Payback's a Witch

by Constance Barker

  “I found her,” Winnie said, not looking up from her screen. I opened the window to let Alan in while Winnie helped herself to a slice. “Margret doesn’t live to far from here...it seems like she’s more local then Nan thought.”

  “That’s weird. Why did she stay here then?” I asked.

  “I guess we'll have to ask her tomorrow. I called her and set up a meeting.”

  “She’s okay with meeting us?” Not many people were open to talking to complete strangers about something like this.

  “She seemed desperate. No one is telling her much about what’s going on, but she confirmed that the woman found in the house was her friend. She wants the truth out there, at least that’s what she claims.” Winnie spoke through a full mouth of food.

  “Finish chewing,” I grimaced at her. “Alan did you hear anything out there?” I asked, not expecting much. It hadn’t even been a full hour since we departed.

  “I believe the townsfolk have been doing something that has been warding off the spirit for decades. A ceremony of sorts. I heard the sheriff and a councilman discussing it. Apparently it didn’t work this year, hence the dead girl, Allison was her name.” This stunned me, it was more than I could have hoped for him to hear. It all came down to being in the right place at the right time. If the town did have a ceremony to ward off evil spirits or the Hatchet Man to be more precise, how did they discover the ritual to begin with?

  “Allison Greenaway,” Winnie said turning the laptop to us. Margret’s social media was plastered with the name. Every other post was a missing person’s poster, the face of a beautiful young woman and a description; blonde hair, blue eyes, slight build, five foot three, about a hundred and thirty pounds. All these added up to be Allison Greenaway. Margret’s most recent post was a vigil to be held in Allison’s honor. “Looks like they really were best friends. I’ll never understand this realm’s obsession with posting personal information online.”

  “It makes our job easier,” I said with a shrug, even growing up here it didn’t make much sense to me either. “What kind of ceremony?”

  “I don’t know. I could only hear snippets,” Alan admitted. “They just said it didn’t work, and Allison was the result. They seemed pretty angry about the whole thing.”

  “How would these people get a hold of a ceremony that would actually work?” Winnie asked, between bites of pizza.

  “It would have to be information from our realm somehow. The other question is why it stopped working.” I pulled a slice from the box, using a paper towel to remove the grease. Pizza was another thing they did better here than Nikatomia.

  “Well, ceremonies and rituals are finicky things,” Winnie shrugged. “I bet they just did it wrong this time around.”

  “I’d agree, but they’ve been doing it right for decades,” I reminded her. That was no small feat. I hadn’t heard of a witch or wizard who had accomplished the same, though most of us would have resorted to a different solution after performing the ritual once. “I wonder if Nan knows about the ritual.”

  “I bet she does,” Winnie nodded, as she sat up straight and cracked the bones in her back and neck. In the hour that she had been on the laptop I doubted that she had moved much. “She’s been here so long, I doubt there’s much that goes on that she doesn’t know about.”

  “This changes things a bit,” I said, biting on a thumbnail. Our mission was now two-fold. “We need to get Andrew Hellman across realms, but we also need to find out what ritual the town has been performing and if it is a scroll that belongs in our realm, we’ll have to bring that back too.” Real magic, from our realm was too powerful in the hands of normal people. It could wreak havoc for many souls. “Tomorrow we meet Margret, and then I want to have a conversation with the sheriff.”

  “We should addle her memory,” Winnie said with a frown. I looked at her aghast.

  “Why?” I asked, trying not to yell. The idea of going into someone else’s mind and removing their memories was a deep violation against them. As far as I knew, that was why I had so little true memories of my past.

  “The sheriff and council won’t talk to a couple of grad students, we’ll have to use our credentials.” To her credit, she didn’t look exactly happy or proud of her suggestion. We kept false law enforcement credentials with us on our travels in case we needed them. Often it was the only way we could get any information. Considering that we were kind of like law enforcement, I never felt too guilty about it. “This is a small town, and Nan will tell everyone our story.”

  “She’s right,” Alan agreed. I felt my stomach churn, because I knew she was right as well. “We’ll only make her think you're detectives, not students.”

  “That cover has served its purpose,” I said begrudgingly. It would be useful tomorrow talking to Margret, but since she lived out of town, we could still work with it. “I’ll do it.”

  “You don’t have to.” Winnie stood, ready to perform the spell herself.

  “I’ll do it,” I repeated. Winnie sat down, and Alan offered me a look of encouragement. Now you may be asking yourself...how in the heck does a raven look encouraging? Maybe it wasn't encouragement...it could have been gas...but I nevertheless took it as a thumb's up. He did nestle his beak against my hand for a moment. Awww....crazy bird. I stood, walking from the room quietly. I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. Memory spells were tricky and could have disastrous results. Why am I doing this job again?

  Nan was leaning all the way back in a fabric reclining chair, softly snoring. The television was still on, some movie with a bad plot and even worse acting. Probably Pauly Shore...I know some of you kids won't remember him...be glad.

  Flashes of memory popped into my mind of seeing the same kind of thing as a child. I had to shake my head to be rid of them. It would be easier to perform the spell with her asleep. Before starting, I waved my hand in the air in a clockwise spiral. This was a symbol of protection, one we used often. I even wore one on a chain around my neck.

  “Pluck the memory from within the cracks,” I whispered into the stale air of Nan’s living room. I then focused on the conversation we had about us being journalism students. “Replace it with something new.” More concentration on us being law enforcement, here to help with the investigation. When Nan gasped quietly, I knew that the spell had been completed. We would have to wait until morning to find out how successful it was. Being the subject of a spell made you sleep for a long while.

  Chapter Five

  Margret Chen lived in a small apartment a couple of towns over from where we were staying. We couldn’t exactly take Alan with us, people didn’t really take to well to a raven. He’d travel alongside us though, keeping an ear and an eye out for any trouble. My memory spell on Nan had proved successful, she asked us that morning about how our investigation was going and if she could show us to the station later that day. The local law enforcement had no idea what to do with a real crime – there were only two of them and a receptionist. She admitted that she had always felt they were in over their heads with the missing people and deaths. We thanked her and went on our way.

  “Nicely done,” Winnie said once we left. “It seems like you only grabbed and replaced the one memory.”

  “As far as we can tell.” I shrugged, still not feeling good about the whole affair.

  “How’d you sleep?” Alan asked, as he swooped down to the ground.

  “Not well,” I replied, my baggy under eyes and dark circles were enough evidence of that. I had tossed and turned all night with terrible dreams, even worse than the previous night. I worried about all the possible outcomes of my memory spell.

  “I hope you know that we did nothing wrong,” Winnie reminded me. Magic and spells didn’t seem to hold the same weight to her as they did me, especially when performed on non-magical people. “We’ll need to get a few towns over, to meet with Margret.”

  “Transporter spell?” I asked, not really up for such a difficult spell.

  “I’d sa
y yes, but I doubt you’d make it out alive or intact,” Winnie said looking me up and down again with that one eye of hers.

  “Flight it is,” I nodded. We could travel by car or bus, but Winnie became terribly sick traveling by normal realm means. One time she upchucked all over the cherry red leather interior of a Camero rental car. Alan began to dry heave as well. It was a whole production.

  It only took us fifteen minutes to get over to Margret’s, making us too early.

  “Alan, can you fly back and see if you can hear anything else from the council or the sheriff’s department?” I felt bad sending him back, but I didn’t expect anything we couldn’t handle to pop up here. If it did, he could be back quickly enough. Our bond made it so that we could both feel when the other was in peril, no matter how far apart we actually were.

  “I can,” he said giving me a salute with his feather and flying off.

  “Are you Winnie?” A woman said coming out of the apartment building we were in front of. It was where Margret lived.

  “Yes, I’m Winnie,” she lifted her hand in greeting. “You must be Margret. This is Vana.”

  “That’s an interesting name,” Margret commented, shaking my hand. “You can call me Maggie, by the way.”

  “I get that a lot.” I smiled tightly, small talk wasn’t my strong suit. Anything that had to do with small interactions made me feel anxious. Talking about things that actually mattered I could do easily.

  “Come on in,” she said leading us into the building. It was four floors later before we were at her apartment. “I’ve been anxious to speak with you since yesterday. No one is taking me seriously.”

  “Thank you for being willing to talk to us,” Winnie said. “We don’t think people are taking anything going on in McArthur seriously enough.”

  “You’re telling me,” Maggie said with a huff. “I looked into it and half a dozen women have gone missing in the region, at the same time of year, and no one has done anything about it. The law enforcement there is barely capable of dealing with drunkards, let alone murderers.” She crossed her arms, sitting across from us at her table.

  “We’ve heard there are only a couple of cops in town,” I said. “That would be overwhelming for any department to deal with, let alone such a small one.”

  “An incompetent one at that.” Maggie was pacing now, unable to sit still.

  “So your friend, Allison went missing?” Winnie asked. Direct and to the point. I appreciated that about her, it made our job smoother. “How did that happen?”

  “Allison grew up in the area, she was my roommate and best friend.” Her voice broke, the pain of losing Allison still fresh. “We both loved all the ghost stories. I always thought they were just stories, but Allison really believed in them. We’d plan trips to supposedly haunted places, and just enjoy the twisted history. I don’t know why, but it took us until a few weeks ago to visit McArthur. I wish we had never gone there.” She looked like she was far away from us for a moment, regretting the moment they had chosen to step foot there.

  “Where did you go in McArthur?” I asked after a moment of silence, prompting her to continue.

  “First the graveyard, where Andrew Hellman, the hatchet man is buried.” Maggie sat down now, sitting on top of her hands as if she was trying to keep herself from fidgeting too much. “It was strange...we had gone to so many haunted locations before and never experienced as much as a creaking floorboard. His headstone glowed in the dark. Without a light shining on it we could clearly see where he was buried. I wanted to leave right away, but once Allison was on a mission, there was no turning her around. I could feel how evil the area was, deep in my bones. I knew we should leave but Ally wouldn’t listen to me. I wasn’t going to leave her alone, so I went with her to the house.” Maggie’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “You mean the house were Andrew Hellman lived and killed his family?” Winnie clarified. She was taking notes the entire time she spoke, both making us appear more legit and giving us a record. We would write up reports as well...for our mystery boss.

  “Yes, it’s practically a ruin now, falling to pieces. We went inside, and even though it was cool outside the walls radiated heat. It was like we walked into the entrance to hell. Ally wanted to look around, she was braver than me. Always pushing me to do more and go out of my comfort zone. This time not even she could talk me into going further into that house. I stayed by the doorway as she went in.” Maggie stopped talking abruptly, her eyes glazing over as though she were experiencing the terror all over again.

  “What happened then?” Winnie pressed gently.

  “I saw him,” Maggie whispered. “I saw the hatchet man. He looked right at me and held up a finger to silence me. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t scream, and I couldn’t warn Ally. He walked right up behind her and attacked her. Ally screamed, she was so scared. He hit her with an ax, she was bleeding and he dragged her away.”

  “That was the last time you saw her?” I asked. I could see why the police might not have taken her seriously. To them she was just a traumatized woman misremembering events. Maggie nodded, tears fell onto her lap.

  “As soon as I could move, I ran to the station as fast as I could. When I got there, they didn’t believe a word I said. They wouldn’t even go look at the house.” Maggie wiped her eyes and steeled herself. I could see the determination that Nan had mentioned on her face. “They didn’t believe me until they found her.”

  “So the body they found, that is Allison?” If it had been someone else, then we might have had another body showing up soon.

  “It was Ally, yeah.” Maggie was reciting now; her speech was completely separated from her emotions. I doubted that she could get through the rest of the conversation otherwise. “She didn’t have any family, so they asked me to identify the body. Or identify the head rather.”

  “Her head was removed?” Winnie asked. Maggie only nodded, unable to speak. It did match Andrew Hellman’s modus operandi. Both his wives had been hacked to pieces and beheaded. In the 1840s they had thought it was a way to conceal the victim’s identities. It seemed to me that Hellman just liked the brutality of it.

  “They don’t believe my story,” Maggie said quietly. “The police think I am suffering from post-traumatic stress, and my brain created a monster where a man was. Apparently, it’s easier to deal with trauma that way, though I disagree. I’d much rather Ally have been killed by just a man, because otherwise, it means monsters are real.”

  “Whoever did kill Allison will be brought to justice,” I assured her.

  “How?” She asked. “If it was a man, the police are inept and won’t be able to find him, and since I know it wasn’t how does a demon face justice?”

  “Do you know anything else about the other women that have gone missing there?” Winnie asked, it wasn’t as though we could answer her question.

  “I know that all of them looked like Ally,” Maggie said, standing up. She grabbed a folder from the side table. Plopping it on the coffee table she opened it. Inside were photos of the other women who had gone missing, all of them bore a striking resemblance to Allison. Even more so, they bore a resemblance to Mary, all pale with brown hair and eyes and wide mouths. “It seems the hatchet man has a type. Every woman went missing around the same time – within a month of his death. The ones whose bodies were found had fatal wounds made with an ax All of them had been seen in or around town before they went missing.”

  “It sounds like there’s a lot to go off of here,” I said, impressed with the information she had compiled. “Did the police ever have any suspects?”

  “They all happened before 1984, when the grounds keeper was killed. They put away a couple of people who looked good for it. A guy name Earl, a half mad homeless guy who was known to squat in the area. He was put in an asylum for the murder of one of the girls. Then there was Lionel, the boyfriend of one of the victims.”

  “You don’t think they did it?” Winnie asked. Neither of us believed
they were guilty either.

  “Not a chance, they were easy collars, and another woman went missing after both of them were put away. It seems like they just swept as much as they could under the rug and pretended not to see what was really going on. Once the man went crazy and killed the grounds keeper, they blamed all the deaths and missing women on him. His name was Adam Hillman.” Maggie showed us all the research she had done. It was as thorough as any investigation I’d seen.

  “Adam Hillman?” It was almost too coincidental.

  “I’m guessing you’re both thinking the same thing that I was when I first heard the name,” Maggie said crossing her arms.

  “Hillman sounds a lot like Hellman,” Winnie pointed out. “And Andrew Hellman didn’t succeed in killing all of his family, right?”

  “Henry Hellman survived...he was sent away and lived his life. As soon as he was old enough, he changed his name to Hillman, so people wouldn’t always recognize him as the child of a murderer. The name was passed on to his children and then their children after that. Andrew Hillman was the ancestor of Adam.” Maggie pointed out the genealogy reports.

  “So they just assumed that he was genetically predisposed to something like murder, since his great, great, great, however many great grandfather was.” I looked at the pictures she had, Andrew and Adam looked almost identical. “Can we borrow this research?” I asked picking up all of her folders.

  “Sure,” Maggie agreed. “I have copies of everything on my computer.”

  “Thank you, all of this will be really helpful.” Winnie said.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” Maggie asked, standing up.

  “Yes, we believe you,” I said, touching her shoulder. Maggie smiled, showing us out of her building. I knew how important it could be to hear something like that when it felt like no one was listening. “We’ll make sure the truth gets out there.”