The Witcher Chime

by Amity Green

  “Are you okay?” Molly asked, softly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, it’s not your fault,” she replied.

  “I meant because she was your friend.”

  “I know. I’ll be okay. It’s a lot to deal with so, I mean, I think I’m okay.”

  “What happened with Dad?”

  “It’s a long story,” Savannah replied. She edged into line with other cars leaving the parking loop. “We definitely need to talk about it.” She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to remain tough enough to shelf what she’d learned about Tina and deliver the news before she lost her nerve. She’d killed their father. Molly wasn’t up to speed with all the reasons why. She didn’t understand about Witcher—Val-Kryel, whatever he really was. Rather than try to explain all she’d learned in the last few days, she decided to go with the surface issue. Daddy was gone. That’s what a sane person would have done.

  Molly waited, almost like she dreaded what was to come. Savannah could only imagine what was going through her mind. Thinking about what their father had done to Molly wasn’t something Savannah would detail. They rode in silence through Cripple Creek. Once the truck rolled onto Highway 67 to Victor, Savannah took a deep breath. Seven miles separated the two small towns. Fifteen minutes of travel time, maybe. In that small amount of time, she would change her little sister’s life forever.

  “This isn’t going to be easy, Molly. Please just remember I love you more than anything, okay? I did what I had to, to make things better. I would never—”

  “Just say it already,” Molly said. She looked out to passing mine tailings and the ruins of Mound City, the old rock towers and crumbling walls peeking from beneath outcroppings of wild raspberries and current bushes.

  “Okay. Dad won’t be around anymore. He came at me. Tried to …” she drifted off, biting a lip briefly. A deep breath didn’t stop her voice from wavering. “We fought. He wouldn’t stop and I was so scared, I just panicked and ran. He broke through into my bedroom and I shot him.” The lie rolled out far too easily. Fighting would have done no good because he was too far gone by the time he— Witcher busted in. Savannah shifted in the driver’s seat, a little disturbed with hearing herself talk about it. She was actually relieved, getting it out there. “I knew no one would believe what he did. I burned his body to ashes to hide what happened.”

  Molly didn’t move, didn’t say anything or even twitch. Savannah let her have time to process. After a moment, one shaky hand wiped at tears beneath her eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It was always dark when I saw him like that, so I didn’t really focus on his face. He deserved it,” she said, a sob breaking her speech. “I feel horrible saying that. Please don’t hate me. It’s been awful, Savannah. I don’t know what I did … I mean, I tried to cover up.” She doubled over, chest on her knees, sobbing and trying to hide at the same time.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” Savannah said. She rubbed Molly’s back with one hand and kept the truck on the road with the other. “You didn’t do anything to deserve it. It’s going to be all right.”

  “You don’t understand,” Molly said around a sob.

  Savannah pulled the length of Molly’s hair from the spots where it stuck to her sister’s cheek, eyes darting to the road and back. Molly mopped at her face using a forearm. Savannah didn’t ask what she might not understand about it. There would be time to talk through what needed to be said. She wouldn’t push Molly. Her sister probably wasn’t aware she knew about Daddy and the molestations. Telling the lie about circumstances leading up to her killing their dad was well worth it. She’d sat quietly waiting for him to blast through her door, with every intention of shooting him dead as hell while Witcher was inside him.

  After a few moments of silence, Molly straightened in the seat. She’d stopped crying. Savannah fought the urge to start. What sort of world did they live in where the death of their father made it easier to go home? It wasn’t fair to her sister. She held her breath, thinking about Daddy. It was completely unfair to him, too. She wondered about what Witcher said, the part about their father having the urges to do the things he’d done to Molly, how he’d merely pushed Jack in the direction to follow his desire. Certainly that was a lie. Jack Caleman was a good man. A great father. The one of their parents she could talk to about anything. Try as she might, she couldn’t hold back. The first of many tears betrayed her, sliding down her cheek. She wiped at it, angrily. There was no use in crying. It wouldn’t bring Daddy back, or Chaz, or Mom, or Molly’s innocence or her own sanity for that matter.

  Washboards jittered the truck, the tail end fishtailing a little. Savannah rocketed back to the moment.

  “Damn,” she said, letting off the gas. “The road’s sure tore up.” She downshifted, bringing the front end around to face the right way with trembling hands.

  “There’s no one on the road. Just sit a second,” Molly said. A terrible try at a smile creased her cheeks.

  Savannah nodded, shaking out her grip. After a moment, she signaled and pulled forward to get them home.

  ***

  Chapter 18

  “Do you ever think about how kids in cities, like the ‘Springs, get to go watch movies and go roller skating and stuff?” Molly kicked her feet lazily from the porch swing. Savannah perched on one of Mom’s kitchen chairs she’d dragged outside. No one was around to gripe about the good furniture being removed from where it belonged, so she figured she’d make good use.

  “Yeah. I really wanted to see ‘Heathers’.” A puff of wind drove two curled, brown leaves against one of her boots. The old wind chime piped up, tinkling a few notes. The ring suspending the chime from a hook spun around, the thin bars glinting in the morning sun. Molly’s hair was loose around her arms and back, and a long strand picked up in the breeze, tangling in the chain holding the swing. She looked just like Savannah felt. One night of restless sleep wasn’t enough. They both got up early out of habit to check the animals. Four hens pecked and scratched inside the barn and they’d found seven eggs tucked in new nests rounded into loose hay.

  “Ow,” Molly said, pulling her hair free. “Maybe we could rent it at the Fortune Club.”

  Savannah nodded. The Club was the only store in Victor, providing the closest selection of food, VHS tapes, a soda and sundae bar, and cheap trinkets for tourists to buy. The place reeked from cigarette smoke, but the ice cream was worth toughing out a trip in.

  “So, how do you feel about maybe moving to Colorado Springs? I mean, school’s out and all,” she said.

  Molly watched her feet, obviously thinking. A moment later she looked up. “I don’t want to leave. Dad’s gone. You’re eighteen now. And besides, Mom and Chaz might come home and we should be here.”

  It wasn’t the answer Savannah hoped for, but she understood. For Molly, the danger had passed. She had a good point about their mother and Chaz. There was the outside possibility they would come back.

  “I have Dad’s checkbook. I guess I could sign one of the checks and we could fill it out when we get up there.” Their parents had done it before, sending them inside the store with a signed check that Savannah would finish filling out inside at the register. Making an appearance in town was a good idea. Getting the locals worked up thinking they’d all disappeared wouldn’t do them any good. The movies would keep Molly busy so Savannah could wrap her head around what to do next. She had to wonder if she could possibly hide from Witcher anyway.

  “We can go as soon as you’re ready.” Savannah got up to go inside to get their check ready.

  “I’m ready when you are.” Molly didn’t get up, just pushed the swing into motion.

  “You wanna go like that?”

  Molly looked down at her sweats and tee shirt. “I just need to get my shoes.” She got up and walked past. Savannah followed her inside.

  Forging her father’s name came a little too easily. She signed two checks, one to fill up the Toyota at the Jet Service Station and another for groceries and movie
s. Lying to the people she’d known since birth took a lot more effort, but it was a necessity. She flawlessly recited the story she’d cooked up. Their parents were well and having fun visiting family in Alabama. Yes, the girls were fine and staying out of trouble. Summer break was off to an awesome start.

  Savannah put her hair in a high ponytail and asked for job applications at both places. They loaded three grocery sacks and a selection of movies into the truck and headed home before someone asked the wrong question.

  The road was still a little rough in places. Avoiding all the washboards was impossible and they snuck up in the road, catching her off guard. The ride was rough in places. Molly doubled over in her seat, clutching her stomach.

  “What’s wrong?” Savannah glanced back and forth between the road and Molly, who didn’t reply. She downshifted. They were almost to their driveway.

  “It’s a cramp,” Molly said. She sat up but didn’t straighten fully, arms still wrapped around her abdomen. A white tint coated her face and she looked like she was going to be sick. Just as Savannah was going to offer to stop so she could get out, Molly’s eyes shot wide.

  “Look out!”

  Savannah turned the wheel hard as the truck slammed into an outcropping of aspens. Wood snapped as the Toyota plowed through the small, spindly trees and smashed to a stop against a big, aged tree trunk. The engine died. Savannah pried her fingers loose from the wheel and moved her feet from the brake and clutch pedals. Leaves fell onto the hood and dust swirled in through the open windows.

  “Crap,” she mumbled. They’d hit pretty hard, but it was just a tree. Hopefully the damage wasn’t really bad. Her ears rang and her knees hurt like they’d smacked against the bottom of the dash. Molly was slumped over again.

  “You okay?” Savannah nudged Molly’s shoulder. She didn’t answer, dark hair tossed in every direction. Savannah pulled hair from around Molly’s face, stopping when her hand smoothed over a goose egg sized knot growing on Molly’s forehead.

  “Mol?”

  Still nothing. Molly’s eyes were closed and she breathed slowly through her nose.

  A tree branch crashed onto the hood of the truck, the jagged wood scraping into the blue paint. Savannah cringed until the noise stopped, arms wrapped around her head. She peeked out. The branch was old and long since dead, crooked fingerlings of stems darkened and brittle. Wood and dried bark scattered all over the windshield and hood. Molly still hadn’t moved.

  Savannah hit the steering wheel, which felt entirely too good. A sob hung in her throat. Tears erupted and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. She smacked the wheel again and again.

  “Stupid trees. I hate this truck!” Thinking she could pull off holding up a semblance of normalcy and take care of Molly was a big joke. She couldn’t even get them to and from the damned grocery store safely. She beat the dash with her fists and kept screaming.

  The door flew open and a hand locked on her forearm, jerking her out and slinging her free of the truck. She never got her balance or a good foothold so she fell backward in the rocks and fallen branches. The door slammed shut. Savannah struggled free of the twisted pile of limbs, both hers and the loosened dead aspen branches, and looked up.

  Witcher glared down at her, anger contorting his features. His shirt tails hung loose over a pair of black jeans and biker boots. Something was much different about him, like he was more real than before. His hair was a little longer and a little messy in a stylish way.

  “Nice driving, Earnhardt.”

  “Piss off!” She growled. His words were clear with no hint of an accent remaining. He talked like the kids at school.

  Stomping forward, he grasped her by the shoulders and jerked her upright, letting go as she collided with the side of the truck bed. Savannah caught the top of the bed and held herself up. He came at her again, grasping the root of her ponytail.

  “Ow!” She grabbed at his forearm with both hands, nails biting into skin below his folded up sleeves. “Bastard!”

  Witcher hauled her forward and planted her forehead against the half-lowered driver’s side window with a sweaty thump. Her nose flattened against the glass. He grabbed both her hands and jammed them against the door, using his body to hold her against the truck.

  “Look at her,” he growled into her ear. “You’re lucky you didn’t kill her.”

  Savannah pushed hard trying to get away from him. He let her come away from the truck just far enough to spin her around, then pinned her again. “See, how this works is you watch over Molly and keep her safe for me. I stay happy and keep loving you. Nothing nasty happens and life goes on.”

  “Get off me!” She twisted in his grip, shoving and swinging to free herself. One of her elbows nearly connected with his neck but he dodged it. “You son of a bitch! You killed Tina!” She rocked back and slung a hand out, scratching at his neck and cheek.

  “You want to beat me down, Savannah? That’s rich. You left me no choice but to get rid of her.” Witcher pulled her off the truck and shoved her away. She skittered back a few steps and faced him, glaring. “Is this going to make it all better?” he said.

  “Feels good from this angle.” She wiped at her nose with a forearm, streaking her skin with blood. It didn’t hurt, but felt numb where her arm touched her face. “Everything that’s wrong with my life is your fault.” Tears blurred her vision as fast as she could blink them out. She hated that she had to bawl like a baby to let herself rage.

  “Cry me a river,” he said, so snide the words dripped sarcasm. “You’re a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for. It’s one of the reasons I lo—”

  She rushed him, swinging at him ferociously just to shut him up. “Shut your lying mouth,” she gritted. One of her hands connected with his cheek, slapping hard.

  He shoved her away then fingered the flesh of his face. A smile grew into a leer. “What a turn on. I like you like this.”

  Savannah stared, shocked and breathing hard. An exasperated huff of air erupted from her lips. Unbelievable. Witcher acted, talked, and appeared more human every time she saw him.

  The truck rocked a little as Molly sat up.

  “Molly!” Savannah ran around the side to pull her door open. “I am so sorry, Molly. I ran into a tree,” she said, pushing strands of hair from Molly’s face. Molly blinked, reaching for the knot on her forehead.

  “Get off, Vannie,” she said, peeling Savannah’s hands away. She got out of the truck and slammed the door, mad as hell. Savannah stepped back. Witcher was gone. The woods were quiet. She was alone with her injured, pissed off sister.

  Savannah’s heart fell. Molly couldn’t be mad at her. She couldn’t handle everything without her sister on her side, not that she was doing a great job, anyway. “I didn’t mean to, Molly. I was trying to see if you were okay and then it just happened—”

  “Psht,” Molly hissed, cutting her off. She glared and shook her head, obviously judging her for screwing up.

  “Fantastic.” Savannah put her hands on her hips and looked back toward the driveway.

  “What?” Molly snapped.

  “You’re the one who wanted movies. I wanted food around if you got hungry. I’m doing all this for you and look,” she said, waving a hand to gesture at Molly.

  Molly continued to scowl with her arms crossed. The corners of her mouth quirked into a vile, little grin.

  “What’s funny?”

  Molly didn’t answer, but broke out with a quick bark of laughter. Her neck twisted a little, tilting her chin sideways. The grin turned into a nasty smile. Her eyes darkened beneath her brow. A trickle of black slobber sluiced from one corner of her mouth. She laughed again, the sound juicy with a strangle from the dark fluid. She stepped forward.

  “You heard the man. Keep us safe.”

  “Molly!” Savannah screamed. “No! Leave her alone!”

  “Keep us safe,” Molly said. She continued to smile, teeth blackened around the edges. Her chest heaved and she folded forward, leaning
against the truck, growing quiet.

  Savannah didn’t know when the clouds took the sun, but the sky darkened fast. A soft wind blew and the air was actually cold. The ground beneath the trees was as dark as Molly’s hair, which hung to brush piles of leaves and gravel from where she bent, one hip against the truck so she didn’t fall. Moments passed. Savannah wouldn’t run away and leave her sister that way, no matter what Witcher was doing to her. Trembling from chill and out of fear for Molly, Savannah went to stand at the hood of the truck, feeling waves of heat from the engine. She watched Molly carefully. Minutes drug by, feeling like a week each.

  Finally, a huge hick-up racked Molly’s body. She laughed, standing up straight. A huge belch erupted and Molly lowered her brow again. She made no sound and not so much as twitched for three full seconds as Savannah counted, to avoid concentrating on the stabbing dread building in her chest. Still nothing but a black scowl. Savannah kept counting. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi.

  Molly’s jaw dropped.

  Four Mississippi ….

  Her eyes slammed shut.

  Five Mississippi ….

  An air horn pealed from Molly’s mouth with the ferocity of those used on ocean liners, blasting into Savannah like a hurricane. She clamped her hands over her ears and leaned forward, rocked for a moment, then went to a knee. Hair flew away from her face while leaves and sand pelted her skin, needles driven through her clothes. The horn blared continuously and Savannah cringed low on the ground with her eyes watering, her head threatening to split.

  As quickly as it started, the wail ceased, leaving Savannah a crumpled, quaking mess on the ground beside Molly’s gym shoes. She opened her eyes and forced herself to scan her little sister’s face, praying to anything that might be listening that it was over. By the look of her sister, it wasn’t. The only sound was her own shaky breath. She skittered backward against the truck’s front tire.