Resting Witch Face

by Constance Barker

  “They’re the big money-makers,” Mary said. She stopped short when Em shot her a look. “On the internet, anyway.”

  “That’s because the carved part remains. Another candle can be inserted and burned. Tapers are one-use candles, and they need to be replaced constantly.”

  “Okay, yes, I’ve heard this before. But I have a few tricks up my sleeve. I know you think I’m just a kid, but can you trust me on this?”

  The Grams kept steady expressions, but Harvest could read the answer they wouldn’t speak. She jumped in. “The money disappearing wasn’t Echo’s fault.”

  Mary snorted. “We know. We read the papers. All this Satanist stuff going on. There’s somebody after you girls.”

  Harvest’s mouth dropped open.

  “How do you kids put it? It’s a thing. When there’s some panic over witches, or Satanists, or bigfoot, or flying saucers or whatever, it brings the real witches out of the woodwork,” Gramma said. “You’re being called out.”

  “You think you can hide stuff like this from a couple old country witches?” Aunt Mary sighed, in and out. “It’s sweet that you try to protect us.”

  “But it’s not just us,” Harvest said. “They came after your business first.”

  Gramma gave her the eye. “Of course they did. The Chandlery’s not exactly a moving target. People who have lived here a while, the ones who buy the hay fever cures, the colic ease for their grand kids, the wart remover, they kinda get what we’re about. It’s not a huge secret.”

  “Omigosh, that’s why—”

  All three looked a “what?” at Echo.

  “That’s why Mom and Uncle Nick were giving presentations back in the ’80s. The Satanic Panic called them out.” Echo’s eyes went big. “Is that how Mom and Dad got together? How did Mom manage to exist outside the Twih? Is that where Dad goes all the time? To visit Mom?”

  “We don’t know,” Mary shrugged. “Your father, he was on his own path. He was never satisfied with being a country witch. But this Twih business, we don’t know much about it.”

  Harvest didn’t want to go there. “Okay. We’re being called out. We need to fight back. First things first, we get the bills paid. Let’s fire up the burners and boilers.”

  “First things first,” Gramma corrected, “the last wax of the season needs to be filtered. Why don’t you girls start with that. I’ll cut some wicks. Mary, you do whatever you do with all those trays of colored wax.”

  Chapter 15

  Echo felt the stress of the past few days sink into her bones. Gramma had dipped all her tapers and poured all her molds. Aunt Mary’s knife made thick blocky column candles into fantastic designs. Despite the open windows, it was hot in the workshop. She swiped sweat from her brow. She and Harvest had melted all the late-season wax, strained it through paper filters, melted and strained it again. There was still a lot left, more than she figured. Still, was there enough merchandise to make the Chandlery flush?

  “Okay, don’t be too hard on me. This is my first written spell.” Quinn came through the doors, the grimoire opened in her hands.

  Echo gazed around. The cooling racks and bars were full. There was no room for any more stock to cool. “You think you can do it?”

  “Do what, dear?” Gramma knocked melted wax off a huge ladle and set it aside.

  “I’m going to cool the candles. I think.”

  “You can’t just cast a frost spell. The candles will crack. If not right now, then the minute they’re lit,” Gramma said.

  Quinn nodded. “I thought of that. I’m not going to freeze them. To be completely honest, I don’t know what will happen.”

  “Show us what you got, Kid,” Aunt Mary urged.

  “I need to see them all at once.” Quinn stepped back until she was in the doorway.

  Echo stood up. “Should we move?”

  Only offering a shrug, Quinn read over the page in front of her.

  As one, Gramma, Aunt Mary, Harvest and Echo moved to the walls beside Quinn as she began to speak.

  “By our command, assume your steady state

  Transformative energy dissipate

  Without delay attain your final traits

  Your native form and function still innate.”

  “That’s so much better than any of my spells,” Gramma whispered to Mary. “Go on, girls. All together.”

  Echo didn’t quite get what Quinn was after. They needed the candles cool. What was this transformative energy business? Still, she put a hand on Quinn’s left shoulder, Harvest her right. They said the words together, and then once more. Light dimmed in the workshop, leaving the shadows a weird green color. With a kind of blink, her sight returned to normal.

  “That’s it?” Echo stared at the hand-dipped candles, hanging by their joined wicks. “Did anything happen?”

  Gramma moved back to the hanging tapers. With careful fingers, she touched one. Then, she gripped it firmly. Looking over her glasses, she announced, “Well, it’s cool to the touch. I don’t see any cracks. There’s only one way to know for sure.” She pulled a pair off the bar and cut down the wicks. She lit one, dripped some wax onto the workbench and stuck it upright. After a few moments, she stuck out her lower lip. “Looks fine.”

  “Holy cow, it worked,” Echo seemed stunned that her suggestion paid off. She gawked at Quinn. “Awesome work, Sis. Now, Harvest, take pictures of Aunt Mary’s carved candles. I have stock photos for the beeswax. I need to get on my computer.”

  “Well, I’ll be.” Mary took one of her carved masterpieces from the cooling rack. She turned it over in her hands. “I’d say we could ship this one right now.”

  Harvest grinned. “Decided not to go with ‘heat, heat, go away,’ huh?”

  Quinn slowly nodded. “I think the biggest part of spells is the intent. I was thinking, just to take the heat away, it would be the same as saying, you know, become cool. We didn’t really want cold candles, but firm candles. What needed to disappear was the energy that changed them from liquid to solid.”

  “Way cool, Sis. Now, if you could just come up with a spell so we could get our jobs back.”

  “One thing at a time,” Quinn said. “Writing that spell really sapped my energy.”

  Gramma pulled candles off the bar while Aunt Mary cracked open the taper molds. “Better find a second wind, Quinn. There’s still plenty of hot wax. Might as well get another batch done.”

  HARVEST HURRIED TO the bunkhouse with her camera. “Okay, we’re setting up for batch two. Here’s the pics from the first.”

  Echo tore her eyes from the screen and smiled. “It’s working. It’s actually working. I just transferred eight hundred bucks into the Chandlery account.”

  Finding the cable, Harvest plugged in the camera. “How’d you do that? There was only three hundred bucks in there when I checked a few hours ago.”

  “I keep all my buyers on a database. When I checked, there were a bunch of regulars who hadn’t bought any candles in a while. It was just a matter of giving them what they were waiting for.”

  “Which is?”

  “Same thing that always puts the Chandlery in the black—a big Fall Sale.” Echo switched over to her photo software. “Oh, these are so beautiful. Aunt Mary really outdid herself.”

  “Post ’em up there,” Harvest tapped her foot impatiently. “People can’t buy what they can’t see.”

  “Hey, who’s in charge of this mission?” But Echo cropped six photos in quick succession and posted them on her sales page. Before she could paste in the last description, the first carved candle already sold. “See what I’m saying? People love candles.”

  “Let’s hope they love them three thousand bucks’ worth.”

  Echo continued to work with the pictures and descriptions. Even as she worked, a dozen tapers sold. “We’re on our way. That’s one front covered. What’s our next move?”

  “I don’t know if it’s the right move, but we have to get Mom back home.”

  Echo nodded
as she typed. “If it’s true, that these panics draw the witches out, then it probably is the right move. Whoever is after us wants Mom in this realm. Let’s put her back.”

  “Keep working on this. I’ll go back to the Chandlery and help with the next batch. You make sure the money doesn’t go to charity again.” Harvest headed out, but Echo stopped her.

  “Hey, Harvest. Do you think Piper was the one after us? I mean, I feel like breathing a sigh of relief, and at the same time I don’t.”

  For the past few months, they had been through a lot. Since they learned of their heritage, all of them had been in mortal danger, all of them wrestled with the impossible. Harvest decided to go with the truth.

  “My gut feeling is that Piper wasn’t alone in this. Maybe she had time to go to Fredonia and attack you, before she returned here to get murdered. It seems really unlikely. How would she know where to find you?”

  Echo lifted the shoulders of her hoodie, stretching the fabric, displaying the big Fredonia logo.

  “I have a Cal Bears hoodie. I’ve never been to Berkeley.” Harvest bit her lower lip. “We liked Piper. She was nice to us. We got chummy, but I don’t recall telling her anything about your school.”

  Echo went back to work on the computer. “I shall remain ever vigilant.”

  “You’d better. We’re busting Mom out tomorrow.” She started out again.

  “Harvest?”

  She looked at Echo over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  Echo shook her head. “Never mind. Stupid thought. Let’s just get as much of this finished before I collapse.”

  SINCE STARTING HER online candle business, Echo had occasionally purchased some of the Grams’ candles, at the family discount, and posted them for sale. She had intentionally left the photos of the candles up, with a “sold out” legend beneath. Frequently, she’d received messages from customers wanting to know when more carved candles or hand-dipped beeswax candles would be available. She used a newsletter program to announce the availability. She used it again to advertise the Fall Sale. Hoping that cow wasn’t milked, she sent out a third newsletter about the new stock.

  On the one hand, she felt like a successful businesswoman. On the other, she couldn’t get the recent attacks out of her mind. She wanted to voice her thought to Harvest, but it seemed too dumb. It affected her thoughts as she worked.

  The coyotes had taken her laptop. If she hadn’t been paranoid at the time and backed up her term paper, she would be in jeopardy of failing Sociology. Even so, her notebooks were gone. Moving forward without them would be tough. It was as if the coyotes had done whatever they could to flunk her out of her first semester.

  It was worse for the Grams. Their business was on the verge of collapse. Quinn and Harvest had been suspended from their jobs. There was no logic to her suspicion. Yet it sure seemed like the mysterious figures wanted to make Echo and her sisters full time witches.

  Glancing out the bedroom window, she could see the place where a dark sedan had parked in the summer. People inside had staked her out for a week. They were the Jade Coven, and the last thing they wanted was for the ersatz triplets to start casting spells. Even as she worked into the early hours, her attention was drawn to the dark memory. Something about it wouldn’t let her go, even as she switched off her computer and went to sleep.

  Chapter 16

  “We don’t have an ally in Piper anymore, if we ever did.” Quinn pulled out of the post office parking lot. They had already dropped off gas and electric payments. Hopefully, by the end of the day, the Grams could write a check for the property taxes. “It might make it that much harder to get Mom someplace private.”

  Echo sat in back. “We’re going to zap her right out of the hospital?”

  Quinn eyed her in the rear view. “Just exactly how this Twih business works, I can’t say.”

  “It would make more sense to have her discharged, so we don’t have to work a spell or whatever in public.”

  “Discharged, Harvest, really? She’s catatonic. We obviously don’t have the means to take care of her.” Quinn drove along the creek toward the state hospital.

  “I talked to my own health insurance provider. They said no way would the state hospital keep an uninsured patient after the initial seventy-two hour hold.” Harvest played with her cell phone.

  “So, why did they do it?” Echo asked. “They seem like nice enough people, but a hospital stay—that’s big bucks.”

  “Our unknown witch, I’m guessing,” Harvest didn’t look up. “Maybe with Piper out of the picture, they’ve come to their senses. Financially. Isn’t that what these attacks have been about?”

  In reception, Quinn was stunned by Jamie Everett’s words. “They’re bringing her down now. Should just be a minute. There are forms for you to sign.”

  “How did you know?” Quinn asked Harvest out the side of her mouth.

  “I got a call while you were in the post office. The admissions people apologized for the delay, but apparently, getting her in another facility is up to us. They said they weren’t sure how the oversight happened, why they didn’t release her to us in the first place.” Harvest smirked. “It was a nice way for them to cover their asses and divest themselves of a non-paying patient.”

  From the administration building, they split up, Quinn driving the car around to the ambulance bay. She saw Echo take over the wheelchair from an attendant. Harvest opened the back door.

  “Can we get her in by ourselves?” she asked Echo.

  Echo examined Mom. “Well, she is looking pretty bony. We can probably lift her in back.”

  “Wait.” Quinn took the survival canteen from her bag and walked around the SUV. “Let’s give this a try. Mom? This is from Leshy, from the Twih. Can you drink a little?”

  Echo angled Mom’s head back gently, the catatonic woman acting like a posable doll. Her mouth was opened just as easily. Quinn untied the opening. “Just a few drops to start with.”

  For a few heartbeats, nothing happened. Giving each other the shrug, Harvest and Echo lifted and angled her out of the wheelchair. They stopped when Mom moaned quietly, like someone stirring from sleep. In slow motion, she put an arm around Harvest’s neck, a hand in Echo’s hand.

  Ten minutes later, they headed out. “Simple as that?” Quinn questioned.

  “Well, they’ll probably send us a bill,” Harvest said. “Be tough to get any money out of us, unless they actually went through with the DNA test.”

  “Even then, it’ll be worth it,” Quinn said. “How do we get her back home?”

  “How about your sasquatch buddy?”

  “He’s not my buddy,” Quinn said quickly. “Besides, he can only act as an exit from the Twih.”

  “I have an idea,” Echo said. “Drive us home, Quinn.”

  Quinn nodded and drove down Water Street to the Fifth Avenue Bridge. “That’s where Nick pulled you into the Twih, to help you escape the coven.”

  “Wow.” Harvest mused. “We can finally meet Uncle Nick.”

  Mom moaned, her eyes now closed. Her head rolled against the seat back. “See if she’ll take more Twih juice.” Harvest twisted to look over the front seat. “Mom? Can you hear me? It’s Harvest. We’re taking you home.”

  In the mirror, she saw Echo untie the vines at the top of the natural canteen and take a sniff. “It smells like flowers and berries, but I don’t recognize them. Is this a magic potion?”

  “Whatever it is, it seems to work. Mom isn’t supposed to eat or drink anything from this realm. Maybe it’s replacing the saline they gave her by IV.” Quinn put her eyes on the curving road. “Hell, just give her a sip.”

  Echo brushed back Mom’s hair, as straight and black as their own. “Mom? You need to drink some more of this.”

  “Don’t spill, don’t spill,” Harvest whispered.

  Quinn raced past Scandia, the golf course, the boat launch. When she pulled into the driveway of the farmhouse, the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

 
; “Babies. My babies.”

  HARVEST SWIPED AWAY tears. “Mom!” She reached over the seat, taking her hand. Echo leaned over, face against Mom’s shoulder. Slowly, Mom responded, wrapping one arm around her baby and squeezing Harvest’s hand.

  “To feel your touch. How I’ve longed for it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I’ve lost my ability to exist in this realm.” Her voice was soft, but getting louder.

  Quinn leapt out of the car, running around to open the back passenger door. Mom let go of Echo and Harvest, throwing her arms around her oldest. They piled out of the car into a clumsy, staggering group hug.

  “Omigosh, you’re not just pictures, not just stories,” Quinn sobbed.

  Echo just kept repeating, “Mom, mom.”

  Harvest kept staring into a face, so much like her own. More than the others, she had sought her mother out, finding nothing but frustration. What she had uncovered was true, she finally understood. Trinity Hutchinson didn’t exist. Not in this world. At least, not for long. She felt the animation leave Mom’s hands, her face still and blank.

  “We’re losing her,” Harvest said. “She needs more Twih juice.”

  Echo untangled herself and retrieved the primitive container from the car. She held it to Mom’s lips. After a moment, Mom took the container and tipped it for a long drink. With a gasp, she looked at the girls in turn. “I’ve longed to hold you for so long, longer than I can express. Magic is suppressed in this realm, and so I’m suppressed.”

  “She must be getting better,” Echo said. “She’s getting rhyme-y.”

  “You need to go back, Mom,” Harvest said. “But how did you get here in the first place?”

  “There are rogue magicians here, medicine men, shamans without tribes, the powers they now manifest were once buried deep inside. Your own powers awakened them, made them guardian spirits of protection, and the way they guide you to greater power is through a real world disconnection.”