Skeptic

by Denise Mathew

  He fished in his pocket for his keys, but his hands were trembling so badly that it made it difficult to grab hold of them, when he finally did, he flicked on the penlight on his key chain. The light illuminated a narrow cone ahead of him, and allowed him to get around to the front of the house without falling over something.

  As he moved around the perimeter of the house, he passed vine-covered trellises, a massive stone birdbath, covered with lichen, and a few white garden gnome statues, that were just plain creepy. Refusing to go back inside, he strode to the only place he felt safe, his car. He pressed the key fob, and threw open the driver's side door, slipping behind the wheel, before slamming the door behind him. As soon as he sat down, his anger over his stupidity boiled over. He flicked on the overhead light, locked the doors and started the engine, blasting the heat as high as it would go.

  "Fuck," he said, and laid his head on the steering wheel, then closed his eyes. The biscuits and fried chicken he had gorged on, seemed to turn to lead in his gut, and all he could think was that he wanted to get the fuck out of there. No one would blame him for high-tailing it back, especially not after all the screwed up shit that had gone down, but even as the thought passed through his mind, he knew he couldn't leave without Elise. But he wasn't sure if he could just swallow everything and smile dumbly either. His mind was muddled, and he was in no state to make any major decisions. Sleep might help. Maybe in the light of the morning, everything would make sense, and he would know what to do. He sighed and relaxed against the seat.

  He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard a soft rapping on the glass. Startled, he glanced through the rain-spattered passenger side window. When he spotted a pasty face through the rivulets of rain trailing down the glass, he froze in place, and didn't move until her knuckles hit the pane once more. He recognized Elise and flipped the locks open. Elise, drenched and shuddering, climbed into the passenger seat, .

  Before he could explain, Elise gripped his hand. Her skin was clammy, the tips of her fingers blue from cold, but it was the fear in her expression that he honed in on.

  "I know this is a lot to process, and it's not fair on you..." she started, but before she could say anything else, he dragged her into his arms. Huddled against his chest, she seemed as tiny and fragile as a baby bird, and he wanted to take care of her. Elise clung to his jacket, her breath coming in spasms.

  "Bibbidy boddidy boo?" he said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Thankfully, his words had the effect he'd wanted and she broke into laughter, then tilted her face to his. Her eyes were red rimmed from crying, and tears were still spilling down her cheeks, but she was laughing like a mad fool, and he smiled. But just as quickly as it had come, her smile fell away, and she darted her eyes toward the darkness that hid the path to the garage.

  "I wasn't lying when I said Nanny Flo didn't know much about witchcraft."

  "I guess that's changed a little since you left."

  Elise sighed.

  "She was always a firm believer in herbs and concoctions, and she did runes, tarot cards, palmistry, and sometimes scryed in a crystal ball, but the other stuff, the pentagram and the skull, they're not her, or they never were before. I know that bitch Mira, is behind all of this." She shook her head, then bit her bottom lip. "I don't even know if I want to be here anymore."

  Dakota nodded, because he didn't want to be there either, but how could they just leave? Tansy was still out there, and as far as he could see, Elise's grandmother, and the fact that she was a practicing witch, might be the only chance they had to fight back.

  Elise balled her hands into fists, and her expression turned grave. "I can't believe Nanny Flo fell for Mira's lies, after everything Mira did to me." Her voice took on a cold and dangerous edge.

  "What did she do to you?" Dakota asked.

  Elise shrugged, and gazed out at the drizzly gloom.

  "It was a long time ago, but it seems like yesterday."

  A shudder ran through her, and she pulled Dakota's arm around her.

  "We were friends once, Mira and I. We had so much in common, her parents were out of the picture too, and our grandmothers were raising us. When we were small, she spent practically every waking moment at our house. "

  Dakota kneaded the knot that had formed at the base of his skull.

  "So you were friends at one point, when did it turn into..." He paused and tilted his head to the side. "Well, to what I saw in there."

  Elise ran pale slender fingers through her wet hair a few times.

  "When Mira was sixteen, Gran Lucy died and Mira took it hard. She changed after that, did...things, that I couldn't forgive," Elise said simply, keeping her focus on the vinyl dashboard.

  "Things?" Dakota prodded. Whatever Mira had done to Elise had to be way more than just things. He had never seen Elise, no matter how ticked she was, direct the caliber of hatred toward anyone like she had with Mira.

  Elise sighed.

  "Witchcraft," she said, and massaged her temples, as if just saying the word hurt her head. She turned to face Dakota, there was fear in her expression, and it seemed to ignite a fire in the pit of his stomach.

  "And not the Wicca kind, where it's all Blessed be and positive energy, the coven she joined was an ancient group, who have practiced underground for years and..."

  She swallowed, and fell against his chest.

  "It was a long time ago...Mira persuaded me to go to a ritual meeting, she said that they wanted me to join their coven, because I was a medium, and I could help them with Necromancy."

  Dakota's eyes grew wide, and he locked on Elise, he knew what Necromancy was, and no matter how many people wanted to legitimize it, and say that it was fine if all the right precautions were taken, conjuring dead people to tell your future was extreme.

  "So what happened?" Dakota asked. Elise's lips quivered, and she placed her trembling hands on her lap.

  "It wasn't like I was green, I had grown up with a solid knowledge of the occult and supernatural, but what they did to..."

  Before Elise could finish her sentence, there was a loud tap on Dakota's window. Both he and Elise jumped, and snapped their heads to the side. For a fraction of a second, Mira's eyes seemed to glow like a cats in the duskiness, but by the time Dakota blinked, whatever he had thought he had seen, wasn't there anymore. He pressed the button, and the power window slid down silently. Just being close to her again, made his mouth go dry.

  "Are you guys coming inside or not?" Mira asked, her arms resting on the edge of the window, giving Dakota quite an eye full. The rain had plastered Mira's t-shirt to her body, framing her breasts, accentuating her nipples, even in the low light, and Dakota instantly throbbed with longing.

  "Yeah okay," he said, hastily because the last thing he wanted was for Elise to see how turned on he was. He rolled up the window, forcing Mira off the edge, then turned the car off and once again they were immersed in darkness.

  "But," Elise protested.

  He glanced over at her silhouette. He didn't want to go into the house any more than she did, but desperation had made him jumpy, and walking off his urges seemed the only way to avert a dicey situation.

  "Come on," he said, linking his fingers with hers. "We can't spend the night in the car." He released Elise's hand, popped the handle of the car door, and kicked it open. When he turned on his pocket flashlight, he noticed Mira, now a few feet away, appraising him, and even in the dark, he could have sworn she was staring down at his crotch.

  He locked his gaze on the house towering like a dark force behind her. A fork of blue and white lightning lit up the night sky, and the rain turned torrential, right after a clap of thunder, boomed in the distance. He heard Elise's door open, and slam shut, but he didn't bother looking back, remaining fixed on Mira's shadow. His guilt was only matched by another wave of desire, and though he didn't want to admit it, he couldn't help but hope, that his next encounter with Mira wouldn't be just a dream.

  11. ELISE


  Stripped to the waist, and wearing just a mint green, oversized terry cloth towel, around his hips, Dakota looked so pasty and drawn, that I worried he was coming down with something. I sipped my sweet tea, tapping at the floating ice cubes with a fingernail, and tried to recapture the enthusiasm that I'd had when we had sat at the table less than an hour before. But it was impossible, I was already sorry I had come back to Cape Glenn.

  I stared across the table at Dakota, who was picking at his food with little of the relish he'd had before. I wanted to talk more about what we had just witnessed, but I didn't have the energy to open up a discussion. My thoughts drifted back to Nanny's workshop. I knew that she had practiced Voodoo over the years, made gris-gris, charm bags filled with herbs and other things that were supposed to heal illnesses, protect or to incite love, but she had always been vehemently against witchcraft, and I couldn't understand what, or more importantly who, had changed her view on the subject.

  As if in response to my question, Mira strolled into the room. She was garbed in a purple hand-knit sweater, that was stretched to its limit over her bust line, but was an improvement over the wet t-shirt look she had showcased, when we had come in out of the rain. As much as I hated to admit it, even with her hair soaked, and her makeup smudged, she was as startling as she had always been. The only problem was, that she knew how stunning she was, and always took full advantage of her guiles to get whatever she wanted, even if what she wanted was someone else's boyfriend.

  She stopped a few feet behind Dakota, and licked her lips. I stiffened, hating that she didn't even have the common courtesy to go back to her own place, but even more than that, I despised the way she goggled Dakota. And Mira's unabashed interest in Dakota, made me wonder if it was possible for him to get tangled in her web, like so many other men had before. I shook the thought from my mind. Dakota loved me; he had traipsed halfway across the country without a backward glance. I had to believe that he was mine, and not even Mira could lure him away.

  A brilliant flash of lightning lit the dining room, as if on cue with Mira's appearance, and as she slipped into the chair next to Dakota, a thunderous roar, made the glasses on the table tinkle. Mira leaned closer to Dakota, who for his part, shrank away, as if the concept of touching her was unappealing. I was secretly mollified that he seemed wary of her.

  "Don't you have a home to go to?" I asked, hoping to ruffle her feathers a bit. She smirked, and shook her head.

  "Nanny said it's too stormy outside, so I should spend the night," she said, with a southern drawl, that I had taken speech lessons to lose.

  Dakota's fork froze midway between his mouth and his plate, and he shifted his eyes to Mira, then to me, and I pitied him, because it was so clear, that she made him uncomfortable.

  "Dakota, you look dead tired, you should get some sleep," I said, offering him an excuse to make an exit.

  "Sounds like a plan," he said, yawning, and getting to his feet.

  He leaned forward then kissed me lightly on the forehead, but before he left, Mira laid a hand on his forearm, and he froze.

  "I can show him to his room..." she said, rising from her chair. I shot her an arctic glare.

  "No need, I already showed him where everything is."

  Her comment made me so furious, that I could have happily smacked her smirk off her face. What right did she have to presume to show anyone, especially Dakota, around my house? She gave him an appraising once over, as if she hoped he might take her up on the offer, but he kept his gaze focused on me.

  "His loss," she purred, and with that Dakota turned, and exited the kitchen. As he strode away, Mira's eyes were shamelessly glued to his muscular butt, that as always, looked mouthwateringly hot, even in just a towel.

  "That's one fine ass," Mira said, licking her lips, and it was all I could do not to reach across the table and throttle her.

  "His ass is none of your concern," I spat, hoping that Dakota hadn't heard either of us, since I knew we sounded like teenagers, fighting over the cutest guy in high school. I loathed Mira for so adeptly managing to bring me down to her level, after all these years.

  "What are you doing in Cape Glenn anyway? I thought you'd run off with a coven years ago," I said, acid in my words, intentionally shifting the conversation, hoping I could gain the upper hand.

  "I left them quite a while ago," she said, in an amiable tone.

  As usual, Mira was unflappable. Her quiet calm, even in the worst conditions, was a characteristic that I had once admired, but now just served to provoke me more.

  "But why? You're such a great witch," I said in a syrupy tone.

  "How does it feel to get on TV and lie like a rug?" she countered, and now I was on the defensive, and she hadn't even worked up a sweat. Just when I was ready to let loose a string of obscenities, Nanny Flo ambled into the room and shot me a sly grin. She held a silver tray with an ornate rosebud edging, in her twisted hands.

  At first I thought she was carting out more food, but when I took a closer look, I realized that the tray held something entirely different. There was a three-inch long silver cylinder, with a removable cover, one white and one black candle, an athame, a large brown egg, a box of table salt, and a small glass container, of what suspiciously looked like blood.

  "Blood sausage my eye," I said, glowering at Mira. "What twisted evil have you been teaching her?"

  Mira's face was impassive, as if I hadn't said a thing. She extracted her lithe body from her chair, and took the tray from Nanny Flo. She laid the tray on the space across from me, then disappeared for a few minutes, before coming back with a two foot square, shaker style glossy black table, with a dovetailed drawer. She positioned the table a few feet away from us, and adeptly drew a salt pentagram on its surface, after she had said a few words under her breath, she arranged the items on the tray.

  I sprang from my seat, bracing my ribs with my arm.

  "Don't do that in here," I yelled.

  I felt a vise like grip on my wrist, and turned. Nanny Flo's eyes were dark, and her mouth was set in a grim line. Her frosty glare shut me up immediately. Unaffected by my outburst, Mira lit the black candle first, and spoke foreign words, then she locked her gaze on me. I felt the power in her stare, and though I couldn't say why, the energy had somehow changed in the room. A moment later, a swarm of ghosts swirled around Mira in a gauzy cloud of smoke, and seeing the spirits, made me realize that other than right then, I hadn't seen even one ghost or spirit, since I had arrived.

  "What's she doing?" I asked, my voice quavering.

  "You'll see," Nanny Flo said, in barely a whisper.

  Sparks of light snapped around Mira, and the quality of air shifted, into what I could only describe as how it feels just before a storm. A part of me wanted to flee, get as far away from whatever she was doing as possible, but another side of me, was intrigued at what she was doing, almost like a car accident that you just can't help but look at.

  "The name is Tansy Whitehead," she said, dropping a curled slip of yellow paper into the cylinder. I felt the blood drain from my face, because I didn't understand how she would know Tansy's name, since I hadn't even told Nanny Flo.

  The air crackled with static electricity. The space directly behind Mira began to shimmer, like tarmac on a hot day, and a shadowy image formed within it. I stepped around the dining table, closer to Mira. I was so captivated by what was happening, that my initial fears were forgotten.

  "What is it?" I asked, nobody in particular.

  "An astral vortex," Nanny Flo said in a low voice.

  Mira stared straight ahead, trancelike, her hands working as if they had a mind of their own. She tipped a few drops of the blood into the cylinder, and mumbled something, and the image behind her came into better focus.

  A heavyset woman, with short curly grey hair, her face in profile, sat watching television in an oversized puffy chair. The room was quaint, with bright green carpet and a matching forest green sofa and love seat. As far as I could see, the wom
an was oblivious to us, and I blinked my eyes a few times, expecting the illusion to be gone when I looked again. Instead, the vision grew stronger, until I could even make out her clothes, grey worn sweatpants and a loose blue fleece jacket, that she had zipped up to her throat.

  She clasped the remote control for the TV in her chubby fingers, and that's when I noticed her nails, long and black. I instinctively drew in a breath. As if she knew I was watching her, she angled her head to the side, then turned to face me. I backed away. Without her crimson lipstick, white powdered face, and what must have been a black wig, she didn't seem as daunting as she once had. Still, I wanted her image to fade, because she wasn't supposed to be in Nanny Flo's house, my only haven of protection.

  "Make it go away, stop it," I muttered, turning back to Nanny Flo, who was only a few feet behind me.

  Nanny Flo's eyes glittered with pleasure, and she took a few steps closer, seemingly too mesmerized to acknowledge me. I flipped back to Mira. Her eyes were wide and blank, and her chants grew louder by the moment.

  "Mira stop this, make it go away," I pleaded, but right at that moment she snatched up the egg, and brandished the athame, jabbing it into her palm. Blood filled her outstretched hand, and seemed attracted to the blade of the athame, as if it were a magnet. It quivered as it slid upwards, and covered the blade with thick crimson.

  "Yes, yes, yes," Nanny Flo breathed. The frenzied excitement in her voice chilled me to the depths of my being.