Witch Way: The New Ashton Chronicles

by F. R. Southerland

Andy’s blue eyes flashed with fury. With one arm outstretched, fingers splayed wide, she stared Casey down. With a sharp flick of Andy’s wrist, Casey’s fingers loosened and the gun fell. It flew across the room and hit the opposite wall, where it dented through wallpaper and drywall and clattered to the floor.

  Magic.

  “I wanted to have a nice talk about all this shit, “Andy said, her voice tight and harsh. “but fine. We’ll do it your way.” A chair slid out from the table toward Casey. “Have a seat.”

  Realizing she could move again, Casey took a staggering step back. She gripped the edge of the chair and sank into it, too stunned to think of running now. “Shit. You’re—”

  “—one pissed off witch? You bet your sweet ass.”

  Oh. Oh, fuck.

  Vinnie

  Vinnie rolled to her side. She’d hit the floor pretty hard. The girl—Casey—was so much stronger than she’d expected.

  Her head throbbed and her vision blurred. She had to blink a few times before it cleared. Gently, she touched the tender spot at her temple. Her fingers weren’t wet, so she wasn’t bleeding. Good. When she turned her head back to her sister, she saw the gun a short distance from her. Vinnie shuddered and drew away from it.

  Andy leaned down and offered a hand to her. Even though she didn’t need it, Vinnie accepted the assistance and moved to her feet.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Bruised but I’m okay. Head’s pounding.”

  Andy looked her over for evidence of worse wounds. Finding none, she faced Casey. Her concern for her sister vanished and her anger returned, hot and fierce.

  The girl remained seated, her blue eyes wide. The old eyeliner smudged at the corners of her eyes added to her shock. She looked terrified.

  Pretty, Vinnie thought. Really pretty, even with all that make-up. Her face grew warm with the thought.

  “How old are you?” Andy asked.

  Casey looked back and forth between them, finally settling on Vinnie. “Seventeen.”

  Vinnie was almost nineteen herself, but this girl seemed so much younger. The bold way Casey looked at them, her gaze daring, told Vinnie she was anything but a child.

  “Why are you in New Ashton?” Andy asked. “No bullshit. No lies. We need to know.”

  Casey’s eyes snapped back to Andy. “I—I’m looking for my dad, okay? He went missing. I thought he might’ve come here. It’s a weird fucking place, all right? We’ve always been drawn to weird places. Especially him.”

  Andy crossed her arms. “Because you’re hunters?”

  “Damn right, we’re hunters. I know you got a problem with that. I heard all the shit you said.” She stood fast, hands balled into fists.

  Andy narrowed her eyes and Casey’s backside hit the seat again. The chair tilted back on two legs and she grabbed the table edge to steady herself. Once righted, she glared back. “You think that scares me?”

  “Yeah, a little bit.” Andy gave her a tight smile. “But you haven’t seen scary yet. Keep testing me and I’ll have you pissing in your pants, crying for your mama.”

  It had always been in her big sister’s nature to push others around, to be bossy. Most of the time, Andy didn’t mean it or didn’t realize the venom or the hurt in her words. But when she did mean it, she really meant it and disaster would shortly follow. Vinnie hated it so she sprung into action. She stepped between Andy and Casey, hoping to intervene before Andy’s temper exploded. “Hey! Check yourself,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.

  “I don’t need—.”

  “Yes, you do. Both of you do. No one has to fight. We’re just going to talk, right?” She glanced back at Casey with a pointed look. “No fighting. No arguing. Just talking.”

  Casey crossed her arms. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

  Andy’s jaw clenched before she gave Vinnie another of her thin smiles. “All right, ref. Let’s play ball.” With a wave of her hand, she brought the second chair to her and took a seat. Slowly, she crossed her legs and leaned back. Her gaze leveled with the young hunter.

  For a long, tense moment no one said a word. Neither woman would speak first. Gods, why did her sister have to be so stubborn? Vinnie’s sigh broke the quiet. She leaned forward and opened the box of donuts. “Does anyone want one? Casey?”

  Casey shifted her gaze to the box, hunger as well as wariness in her eyes. “No, not right now,” she murmured.

  With a graceful flick of her fingers, Andy brushed a piece of hair from her face. She got right to it. “Vinnie’s right. We don’t have to fight. And I do just want to talk. But you shoved my sister and that’s not fucking cool. You understand that?”

  Casey’s nostrils flared and her lips pressed together but she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.” She cut her eyes to Vinnie for a second and murmured her apology. “Sorry.”

  Forgiveness was supposedly a virtue or something but she didn’t quite feel virtuous at the moment. Her head hurt. “Okay,” she said, and let it be.

  “What happened to your dad?” Andy wasted no time.

  “Dunno.”

  “You don’t know?” Frustration edged her tone. “Where were you before you came to New Ashton?”

  “A lot of places.” At the sharp look Andy gave her, Casey scoffed. “I’ve been on the road, traveling all over this shit country.”

  Vinnie frowned. “You’ve been traveling all on your own?”

  “Yeah.”

  “For how long?”

  “Since he’s been gone.” Casey dropped her gaze. “He left when I was thirteen, okay? Fuck. He left just before Thanksgiving, on a hunt or whatever and he didn’t come back. I waited. I waited for weeks. When he didn’t come back, I knew I had to find him. So I went to fucking find him.” She said it all quickly and heatedly, a flash of anger in her eyes. “And that’s why I’m here.”

  The donut went stale in Vinnie’s mouth. She swallowed hard as she looked away. Gods…

  “I’m sorry—” Andy began.

  “I don’t want your damn pity.”

  “No one’s pitying you. It’s called sympathy. It’s what we do.”

  “As witches?”

  “As people.” Andy’s tone was stern, but not without some measure of understanding. “I’m sorry that your father is missing. I am. I know what it’s like to not have a dad around. We both do.”

  Casey scoffed again.

  “Casey, we want to help, but you have to help us. You know we’re witches. We have powers. We can help you find your dad, but you have to let us. You have to give us a chance. There are so many things we can do—”

  Vinnie nodded in quick agreement. “Andy’s a real pro when it comes to locator spells.”

  “Provided I have something to focus on when I do it.”

  “You mean like… blood or hair or bone or something?” Casey searched their faces once more, uncertain.

  “No,” Andy said abruptly, giving the girl another one of her sharp, annoyed looks. “No one has to resort to the dark shit yet. Jesus.”

  Just what had Casey been through to immediately conjure all the bad associations with witches?

  “We only need a shirt or an object. It’s, uh, pretty tame stuff. No ick factor.” Vinnie paused, eyes meeting Casey’s. She offered her a small smile. “It’s good stuff. Helpful stuff.”

  Casey held the stare before she tore her gaze back to Andy. “What were you saying earlier? About a vision. You had a vision of me?”

  Andy made a face. “Yeah, I did say that.” Her sigh came out in more of a huff, ruffling some of the hair in her face. “It’s one of my powers. I’m a seer. Sometimes, I get these feelings or visions of the future and they come true.”

  “All of them come true?”

  “In some way or another, but it’s… tricky. Things are never always set in stone. Like, the things we do can shape the future, so what I see in one vision can change if our actions change too.” Andy made a small gesture with her hand—a gesture Casey seemed to
watch closely—to dismiss it. “It’s a whole fucked up kind of thing. Hard to explain.”

  “Are they… bad?”

  “Usually,” Vinnie muttered. For once she didn’t feel that jealous twinge when Andy brought up her superior abilities. No, she wouldn’t like to have those kinds of terrible visions, no matter how important and powerful it made her.

  “Good or bad, but yeah. Mostly bad.” This time Andy met Casey’s gaze straight on. “Which is a pretty damn good motivator to stop them.”

  Casey’s brow furrowed. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “Shit. I don’t know. Witches are—” She cut herself off and shook her head. “I don’t know if I can trust you guys.”

  Andy leaned forward in her seat. “I get that, I really do, but it’s better to have allies in this town than enemies. We’re the good guys here, despite what you believe about witches. We’re not here to hurt. We’re here to help. I know you feel like you’re in a tight place. You have instincts, right? A trust-your-gut kind of thing?”

  Casey looked unsure but nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Then listen to it. Do what it tells you.”

  For a long while, they sat in silence, waiting for Casey to come to a decision. When she did, she sank deeper into her seat. “All right. Fine. I’ll trust you.”

  Andy smiled widely. “Awesome.”

  Vinnie exhaled, relieved when most of the tension fled the room. She grabbed the donut box again and stretched it out. “Donut?”

  She took it as a sign of solidarity when Casey leaned forward and snagged two.

  Andy grabbed one for herself and settled back in her seat. “All right. Eat up. We’ve got a missing dad to find.”

  They

  Midday Saturday

  Thick smoke rose into the air, bringing with it the rich scent of burnt amber. The fire had long burned out, but the resin smoldered on the coals. An unnatural heat filled the church. It had once been cold and drafty, but no longer. Whoever had once called dark magic cold and unfeeling knew nothing of the craft.

  Breathing became nothing more than an old and unnecessary habit for the revenant. Still, They took it in a deep breath. It filled dead lungs, pushing out an equally dead chest. Then nothing.

  The revenant’s body was whole and only minutely damaged, in far better condition than most other revenants raised with Their efforts. The man had been newly deceased when They took him, as fresh a body as They could get.

  But now, years later, time had worn the body down. Even with Their dark magic holding it together, it would be a short matter of time before it became of no use to Them. Opportunity dwindled. They must hurry.

  With the heavy haze of cloying amber flooding the pulpit, They stepped forward. It wouldn’t be much longer. Every day, just as the sun reached its apex, every day for the last six months, They prepared. The amber resin burning, chanting, the blood—They needed it all to raise the necessary power. The spell required it.

  The multitude of various demons unleashed because of Their efforts came as no surprise. A side effect. The energy about New Ashton pierced the barriers between worlds. With Their influence, it grew thinner. Of course other things would emerge, but these demons were nothing. Minor inconveniences. Distractions.

  A witch would’ve been better for Their work. This corpse had no natural magical aptitude, but They made do. They could not be too picky now. The time drew too near. The energy rose upwards and out, day after day, shifted with Their power. That was all that mattered.

  The revenant didn’t fight it, not tonight. He was fully under control, fortunately. They could not afford more delays. They must finish the ritual soon.

  They picked up the ceremonial dagger. The sharp stiletto blade glinted in the midday light from the broken-stained glass. Blue and red light cascaded across the floor. It vanished when They turned the knife and pressed it against taut, cold skin. They stretched hands out over the coals, the heat little more than a vague sensation. The thin blade cut through wound upon wound of never-healing flesh. The blood was old and dead too, but the dagger coaxed out a single black drop.

  The coals sizzled and popped when the blood hit. Smoke rose in a dark cloud and another acrid scent joined the amber in the air. They put the dagger aside and grabbed the dirty scrap of cloth from the floor. They wrapped the wounded hand, as usual, and began to intone.

  The Latin words rumbled from deep within, Their voice resonating with strength and power. “Ab origine. Ab intra.” The words came over and over again. From the source. From within.

  They had summoned countless demons, but the work wasn’t complete. These conjurations were not enough. More and more and more. Always more. So close, They thought, and yet so far.

  They went quiet, the resonance of Their voice fading at last. The hazy smoke wafted upwards, disappearing into the cracks in the broken windows. They watched until it vanished completely.

  Something stirred deep inside. The revenant—or the man he used to be—now fought back. Powerless to these magics, but still he tried. Nothing would bring him back and his attempts to break free were futile. Once They finished their work, They would have no use for this body. Only then would They let him go. Once the reanimating influence had gone, dead was dead.

  And Patrick Jennings had been dead for years.

  Casey

  Embers & Ashes was like most occult shops Casey visited in her time and yet the place struck her as… vastly different. The shop opened into a large space like so many others. There were lots of shelves and plenty of disorganization. It had its share of clutter, but not in a bad way.

  It was the feel of the place, she decided, that made it unique. Homey and comforting. Warm. Safe.

  She breathed in deep. The strong scent of peppermint greeted her right away. Beneath that, there were other smells Casey couldn’t name, but they were all familiar. Something sweet and earthy strongly filled the air. It came from the smoke wafting up from the incense burner on a far shelf.

  The woman behind the counter had a similar look to Andy and Vinnie. Another sister? She had the same eyes and bright red hair, tied at the nape of her neck in a loose chignon. She looked older than Andy, but not by much, and had the same petite height as Vinnie.

  “I’m Mara,” the woman said, smiling warmly. “Welcome to our shop. My daughters didn’t give me the details, as usual, when they called—but you’re Casey?”

  “Daughters?” That threw her for a loop. Mara looked so young—too young to have two grown daughters. She tried not to gape, but her mouth hung open anyway.

  A smirk turned the corner of Andy’s mouth at her shock. “She looks good for fifty, huh?”

  Fifty? She didn’t look much older than thirty, by her guess. Clearly, she’d guessed wrong. Casey clutched her backpack closer to her stomach. “Jesus.”

  Mara chuckled. “I guess there’s something to be said of youth and longevity.”

  “You’re immortal?”

  “No, just… very blessed.”

  “It’s a witch thing. The longevity,” Vinnie explained.

  “A hereditary thing,” Andy added. “With our family, anyway. Just because a person calls themselves a witch, it doesn’t mean they’re gonna live a long time.”

  “Yes, yes,” Mara said, gesturing dismissively. “Bloodlines and such. None of that’s important now.” She looked Casey over with close scrutiny, one hand poised on her hip. “So you’re the girl everyone’s making a fuss about.”

  Helpless under Mara’s gaze, she looked to Vinnie. “I guess? Ain’t like I planned on it.”

  “No. No one ever plans on it.” Mara’s gentle smile faded when she turned to Andy. “I want to see how bad that dent is in my bumper. Don’t bother glamouring it or fixing it with a spell. Don’t try it.”

  “It’s not that bad, Mom.”

  “Hmm. I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “I’m calling Slater Auto later, I swear! I’ll sweet talk Aaron into getting a good deal. Or CJ—she works there sometimes, right? She’l
l get it sorted out.”

  “Yeah, Mom. CJ can handle a little dent. It’s not bad at all,” Vinnie added.

  “Mm.” Mara seemed skeptical about it but commented no further. She turned her scrutiny to Vinnie next and crossed the short distance to her. Cupping her face, she turned Vinnie’s head a little to view the purple mark forming at her temple. “Does it hurt much?”

  “A little. I popped some Tylenol in the car.” She glanced over her mother’s shoulder at her, but Casey avoided her eyes. The pair of mismatched crystals on the table looked very interesting suddenly. She focused on them instead of the guilt burning hot in her chest.

  “I’ll brew a healing potion later. It’ll be gone in no time.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. We have other things to focus on.”

  “Right.” Mara smiled when she faced Casey again. “A missing dad. Let’s head to the back. I hear we have work to do.”

  The peppermint smell, she learned, came from the pot brewing on a kitchenette stove top beyond a green-painted door. It looked more like a studio apartment than a storeroom. There was a small cot with a blanket and a pillow. Across from it stood a card table with a couple of chairs and a mini-fridge right next to it. A cupboard with bottles and jars of spices and herbs rested above the fridge. It was all very domestic and not at all what Casey expected. Past the cot, off to the left, were shelves and boxes and a backdoor that no doubt led to a loading dock or a back alley.

  Casey sat on the edge of the cot and Vinnie sat with her. “Do you want some tea?” she asked. “It’s peppermint. Or some water? We have Dr. Pepper too.”

  Casey’s eyes remained glued on Mara and Andy. Her palms were sweaty. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so anxious. “No. I’m not thirsty.”

  “We need something more precise, stronger, than basic scrying,” Mara said. She stood in the doorway, keeping one eye on the shop while she searched through a thick book in hand. Andy leaned in to read the text over her shoulder.

  “A basic scrying is easier, but you’re right. I think we need to go all out.” Andy looked up from the text, directing her attention at Casey once more. “How long did you say he’s been gone?”