Witches (18 page)

“Doesn’t your sister live in Boston?” he insisted. “Last time I looked, she did.

“Then you are a witch, aren’t you?” a mere whisper, his expression priceless. Not fear, exactly, but a cautious wonderment that such a thing could exist in his rational everyday world.

“Yes.” She exhaled it in one breath, stepping through the front door of the closed ceramic shop. He clicked the door shut silently, as if he was trying not to disturb someone. “With what’s ahead of us, Ernie,” she continued in a low voice, “it’s only fair that I tell you the truth. I’m going to need all the help, the backup, I can get. Human and supernatural.”

Ernie’s face imitated an almost stupid look. “Well,” he rubbed his beard with a shaky hand. “I’ll be da—” He caught himself before the word had completely escaped, and flashed her an embarrassed grin. “I guess I’d better believe you, since you’re either a liar and you weren’t in Boston at all, but down the street somewhere, or you were in Boston and only magic could have gotten you here that fast.

“Not to mention I’ve seen the storm damage when there’s been no storm, and I’ve overheard police officers talking the last week over their coffee in the donut shop about the murder scenes. I’ve eavesdropped on some mighty bizarre stories. It all makes sense now.”

His eyes appraised her sternly. “And I don’t believe you’re a liar, or Jake was a liar. I know you both too well.”

“Before you go thinking anything else, Ernie, I want you to know I’m what you’d call a good witch.” Amanda was talking as her eyes roamed the quiet shop, taking in everything. The stench of evil hung heavy over the whole place. They’d been here, all right. Demons.

“Have you ever seen the
Wizard of Oz
?”

“Sure, lots of times,” Ernie replied as she walked past him.

“Remember there were three witches in it? The Wicked Witch of the West, Dorothy’s nemesis, and the Wicked Witch of the East, the one that the house flattened, but there was also a good witch called Glinda?”

“Yes.” He spoke slowly, his eyes looking at her as if he’d never really seen her before, studying her face closely in the dim light of the shop.

“I’m like Glinda. That’s the easiest way to put it.” She smiled softly. “Though unlike the Land of Oz, we good witches aren’t supposed to interfere with mankind, except under extreme circumstances. We’re not supposed to call attention to ourselves or show ourselves.”

“Didn’t ever believe in witches before, much less in two kinds. Good and evil, huh?” His voice, she noticed, quavered.

“You got it. There’s good witches—white magic—and then there’s the evil—black magic.” Her eyes met his. “What we’re dealing with here with this so called cult is black magic. The blackest. Even worse than an evil witch.”

“I’m listening.”

They made their way through the chaos of the damaged gift shop, stepping carefully over broken glass and shattered pottery, talking in low tones about what she’d learned of the black magic cult and Rachel. Amanda told him what she thought he could handle, nothing more. Nothing about the cult consisting of hellish demons. No sense in scaring all the wits out of him. She needed him sane.

The inside of Jane’s Gift Shop wasn’t as bad it looked; the destruction was mainly on the outside of the house. Someone had already begun to clean up, but it looked as if they’d stopped halfway. Maybe when Jonny had been discovered missing.

Ernie absorbed everything she said with little comment. She could tell he was having a hard time with it. Then again, what normal person wouldn’t?

They came into the bright kitchen, used coffee cups sitting on the table and a fresh pot perking on the counter, dirty dishes piled high in the sink as if a large hungry crowd had just left.

The first thing Ernie did was steer her to a chair, pour her a cup of coffee, and then start clearing off the cluttered table.

“There doesn’t seem to be any damage in here.”

“No, only in the shop and on the outside. Jane’s luckier than the others. The Peterson’s and the Garden’s house were demolished.” He’d finished cleaning off the mess and was at the sink now, washing the mound of dishes.

Amanda looked up at the crucifix hanging on the kitchen door that emptied out into the shop.

“No one here was hurt or murdered, either. Even though they were sleeping back there.” He gestured toward the rooms with a sudsy hand.

Amanda didn’t want the coffee, but she drank it anyway. It’d help steady her nerves. “Where’s Jane?” she asked between gulps. The coffee tasted really good, she thought.

“She was given a mild sedative. She’s sleeping in the back room. She and everyone else around here were out all last night, hunting for the boy, and Doc Ellis felt she needed some sleep before the next round. She was practically in hysterics by the time he gave her the shot. Her other two boys are at their Grandmother Helen’s house for a while. Get them away from the circus that this is going to become here pretty soon. Couldn’t keep it away from the press any longer, I’m afraid. We’ve already had phone calls from all the television and radio stations. I expect them to come snooping around here any minute. I was almost afraid to answer the door just now.” His back moved slightly as his large hands washed the dishes, rinsed them automatically, and laid them in the plastic rack for air drying.

“Jane has already decided to go on television to plead for the boy’s return—as soon as she has a little rest. Channel Four’s setting it up now.”

Oh, boy, Amanda thought, television crews and rude anchor people will be swarming all over in no time. No one will have a moment’s peace. Not even her...once someone opens their mouth about a neighborhood witch. This was the kind of crap that television stations love. Satanic cults, witchcraft, sacrifices, murder and mayhem. A real witch’s nightmare.

“Everyone else has gone home, too, for a while, and then they’ll be back here and at it again. State boys as well as our own police are still out there searching in the woods. They’re calling in more reinforcements even now.”

“How long has Jonny been missing?”

Ernie finished the dishes and sat down beside her at the table, a cup of coffee held tightly in his hands.

“We’re not real sure. Jane didn’t start worrying until he never showed up for supper last night. He and a couple of his friends had gone off to play yesterday morning and had been warned not to go too far or to go into the woods—the murders, you know—his friends returned long before nightfall, but he didn’t. They said they’d last seen him strolling off for home through the edge of the forest over by Gacy’s Funeral Home. He never showed up.

“By full dark last night Jane was frantic. Said Jonny wouldn’t scare her like that. Staying away after dark, what with everything that’d been going on. She said she knew
that something had happened to him. Mother’s intuition.

“She called the police about seven-thirty last night and the search has been on ever since.” His gentle eyes looked at her, as he started rubbing the side of his face again, a nervous gesture.

“Usually the police wouldn’t have been as worried as they were, so soon after a youngster’s disappearance, but with these cult murders and stuff, they’re being extra cautious.”

“They should be.”

Amanda laid a comforting hand on his wrist and closed her burning eyes. She was already exhausted. Worry and fear did that. Ever since Jane’s call she’d been petrified of facing her; she didn’t know what to say to her. Even her brief respite in facing her friend face-to-face just made her edgier.

What do you say to a mother whose child has been abducted by a sadistic murderous cult; especially one as unearthly as the one that was plaguing Canaan? She had no idea. Not the total truth, certainly. It would drive Jane mad. Amanda had no doubt that Jonny was with the cult. That they’d stolen him. To lure her back. To have something to fight her with. She loved Jonny and the other boys. They were almost like family to her.

Amanda’s mind worked feverishly on what she should do next. Should she wait to see Jane, talk to her? Maybe she should start looking for the boy on her own?

There wasn’t much time. Not much at all. “How long have you been here, Ernie?” Amanda inquired, looking up finally.

“Since she first realized the boy was missing last night.” There was a moment of slight awkwardness on Ernie’s part, and then he said, “She called me first thing...I should have mentioned it before, but I never had a chance—we’ve been kind of seeing each other, you might say. It started out as a friendship, and I’ve grown very fond of the boys.” Ernie loved kids, Amanda knew that by the way he’d grieved over the absence of his son since he’d moved to California with his mother after the divorce. It made sense that Ernie would funnel that love into Jane’s children. They were sweet boys.

“You know she’s had a steady boyfriend?”

“Yes, I know.” Amanda had even met him. A nice guy. He was a painter. Oils. Tall and skinny. Wore his hair in a ponytail and liked fancy clothes. He’d never warmed up to the boys the way Jane would have liked, though. His only drawback. Amanda had thought Jane loved him, but...

“Had, I should say. She
stopped seeing
him about a month ago. We’ve been dating ever since.
”

Amanda’s eyes glinted back knowingly at him. “You have? Oh, I knew you two were friends, but I thought she was serious about that artist. She’s been dating him for over a year.” She wasn’t hurt that neither of them had mentioned their relationship to her, she was just happy for them. Probably not telling her had something to do with Jake’s death and not wanting to hurt her. She patted him on the hand. “I’m glad. You two are a lot alike.” Steady, giving, and level headed. Loved children. Jane had never acted like the usual scatterbrained artist. She was too down to earth. “You’ll be good for each other.”

Ernie smiled faintly, but his eyes were still sad. “Thanks. I’ve really come to love her and the boys, you know?”

Amanda nodded her head. Yes, she could see that.

“She’s the one who suggested I ask you out with us for supper and a movie sometime. Said it’d be good for you to get out. She worries about you.”

Ah, so Jane was behind that strange invitation she’d gotten from him last week. Amanda should have guessed. Ernie had never shown any romantic designs on her. He was truly only a good friend.

“We were so happy...until this. I don’t know what to do now. We’ve called the right authorities. Searched everywhere for the boy. Not one trace of him. No ransom note or telephone call. Nothing. Jane’s shattered. So am I. I love the boy. He’s a sweet kid.”

Amanda could hear the pain in his voice and could see his desperation. He was talking on and on to help disguise it.

“It’s like he’s disappeared off the face of the damn earth. God, Amanda, I’m worried sick now with what you’ve told me. I’d hoped, like Jane, that Jonny was just lollygagging somewhere or even lost—anything but for the ones you think to have taken him. As for Jane, well, she can’t bear much more of this...not knowing. I can’t tell her what you think, either. It’d kill her. Her hope would fly out the window. That’s all that’s keeping her going now, anyway. Hope that they don’t have him.” There were tears in the corners of Ernie’s eyes. His shoulders had slumped, his face hang dogged. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes with trembling fingers.

Amanda sighed, not knowing what else to say, lowered her eyes so Ernie could have privacy in his grief, and drank more of the coffee.

Ernie went on talking in low painful tones about the search and what they were planning to do next.

“Is he still alive, Amanda? Do you know that?” He was trying so hard to believe she could help.

She concentrated, using her magic.

She could see Jonny’s innocent little face in her mind and her sight glimpsed something so awful she didn’t want to face it. In the swirling mist of her magic, she saw a bloody altar and a knife dripping with a child’s blood. She heard a child screaming in agony.

Amanda glanced away from Ernie’s gaze so he couldn’t see the terror in her face. Her heart felt like someone was tearing at it.

Had it happened already? Perhaps it was yet to come? Her sight didn’t always answer that. Present and future sometimes merged and she had to decipher the bits and pieces she was given. Something prevented her from seeing any more. Damn them! She pounded her clenched fist angrily on the table, causing Ernie to jump. Then, like a brief clearing of storm clouds during a deluge, some of the truth slipped through the barriers the cult had erected and came to her.

“Amanda?” He put his hand out to her. “What is it?”

She knew where Jonny was. She knew. They had him. They were going to kill him. Soon.

Then the rage rose, a bitter bile inside her, and she couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to. Didn’t for once even want to control it. A killing rage like she’d never experienced before, worse than when her mother had died. Jonny was a child.

There was no more time to waste, she realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. No more time to sit here talking with Ernie. No time to wait for Jane to wake up and comfort her.
No more time.

“Amanda?” he asked again, growing fearful at the odd way she was behaving. “What’s wrong?”

She stood up. Mustn’t let Ernie suspect how close to death the boy was. Must take care of this herself. Now. Her way.