The Ghost and the Witches' Coven

by Bobbi Holmes

  “We also need to cover the fire,” Brian said.

  Heather looked at the dying embers. “Yeah. I don’t want to burn the forest down. That would be worse than littering it with tarps. But we don’t have a shovel. And it’s too bad we don’t have something to carry water in. We could douse it good.”

  Brian picked up the hunting knife from where he had left it the night before and said, “I can use this as a makeshift shovel.”

  Walt returned to camp a few minutes later to find Brian and Heather kicking dirt on the embers. They explained what they intended to do before leaving camp.

  “Why don’t you walk Heather down to the stream first?” Walt suggested. “I’ll work on covering the campfire while you’re gone.”

  Heather grinned at Walt. “Oh, that is an excellent idea.” She grabbed Brian’s right hand and started dragging him from the camp.

  “Wait!” Brian stubbornly refused to be dragged along by Heather. He tried handing the hunting knife to Walt, who refused to take it.

  “No,” Walt said. “You might need it.”

  Brian looked at the fire, which was no longer flaming, just red embers. “We don’t have a shovel.”

  “Go ahead, and take the knife with you for protection. We’ll finish up when you return.”

  Before Brian could argue the point, Heather dragged him from camp.

  Now alone, Walt stood silently, looking down at the dying campfire while listening to Brian’s and Heather’s voices fade off down the trail to the creek. Confident they would not be returning in the next few minutes, he willed the hot embers to lift into the air and then set down on the ground several feet away. Where the fire had just been, his energy removed dirt, forming a deep hole. The dirt landed several feet away. Walt watched as his energy pushed the campfire into the hole he had just formed. He looked to the pile of dirt and then willed it to cover the embers. When Walt completed his task, all evidence of a campfire had vanished.

  He smiled and said, “Much easier than doing it manually.”

  Heather knelt by the creek while cupping her hands and taking a drink of water. Brian stood next to her, glancing around and thinking of all that had happened since he had regained consciousness.

  “What made you believe Walt could really communicate with animals?” Brian asked.

  Heather stood up and wiped her wet mouth off on her sleeve. “What do you mean?”

  “If I hadn’t seen that encounter with the mountain lion, and then the fact Walt knew right where this stream was because supposedly the mountain lion told him, well, what made you a believer?”

  Brian stood with his back to the stream while he talked to Heather. As she listened to his question, she glanced past him and the water. Instead of answering his question, she reached out and grabbed his wrist, giving it a squeeze. Without letting go, she said, in a wavering voice, “Yes, that mountain lion knew all about this place because it’s obviously her watering hole.”

  Brian frowned at Heather and then slowly turned to the stream. There, standing on the other side, was the mountain lion—he assumed the same one that had the encounter with Walt. The lion’s eyes met his as she drank some water, and a minute later she turned and ran away in the opposite direction, quickly disappearing from sight.

  Heather glanced to Brian’s other hand, not the one whose wrist she had been clutching, but the one holding the hunting knife. She noticed his knuckles, now white from clutching the knife’s handle over tightly.

  “Were you planning on a knife fight with the cougar?” Heather asked.

  “Damn. Let’s get back to camp,” Brian said.

  Heather didn’t argue. Together they quickly made their way back to Walt.

  When they stepped into the clearing a few minutes later, Brian came to an abrupt stop when he spied the campfire—or more accurately, the lack of one.

  “Where did it go?” Brian blurted.

  “I covered it,” Walt said with a shrug.

  Brian looked at Walt’s hands. They were clean. Impulsively, Brian grabbed hold of Walt’s right hand and looked at it. Even Walt’s fingernails were fairly clean.

  “You’ll have to excuse Brian,” Heather said, swatting him away from Walt and breaking up the fingernail inspection. “We just ran into your friend by the stream. I think Brian is a little jumpy.”

  “I just don’t understand how you did it—so quick. You don’t have any tools,” Brian said.

  “Walt is always full of surprises,” Heather said. “Better not to overthink it.” She walked over to her tarp and picked it up.

  Confused, Brian shook his head and then picked up his tarp and Walt’s. He handed Walt’s to him and said, “I thought we should take these with us. Hopefully, we’ll get back to civilization before nightfall, but if we don’t, we’ll need these.”

  “I agree,” Walt said, tucking his folded tarp under one arm.

  “Walt!” Heather squealed. Both men looked her way and found her pointing behind them. “Do something!”

  Both men turned around and saw a snake slithering into the clearing—a rattlesnake.

  “Um…can you talk snake?” Brian asked nervously. By reflex, they began backing away from the snake. In reaction to their movement, the snake coiled, its rattler now buzzing loudly.

  “I don’t think so,” Walt said, his eyes never leaving the snake.

  “Walt, do something. I read once they only strike when coiled, and that damn thing is coiled!” Heather said.

  The next moment the snake flew into the air—but not because it decided to strike. It went straight up, a good twelve feet above the ground, hovering there a moment before it flew from the clearing, traveling a considerable distance, well out of sight.

  “Did you hurt it?” Heather asked.

  “Now you’re worried about me hurting the snake?” Walt asked. “I thought you wanted me to take care of it.”

  “I just wanted you to get rid of it,” Heather said. “I don’t want to kill the poor thing.”

  “That’s what I did,” Walt said.

  “I know. But I hope you didn’t kill it. Not really the snake’s fault. We’re on its turf,” Heather said.

  “I put it down gently,” Walt assured her.

  “What is going on?” Brian shouted.

  Walt and Heather turned to Brian, who looked as if he was ready to explode.

  “What is going on? Ever since those crazy witches drove out of here, Heather started yelling at Walt to wake up, to get us out of this. I thought she was just being hysterical.”

  “Me hysterical? I think you’re the hysterical one right now,” Heather said calmly.

  Brian glared at Heather. “Talking to animals, making snakes fly, and disappearing campfires!”

  “Which only proves I was not being hysterical,” Heather said. “I knew Walt’s special gifts would come in handy.”

  “Someone explain what is happening!” Brian asked.

  “You understood about the mountain lion,” Walt said calmly.

  “I don’t think understand is the correct word,” Brian snapped.

  Walt almost expected to see steam coming out of Brian’s ears at any moment. He glanced over to Heather, who seemed to derive pleasure from Brian’s confusion. “Stop snickering, Heather,” Walt told her.

  Heather shrugged. “Oh, come on, Walt, it is amusing, if you think about it. I remember all those stories Danielle told me about Brian, when they first met. This is sort of karma.”

  “And Danielle considers Brian a friend now,” Walt reminded her.

  “Hello? I am still standing here,” Brian said.

  Walt turned to Brian and said, “I’m sorry, Brian. I’m sure this is all very confusing, especially considering what happened to us since last night. I will explain, but please, take a deep breath and calm down first.”

  Reluctantly, Brian did as Walt suggested and then waited for an explanation.

  “Do you remember the time you ran into me in the grocery store, and cereal boxes fell off th
e shelf, but instead of falling to the floor, the boxes went back on the shelves?” Walt asked.

  Brian stared at Walt but did not respond. He had convinced himself it had all been his imagination.

  “And how you recently saw Danielle fly around our living room on a broom?”

  “You said that was a trick with wires,” Brian said expressionlessly.

  Walt smiled at Brian. “I lied.”

  Twenty-Two

  “Danielle calls it telekinesis,” Heather told Brian. “It’s the psychic ability to move objects.”

  “Who all knows about this?” Brian asked.

  “Everyone who knows about my ability to communicate with some animals,” Walt said.

  “Except for snakes,” Brian added.

  “Honestly, I’m not hundred percent certain of that. I may have been able to, but the snake seemed to be a little too upset to listen to what I had to say.” Walt paused a moment and then added, “Police Chief MacDonald, he knows about it too. I don’t think I included him before when I told you who knew of my abilities.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Brian muttered.

  “I think we should get going,” Walt said.

  Heather pointed to the opening where the Parker sisters had left through. “We need to go that way and follow the path. It should lead us to the road.”

  “Did either of you see the road?” Walt asked.

  Heather shook her head. “No, I came to right before we entered this clearing.”

  “I didn’t either. They were tying me to the tree when I woke up. But I saw them leave that way. And I heard the car about thirty minutes later,” Brian said. “I just assume they parked it on a road. Not necessarily a paved road.”

  The three headed for the opening leading to the pathway that had brought them to the clearing. They walked side by side down the path, with Heather in the middle.

  “So how long have you had this tele-whatever ability?” Brian asked after about five minutes of walking in silence.

  “I’m fairly certain that prior to the car accident, Clint Marlow did not move objects mentally or communicate with animals,” Walt said.

  “You talk as if that’s another person, not you,” Brian said.

  “It might as well be. I know nothing of his life before the car accident, beyond what I’ve been told,” Walt said.

  “It’s because of the coma,” Heather said.

  Both men glanced briefly to Heather.

  “The reason he has these powers,” Heather explained.

  “Why do you say that?” Brian asked.

  “A coma is like a near-death experience. You read about these sorts of things. Someone almost dies, maybe they see a white light, talk to angels, and then when they come back, they have some special powers, like Walt.”

  Brian glanced to Walt and asked, “Did you see a white light or angels when you were in the coma?”

  Walt chuckled. “Not that I recall.”

  “Do you agree with Heather that the coma brought on these powers of yours?”

  “I prefer to think of them as gifts as opposed to powers,” Walt said.

  “Whatever. But do you think the coma caused it?” Brian asked.

  Walt glanced over to Brian and smiled. He looked back down the path as they continued to walk. “I honestly don’t know why I have these gifts. But I am fairly certain that the man who walked in this body prior to that car accident didn’t have them.”

  “I think it’s going to take longer than thirty minutes to get to the road,” Heather said after they had been walking about twenty minutes.

  “Why do you say that?” Brian asked.

  “I was thinking about how it sounded after they left us. I think they were walking fast. It might take us an hour or more to get to the road,” Heather said. “Unless we want to walk faster or run.”

  “I seriously doubt they ran for thirty minutes,” Brian said.

  “I don’t know why. I jog for longer than that each day,” Heather said.

  They picked up their pace; the path wound around several massive boulders and then came to an abrupt stop. The path they were following broke into three pathways. They could continue straight or go right or left.

  “Which way do we go?” Heather asked.

  “I would expect it to be obvious, considering some of the ruts in the path we’ve come across, which I’m sure were from them dragging us out here,” Walt said, looking from path to path.

  “Those contraptions they used could have been hauled over any of these,” Heather grumbled.

  “I would think we’d want to continue west,” Brian suggested. “We know that takes us to the ocean.”

  “I want to get to a road, not the ocean,” Heather said.

  “It looks like the path to the right winds around and may take us back to where we were,” Walt said. “So, my guess, keep going straight or take the pathway to the left. Plus, the one straight looks more like something has recently been dragged over it.”

  “So does the one to the left,” Brian said.

  Heather groaned. “I’m hungry. I want a nice cup of tea. When I get out of this, I am marching over to Pagan Oils with Marie to show those Parker sisters the damage a real witch can do!”

  Brian frowned at Heather while Walt chuckled and said, “Now you’re claiming to be a witch?”

  “Why not? Anyone can claim to be a witch,” Heather said.

  “Why don’t we keep going straight?” Brian suggested. “That path seems more traveled than the other one.”

  “You’re probably right,” Walt agreed.

  They continued down the path, Walt taking the lead while Brian and Heather walked side by side, trailing behind him.

  “Are you okay?” Brian asked Heather.

  Heather looked to Brian and smiled. “You sound sincerely concerned.”

  Brian shrugged. “This has been hard on all of us. And a minute ago, I thought maybe you had reached your limit.”

  “Nah, I haven’t even begun to flip out yet.”

  Brian chuckled. “I suppose I should be grateful; if we have to be stranded in the middle of the forest, at least someone like Walt is with us.”

  Now it was Heather’s turn to chuckle. “You thought I was just being hysterical when I was trying to get him to wake up after we came to.”

  Brian grinned. “You could have told me.”

  “Yeah, right. Like you would have believed me,” Heather said.

  Brian watched the back of Walt’s head as he led them down the path. He then glanced to Heather and said, “I always knew there was something different about Walt. Of course, this isn’t exactly what I expected.”

  “I have to say, I am rather proud of you,” Heather told him.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Some people would either freak or go into total denial mode, desperately searching for some rational explanation. Take Joe, for example. I don’t think he would ever believe it, even if he was the one Walt sent flying around on the back of a broomstick.”

  They had been walking for over forty minutes when they began worrying. Had they chosen the wrong pathway? No one said anything, each hoping they would come to a road, reminding themselves they were probably traveling at a slower pace than the Parker sisters, who had wanted to get out of the forest before nightfall. They stopped fifteen minutes later when a small river blocked their way.

  “Holy crap,” Heather muttered. She glanced around. They had come to the end of the trail.

  Brian let out a sigh. “I guess we need to turn back and take the pathway to the left.”

  “I don’t mean to be a pain,” Heather groaned. “But maybe we can look for wild berries or something first? I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday, and I barely had any lunch.”

  As if to prove her point, Heather’s stomach growled.

  “I’m hungry too,” Brian said. “But if it makes you feel any better, we can go without food for longer than water, so I suppose we should be grateful we keep finding water.
”

  Heather frowned at Brian. “I seriously never pegged you for a Pollyanna.”

  Brian shrugged.

  “I don’t think there’s reason for us to go hungry,” Walt said as he stood by the side of the river, looking into the crystal-clear water. He could see fish swimming around, searching for smaller fish.

  “Why, do you see some berries?” Heather asked hopefully.

  “Even if we find berries, do you know which ones are safe to eat and which ones are poisonous?” Brian asked.

  Hands on hips, Heather turned to Brian. “I liked you better as a Pollyanna as opposed to a Debbie Downer.”

  Ignoring the exchange, Walt said, “I wasn’t thinking of berries. How does fresh fish sound?” A trout flew out of the water and landed on the ground by Heather’s and Brian’s feet. A moment later a second fish flew from the water, followed by a third.

  Walt grinned at Brian and Heather, who stared down at the flopping fish. Walt looked at Brian and said, “You have the hunting knife, so you can clean them, since I caught them. I have the matches; I’ll start the fire. I’m not in the mood for raw fish.”

  The three sat around the small fire, enjoying their morning feast. And it looked like a feast. Brian had gutted and beheaded each fish. He speared each one with a long sharpened stick before cooking them over the fire. But it wasn’t just fish for breakfast, they had berries on the menu.

  “Are you sure these won’t kill us?” Brian asked before taking some berries in one hand.

  “In answer to your question earlier, yes, I know the difference. I took a class at the museum, on natural plants in the area. These are huckleberries,” Heather explained. “And they are edible.”

  “They look like blueberries,” Brian said before popping several into his mouth.

  Ravenous, the three stopped talking and focused on the meal before them. When they finished, they each stood up and walked to the water for a drink and to wash their hands, now sticky from eating berries and fish.

  “That was pretty good,” Heather said, wiping her clean yet wet hands off along the sides of her jogging pants. “I didn’t even miss the tartar sauce.”