by M. J. Caan
Torie frowned. “Are you saying the great pyramids of Egypt were built by witches? I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, you never know. Could have been,” Jasmin replied with a wink. “At any rate, we are going to shore up your house with wards that will penetrate every inch of the place. Nothing nefarious will be able to pass through whether you are here or not.”
“Wait, are we going to have to sit on the floor again?” asked Torie. “Cos I don’t know if I’m up for that.”
Jasmin sighed. “If you didn’t spend all morning playing Buffy with Elric, your joints wouldn’t be so stiff.” She looked around. Waving one hand in the air, she summoned the large pillows from Torie’s bed to appear before them.
She dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged on one, and motioned for Torie to have a seat on the other across from her.
Torie sat, taking mental note of the groan that escaped her lips. When did that start? To her ears she sounded like a stereotypical, nine months pregnant woman from television shows. She made it a point to never make that sound again.
Looking up at Jasmin she felt her cheeks grow red. “What? It’s my knees. Too many sports as a teenager.”
“Um hm. I guess it’s bad when you make the same sounds sitting down that you do during sex.” Torie eyed her with a steely gaze but said nothing. “So, we have already blessed the house. Making sure there is no negative energy in the space; cleansing it of any impurities that may have seeped in during the building process. Now, we need to address the very bedrock this house is built upon. Speaking of, you did have them build the foundation and the first floor out of local bedrock, didn’t you?”
Torie nodded. “I did. It added a lot of expense, but I trust you when you say it is worth it.”
“The rock in this area is steeped in residual magic from the ley lines that run through Singing Falls. That magic will help make the house even more powerful over the years.”
She closed her eyes and placed her hands, palm up, on her knees. Torie mimicked her, freeing her own magic to reach out and join with the energy that Jasmin had tapped into.
Slowly, Jasmin began to chant.
“Bright Lady, come guide our hand,
strengthen the land on which we stand.
By sun and moon and force of will,
let none enter this space whose intentions are ill.”
Torie joined in, picking up the spell and repeating it in tandem with her friend.
Slowly, as the two chanted their spell, the air between them grew thick with magic. Magic that began to spin and weave itself around the space between them before coalescing into a single, glowing red ball that swirled and sparkled.
The witches used their hands, being careful not to touch the magic, to mimic the rotation of the spell as they guided it down and into the floor between them. The globe sank into the flooring, causing the entire room to glow as it slowly sank into the wood, settling into the ground beneath the house.
Both of them exhaled once the spell was complete.
“Now, all we need to do is repeat that on the first full moon of each month for a couple of months, and this place should be a mystical safe house for you,” said Jasmin.
“You mean for us,” said Torie. “This house will be a stronghold for all who step foot inside. We have both made some enemies lately…there’s strength in numbers with us.”
Jasmin smiled, opening her mouth to speak, but she was cut off by the beeping of Torie’s cell phone. She looked at the name that popped up before placing it to her ear.
“Hey, Max, what’s up? What? Slow down…when? Okay, we are on our way.”
“What is it?” asked Jasmin. The change in Torie’s body language told her something was very wrong.
“Max is at the mayor’s house. Apparently, he received a call that there was a dead body. One that started moving once he arrived on scene.”
4
The mayor of Singing Falls lived in a well-manicured, secluded Tudor-style home in one of the more established communities of the small town. This particular enclave of homes had been built back in the sixties with a few of the houses showing signs of recent renovation. The subdivision was comprised of stylish ranch and two-bedroom homes that were modest and comfortable. Like many of the houses built at the time, they had something that the newer builds did not; land.
Each home sat on nearly an acre of land that was sculpted and hidden behind rows of shoulder-high hedges and long, winding driveways.
Jasmin parked behind Max’s police SUV and then walked to the large, gray wooden door that was flanked by large picture windows. Max was waiting for them on the porch.
“Max, what’s going on?” asked Torie. “Where is the ambulance? Where’s the body or non-body you found?”
The large sheriff held up a hand to slow her down.
“Easy. I was first on the scene; beat the ambulance here. I sent them away.”
Jasmin looked back at the drive. There were no other vehicles onsite. No police backup, no rescue and no medical examiner. She looked questioningly at Max.
“A call came across the wire from Frederica Morris,” he said.
“The realtor?” asked Jasmin.
“And town busybody,” said Max.
If town gossip was an actual calling, then Frederica would have been canonized at this point. She was harmless for the most part but often made it her business to know everyone else’s business in Singing Falls. She was a social butterfly, flitting from garden party to dinner party, repeating anything half worthy that she may have picked up during her day’s travels. She also just happened to be one of the best real estate agents in town. The only thing she liked better than a bit of hot gossip was hearing someone mention they were thinking about selling.
“She said she dropped by the mayor’s house just to check on things and make sure it was all locked up,” continued Max.
“Um hm. You mean she came by to see what shape it was in so she could get a jump on listing it, probably,” said Jasmin.
Max smiled, nodding. “Anyway. She says the door was unlocked so she just stuck her head in. That’s when she said she thought she heard a noise coming from somewhere upstairs in the house. She went to check it out and she found…well, come with me. I’ll show you.”
The three of them stepped inside the well-maintained home. Inside, the house looked more like a center hall colonial with a central staircase that greeted them and rose gracefully to a landing on the second floor.
“Where is the woman who found the body?” said Torie as they started to ascend the stairs. “Ms…what was her name again?”
“Frederica,” said Max. “She’s up here in the second bedroom. She had a fairly powerful reaction to seeing the dead body start to move. She fainted, so I placed her in another room, gave her some water, and asked her to stay in there.”
“You keep referring to a dead body. But then you say she moved. Are we talking zombie here?” asked Jasmin. “Why would you call us?”
“Well, I didn’t call you for zombie reasons, but yes, your skills are needed.”
He led the two witches from the landing and down a hallway that opened into the master suite. The room was nicely appointed with a matching set of furniture arranged against two of the walls. The third wall had a bed placed against it, and on that bed, they could see the tiny, frail figure of a woman.
She lay on her back, dressed in a white, silk nightgown. Her skin was an unhealthy shade of pale, made all the more garish by the roughly applied red lipstick and blue eye liner that had been laid on a little too thickly. There were patches of rose-colored rouge that had been dabbed oddly on her cheeks in uneven amounts as well.
Her hair was completely silver and fanned out over the pillow. Her hands were crossed over her abdomen peacefully as if she were sleeping…or dead.
Jasmin peered closely at the woman. “She looks dead to me,” she said.
Max was standing there, arms folded. “Looked that way to me as well. But�
��” He leaned over, placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and gently shook her.
The woman gasped slightly, her red lips parting just enough to let out a tiny puff of air. She struggled to lift her arms, and that was when the witches saw it; a small wisp of black smoke appeared around her tiny wrists as she attempted to lift them. The smoke pulled them back together, securing her arms against her belly as she sank back into the bed, motionless.
“The hell just happened?” demanded Jasmin, jumping back.
Torie’s eyes grew large as she stared at the woman.
“Was that magic? Is she bound?”
“Now you see why I called the two of you instead of 9-1-1,” said Max.
Jasmin went to one side of the bed and Torie the other. Stretching her arm across the woman’s body, Torie closed her eyes and reached out with her own power.
“It’s weird,” she said. “I feel something…but it’s so faint, so far away.”
“Yes. It’s also different from anything I’ve ever sensed,” said Jasmin. “It’s almost like some kind of dormant spell; just waiting there. Max, what do your senses tell you?”
The wolf stepped closer. “I could smell residual magic of some kind when I stepped into the room. But it was so faint, I really didn’t think anything about it. But I knew she wasn’t dead, more like in a very deep sleep. Her heartbeat is very sluggish and weak. I can see why Frederica thought she was dead.”
“Dormant,” said Torie, “just like the magic we can feel.”
“I wonder…” said Jasmin, her words trailing off as she leaned over the woman, placing her hands on top of the frail, wrinkled hands that moments before had been held in place by darkness. “Maybe dormant isn’t the right word. I don’t feel anything at all now. Maybe, whatever spell is holding her in place, only flares to life when needed.”
Torie was nodding. “Like when she becomes agitated and tries to get out of bed.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. If Frederica touched her the way Max just did, and it roused her, that might be why Max could smell the residual magic when he came to the room. It came to life, did its job of binding her, and then went dormant again.”
Torie and Jasmin exchanged looks.
“Max,” said Torie, “when we give you the signal, try to rouse her again.”
The witches reached forward, holding their hands over the woman’s body. They closed their eyes and when they reopened them, they glowed with power.
Torie nodded her head at Max, and the wolf once again gently nudged the woman. The response was almost instantaneous as again her eyes flew open and she gasped for breath.
This time, when her hands fluttered, activating the mystic restraints, Torie and Jasmin were ready.
Moving fast, they grabbed the ethereal smoke that appeared around her wrists, wrestling with the power.
Max could hear them chanting under their breath as they moved in unison, twisting the blackness, trying to draw it off the woman.
Beads of sweat broke out on Torie’s forehead as she applied her own magic against that of the bonds. Slowly, together, they were able to pull the dark binding away from the woman and encase it in a globe of white magic that floated above the body between them.
It looked like a writhing mass of angry, smoky snakes entrapped in a glowing ball. The blackness struggled against the entrapment spell, striking out at the walls of its containment.
“That was harder than I thought it would be,” said Jasmin.
Torie nodded in agreement. “What is that?”
“I don’t know. But it’s powerful magic. Not something we want to leave around either.”
Together, they held out their arms, hands inches away from the globe that held the writhing darkness, and they chanted.
“Mother of night, steeped in lore,
let this darkness be no more.”
The darkness fought, resisting the power of the witches, but in the end, it proved no match for their will. Light consumed it within the confines of the globe, sparking and eating away at it until there was nothing left. Only then did they release their power, dissolving the globe away.
“Have you ever known the mayor to work in magics before?” asked Torie.
“Never. He’s never so much as set off a blip on my radar. This came from someone—or something—old and powerful.”
Before either of them could speak another word, a small moan escaped the woman lying on the bed and she began to roll her head slowly from side to side on the pillow. A small tear ran down her cheek.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice nothing more than a cracked whisper. “I…I…where am I…?” She was confused and quickly becoming distressed.
Torie placed her hand on the old woman’s, caressing it gently.
“You’re okay. My name is Torie. These are my friends, Jasmin and Max. We aren’t going to hurt you. We’re friends.”
The woman tried to draw away, fear creeping over her features.
“Please, please don’t hurt me anymore. I’m sorry for whatever I did…just don’t hurt me.”
Torie felt her heart break for the woman. What the hell had been going on here?
Jasmin softly stroked her hand as well. “No one is going to hurt you. We are here to help.”
The woman turned her head toward Jasmin’s voice and struggled to open her eyes.
Jasmin gasped at the grayish globes that tried to focus on her.
“Dear God, she’s blind,” said Jasmin. “Max, get her some water.”
The Sheriff left the room quickly, running into the adjoining bathroom. He returned with a small paper cup filled with water.
Torie slipped her arm around the woman’s neck and gently eased her head off the pillow. She took the cup from Max and brought it gently to her lips.
“Careful…slowly,” she said as the woman sipped the water. When she was finished, Torie dabbed at the drops that escaped the sides of her mouth and smiled at the woman. “There. That’s better, isn’t it?”
The old woman nodded and raised a hand in Torie’s direction. Torie took her hand and held it. She appeared to be more bones than flesh, and her grip lacked even the strength of a child. Her skin was paper thin, and Torie was careful not to grip her too tightly lest she tear it.
“Do you know where you are?” asked Torie.
“I…I’m in my bedroom, I think. At least that’s where I remember being.”
Torie and Jasmin exchanged worried looks. Max took out his small, spiral-bound notebook and began scribbling in it.
“Your bedroom?” asked Jasmin. “Do you know how long you’ve been here?”
The woman frowned. “No. I don’t remember. But I’m sure I’m in my bedroom.”
Torie looked about, and that was when she noticed how meticulously clean everything was. Everything was arranged and organized obsessively. There was nothing cluttering any of the nightstands in the room, and the one next to the bed only held a single, digital alarm clock. Jasmin opened the top drawer of the stand and found a single book resting there. It was a bible. In braille.
“Ma’am, do you know Terry Blatt?” asked Jasmin. “Mayor Terry Blatt?”
The woman’s brow furrowed. “Well of course I do. That’s my son. He’s the mayor of Singing Falls.” She stopped speaking, her gray eyes grew larger, and her small mouth opened to a wide O. She shook her head from side to side, becoming visibly more agitated.
“No, please…no. Terry, don’t do this to me again. I’m so sorry for whatever I did, but don’t lock me in again. Please.” She grabbed fiercely at Torie’s hand, pulling desperately at the witch. She was quickly approaching panic, and Torie feared for the woman’s health. “Don’t let him do it to me again,” the woman pleaded.
“Shhhh,” said Torie, stroking her hair to try and calm her. “No one is going to do anything to you. We’re going to make sure of that and we’re going to get you some help.”
The woman seemed to calm down a bit as she rested her head back on the pillow, not
letting go of Torie’s hand.
“Please don’t let him hurt me again…” her voice was once again weak and raspy.
Max took out his phone, sending a quick text message before placing it back in his pocket.
“Who are you contacting?” asked Torie.
“Glen. This woman needs medical clearance before we can get her out of here. Until we can piece together what is going on, I don’t think we should wheel her into a hospital. Besides, she seems pretty attached to you.” He moved to leave the room, only to be stopped by Jasmin.
“Where are you going?”
“To check on Frederica. I need to make sure she doesn’t go running around town spouting off about what she thinks she saw.”
Torie nodded. “Good idea. But once Glen is finished with her, what are we going to do?”
“Well, that’s easy,” Max said, walking out of the room. “She can stay with you until we figure this all out.”
Torie opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. She looked down at the bony figure lying on the bed and then up to Jasmin.
Jasmin shrugged her shoulders and smiled.
“Guess we better move up that furniture order.”
5
“She’s malnourished, but not dehydrated,” said Glen. The nurse anesthetist turned first responder, folded her stethoscope and placed it in her red medical kit as she finished her examination of the old woman. “Despite everything, she seems in relatively good shape. Whoever did this to her at least gave her water. I am concerned about the bed sores on her backside, however. She’s been lying like this for a while to develop those.”
Anger swelled in Torie’s chest. “How long has she been like this?”
Glen took a deep breath. “No way to tell for sure. But I’d say a few weeks at least. But the muscle deterioration she is showing would suggest much, much longer.”
Max walked back into the room, closing the notebook he had been scribbling in. “Just checked records at City Hall. There is no record of the mayor having a mother listed as living.”
