by Jill Nojack
The coroner considered, shrugged, and then said, “Suit yourself. But why don’t you come over here, and I’ll show you what I’m looking at. It doesn’t prove anything—we’re still going to need that blood match, but I can at least see if the weapon is a physical fit with the wound. I took a cast, and I’m about to pour a reconstruction to see if this tool fits in the wound site well enough that we can give it a tentative thumbs up. If not…”
Denton threw his hands up. “Does everything around here have to go so slowly? It’s maddening.” He paced around the table, becoming erratic again as he cursed and talked to himself incoherently.
Doc Don continued his slow pace as he created a flexible reconstruction from the cast and tried not to think about that punch in the nose.
Stall. Right. He thought about his perfectly al dente pasta getting soggy in the fridge. Mayor or not, Robert Andrews was going to owe him for this one.
***
When the witches opened their eyes again, still holding hands around what had once been a pile of ash, it now revealed a picture of Chief Denton cut from the local paper and a picture of a much younger Natalie, also from the local paper, that had been taken during her retirement party at the hospital. In addition, there was a mandrake root, a pouch which a quick sniff confirmed contained a combination of both familiar and unfamiliar herbs, and several slips of paper. One revealed a badly drawn pentacle, another an arrow, and the last was a symbol Natalie didn’t recognize; they were all sketched in what could only be blood.
The symbols had been threaded onto a strand of what appeared to be hand-twisted yarn between the images with the tip of the arrow pointing from the chief to the witch.
Natalie was impressed; she couldn’t deny it. This was complex, interesting magic, although the presence of the blood proclaimed its dark nature. She wondered what price Zelda would pay for it, although she wouldn’t shed a tear for those consequences. In any case, the curse should be broken now, and Denton would return to his base-level annoying state.
She cut the protective circle, removed the pictures and drawing from the string, and tore each of them into tiny pieces she balled in her fist while she explored the lawn for the location of her purse, fortunately locating it before she stumbled over it in the dark. She dropped the remnants of the ruined curse into its spacious interior as she waved a hand toward the porch to reactivate the security lights.
“Robert,” she called as he and Tom lit up in their lawn chairs. “Find out how Denton’s doing. Don should be able to send him on his way.”
***
“Come take a look, Karl,” Doc Don called over his shoulder. “Tell me what you think of this. It sure looks like a match.”
The only response was a loud thunk.
He turned and the chief was lying on the floor, blinking unfocused eyes.
He stooped and grabbed his wrist. Rapid but slowing pulse. Breathing easily. Denton’s dilated pupils were also moving inward, slowly adjusting back to normal when Don pulled up an eyelid. Despite his zombie-like state, all of that was a good sign.
He didn’t have a blood pressure cuff handy—a coroner seldom needed one. He wondered if he should call for the orderlies to transport Denton to the emergency room.
His decision-making process was interrupted by his ringing phone. He thought about not answering it while he dealt with the medical issue, but he realized it could be Robert. He snagged his phone and looked at the screen; it was the mayor. He was talking before he even got it to his ear.
“Tell me what’s wrong with Denton. He was out of control—nothing like his normal self, and showing signs of pathology or intoxication, then he passed out…”
His foot tapped impatiently as he listened to the man on the other end of the phone, then stopped when he said “…I’m pleased that I don’t have to stall him any longer, of course, but it looks like I’m going to have to admit him.”
Denton’s booming voice, back to its normally measured pace said, “Admit who? What happened here, Doc?”
When he turned around, Denton was scrambling up from the floor, apparently none the worse for wear.
“Sorry. I spoke too soon,” he said into the phone. “Things may be back to normal. But Robert? It appears that hand cultivator Denton brought in may certainly be the murder weapon… yes, it matches the wounds on Maureen’s body. Thought you’d want to know. There needs to be a blood match, obviously, before I can make that a one hundred percent statement, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure it was used to kill Maureen and probably to attack Junior Rangel.”
He turned to Denton. “Robert says to get down to the jail and let Natalie go. He’s had a tip about who framed her by leaving the weapon in her yard, and he wants you to sit tight for further instruction.” He put the phone back to his mouth and said, “Yes, he’s on his way out.” Which Denton wasn’t. He was standing in the doorway, his face unreadable.
Don gestured toward the door and shrugged as he finished the conversation.
“No, no trouble at all,” the coroner lied. “Just another day in Giles.”
23
William’s words came out in one long breath as he popped into the backyard at Natalie’s place. “I found her. She put the sphinx in a cage behind the pig sty at her place—it’s covered with a blanket, the poor thing must be miserable in there—and then she went into the house. I didn’t see Deborah.”
“Good work.” Natalie said. “And I was just going to text you. Back to jail. Denton is on his way and should be reasonable now. Do try to convincingly be me. Robert’s instructed him to let you out.”
“What about Jenny? She needs to be at home.”
Natalie’s right hand went to her chin and rubbed hard against it for a moment until she smirked and said, “I think I’ve got something that will fix that up.”
She filled him in quickly, then said, “She doesn’t need to know big details. Only that outline; she had to protect her children. Got it?”
“It could work.” He disappeared, then reappeared immediately, startling her. “And don’t go rushing after Zelda. Wait for me. There’s no reason to put yourself in danger.”
“Of course not,” she assured him. “Quickly. Off you go.”
He was gone again in a blink. She fumbled in her purse for the car keys.
***
“Nat!” Cassie called after her as she headed for the driveway. “You just told William you wouldn’t go after Zelda. So where are you going?”
Natalie didn’t stop, but her words traveled back as she continued forward. “To suppress her magic so that Denton has a chance against her. She’s already cursed him once. The goddess knows I’m not a fan, but he can’t take on a witch who’s clearly at the height of her powers.”
Cassie looked at the others as Natalie disappeared around the side of the house. “We have to go after her!”
“You know she can take care of herself,” Gillian said.
Robert added. “Indeed she can. In spades, I’d say.”
The sound of squealing tires leaving the driveway at the front of the house signaled that Natalie was on her way as Cassie said, “Have you all forgotten that she nearly got herself killed the last time she went looking for a murderer? She may be able to take care of herself, but she isn’t made of steel. Somebody has to have her back.”
Gillian sighed deeply. “She won’t thank us for it.”
“Yep. I know,” Cassie agreed. She started toward the driveway.
***
Natalie parked half a block from the James’s house, then took a small notebook and a piece of charcoal out of her purse. She wrote Zelda’s name and rubbed the charcoal stick across it, hoping that when she was done, it would reveal Zelda’s exact location within her home. She hoped for a stealth attack if possible, to have her hand on Zelda’s spine before the other woman knew she was there.
Her casting was disturbed when William appeared with a pop in the seat beside her.
“I hate bucket seats,” he said. “It
used to be so cozy riding along hip to hip with my arm around you in the Buick, remember? Who decided keeping people apart was a good idea, anyway?”
“I have a wonderful idea,” she said as the beginning of the sketch she’d hoped for disappeared, her focus for the spell ruined. “Why don’t you go into Boston and find yourself a nice Skylark convertible at one of the classic car dealers there. Go now. You’ll have to wait until they open up in the morning, but that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll find some way to amuse myself while you’re gone.”
She could tell by the sound of his voice that he was smiling. “Gosh, I’d love to! Oh wait, sorry—I can’t leave town. It appears you’re stuck with me.”
“You’re not stopping me from confronting her! If that’s what you’re planning, you haven’t thought it through very well. If Jenny tells the story convincingly enough, Denton is on his way to pick up Zelda right now.”
“Yes. The cops will do the cop work.”
“The problem with that scenario is that he’ll be walking into a magical maelstrom if she’s determined to defend her daughter—mothers are like that, I understand—and there’s a child trapped in the body of a sphinx in a cage in the back. If Zelda doesn’t kill him, that should easily blow the man’s perception of reality.”
“I didn’t think of that.”
“No, of course you didn’t. I don’t blame you that you didn’t—you haven’t spent seventy years keeping this town’s secrets. When it comes to matters of my coven and its witches, you need to stay out of my way.”
“Gee, Nat, I can still help. I’ll get the girl, the sphinx-whatever she is—away. Would that make things easier for you?”
“It would. Thank you. But for the time being, you’ll have to leave her in the cage, so take it with you. And don’t take her to Jenny just yet, even if Denton has let her go. Find someplace neutral to keep her until I’ve had time to examine her.”
“You got it. I know a safe place,” he said. Then she was looking at an empty passenger seat.
She stepped out of the car, hoping her prey didn’t know she was coming. Once she was taken care of and Natalie got the truth out of her, taking care of Deborah too would be a piece of cake.
***
Deborah was completely out of patience, standing in the dark shed, waiting. She’d decided she needed her mother’s presence as a safety net; it was her spell, after all. So she was almost glad to see her when the door opened, framing Zelda’s familiar body in a lighter darkness.
She held up the bottle labeled with the “D” and grinned as she shone the light from her phone display on the label. “So, your surprise better be a good one, mom.” She moved it to her lips.
“Put it down! I told you to wait for me,” Zelda shouted. “Why don’t you ever obey me?”
Deborah laughed and tipped the bottle up.
“N-o-o-o-o-o-o!” Zelda screamed as she lunged to bat the bottle away.
The potion tasted foul, but Deborah knocked it back like it was a Sex on the Beach, holding her mother at bay with an outstretched arm. She’d expected the same tingle that her own magical cocktails gave her, but when it hit her system, she doubled over; it filled her stomach with fire.
The agony swallowed her as her mother’s screams turned to sobs.
24
Natalie tiptoed up to the back door and looked in through the nicotine-stained lace cafe curtains that covered the window. There was no one visible in the mudroom or the large kitchen it opened into. She tried the door. It turned easily; she didn’t have to use magic. Were they expecting her? Was it a trap?
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her quietly, keeping her eyes to the front, and her ears alert for any sound. The hall was lit by a bare bulb above her head.
She started forward cautiously; she knew she was too old to get into a battle with a woman who was over twenty years her junior, even if she didn’t doubt her own superior magic. But a knock on the head from an opponent who was faster than she was would be every bit as effective as a well-aimed magical pulse. No point overestimating her own abilities in the same way she’d apparently underestimated Zelda’s for so many years.
She was crossing through the kitchen when a sound from the back yard made her stop, turn, and glide back to the window. There was enough moonlight to see that the door to the big shed was open. She was sure it hadn’t been open before.
Someone outside was screaming a wordless scream.
Then, in the distance, the sound of sirens joined in.
Denton. She didn’t have time to waste. She made a decision. If it wasn’t Zelda making the ruckus, the woman would be on her way out to see what was happening in her backyard soon enough. Natalie headed for the shed as fast as she could manage, somewhere between a speed walk and a shuffling jog.
Bibbity bobbing beagles! The sirens were too close. She burst into the shed, breathing heavy, and didn’t understand what she was seeing.
Zelda was there, her arms around a large pink pig, sobbing like her heart was broken. There was someone in the back, too. She squinted into the dim recesses of the building: Butch Holgerson? Chained, was he? There goes the accomplice theory.
With no more time to waste, she went to her knees and pressed a hand against Zelda’s back. The woman, still wracked with emotion, barely seemed to notice. Natalie closed her eyes and probed for the source of her magic, squeezing it down, compressing it, then wrapping it in her own magical essence, leaving a small protected node that Zelda would no longer be able to access for as long as Natalie lived.
Zelda hadn’t fought her, even when Natalie grasped the magic at her spine and dug in. It wasn’t something that happened painlessly; the woman had to know what was being done to her.
She pushed herself to a standing position as the sirens outside stopped. “It’s done. For all intents and purposes, you are no longer a witch. I suggest you go quietly when the police come for you. And where’s your daughter?”
The pig bolted out of Zelda’s grasp suddenly and headed for Butch. He threw his legs out to block it, screaming, “Keep her away from me. It’s disgusting. I’d rather be in jail than be anywhere near you people!”
Zelda started sobbing anew, having maneuvered herself to a sitting position, her knees drawn in to her chest. “Oh Deborah, I never meant…”
Natalie cut her off, putting it together. “The pig? That’s Deborah?”
A fresh burst of tears told her she was right. Natalie’s strength drained out of her; she moved toward a table full of clay pots and gardening tools and leaned heavily on the hand she rested there. The price, she thought, feeling weary to her bones. But no child should pay for a parent’s sins.
“Quickly,” she said. “Tell me everything. I’ll do what I can to help her, but only if you tell me all of it. Right now! Every detail.”
***
Denton burst through the open shed door, gun raised as Natalie snapped her purse shut on the James’s family grimoire and the other potion. When he saw Natalie, he stopped on a dime. “You? How did you get here before me? Wherever there’s trouble…”
“Point that at the murderess instead of me,” Natalie sniped, her flagging energy recharging in response to Denton’s accusation.
“I think you’ll be wanting Ms. Zelda James instead. You may also want to free her prisoner, who, other than being a poor excuse for a human being, apparently had nothing to do with any of it.” She inclined her head toward Butch.
Denton’s eyes moved to the back of the shed.
“And I’d watch the pig as well. She’s in a nasty mood.”
The pig squealed and rushed toward him, but it backed away quickly when Denton dropped the barrel of his weapon to aim between its eyes.
William was next through the door, and Natalie could see the rest of her friends—who should have stayed put—behind him. At least they’d stopped at the Sanders place so that Tom and Cassie could retrieve some clothes.
“Chief,” William asked, “What do you need help
with?”
Denton jerked his head toward Natalie. “Get her out of here, but don’t let her leave. Then grab your evidence kit. I’ll have the boys take care of the suspects.” Denton alternated between pointing his pistol at the pig, then Zelda, and then Butch, even though he didn’t present a threat, chained as he was. Natalie wondered if Denton was still groggy from the curse, but there was nothing she could do about it if he was. He seemed to have things under control well enough.
“Go on, Nat,” William said. “You heard the man. If you could please stay back from the scene, I’d appreciate it.” He raised his eyebrows, pleading.
She glared at him as she turned to go. He reached out to pat her shoulder—a weak apology—and she brushed his hand away. He was in the dog house now. No point pretending otherwise.
As she started to go, Zelda begged, “You promised to take care of her! By the Goddess, swear an oath!” She lapsed into unintelligible pleading then, buried by her sobs.
Natalie turned to meet the woman’s eyes where she still sat, back against the wall, cringing away from the gun that Denton had turned on her as she wailed. The high priestess of the Giles coven had no choice but to honor the request of her covener, even if what she’d been told meant that she’d been wrong about Deborah. It had been Zelda all along. As she would have deduced, obviously, with more time. Hadn’t she often said that the girl would be the ruin of her mother?
She nodded her assent and bent down to quickly whisper in Zelda’s ear, “I bind my magic to this oath. May the Goddess strip it from me if I dishonor it. So mote it be.”
Then she turned, the promise bound, as Denton bellowed, “Bailey, I said get her out of here!”
***
Officers Ben Rogers and Horace Barnes held onto Zelda firmly while they helped her stand, then secured handcuffs around her wrists. While they took care of the woman, William put a hand on the pig, knowing that his ability to influence emotions would work whether or not its brain was animal or human. It allowed him to guide it to the sty, where he left it with a kind, “you’ll be okay here for now,” and a last, soothing pulse.
