Faith cringed at the thought of her friend Josie sitting in prison, awaiting a trial. Ah, Josie. She shouldn’t have used the craft against that cheating dickhead, but damn, that scarlet “A” on his forehead was as funny as fuck. Faith supposed she couldn’t really blame herself or Gabe for Josie’s imprisonment, yet she did.
“It’s only a matter of time before he can no longer deflect the suspicion from you. No, I need to cloak you, and they’ll stop looking for you. Then, you can marry Gabe without the scrutiny of them watching your every move.” Marla turned to face her daughter. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re my one and only. I can’t lose you.” Her voice cracked, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “It’s my job as your mother to protect you and keep you safe.”
Knowing it was useless to try and argue with the old woman, Faith nodded and cleared her throat. “Very well, Mom, you do what you need to do.” Faith turned to walk away, only to be halted by her mother’s bony hand on her shoulder.
“I love you, Faith. Just ... Just trust me. I know this will work,” Marla whispered, a sniffle following her words.
Clasping her mother's cold hand, Faith whispered back “I know, Mom. I believe in you.” Faith walked back to the couch. She picked up her needlepoint to continue where she left off, trying to distract herself from her worries. The vision she had the day before was proof that her mother was right, that Gabe wouldn’t be able to protect her much longer. She’d foreseen the police storming the house and harassing her mother, demanding to know Faith’s whereabouts. They’d struck the fragile woman more than once, but for reasons unclear in the vision, Marla would not answer them. It ended with her mother lifeless on the floor as their tiny cottage burned around her. As sure as the cold shiver that ran through her, Faith knew that time was running short.
“Faith, come here. It’s ready,” Marla called.
Returning to the kitchenette, Faith took an ornate goblet from her mother’s hand and sniffed at the dark green liquid inside, wrinkling her nose. “It smells disgusting. I suppose the taste won’t be any better,” she said, pursing her lips and wrinkling her nose again. “Are you sure this is the only way? I’m not sure I can drink this.”
“It’s the only way. The Sisters aren’t known for delicious creations. Most times, potions are used on our enemies; why should we give them something that tastes good?” Marla laughed at her own joke.
Faith didn’t laugh. Instead, she gagged over the putrid smell. “Well, I guess I should just get it over with.” Lifting the goblet to her lips she gulped down the contents as quickly as possible, then handed the goblet back to her mother.
A wave of nausea came over her, followed by dizziness and a slight ringing in her ears. She tried to speak but couldn’t find her voice as the ringing increased in volume. She staggered forward and braced herself against the counter.
“Faith? What’s wrong? Answer me! Faith! Oh Heavens, what I have I done?”
She could hear Marla calling to her, but she couldn’t answer. All at once everything went black.
Chapter Two
Gabe Winters sat at his desk looking over the reports that had come in overnight. Twenty women and men had been accused of witchcraft. Most were false reports: an angry neighbor, a jilted lover. The few real cases would be assigned to a team, the suspects rounded up for questioning. Looking over the list, he let out a sigh of relief that his Faith’s name was not among the accused, as it had been the week before and the month prior to that. Gabe knew she was a witch—that he should arrest her and bring her in for questioning—but he just couldn’t. Faith was his soulmate, the love of his life, and he would do anything to keep her safe, even if it meant losing a report or a few.
A quick knock on his office door brought him out of his thoughts. He closed the file, shifted himself upright in his chair, and shouted, “Enter!”
“You’re wanted in the captain's office,” Officer Turner announced upon entering. “He said immediately”
“Thank you, Robert, I’ll be along in just a minute.” Gabe’s stomach did a funny flip.
He approached Captain Rumford’s office and paused to take a few deep breaths to settle his nerves. Gabe opened the door to find not only his captain, but the Mayor of the Triboro as well. Oh, this can’t be good. Not. At. All. “Good morning gentleman, how can I help you today?” he asked, feigning calm.
“Ah, Investigator Winters, please sit. We have a few questions to ask you.” Captain Rumford indicated the chair in front of his desk.
Shit. This is definitely not good. Gabe’s heart began to race again. He prayed this had nothing to do with the reports that had accused his Faith of witchcraft. He sat down as if he wasn’t worried that his whole world would soon flip on its ass and blow up in his face.
“Would you care to explain why these three reports were never investigated? How they seemed to have gone unnoticed by you, our lead investigator?” Rumford passed them over to Gabe, then sat back, folding his arms across his oversized belly.
Gabe scanned the papers, already knowing what was on them. He used the time to come up with plausible explanations.
In a tone that portrayed his anger, he spat out, “These reports are based on petty bullshit.” He dropped them on the desk. “Seriously, these are nothing but three people being petty and spiteful. The coffee Miss Sanders served at her workplace was too hot, and the customer burned their mouth; another was unable to pass Miss Sanders on the highway; and another guy said his car overheated after Miss Sanders rejected his advances. Forgive me, gentlemen, none of that sounds like any act of witchcraft.” Gabe relaxed a bit, hoping he had covered his ass. He made a mental note to mark any further reports “Unfounded.” It was no longer safe to just push them aside.
“Well, those three might be, as you say, ‘petty and spiteful,’ but what of these?” It was Mayor Dermount who spoke up this time, producing two more reports. “These have not been investigated. What do you have to say about these?”
Gabe looked over the reports, his anger rising with each word read. One stated that Faith had cared for a sick child using homeopathic methods. Oh, for the love of fuck. So Faith helped your child feel better. Yeah, that’s cause for an accusation of witchcraft. Gabe refrained from rolling his eyes, moving on to the most damning report by Mrs. Kravitz:
“I followed her and observed her doing a pagan ritual where she sits under the moon and chants to it, for hours. I believe she is communicating with Satan at these times.”
Gabe knew Faith had just gone out to the meadow near the stream to meditate, but in these times, that wasn’t a good enough excuse to clear her of the accusation.
He lifted his head to speak when Mayor Dermount interrupted him.
“Do I need to point out that all five reports are for one Miss Faith Sanders? Do I need to point out that those five reports are the only ones that have suspiciously disappeared? I’ve also been told that you are in a relationship of some sort with Miss Sanders. Let this be your one and only warning. You will investigate each and every report that comes in, or I will find someone that will. Do I make myself clear?” Dermount concluded with a sniff and a piercing glare.
“Understood, Sir. Is that all?” Gabe replied, still portraying a calmness he did not feel “There is a batch of new reports awaiting me on my desk.” Gabe rose from the chair and began to walk away.
“You’re forgetting these,” Captain Rumford said. “You are to investigate each and every report, Investigator Winters.”
Gabe turned back to retrieve the reports when Mayor Dermount said, “Considering the allegation of a relationship with Miss Sanders, I believe it would be best if we assigned these particular reports to another investigator. I’m sure you agree, Captain Rumford.”
“Yes, I believe that would be for the best. I will hand them off to Investigator Hendricks myself. You’re dismissed, Winters.” Captain Rumford spoke while he hauled his oversized body from the chair. He followed Gabe out the door. “Hendricks! My of
fice, now!”
Once back in his office, Gabe sat behind his desk, contemplating his next move. Five minutes later, he picked up his cell phone to call Faith. The call went to voicemail. At the beep, Gabe spoke into the phone. “Sweetheart, you need to call me as soon as you get this. They’re coming for you. I have a plan. Call me.” With a sigh, he disconnected the call and turned back to the reports, praying she got the message before Hendricks and his team got to her.
~~ * * * ~~
Hours passed, and Faith still had not returned his call. Hendricks had been out to the cottage and come back, saying she was not at home, nor at her place of employment, nor at any known hangouts. Gabe’s uneasiness continued to gnaw away at him until finally he picked up his jacket, shut down his computer, and walked out his office, locking the door behind him. “I’ll be gone for the rest of the day,” he informed the desk clerk as he stormed out.
On the drive, Gabe tried calling Faith only to get her voicemail again. The dread he’d felt at the office had built to terror by the time he turned off Old County Road and onto the long dirt drive that led to the Sanders’ cottage. Parking in front of the cottage, everything appeared to be normal, but he knew nothing about this was normal. She never ignored his calls. Something was wrong.
He walked to the faded red door of the small four-room cottage. Before he had a chance to knock, the door opened, and Marla stepped out onto the porch, wringing her thin, veiny hands. Looking paler than usual, if that was possible, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, she whispered, “She’s gone. I lost her. I lost Faith”
“What do you mean you lost her?” Gabe forced out through a clenched jaw. “How the fuck did you lose Faith?”
Chapter Three
Faith slowly opened her eyes to find herself on the floor amid the ruins of a small cabin. She searched her surroundings for something familiar. Her eyes filled with tears as grief weighed heavy in her heart; she knew this place, but she couldn’t remember how.
Standing on shaky legs, she looked past the skeletal remains of kitchen appliances. She swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat, and called out, “Help! Is anyone there?” Stumbling over the debris littering the blackened floorboards, she made her way out to a soft grassy area just beyond the cabin. Where am I? How did I get here? What do I do?
Faith closed her eyes, trying to work through the questions racing in her mind. Suddenly she was seeing the cabin in its former beauty: not a cabin—a cottage with window boxes and a white picket fence. Warmth flowed from her heart, through her body. “Home,” she whispered.
Then she envisioned men in uniforms, storming the cottage; an old woman, scared and begging them to stop; a uniformed man, striking the woman with a heavy hand. The old woman crumbled to her knees, sobbing silently.
A man in a dark suit stepped forward and squatted next to the old woman. He grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head up to face him. “Where is she?” the man demanded. The old woman would only shake her head no. Blood spilled from a cut on the old woman’s lip, and she raised her bony hand to wipe it away. “Last chance, old lady. Where is the witch?”
Faith watched as the old woman, again, refused to answer his questions. The suited man stood to his full height, dragging the old woman with him. As he released his grip on her hair, he struck her with a closed fist, laughing as she crumpled to the floor.
He led the men out the door, and Faith heard the order, “Burn it down,” followed by a ring of fire circling the old woman and slowing catching the rest of the cottage.
Faith shivered, blinked her eyes, and it was gone. She was back at the forest’s edge, standing beside the burned-out shell.
What is happening to me? I need to find … someone. She started down a dirt path, hoping it would lead her to whoever it was. She could feel them. They were a safe place—they were love—but who were they? Faith emerged from the long dirt path to a paved road. She looked left then right, not knowing which way to go. With another look to the left, her heart chose her direction; she hoped that pull was whoever she was seeking.
~~ * * * ~~
Hours passed, and the sun was beginning to set by the time Faith saw another person. Fatigue had set in, and her legs felt weak. Cuts marred the soles of her feet from stepping on glass and rocks along the way. She wondered why she wasn’t wearing any shoes. But the hot, humid air, already cooling with the setting sun, was a welcome relief to her overheated body clad in jeans and a baggy tee shirt.
At the sound of an engine behind her, Faith cast a glance over her shoulder to see a truck come to a halt across the road. A man jumped out and called over to her. “Are you all right? Do you need help?” He approached her slowly, holding his hands out to the side. “I’m not going to hurt you. You look like you might need some help.”
Faith watched as he stopped a few feet in front of her. “I’m not hurt. I’m looking for …” She tried to think of a name, but none came. “Someone,” she finished in a broken whisper. “I think I’m lost.” Tears flowed down her cheeks as exhaustion set in.
“Okay, let's start with introductions. I’m Bo. I live about five miles up the road. What’s your name?” The man spoke in a kind voice while inching his way closer to her.
“My name is …,” Faith’s eyes opened wide. “I don’t know. I’m lost, and I don’t know!” A stream of tears washed down, making lines on her dirt-covered face.
“It’s okay. I’ll get some help. Here, come sit down. I have some water in the truck.” The man wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulder and led her to the passenger seat. He reached for a bottle of water from a lunch bag. “Here, drink this. I’m going to call 9-1-1 and get some help out here for you.” Stepping away from the truck, he turned his back and spoke into his phone.
Faith closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the seat. She tried to remember … anything. Reaching up to scratch an itch, her hand came in contact with a heart-shaped locket. The heart in her hand, she felt a warmth flow through her body—a feeling of peace, love, of safety. Then she heard it: a man's deep voice calling to her.
“Sweetheart it’s me. Can you hear me? Follow your heart; it knows the way. Come back to me.”
Faith’s heart rate increased as that guiding love grew stronger. “I can hear you. Where are you? Who are you?” she whispered.
The man—Bo—came back to the truck wearing an odd look on his face.
“The police and EMT are on the way. There’s not much traffic out this way: you’re lucky I found you. It’ll be dark soon.” Bo’s voice held a note of concern as his eyes scanned her from head to toe. “Where did you come from? Were you in an accident? Are there other victims? You don’t seem hurt. Are you feeling any pain?” Bo fired off the questions, pausing to look away at the sound of a siren in the distance. “Ah, looks like help has arrived. You just wait here. Drink the water.” He nodded at the bottle in Faith’s hand before walking over to the police car.
Twisting off the cap, she lifted the bottle for a long drink of the cool water, a relief to her dry, scratchy throat. Leaning back, she shut her eyes again, trying to work out the confusion in her head. The voice called to her again.
“Sweetheart, where are you? Why aren’t you answering me? I need you to come back to me.”
Faith silently answered the voice. I’m here. I can hear you. More tears soaked her cheeks as she spoke out loud. “I want to come home.”
She looked up to see Bo and a man in the same uniform as the one in the vision. Her heart pounded with every step the uniformed man took toward her. Police. They had beaten the old woman and set fire to the cottage. She reached for the door handle to close it, but it was too late. Bo and the police officer were right there.
“Here we are, Officer. She doesn’t seem to be hurt. She doesn’t seem to remember anything, though.” Faith barely heard his words over the pulse in her ears. She had to get away. “Miss, this here is Officer Turner. He’s going to ask you some questions, all right?”
The policeman stepped up to Faith and pulled out his notepad and pen as he began speaking. “Can tell me how you ended up walking along this road?”
“You burned the cottage. You beat that old woman. Get away from me!” Faith screamed at the cop. A heat coursed through her body and with one quick shove, she pushed on his chest hard enough to send him flying back three feet to land on his ass. She slammed the door shut and locked it, then scrambled across the bench seat and jumped out of the truck, running as fast as she could to the woods on the other side of the road.
Chapter Four
Gabe sat behind his desk, watching as the last few grains of sand fell through the hourglass. It had been ten years since Faith had disappeared, and still, there was no sign of her. But that didn’t stop him from trying to call to her or search for her. She was out there somewhere, and he would find her if it took the rest of his life.
Ten years, and all he had to go on was Marla’s account of what had happened: she had given Faith a potion to protect against the hunters and within moments, she disappeared. When Gabe went to the Sanders’ cottage that day, Marla had been beside herself with worry and guilt. After explaining everything to him, she gave Gabe a potion, stating it would help him find Faith. He was to drink the potion every morning, then call for Faith after the sands ran through the hourglass.
Gabe took a cleansing breath, cleared his mind, and focused on Faith. Picturing her in his mind—her long brown hair flowing down her back; bright blue eyes, shining with mischief; and those sweet puffy pink lips begging to be kissed—he whispered, “Sweetheart, it’s me. Can you hear me? Follow your heart it knows the way. Come back to me.”
Moonlight, Monsters & Magic Page 22
