09 - Return Of The Witch

by Dana E. Donovan

“Why do you say that?”

  “`Twas a hard life in my time. Animals, Indians. What be thy luck if not bad? The wicked fear naught but the unknown. To scry is a most powerful thing. `Tis a good witch what knows her craft in such matters.”

  “Yeah, well you’re a good witch in every sense of the word, Urs.” I took my phone out and punched the GPS coordinates into it as indicated on the map. “Now then, what do you say we go find Wendy Skye?”

  “Oh but Sister, we have no means of travel.”

  I laughed. “Are you kidding me? Have you seen Carlos’ garage?”

  “I have not.”

  “Well, me neither, but I know what’s in there. Come on. Our chariot awaits.”

  “Master Carlos has a chariot?”

  “He has more than a few, and some with hundreds of horses.”

  “My stars! How exciting. Lead on.”

  We went downstairs and made our way to the garage. I knew from the moment I turned on the light that we were in for something special.

  “Holy crap,” I uttered in mesmerized admiration. “Will you look at this? It’s the proverbial candy store of automobiles.” I looked around, wondering where the Corvettes were, but then again, Carlos did change cars nearly as often as other people changed socks.

  “Which one do we take?” Ursula asked.

  “Ha! Seriously? You have to ask?”

  The garage had seven bays; six occupied. I grabbed Ursula by the hand and paraded her past a Mercedes, a BMW, a ‘66’ Mustang convertible, a Maserati Ghibli and a 1948 Studebaker.

  “This one,” I said, stopping at a powder blue Lamborghini Aventador LP 700-4 Roadster. “This is the one we’re taking.”

  “`Tis a pretty car. Is it fast?”

  “Fast? Ursula, this is a 6-litre, 7-speed, 700-horse, V-12 rocket sled on wheels.”

  “Then it is fast?”

  “Faster than a witch’s broomstick on fire.”

  “May I drive? I am an excellent driver.”

  “I don’t know, Urs. Do you have three-hundred-thousand dollars in case you wreck it?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I am sure my Dominic has money.”

  “Yeah, I think not.” I opened the passenger door. “Get in. I’ll show you what it’s like to fly at ground level.”

  “My stars! We can fly in this?”

  I hopped in behind the wheel. “We’re gonna have to. It’s getting late and Carlos will be home soon. He might not take too kindly to us borrowing his wheels.”

  “Then we must leave them.”

  “Leave them?”

  “Aye, what good art wheels when thy sled will fly?”

  I shut the car door and fired up the engine. “Just buckle up, will you. Leave the flying to me.”

  We hit some early rush hour traffic on the I-95, but the Lamborghini made up for some of the shortcomings a lesser automobile would have presented. Still, with the clock ticking, my anxiety level was beginning to soar through the roof. I wouldn’t have minded so much if I knew that Wendy would definitely be at the coordinates when we arrived. But Ursula’s scrying could only tell us where she was at that moment. It did not guarantee she would stay put.

  “Ursula.” I looked over and caught her with her hand out the window, playing with the wind. “You know I was thinking. If Wendy thought somebody was out to kill all four guardians, then why would she fake her own disappearance? I mean wouldn’t the killer know if she had killed Wendy and taken her essence?”

  “Methinks certain, lest Wendy thought the killer would remember naught for a trance or a spell she was under.”

  “Yes, a spell. Maybe that’s why I did it. Maybe none of it was a dream. It was all a spell! It makes sense. After learning what happened to Terri and Amber, Wendy got scared. She elicited her roommate’s help to make it look as if she had suffered a similar fate. She probably thought if I couldn’t remember killing her, I might assume I already had.”

  “Thy logic doth stand.”

  “It would explain some things.”

  “Might the hunted become the hunter now?”

  “Who, Wendy?”

  “Aye.”

  “You think she’s the stranger in the Escalade?”

  “Who hath better motive than she for revenge on thee?”

  “I see your point. You don’t think we’re driving into a trap, do you?”

  Ursula pulled her hand back into the car and folded them both on her lap. “Methinks we have but one way to find out.”

  “All right then.” I let my foot off the gas, pushed in the clutch and shook it into seventh gear. “Let’s go find this bitch.”

  We exited the highway at Central and worked our way east-northeast along Orchard St. There the road fell into lazy gradual turns that made the Lamborghini want to either tear it up or go to sleep. Nothing in-between.

  We were running parallel to Route-One just outside the Newburyport city limits when Ursula shouted, “There!”

  I hit the brakes and the Lamborghini chirped to a stop. “There what?”

  “Tire tracks.”

  I checked my GPS. We were nearly on top of the coordinates I had punched in. “Okay. Let’s have a look-see.”

  I pulled the car onto the soft shoulder and hopped out. By the time I came around to the other side, Ursula had already started cutting through the brush.

  “Ursula! Wait!”

  I followed the same tracks she followed, but because of the twists and turns, I had already lost sight of her. It was clear a car had gone through there recently. It was also clear that the path the car took was not an established one. What was not clear, was why a car would have cut through that brush at all. There seemed no hope of finding another road connected to it.

  “Ursula!”

  She shouted back, “Here!”

  I caught up with her another ten yards in, standing behind an old Buick that had come to rest with its grill up against a tree trunk.

  “You all right?”

  “Aye, but for Wendy I cannot say the same.”

  We both came around to the passenger side of the car to have a look. There, we found a pair of jeans, socks and shoes, lying on the front seat. A jacket, blouse and bra, hung out the window, draped over the door.

  “She was trying to get away.”

  Ursula looked at me strangely. “You remember?”

  “No. I’m just saying, judging by the clothes, it looks like she was trying to crawl out the window.”

  “She did not make it.”

  “No kidding. Hey, what’s that in the back seat?”

  I opened the passenger door and removed a large over-night bag stuffed with clothes, toiletries, some legal documents and a women’s wallet.

  “See here?” I flipped the wallet open and showed Ursula. “It’s her all right. That’s Wendy’s license.”

  Ursula glanced at it and scoffed. “Indeed, the lying skank.”

  “Ursula!”

  “I am saying only. See that she claims her weight at twenty and one hundred pounds.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  She pointed at the jeans. “Yet she wears a size eight? I think not.”

  “Cut her some slack, will ya? The girl’s dead now.” I picked through the rest of clothes looking for more clues before cramming everything back into the bag. “You know, I’d say by the looks of things, Wendy was definitely in a hurry to get out of town. She must have known she was next.”

  “She did not get far.”

  “No she didn’t. I guess we can rule her out as the stranger in the Escalade.”

  “Aye, `tis a shame then, for the plot doth thicken.”

  “It does, except the list of suspects in these murders still boils down to just one. Me.”

  “Thou art quick to judge thyself so harsh, yet thy memory serves thee not what proof you need.”

  “The proof is there, Ursula. For starters, I have memories of being there when three of the four victims were murdered. We have witnesses that place me in Salem and Ipswich ar
ound the time two of the victims disappeared. I’m even on surveillance, stalking April’s neighborhood, and on her computer inside her house. Oh, and let’s not forget.” I pulled my phone out and waved it in her face. “We also have me on video in her bathroom plowing a bowling trophy into her face. How’s that for proof?”

  She scoffed. “`Tis circumstantial, is all.”

  “It is not. Video and eyewitness accounts are not circumstantial. No. Uh-uh.” I shook my head to dismiss any further denial in the matter. “Let’s face it, Ursula. I have issues. I have a ton of displaced anger and a trail of dead bodies to show for it.”

  “Still,” she said, and offered up a passive shrug. “Methinks none the less of thee.”

  “Great. You can be my accomplice in the next murder.”

  “Sister, that would be most exciting. I shall do my best to—”

  “I’m kidding, Ursula!”

  “Oh….” I watched her expression dissolve into a practiced pout. “I know. So too am I.”

  “Of course. Hey, look at this.” I reached in through the window and gathered a pinch of white ash off the front seat. “You know what this is?”

  Ursula felt the ash on my fingertips. “I would bet a pound of pumpkin seeds it is Wendy.”

  “And I bet you would win that bet. Do you think we should collect some?”

  “Depends,” she said. “Doth thou wish to see how Miss Wendy died?”

  “You mean how I killed her?”

  “If you killed her.”

  “No. I guess not.”

  I took a few photos of the scene and emailed them, along with the coordinates, to Brittany.

  Chapter 18

  On the drive back to Carlos’, I mentioned to Ursula that we might want to look closer at the family members of the dead guardians.

  “Could be that one of them owns a black Escalade. Paige Turner plastered my personal information all over the internet in connection with this Pendle Prophecy thing. If any of them saw my name and thought I killed their daughter, sister or whatever, that would certainly give them motive to want to kill me.”

  “Aye, it would,” she said, and nothing more.

  We drove another mile or two. In that time, I kept glancing over at her, thinking she had something else to say. I finally asked.

  “So, what do you think?”

  “About?”

  “I don’t know. You look as if you might have something on your mind.”

  She smiled. “Thou art perceptive.”

  I smiled back. “Thou art a wiseass. Now spill it. What’s on your mind?”

  “`Tis nothing, really. I am curious, is all.”

  “`Bout what?”

  “What hath thee done with all the essence.”

  “All what essence?”

  “The Guardians’. If thee killed the guardians for what essence they did squander, where be it now?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t get it.”

  She shook her head. “Then what guilt hath thee but that which thou assume?”

  “What guilt? Ursula, are we going to crack that egg open again? You saw what I did to those women.”

  “Nay, I saw only that which played before thine eyes and mine. What foul deeds thou hath claimed art deeds another could have done.”

  “I don’t see how. There wasn’t anyone else there at the time, not at April’s place, not at Terri’s and not at Amber’s. If it wasn’t me, then who was it?”

  She shook her head.

  “What? Why are you shaking your head?”

  “Thou art an angry soul, for sure.”

  “Of course I’m angry. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m filled with anger, damn it. Why else would I think I killed those women?”

  “Ah-ha! So now ye only think it.”

  “No, I mean I know it…. That is, I think I know it.” I took a deep breath and evicted a pent-up sigh. “Hell, I don’t know, Ursula. Maybe I don’t think it. The truth is, I am angry, but I have to believe that not all the anger in the world would make me want to kill those women. So why do I believe I could have?”

  “Methinks, mayhap, with one door open, the other must stay closed.”

  “The other meaning the Pendle Prophecy?”

  “Aye. Thou cannot believe in one whilst granting credence to the other.”

  “Oh, I see. You’re saying if I didn’t kill those women, then that could only mean the prophecy is really unfolding; that another witch killed them, stole their essence and now awaits a battle with me because I possess the quintessential. Is that it?”

  “In a shell for nuts, aye.”

  “But you’re forgetting one thing. I do not possess the quintessential. How many times do I have to say it?”

  “Oh, a thousand more, mayhap, for aught I know, lest thy words doth ring of truth. Then surely something wicked weaved its tangled web upon thy soul and cast it into darkness.”

  “Well, either way it’s a dark state of affairs then, isn’t it?”

  We rolled into Carlos’ garage and planted the Lamborghini’s wheels in the exact same spot we found them.

  “There, you see?” I said. “Home safe and sound. Carlos will never know we took it.”

  Ursula got out, shut the bat-wing door and fixed her hair in the reflection of the glass. “Strange,” she said.

  “What’s strange?”

  She turned and looked at the Corvette behind her. Then she glanced back over the roof of the Lamborghini to count the other cars in the garage. “Were once was six, I now count all of seven. Methinks we have a visitor.”

  I came around her side of the car to feel the hood of the Corvette. “It’s warm. Carlos is home. Maybe we can sneak out through the side door.”

  Carlos’ voice boomed across the garage. “I don’t know, Lilith. Maybe you should use the front door like proper guests.” He stood in the doorway between the garage and the kitchen, arms crossed, chest out.

  “Oh, hey there, Carlos.” I waved my hand up over my head so that he could see it. “We were just admiring your car collection.”

  “Ursula?” Dominic poked his head around Carlos’ broad shoulder. “Are you out there too?”

  “Aye, my sweetness. I am here.”

  “Sweetness?” I said to her under my breath. “Does he really buy that shit?”

  She smiled and winked. “He doth buy and eat all what I can shovel.”

  “Oh-ho, you rock, girl.”

  Carlos said, “Come on, ladies. We need to talk.”

  As we headed over there, I said to Ursula, “Better let me handle this. It takes a particular kind of bullshit to pull one over on Carlos.”

  “I heard that,” he said.

  “Okay. New plan. On the count of three, we run.”

  “I heard that, too. You’re not running anywhere.”

  “I know. I’m only kidding. Listen, the only reason we took the Lamborghini was because—”

  “I’m not interested in that.”

  “Really?”

  “Just come on in. There’s somebody here who’d like to meet you.”

  Carlos escorted me back into the house. Dominic and Ursula followed. As we entered the living room, two plainclothes officers approached. Carlos said, “Lilith, this is Detective Pierce and Detective McIntyre of the Ipswich P.D. They wish to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  The tall one, McIntyre, said, “We’d like you to come back to Ipswich with us to answer some questions.”

  “And I’d like to decline. Thank you.”

  “We’re asking nicely.”

  “And I’m saying nicely, no.”

  McIntyre pulled out a set of handcuffs. “Would you turn around, please?”

  “What!”

  “Wait a minute,” said Carlos. “Detective, you didn’t say anything about handcuffs.”

  I turned to Carlos. “You knew about this?”

  McIntyre said, “We asked nicely. Now turn around. You’re under arrest.”


  “Carlos! Do something!”

  “Lilith, just go along with it. The cuffs are procedure. They’re for your own protection.”

  “You mean for your protection, because I’m gonna crack your skull. How could you?”

  Dominic said, “Lilith, don’t worry. They can’t hold you. It’s a bluff. They have no evidence. They simply want to ask you some questions, see if a couple of witnesses can ID you and then they’ll have to let you go. That was the deal. Right, Detectives?”

  “Yeah,” said Pierce, “except for the last part. We can’t guarantee that.”

  “Deal? You made a deal with these pricks? Judases! Both of you. Tony would be ashamed of you if he were alive to see this.”

  “Lilith. Carlos and I will ride out behind you. We’ll wait for you and bring you back. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “No? Not even if I did it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean if I killed those women?”

  Dominic said, “Lilith, keep your mouth shut. Detectives, you can’t use anything she says until you advise her of her rights.”

  “Dominic, it’s okay. I think this needs to come out now. Listen, did your lab check out the colored chalk samples like I asked?”

  “Actually, they did. They called the results in a half hour ago. Turns out three of the samples were organic, consistent with human cremains, calcium phosphate mostly with traces of sodium and potassium. A fourth, however, turned up hydrated calcium sulphate.”

  “Drywall,” I said. “I knew it. Well, you and Carlos will be interested to know that Ursula and I used some of that ash to conjure up three thought forms. By the way, Carlos, sorry about your home theater.”

  “What about my theater?”

  “Another time. The thing is—”

  “Sister!” Ursula grabbed my wrist and gestured toward the two Ipswich detectives. “Methinks these kind men care not what movie show we watched today.”

  “It’s all right, Ursula.” I pried her fingers off me. “I think Carlos and Dominic would like to see the movie.”

  McIntyre said, “We don’t have time for movies.”

  I reached for my phone. Pierce and McIntyre reached for their guns. I splayed my hands in surrender. “Uh-uh! It’s just a phone, boys. Don’t go all Elliot Ness on me now.”

  Carlos gave the tall one a nod. Professional courtesy allowed me to continue. I took my phone out, cued up the video of April’s thought form getting clobbered in the bathroom and showed it to Carlos and Dominic. It was nearly as hard watching the look on their faces as it was to watch the video itself. The real shocker for them came when I pointed out my reflection in the mirror.