Think, Stacy. What did they use in their spellcasting? Candles, crystals, paper, cords, herbs, a chalice, an athame.
Right. Now was any of that stuff down here still?
A soft shadow of light from the moon crept through the window well. It didn't offer much, but I could make out some shapes. There were shelves built into the stones at varying heights and I trailed around them. I found some mason jars filled with herbs, spent matches, dusty crystals, and a dead mouse.
It was even darker near the stairwell. The knots in my stomach twisted and I knew he would be back soon.
I swept the ground with my hands, covering as much of it as I could until I hit something. It felt like a box. I flipped my hands up trying to open the lid. No luck there. I circled back and faced the container, tipping the lid up with my right foot. I had to kick it three times, but it finally flipped open. Inside sat a few white candles and a dirty, long forgotten athame.
I pivoted again and sat down, my back to the box. The knife was in reach. I felt for the handle, picked it up and poked the tip lightly through the ties, then shoved the blade away from my body, slicing through the bindings, freeing my hands. I tucked the knife in the back of my pants and tore through the box. I couldn't find any matches for the candles. But I found a bloodstone, a quartz wand, and a sprig of dried out rosemary.
So I decided to do what I hadn't done in many years.
Cast a spell.
I rubbed the rosemary all over my head and ate the sprig for strength, swallowing a cobweb in the process. I took the wand, walked towards the center of the space and drew a circle all around me in the dirt. The bloodstone, a stone that banishes evil, was secure in my pocket. Then I sat down in the circle and said this: "Spirits come forth from every direction. Cast around me a web of protection." Over and over.
The cellar door creaked open after a while and footsteps fell on the stairs.
I shoved my hands behind my back, pretending to still be tied, and felt for the athame.
"What's this, Stacy? Is the little witch doing a spell?" He said, descending the stairs. He was holding a stool. He set it down and put his foot on it.
I didn't say anything.
"Well, chant all you want, it won't do any good. That only works if you believe. And I don't." He lit a kerosene lamp and placed it on the ground. "In fact, I am so offended by your beliefs that I've decided to give you a proper witch's send-off."
He looked up. I looked up.
There was a noose wrapped around one of the beams directly above my head. Well, at least the mystery of why he had untied my legs was solved.
"Well, Ed, that's why it never would have worked between us. We come from two different worlds. I'm pagan and you're crazy."
He reached over and backhanded me across the face. I tasted blood where my lip split open again. I swallowed it, swallowed all the fear and pain, and vowed that no man would ever get the best of me.
"When are you going to learn to shut your mouth?" He dragged me to my feet and tugged on the rope.
He was bigger and stronger than I was, but I had two advantages. He didn't know my hands were untied and he didn't know I had a knife in my pants. Plus, I had a cooler cape.
"Well, that should hold you." He laughed. "I wish I could see the look on Birdie's face when she finds you dangling from the rafters, your body burned."
I hadn't thought through a plan, but I was pretty sure I wanted to make my move before he put the noose around my neck.
I made a face at the rope. "My head will never fit in that hole."
Ed sized me up. "What are you talking about? It's big enough."
I shrugged. "Hey, you're the boss, but I'm telling you the hole is too small."
Ed reached for the noose and I pulled out the knife and lunged for him.
He tried to grab my arm but he fell backward over the stool and we both crashed into the dirt. The blade slipped from my fingers.
I scrambled for it but he got to it first and swung his arm, slicing through my left shoulder.
Perfect. Now the bad guy had a weapon and all I had was a damn cape.
Hot, searing pain gripped my flesh. I rolled away and he came at me again, so I darted to the right. The knife smashed into the stone wall, breaking the tip.
The amethyst cluster was near me. I scrambled for it as Ed found his footing. I picked it up, hoisted it above my head, and smashed it over Ed's skull.
He fell back, blood seeping from his wound. I ran to the steps and shoved the cellar door but it was heavy and my shoulder throbbed.
Ed moaned and I heaved with every bit of strength I had. The door lifted, my legs scrambling to pull me out. Just as I reached the opening, he grabbed my ankle, pulled me down and the door slammed shut on my fingers.
I screamed and kicked his head with my other foot. He yelped but held on, dragging me back to the dirt floor. I sprang up, then and jumped for the noose. Then I swung like Tarzan, barely connecting with his chest.
He staggered, the wind knocked from him.
My legs carried me back up the stairs, where I flipped the door open again and crawled out, running to the back screen door, Ed close behind.
A chair was tucked under the doorknob and I hurled it at him and slid the lock open.
Before I could twist the knob, he grabbed me by the waist and tossed me across the center island. Then he jumped on top of me, clawing at me, slapping my face.
The pot rack dangled above us, holding cast iron and copper pans, but I couldn’t reach anything. Ed’s hands were everywhere. Scratching, pinching, slapping, tugging. He pinned me and I felt his breath on my face, hot and demanding. I clamped my teeth onto his lip and pulled hard. Blood spurted across my cheek. His blood. He screamed and wrenched back.
Giving me just enough reach to grab a cast iron skillet and yank. The pot rack crashed on top of us.
I rolled and landed on the floor in a heap, scrambling until I gained purchase near the stove. I grabbed a knob, hauled my body up, then turned, keeping an eye on the monster in the room. I felt around behind me for a frying pan but wasn't fast enough.
Ed got to it first. He pulled back and raised it over his head.
I leaned back, over the stove, my hands flailing behind me. Searching for a knife, a wooden spoon, anything.
There was nothing.
Chapter 42
The burner must have twisted into place because I heard the whoosh and felt the heat.
“Say goodnight, Stacy.”
I closed my eyes, shielded my head.
The crash sounded like thunder raining down on me. Only it didn’t hurt. I felt nothing, but I heard it, loud as a tornado.
When I opened my eyes, Thor was leaping at Ed, his mighty paws clawing like an angry bear, his roar that of a lion. Ed tried to get out of the way, but the weasel was no match for the giant. Thor slammed Ed into the lit stove, snarling and snapping with a ferocity I had only ever seen on Animal Planet. His canines flashed like lightning bolts as they advanced on my attacker.
"Get him off!" Ed yelled.
Thor seemed incensed by this shout and it fueled his determination.
Ed decided to escape the dog by climbing on top of the stove.
You know how they warn that Halloween costumes are flammable? They aren’t kidding.
Chapter 43
Cinnamon saw me first as I made my way to the woods. Thor was at my side and I knew somehow that he always would be.
"Oh my God!" She screamed and ran over to us.
There was a good chance one of my lungs had collapsed because all I could do was point toward the house.
Tony ran in that direction before I could say another word.
Later that night, with every muscle in my body aching and ice on my jaw, I watched the orange and red flames of the bonfire shoot twenty feet in the air. It was much prettier than the blue and red cherries of the ambulance that had carted Ed off with what were likely third degree burns.
I took my place around the ritual
circle and tossed the pennies that had found me the last few days into the fire. "For you, Dad, I hope you'll visit me."
Cinnamon stepped up and sailed a paper badge into the flames. "Miss you, Pop."
The clearing in this part of the woods made way for crowds of people eating, drinking, singing, and dancing. Birdie floated forward and made an offering to her mother. Lolly and Fiona did the same.
My arm was still stinging from the gash, but Fiona had patched me up and Lolly applied a poultice of lady's mantle, comfrey, and calendula to stop the bleeding and heal the wound. There was nothing broken just bruises and flesh wounds, and I refused to go to the hospital tonight. At least, until the festival was over.
Tonight was for my family and for myself. I didn't want another year to go by that I didn't spend this important night with them.
Birdie came up and put her arm around my shoulder just before the sun rose. "I’m proud of you."
I touched her hand. "You're just happy I finally listened to you."
"Don't get cocky. You have more to learn. But I think you have graduated to another level."
"Good, because I need a new cape," I said, twirling in the bloody, torn, blue one Lolly had made.
Birdie smiled. "And what have you learned?"
"Stay away from needles."
"And?"
"Never trust a guy with a whip."
"And?"
I shook my head and shrugged. "I got nothing."
She whispered in my ear. "Follow your instincts." Then she strolled away.
Chance came up from behind me and put his arms around me. "I'm glad you're okay."
I turned into him and smiled. "Guess you can't always save me."
"No, you do a pretty good job of that yourself, Stacy." Chance kissed my cheek and walked away.
I watched him go, feeling a tiny bit sad.
From across the woods, Leo smiled at me and started in my direction.
Behind him, I caught a glimpse of a woman in a black cape, fading into the shadows.
END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Barbra Annino is the author of the enchanting and popular Stacy Justice mystery series. Sin City Goddess is the first title in her exciting Secret Goddess series and The Bitches of Everafter is the first novel in the new spellbinding trilogy based on the Grimm fairy tales. Originally from Chicago, she shares her home with her husband and their Great Danes, all of whom contribute to her books in unique ways.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2016 Barbra Annino
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Dane House, LLC
Witch Way To Amethyst: The Prequel (A Stacy Justice Mystery Book 0) Page 21
