The Empty Cradle

by Jill Nojack

  He followed her touch.

  15

  “I saw the thing. It could have been the killer,” Natalie said, holding her hands about four inches apart in front of the bib of her old blue-and-white striped denim overalls. “William said it had paws as big as a stack of Tom’s buttermilk pancakes, and Junior said it has claws as sharp as kitchen knives. Now, Junior, he says it was a monster, deformed and hideous, and I believe he saw something that neither he nor nature could explain. He had a compelling reason to tell the truth. Even William said it was no kind of animal he’d ever seen. It’s Anat’s creature. It has to be.”

  She stumbled on a large rock in the path in her big boots, and Cassie reached out a hand to steady her. “Keep your eye on the path, Nat. It’s treacherous out here. The trees are too dense, and this path isn’t kept up. Why can’t we use the modern ritual ground? Why do we have to go to the old one? And why aren’t we waiting until the moon rises?”

  “Because I’m sure the Goddess prefers her original stone altar to the bare grass. The founding family placed it there for her. And there’s no time to wait for the perfect conditions. With a child missing…”

  Gillian agreed. “She has a point, sweetie. Time isn’t our friend right now. And the old grounds are the only place any of us have ever felt the Goddess so closely—it’s where, after all, she spoke through me when…”

  “Yes, yes,” Natalie said, cutting her off abruptly. “Everyone knows you’re her special favorite. That’s why I need you both—Cassie to make a mother’s plea for the return of a child, and you because you make such a good empty vessel.”

  Gillian held aside a branch for Cassie to pass and then followed after her, “Nat, you wouldn’t understand. You don’t have that kind of faith. It was…I felt like I was part of the whole universe, a speck of stardust in a vast field of interconnected molecules. It was astounding to be both so large and so small all at the same time. It was an amazing experience. If you’d had it, you’d want to repeat it as much as I do.”

  “Then here’s hoping you get your chance, and your Goddess bothers to rouse herself for the sake of a child.”

  ***

  “Appropriate dress, please,” Natalie commanded. The other two moved to obey, their quibbling silenced now that Natalie had invoked the role of high priestess. The others placed their bags well off to the side of the ritual grounds before slipping on their hooded black robes.

  She smiled and started about her business. Yes, it was as it should be.

  Her own robe and the supplies for the drawing-down ceremony came quickly out of her red handbag. She put them down atop the rough gray face of the stone altar. After pulling on her robe and tying it tightly around her waist, she placed the four candles—red, yellow, green, and blue to represent fire, air, earth, and water. Next to them, a bowl of water and a bowl of salt.

  She didn’t need to consult her compass to leave a door at the north. She had drawn a circle here only a few months ago when the coven’s loyalties had been split by a demon disguised as one of the coven’s own. She hadn’t thought there would ever be a need for this place again.

  It was a common ritual, one she knew by heart, but it had only once resulted in an actual possession. She could only hope for the same result today. She turned to them and said, "Let it be known that the circle is about to be cast. All who enter must do so in perfect love and perfect trust."

  She picked up the athame she’d earlier laid on a thick patch of moss on the altar’s top. It was a beautifully worked jeweled dagger that had been passed down from generation to generation and traveled with her family across an ocean. With it, she drew the concentric circles that gave them protection from unwanted spirits. At the north, she left the open door, beckoning for the other two to enter.

  To Cassie, who stood the closest, she said, “The circle is cast. You may enter,” but then blocked her path as she moved to the circle’s symbolic door, adding, “How do you enter the circle?”

  The young witch replied, “In perfect love and perfect trust.”

  Natalie stood aside for her to take her place and repeated the same process with Gillian, who replied the same.

  When they stood together a few feet away from the altar, faces obscured by their hoods, and their hands hidden in the pockets of their robes, her robe brushed against the forest floor as she moved smoothly to the altar, lit the candles, and recited the blessing for their safety. "Watch over those who enter here in perfect love and perfect trust.”

  Natalie, who had until recently been convinced that the Goddess was a metaphor for the gifts of nature, had been disabused of her atheism abruptly by the appearance of not one, but two, goddesses in the small town of Giles. It was difficult for her to assure herself that she had perfect trust in whatever the goddess was, but she trusted her friends absolutely, and as with all of her interactions with magic, she hoped that would be enough. She used the athame to draw the pentacle that closed the door.

  Natalie had made a conscious choice not to bring Robert into it. If he wouldn’t share what he knew with her, she wasn’t going to share what she knew with him, either. Despite his allowing her to view the body with the coroner, she was still shut out of Denton’s investigation. He might disapprove and shut the ritual down. At least Gillian had seen the sense of it and agreed to keep her silence with him for now.

  Natalie didn’t mind taking the high priest’s role, but she didn’t look forward to all the kissing; she avoided kissing William most of the time due to its unfamiliarity. Being required to kiss Gillian so many times in so many places wasn’t something she looked forward to.

  She nodded, and Gillian moved toward her, then stood still, silent.

  "I invoke and beseech thee, O mighty Mother of all life and fertility. By seed and not, by stem and bud, by leaf and flower and fruit, by life and love, do I invoke thee, to descend into the body of thy servant, Gillian."

  She bent to place a kiss lightly on the top of Gillian’s leather-sandaled foot. "Blessed be thy feet, that have brought thee in these ways."

  She then moved upward, kissing the other woman’s knees, the abdomen which represented her womb, her breast, her lips, speaking the blessing in turn for each of them.

  After she finished each blessing, the other two said, "Blessed be," softly in unison.

  Natalie moved back when it was done, bowing her head as she asked, "Goddess, are you with your servant?"

  When she raised her eyes again to Gillian’s face, it wasn’t Gillian who looked back at her, that was clear. It was the Goddess who stood before her now, her expression open but with a touch of anger.

  “Why have you called me? My sister is still contained in the prison you created for her. You have no cause to draw me down among you. If you have called me in vain for some silly human problem, I promise you I will not come again no matter what your need.”

  Natalie dipped her head, motioning to Cassie to stand beside her.

  Cassie stepped forward hesitantly, one hand on her belly. “As a mother, I seek your guidance. There is a missing child, the child’s grandmother has been murdered, and we believe your sister Anat may have planted the seed of the creature who roams now in our woods. If this creature has the child…”

  The Goddess threw back her head, causing Gillian’s hood to slide off as the goddess laughed. “I am sure my sister has planted traps that you are yet to discover. But rest assured, the creature you seek would never harm the child. However, I will tell you this; capture the one, and you will find the other.”

  She leaned in close, Gillian’s eyes with their profusion of laugh lines narrowing into slits, “But this is a human story with a human villain, not a task for gods. Do not draw me down again with your small tragedies. I am always near you, in the very air you breathe, but I will not borrow this shell again.”

  With that, Gillian’s body slumped, and the other two witches rushed forward to prop her up and lower her slowly to the ground.

  “Pustulating poisoned pound ca
ke!” Natalie sniped, venting her frustration as she went to one knee and took Gillian’s pulse.

  “That could have gone so much better.”

  ***

  Junior Rangel hadn’t done well in school, and even his own parents had whispered behind his back that they despaired for what would become of him. But Junior knew what his strengths were. He could make a dead thing look just like it did when it was alive, and he could track a live thing better than any hound.

  It had pained him to leave his flask behind in the truck, but when he’d spotted the creature through the leaves as he’d driven along the road that bordered Corey Woods, he didn’t want his senses to be dulled for the hunt. He’d spent at least an hour now tracking the creature from the place where he’d spotted it. Corey Woods had never felt so vast.

  The thing’s path had twisted and turned and stopped and started, but Junior picked it up again every time he thought he’d lost it. He’d had to go to his knees to inspect a bent twig or a disturbed patch of leaves mulching themselves beneath the sheltering trees, but he’d never lost the trail for good. He couldn’t stop, not even now with his belly whining about his missed lunch and his brain hammering him for drink; he knew he was close. He had to be.

  When a yelp, followed by a strangled cry, sounded in the brush directly ahead, he was sure he’d found his prey as it took prey of its own. He rushed forward to finish the hunt, entering a clearing and scanning it from left to right, steadier on his feet than he’d been for days, dart gun snug against his shoulder.

  He was ready for the beast, whatever the beast might be.

  ***

  Natalie timed Gillian’s pulse. It was a little fast, but strong. She appeared to be none the worse for wear from the possession, even though she was still passed out cold when a long, low-pitched curse and a high-pitched keening cry split the silence of the woods.

  Natalie’s head snapped upward to Cassie’s, greeting the girl’s eyes that were now so dilated that they looked like black disks with just a brief rim of blue inside the white.

  “Gillian’s fine,” she said. “She should be awake any moment, but someone needs to stay with her.”

  Cassie stood. “You stay in case she needs medical help. I’ll go…if it’s Dahlia….”

  “No!” Natalie commanded. “Whatever’s in these woods, it’s my responsibility. And that’s the cry of the creature, not of a child. It can’t fool me this time. You stay with Gillian until she’s on her feet again and can fend for herself.”

  Cassie nodded as she gave Natalie a hand up, pulling her phone from her pocket. “Should I call William?”

  “Leave William out of it. I can take care of myself, thank you. I’ve managed just fine for seventy-four years without someone to rush in and save me. I’ll manage for one more night. And anyway, if I need him, I can call him myself.”

  She shrugged off her robe and abandoned it to the forest floor, used the athame to cut the ritual circle, and located a game trail off the main path that led in the direction of the cries, her heart beating faster than an old heart should.

  16

  Jenny clung tightly to Daisy, cradling the baby in one arm, as she opened the door to the bright afternoon sun and her new mentor. She said, “Hi. I’m Jenny. Come on in.”

  The woman nodded and entered, her long gypsy skirt sweeping behind her, her large brown eyes taking in the scene as the gold on her painted eyelids and fingernails shimmered against her warm brown skin.

  Cinnamon Brown, for that’s who Gillian had sent, exuded confidence in every gesture. Her eyes swept across the scene—Daisy in the crook of Jenny’s arm, Delphinium asleep in a drawer on the living room floor. Then they turned to Jenny.

  Jenny was suddenly conscious of her unwashed hair and the faint purple circles that blossomed beneath her eyes. She felt like a frump in her rumpled t-shirt, an old dish towel covered in congealing spit-up draped over her left shoulder. So much for accessorizing.

  Cinnamon finished her survey of the situation and said, “I don’t help with children. My help is only for you. When we meet, you’ll have someone else take care of them if you can’t keep them from disrupting our meetings. You need to be able to absorb your lessons without distractions.”

  Jenny felt a twinge in her newly discovered backbone at the thought of being separated from her daughters, but she decided against rebellion. She needed help with her magic, she knew that. If Cassie and Gillian, who had done so much for her in the past three days, thought this woman was the one to provide it, then she’d do as she was told, even if it meant using up the “mad money” her mother kept in her underwear drawer.

  Her eyes squeezed tight to prevent tears as the memories came rushing in. She took a deep breath and opened them, saying, “I’ll have someone watch them.”

  She was surprised when Cinnamon’s face softened and she said, “Girl, I’m sorry for your loss. I knew your mother, and she was a good woman. But she’d agree—a witch has a responsibility to the magic. She has to control it, or it will control her. You’ve neglected this responsibility by denying your nature.” Cinnamon tucked a stray strand back into the colorful chiffon scarf she wore tied around a long cascade of dark, wavy tresses. “And all for a man who couldn’t accept you for who you are.”

  Jenny took a deep breath again. “I know. I know I made this mess. And now my mother is dead and my baby is missing.” She sobbed softly at the end, working hard to prevent the emotion from taking over.

  “Jenny-girl, the past is gone. I don’t deal in the past, I deal in the future. The last time I drew my own cards, they told me it included a younger person, someone I would guide and who would make me proud. When Gillian asked me to take you on as a trainee, I was sure it was you.”

  “I…” Jenny didn’t know what to say. But the woman’s confidence was powerful; it made her feel less hopeless.

  “Is there a table where we can sit, and I can lay the cards?” She pulled a bundle that was tied up in silk out of the large purse that matched the blue in her headscarf. “We’ll start with those, then plan our times together later.” Cinnamon looked pointedly at the dozing infant still tucked up against Jenny’s breast. “Hopefully there won’t be any interruptions…but even if there are, I want to read for you tonight. I need to understand the potential future you’re facing.”

  Jenny reluctantly tucked Daisy, who was quiet now for however long that would last, into her own drawer next to Delphie’s, then led the other woman to the small kitchen where she watched her lay the cards out in the shape of a cross. When she had completed it, she supplemented it with three cards to the right hand side.

  “That’s called a Celtic cross, right? I had a friend who sometimes read my cards in high school,” Jenny said.

  “A friend who was a witch?”

  “No. I don’t think so. She was from Salem, but not from any of the known witching families, according to my mom.” The corners of Jenny’s mouth drooped.

  “And did her readings ever point to things that later came true?”

  “Nah…but it was fun anyway.”

  “Then you’ve never had your cards read,” Cinnamon replied. The way she said it, Jenny knew she shouldn’t even think about disagreeing. “When I read them, the future will come to be unless you work hard to change it by the turning of your days from that path.”

  “Can a person really change their destiny?” She watched Cinnamon’s face closely. The fortune teller’s smile in response to the question revealed straight white teeth and deep dimples.

  “Of course, girl. We all can. What would be the point of any of this if we couldn’t exert control over our personal universes? I wouldn’t want to live that life.”

  No. Jenny thought, I don’t want to live that life anymore, either.

  ***

  Natalie stumbled over something in the path just as she entered a small clearing. She caught herself as she fell, and her palms scraped along the ground painfully as her weight shoved them through the covering of leaf
mulch from last fall. One knee hit a stone, and the other hit soft earth hard as she shifted her weight reflexively. She ended flat on her face as her hands and knees slid through the slick muck beneath the mulch.

  There was that cry again—a child’s cry she was sure, even though she’d been fooled before, a pitiful thing, not so far away, followed by a loud and irritated shushing sound, then silence. She pushed herself up for a look, searching for the source of the sound and saw a shape in the woods moving away in the shadows of the trees, a smaller shape at its side.

  The creature, for she was sure that’s what it was, turned back for a moment. Natalie couldn’t see it clearly because of the distance and the overshadowing trees, but she saw its golden eyes illuminated by a flash of sunlight between the leaves.

  She stood to follow, but a moan stopped her and she discovered it wasn’t a root or a stone she’d stumbled over but a man’s boot attached to a man’s leg.

  It was Junior Rangel. His upper leg was bloodied. She moved to him and assessed the damage.

  Four deep slashes. No spurting, but there was still a lot of blood spilled and spilling. Her nurse’s instinct took over as she used the athame to cut away his pant leg, then fashioned a bandage from the denim, tying it tightly around the wounds and keeping her right hand pressed against it to apply pressure and healing as she asked, “Who attacked you?”

  Junior managed to get out weakly, “Didn’t see who it was.” Then he passed out

  She made a call.

  William appeared beside her.

  “Hospital,” was all she said.

  He picked up the unconscious man without a sound. They disappeared, leaving her alone in the silence.

  ***

  “Nat!” Cassie called in relief as Natalie emerged into the ritual space. Cassie took in her scraped and filthy knees and hands with a glance. When her eyes lit on the darker red hand prints on Natalie’s bright red purse, her pupils widened to disks again. “Omigod! Are you all right?”