably executed in a time that might look like the pilgrim’s time to a child.

Was Rachel trying to get to her through her niece? Trying to scare her?

Then again, Abigail had seen her—Amanda—in the dream and not Rachel.

“What does it mean?” she repeated again, timidly.

“I’m not sure yet, sweetheart.” Amanda decided to tell her some of it, she owed the girl at least that. “There’s another witch who’s trying to hurt me.”

There was no need to mention the cult murders and the rest of it.

“Another witch? Why would another witch want to hurt you? I thought you were all like sisters?”

“She’s a black witch, not white like me.”

Abigail nodded her head slowly, comprehension coming. She knew the difference, and what it meant.

“She’s dead now, but she lived around seventeen hundred.”

“Oh, she’s haunting you?”

“You might call it that.”

“And you think she had something to do with my nightmare?”

Smart child. “It’s possible.”

“I wish I could help you, Aunt Amanda.” Abigail sighed, and tried to stifle a yawn. Then another.

“There’s nothing you can do, except,” she admonished affectionately, “get yourself back to bed. Now. Off with you.”

“Okay, Aunt Amanda.” Abigail slipped out of the bed and headed for the door under Amanda’s vigilance. At the last second she spun around and said, stuffed cat cradled in one arm, her face sorrowful, “Be careful, Aunt Amanda. Something real bad’s going to happen. I’m afraid for you. Promise me?”

Amanda nodded gravely in response. “I will. Good night, Abby. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” the girl added and disappeared through the doorway. Her footsteps pattered away down the hall.

Amanda switched off the light and lay back down, her mind a jumble of thoughts—her present situation and memories of her childhood that Abigail and Debbie always set off.

She’d been so much like Abigail. Wanting to be accepted. Not wanting to be so different that she didn’t fit in with her peers. Afraid of what her differences meant. Scraps of her strange childhood returned to haunt her. She could see herself as a little girl about Abby’s age, standing in the schoolyard the first time she’d realized how cruel children could be to those who were not like them. There’d been times, growing up in a family of witches, where she’d forget herself at school. If the day got suddenly chilly and she’d forgotten her sweater, she’d simply witch one up. To her it had been so natural. She recalled the girl at the desk next to her, all eyes and disbelief, and then her gaze
had reflected fear
.
A look she’d come
to know well over the years. Much later, there was an incident with a scrawny boy named Andy, who’d been a friend of hers for a while, and had a bad home life. He usually wore raggedy clothes and never brought anything to eat for lunch. One day, feeling sorry for him, she broke her own rule about not letting outsiders see what she was and wished him something to eat—an apple and a sandwich—right into her hand. The look in his eyes as he backed away. “Get ‘way from me. My mom’s told me about people like you. Witch...you’re a witch!” He’d scampered off as if she were a rabid dog.

Amanda had hidden the hurt she’d felt. Like always.

She forgot her school books one day and thinking that no one was around, she materialized them on the table before her—but someone had seen. A bully named Sandy who’d blabbed to everyone that she was unnatural...spooky. “Stay away from her
.
”
They did. The other children had ostracized Amanda from then on.

Was Abby’s life like hers had been? She hoped not. Of course, did things ever change? Not really. Her eyes swept the dark room. A loft so much like the room she’d shared as a girl with Rebecca and Jessie. Memories. So many good, but so many not so good.

“I’m going downstairs,” a pudgy Rebecca out of her past was saying stubbornly. Same dark fuzzy hair. Sly eyes. “I want to show them what I can do...”

“Becka, you know Mom said for us to be good and go to sleep.” Her small child-self was whining crossly, sitting up in her bed, the moonlight flowing in over her. “It’s late, so shut up, would ya?” Downstairs their mother was busy with her guests. Other witches. It was a Sabbath. She could hear the soft chanting rising and falling like waves. It was strangely comforting. She’d heard it so often. Lulled her to sleep.

Jessie was a curled up knot under the covers of her bed, only her red curls and her stuffed dog, Spotty, poking out. The youngest, she was still a baby. She slept a lot. Rebecca would have little to do with her because she couldn’t do the things she and Amanda could. Make things disappear. Appear. Float. “She’s not a witch like us,” Rebecca would always whisper disdainfully, her nose pointed up.

That night Rebecca did sneak down the steps in the dark, but was back up in bed in a flash. Magic like. One second not there and the next there, angry, huffing and puffing because the women downstairs had been too busy to watch her perform her tricks and her mother had unceremoniously transported her from the gathering.

Amanda had laughed and laughed. Rebecca never listened. To anyone. Never thought of herself as a child. Always needed to be the center of attention.

She’d never changed.

Amanda sighed in the dark, remembering her and her sisters as children. Shy Jessie. Peacemaker Amanda. Pushy, obstinate Rebecca. Wondering why she was remembering. It had to be the loft. So like their old bedroom. It seemed so long ago now. So simple in some ways. Ah, to be a child again...with only a child’s problems.

It took her longer to fall asleep the second time, but it only took her a heart-stopping moment to reclaim full wakefulness. Sometime right before dawn, when the darkness around her seemed to be dissipating, she opened her eyes.

There was something in the room with her. On the end of the bed. She could see a darker shadow gleaming there. About the same size as a small cat.

Not Amadeus.

There was an odd scent in the air. Magic. Amanda sat up.

A flame appeared, held in the claw of a tiny black creature. Its crimson eyes in a furry face looking back at her almost as if she intrigued it. The features reminded her of a bat, and she saw that the claw holding the mysterious flame was attached to one of two folded up wings. It crouched on two bony paws under a shiny fat belly.

As she watched, it started growing in size until it was as large as a small child. It grinned at her. A mouth full of razor sharp teeth. Pointy ears.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“Gibbiewackett,” it croaked like the rustling of dead leaves. The creature canted its ugly head, and lowered the flame away from its face. It didn’t like the bright light.

“What do you want?” Amanda asked, her heart slowing back down to normal. She’d recognized the odor. The thing had offered its name. White magic. Gibbiewackett was someone’s familiar.

“To warn you.” The squeaky, hoarse voice croaked on. “They know where you are, witchy. If you don’t leave soon, people down there,” he gestured downward with a bony appendage, “will die. Many people will die.” It had an accent, British, if Amanda wasn’t mistaken.

“Who knows where I am?” Amanda rose to her knees on the bed and looked the thing right in the eyes.

It laughed, cryptically.

“Your non-witch sister was right, a cult of demons led by someone or something so evil even my own all-powerful master cannot see it. Yet.”

“Why should your master want to help me?” she probed sharply. “Who’s your master?”

It turned its head. She thought it was laughing again. “Let’s just say a...friend. One of the Guardians. That’s all I’m allowed to tell you.”

The Guardians? Amanda’s mouth was open, she knew it, but the knowledge had taken her by surprise. Every witch had heard of the legend of the Guardians, an ancient group of the most invincible white witches and warlocks ever born, said to watch over and protect all witches from the worst of evil. Ha, but she, like every other witch she’d ever met, believed it just a myth. No one had ever met a Guardian. Ever. No one had needed a Guardian. Supposedly, they only surfaced when the very stability of the world was at stake. Only when evil that sinister was loose on the planet.

“Yes, the Guardians truly exist. My master is one.” The beast nodded its head. Grinned again. “Very, very powerful.” Pridefully, it popped the flame into its mouth and the room went dark again, but not as before. Dawn’s feeble rays were sneaking into the room from the windows.

“Need to go now. Remember. Leave soon.” The familiar had begun to shrink. Its beady red eyes blinking at her like a broken stoplight. The size of a dog. Cat again. Tiny kitten. “My master says be careful.” A kitten-sized purring voice. “Fight them. Call me if you need me. I might come.” A mouse’s voice.

Then the creature was the size of a bug and in a sudden glow of light, poofed out completely.

Amanda rocked back onto her bottom and collapsed full length onto the bed, wondering why the creature had warned her and of what. Wondering what was going on.

My
God, a cult of demons...If they know I’m here...

She bolted upright and jumped from the bed. The morning light was streaming through the windows now. Bright pink and yellow.

I have to get out. Now. Jessie, John, Abigail, and Debbie are in danger as long as I’m here. I can use my magic.

It felt good to know that, but she had to conserve as much of her strength as she could in case there was a fight.

She tore off her robe and nightgown and wiggled into some clothes she pulled out of her travel bag.

It wasn’t until she was dressed and ready to leave that she remembered Amadeus.

He still wasn’t back. She sent out an urgent silent call for him. No answer. She couldn’t wait. He’d just have to find her. She quickly settled the strongest protection spell she knew over Jessie’s house and on the people who lived there. That would help.

She was bouncing down the steps when she heard the phone ringing in the silence of the early morning house. The noise stopped in mid-ring and as she came into the kitchen she saw her sister, Jessie, standing in a robe, hair mussed, with the phone in her hand, talking. The coffeepot was perking away on the kitchen table, and the pungent aroma of fresh coffee was wafting across the kitchen. Newspaper unfolded and open on the counter. Monday morning. Jessie always got up before the rest to prepare breakfast. The kids had school. Her husband had a long commute to the college.

Jessie’s eyes widened when she saw Amanda. She handed her the phone. “It’s for you. It’s Jane,” was all she had time to say before Amanda grabbed it and put it to her ear.

“Amanda,” the frightened weepy voice on the other end said. “Jonny’s gone. Gone! Oh, Amanda, help me find him, please?”

How had she known she was here? Ernie maybe.

Amanda didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there. Hang on. I’m coming now.” She put the phone back in its cradle and looked at her sister.

“The cult knows I’m here, I’ve been told. No sense in hiding anymore.” Her lips curled up in a sneer.

“They’re determined to get me back. They’ve taken one of Jane’s children as bait.”

“Oh, no.” Jessie’s hands went to her face, her eyes stricken with sympathy. She could imagine what losing a child could do to a mother. She didn’t ask any questions.

“Jessie, you were right. The cult’s not all human. I’ve got a hell of a fight on my hands.” She smiled derisively at her choice of words.

“I have to go. No time to waste or prepare. If I don’t find the boy soon, they’ll kill him.” Butcher him, was what she was thinking.

Not Jonny. Sweet, innocent Jonny.

“If Amadeus returns, tell him where I’ve gone.” Jessie nodded, and didn’t try to stop her. “Be careful, Amanda...and God protect you.”

Amanda was already gone. She’d witched herself to Jane’s front door.

Chapter Five

When he opened the door and found her standing there, Ernie’s eyes went round with incredulity, then bafflement. “Wasn’t Jane just talking to you on the phone at your sister’s house?”

“Yes,” Amanda said. She wasn’t surprised to find Ernie there. Ernie and Jane were friends, too. He’d gone to high school with her, and if Amanda recollected right, they’d even dated during those years. Weariness lined his usually friendly face and shadowed his eyes. His clothes, blue jeans and a gray and blue plaid flannel shirt were dirty with cockleburs and dried mud. She’d never seen him looking so unkempt.