Better Witch Next Time

by Stephanie Damore

  "I knew you were coming. I just didn't know when you would get here," she said, closing the distance and giving her grandson a hug.

  She then turned to me. "I'm Edith," she said, holding me at arm’s length and studying me. "And you, miss … you're not from around here, are you?" she said with a wink and gave me a hug as well.

  I answered her question with a smile and said, "It's lovely to meet you."

  Edith went back to hanging up the pile of laundry in the basket at her feet. Michael stepped in and took the wooden clips from his grandmother to finish the task. "

  Always such a good boy," she said, patting his hand.

  The detective hung up another white sheet and a few shirts. The third time he reached up, his shirt came untucked, revealing the piece he kept holstered in the small of his back, proving that he was as much detective as he was witch.

  "What's troubling you, dear? Unless you're just here to do the laundry. Heaven knows we have plenty of it," Edith said. Kids bumbled out the back door and ran toward a pond on the far side of the property. I couldn't see them once they passed through a line of apple trees, but I heard several splashes, followed by squalls of laughter and the squawking of ducks as they made a hasty retreat.

  "Something is going on in the supernatural community. Shifters are being killed. Witches are missing." Michael shook his head. "I can't help but think they're all connected, and it's happened before. I remember you telling me about the shifter war years ago."

  "Indeed, that was a dark time for the supernatural community. You think it's starting again?" Edith looked off into the distance as if she was trying to see for herself what was unfolding. She nodded solemnly.

  "Tell me about the shifters," Edith said.

  "It's been in the paper. Apex predators are turning up dead," Michael said.

  "Wolves and panthers?" Edith asked.

  "Tigers too," Michael said.

  I sucked in a breath. I hadn't heard any of this. Weretigers were the rarest shifter of all. As far as I knew, they stayed out of pack politics, preferring to be lone rangers. Besides that fact, many considered them to be the fiercest shifter of all. Attacking them was the equivalent of a suicide mission.

  "And the witches?" Edith asked.

  "That's where Vee comes in here. She was tracking a missing teen witch. The same as me. Both of our girls have disappeared without a trace. They're not weak either," he said, looking to me for confirmation.

  "No, they're not," I said thinking of Archie's comments about Irene's psychic and fire power.

  "You think the shifters are using them as pawns?" Edith asked.

  The detective nodded. "It's an idea I've been tossing around."

  My mouth dropped open. I hadn't even considered the possibility, but I had to admit that the theory held some weight.

  "Right now it's just a guess. Until we can find these girls, we won't know one way or the other," he added.

  "You tried to scry?" Edith asked.

  "Both of us have. No luck. Someone supernatural is cloaking them. I was hoping you could help us see them," Michael said.

  The kids continued to splash and shriek in the water, even louder now as the dogs jumped in the pond with them.

  "Not here, that's for sure. Come, take a walk with me." Edith grabbed the cane that was perched against the clothesline pole and motioned with her head for us to follow her. While I was happy that I had worn a dress for the occasion, I hadn't necessarily planned on going for any hikes. Thankfully, I had opted to wear my black ballet flats versus the heels. Maybe I had a little psychic power of my own.

  Edith took us down a narrow dirt path that was only the width of our two feet. With her as the leader, our pace was slow, but our progress was steady as we walked around the outside of the pond and alongside the planted crop fields to a patch of woods located at the back of the property. Eventually the noise from shrieking children and barking dogs grew quieter the further we walked out. Edith wound us into the woods with nothing more than nature surrounding us. Sunlight filtered down through the full-leaf trees and birds chirped all around us.

  But as we walked on, even they seemed to quiet down. None of us spoke as we continued on in a single-file line. Then the woods opened into a small meadow. It was less than an acre but full of peace and tranquility. The ground was full of purple and blue wildflowers. White butterflies fluttered about, and grasshoppers seemed to pop up and fly a few feet every time we took a step. Bumble bees buzzed, and I caught Michael's eye as he resisted the urge to swat at one, knowing how much of a mistake that would be.

  "I think I've spent too much time beating the pavement," he whispered to me.

  "We should change that," I said before I could stop myself. In my head, a vision played out with Michael and I going camping. How fun would that be? To get the city boy reacquainted with nature. I stopped the thought at that, not wanting to play out any fantasy that could never be a reality. It was one thing to think of the detective as an attractive man and appreciate his help with this case, and quite another to think that I would ever see him again after my time here was up. Furthermore, I reminded myself of how charming men could seem at first, and how utterly annoying they became after you got to know them. Flashes of Andrew crying on my front porch came to mind. I really hoped I wouldn't see that man again. Thinking of Andrew was enough to squash any romantic feelings I had subconsciously been entertaining for Detective Cooper, which was how I was going to refer to him from now on. I didn't care if he wanted me to call him Michael or not, I was going to stick with professional titles from here on out. If only he could refer to me as Agent Vee. Of course, the agent title would only lead to more questions, such as what agency I worked for, which was a no go.

  In the center of the meadow was a small pool not more than four feet in diameter. From the middle of it, pristine spring water bubbled up. It was just enough to disrupt the surface and push the water out in little waves, where it gently wetted the surrounding rocks. I peered into the pool but only saw the darkness, rendering me unable to gauge how deep the spring went. Edith handed Michael, wait … I mean Detective Cooper, her cane and slowly sank to her knees so that her palms were pressed on the soil and her body leaned over the pool of water. Softly, she began to chant. The words were in a foreign tongue; perhaps it was Latin with its heavy reliance on vowels. The rhythm of the words sounded familiar, but the meaning was lost on me. The spring began to bubble more in response to her words. Edith sat back on her heels and raised her hands up to shoulder level with her palms outstretched to the sun, eyes closed. She continued her chant as the water swirled and bubbled before her and then the fog rose up, only this time, it was caused by Edith. She was commanding the fog to show us what it had been hiding. Detective Cooper stood at my side as the soft images came into focus. Irene, Melody, and a third girl, one who I had never seen before, were all being held captive together. I tried to make out the details, like the thick rope that bound their wrists and the packed dirt floor under their feet, but it was hard to make out any other specifics in the darkness. Edith waved her hand in front of the fog, like a person cleaning a window, and the image became clearer.

  The image zoomed in closer, and the looks on the girls' faces varied. Irene looked alert as if she was waiting for someone to attack. Melody was seething. It was clear that both of these girls were ready to fight. The third girl stared at the floor as tears streamed down her cheeks, defeated.

  "Where are they?" I whispered.

  Detective Cooper shook his head. "I don't know."

  Then in an instant, a big gust of wind came and tore through the field, taking the fog and scattering it up to the heavens. The wind hit Edith in the chest, knocking her backwards until she was flat on her back on the ground. The water from the spring shot into the sky like a water jet. The drops came raining down on us with the force of a summer thunderstorm. Detective Cooper bent down to scoop Edith under her arms and lift her up. The winds whipped through the meadow as we backed up and sought
shelter in the enclave of the trees. Dark clouds blotted out the sun like a full eclipse. Lightning struck the ground. Rain pelted all around us. I brought my forearm across my face to block the stinging drops. I held my breath for an instant before my witch reflexes kicked in. This was a magical onslaught, and it would take one to stop it.

  Detective Cooper must have realized the same thing at that instant, as his hand clasped with mine and together we created our own electrical light show. You know what they say, fight fire with fire, and that's exactly what we were doing, sending lightning bolts into the sky and frying the source of the attack.

  The sky lit up like an explosion. There was enough current in the air to charge all of Manhattan. My hair stood on end. The ground began to hum. If we weren't careful, we would short circuit ourselves and then some.

  The winds picked up. The rain blew sideways. Edith rocked back on her heels.

  We needed a different approach.

  "Protection spell!" I hollered over the howling winds.

  "For every witch, in every hour, send us now the greatest power," Detective Cooper commanded.

  "Rid all evil from this space. Grant us your amazing grace!" the three of us finished together. A white light shot forth from the center of the spring. Like a beacon of hope, it pierced the storm and destroyed the spell that was wreaking havoc on our peaceful meadow.

  When it was over, Michael (yes, I was back to referring to him as Michael) had his arm wrapped protectively over his grandmother's shoulder, his other hand clasped fiercely with mine. He and I looked at one another, unsure what to make of any of it. I let go of his hand and smoothed out my dress, staring at the ground. The detective wrapped his grandmother in a full embrace from the side and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

  "Well, you can definitely say trouble is brewing," Edith said with a chuckle. "You kids have your work cut out for you," she said, her eyes now getting serious.

  "Who's the third girl?" I asked Michael.

  "I don't know. I only know of two missing witches, but New York City is a big place and who's to say that's where she's from?"

  "We have to find them," I said.

  "Did you get a feeling for where they were located?" Michael asked his grandmother.

  "I'm not sure. They're isolated. Somewhere by water? I'm not sure if that's right." Edith wrung her hands. "I'm just not as powerful as I used to be." Disappointment seemed to hitch onto her words.

  "You're more powerful than we are," I said motioning to Michael and me. "I never even thought to use the fog. I just tried getting rid of it," I said to make my point.

  "But you're stronger together. Never forget that," Edith shook her finger at us. I nodded. That was Witchcraft 101. Witches are always stronger when they work together, which was why I asked Michael to scry with me to find the girls.

  "I'm sorry, kids, but I think I need a rest. Let's go back to the house and see if Karen has lunch ready."

  "Do you want me to help you back?" Michael asked Edith.

  "I said that I needed a rest, not that I was an invalid," she said with a laugh. "Come on, let's get going."

  Karen was surveying the backyard, waiting for us to emerge. When she spotted us break through the tree line, she couldn't keep herself from running across the field toward us.

  "My word, what on earth has happened to you guys?"

  I self-consciously brushed my hand through my hair, which was actually almost dry, and looked down at my dress, which unfortunately wasn't. Neither were my shoes, the backs of which were digging into my heels, and I knew I would have some pretty impressive blisters in a few hour’s time.

  "Come now, let me get you some dry clothes and something to eat," she said to all of us. Thankfully, the kids were still being crazy outside, so the four of us were able to go inside and get cleaned up in relative peace and quiet.

  "Here, I hope this is okay," Karen said handing me a freshly laundered dress cut in the similar fashion and fabric as the one she was wearing.

  "This is wonderful, thank you so much." I took the folded dress from Karen. She added a towel to the top of the dress and pointed me in the direction of the bathroom for me to get cleaned up. I was beyond grateful to have dry clothes to put on and to see Karen preparing an amazing farm-fresh lunch—even the smell of the fried chicken didn't bother me.

  The grease was sizzling and popping while Karen manned the skillet on the stove when I emerged. The stovetop resembled one that I was more familiar with, with only four burners and one oven door. The ironic thing was, she could have used the larger oven with a family her size, while the Hendrickses could have done well with this smaller version.

  "Some storm this afternoon, huh?" she said, using a pair of metal tongs to flip the pieces of chicken over in the pan.

  "Could you see it from here?" I asked.

  "Nope, just a feeling I had," she said with a knowing look. I nodded. Then Michael joined us in the kitchen, his wet trousers and dress shirt hung over his arm. "Tell Sam thanks for the clothes. I appreciate it. Here," he said picking up my damp dress off the back of the kitchen chair. "Why don't I go hang our stuff up outside on the line?"

  "Yeah, good thinking. I'll come with you."

  We walked outside together, neither one of us speaking until we were at the clothesline.

  "Are you okay?" Michael asked me, picking up a wooden clothespin and hanging my dress on the line for me.

  "Yeah, you?" I asked.

  "I'm good."

  "How are we going to find these girls? Do you really think the shifters can lead us to them?"

  "It's the best lead we have. I'm going to call the station and see if I can get a beat on the third girl."

  "Did you see her face? Michael, we don't have a lot of time."

  "I know we don't."

  "If it's not the shifters—" I didn't get to finish my sentence.

  "Then we'll find out who."

  I didn't have the heart to tell the detective that no one ever found out the truth.

  Karen began bringing lunch outside and eyed us across the yard. We put our conversation on pause to join her and set the table. Lemonade, fried chicken, corn on the cob, macaroni salad, watermelon, fresh veggies with dip—Karen had pulled out all the stops. The adults chose to sit at the picnic table while the kids ran around the yard with their fried chicken, hair still damp from their dip in the pond, and the dogs barking and jumping after them, hoping to snag a piece of meat for themselves.

  "You, Karen, are an amazing cook," I said, eyeing the platter of fried-to-perfection chicken in front of me. If there was ever any dish to tempt a vegetarian, that was it.

  "Sorry, I didn't know you didn't eat meat," Karen replied.

  "Oh, that’s all right, how would you? Plus, there's plenty for me to eat. This is wonderful, really. "

  "Why, thank you. I learned from the best," Karen said, nodding to Edith who was sitting on the bench next to her.

  As enjoyable as lunch had been, I knew Michael was just as anxious as I was to get back to the city and track down the girls. If we never found them, the images of them bound together would haunt me forever.

  Karen looked around to make sure the kids were all out of earshot and not paying attention before she asked, "What did you guys find out?"

  Michael held up three fingers. "Three girls, all being held together. Witches, I'm assuming."

  "Shifters?" Karen asked.

  "We still don't know," I said.

  Edith sat across from me, her face twisted in a scowl. I knew it was just as frustrating to her as it was to us that the person or persons behind these disappearances were still a mystery.

  "Peter!" Edith hollered across the yard to a young boy who was running with his dog. "Go upstairs in my room and fetch me my book." Edith left it at that, and Peter apparently knew exactly which book she meant since he did just as he was told.

  "There's a spell you can try. Together—of course. Witches are always stronger together. If you need more power you c
an always ask another to chime in, but I think the two of you can manage it on your own," Edith said with a wink.

  Peter brought the book to the table and ran off just as quickly as he had come. The book was soft black leather. The symbol of an eye had been embossed on the cover, raising the edges up, along with the initials E. C. in an old English script. I peered over Michael's shoulder and attempted to read Edith's book of shadows. Michael flipped through the book waiting for Edith to tell him where to stop. The pages were thick, white parchment, some of the edges torn, along with smudges here and there. Black wax had dripped onto the page that she pointed to. The page didn’t have a title at the top, not like what you find nowadays in commercial spell books, only a list of ingredients, the amounts scratched out and rewritten two or three times, along with the incantation and notes scrawled in the margin. "Best under full moon," I read out loud. That was a given. Almost all spells worked best under the full moon. Under that she had written "or when waning to decrease enemy power."

  "A weakening spell?" I asked.

  "And a good one too. It'll make them nervous. Increase their fears and doubts."

  "A crack in their shield should be all we need," Michael said mostly to himself as he read over the spell.

  He was right. If we could weaken the enemies' hold, we should be able to find out exactly where they were holding the girls and then attack before they were able to strengthen their resolve.

  "Bingo," Edith said.

  I couldn't help but wish Edith was a few decades younger and up to fighting this battle. I had a feeling she would be one heck of a spitfire in a shifter fight.

  At that moment, Karen sprang from the picnic table and shot her arms out in front of her, fingers sprawled out, her energy directed toward the large maple in the backyard, where one of her kids, a little boy, was falling head first toward the ground. But instead of barreling into the dirt, his body came to a screeching halt. While he was temporarily suspended in the air, Karen walked across the yard, lecturing the whole way. "Calvin Thomas, how many times do I have to tell you not to climb trees? You're going to break your neck!"