by V. J. Banis
“Yes’m,” Bess said. “I’ll be mighty happy to have that evil out of the house.”
* * * * * * *
Helen and Bess had barely finished with their grisly chore when Bess came to Jennifer’s bedroom to announce, “There’s someone here to see you.” She had an odd look, Jennifer thought. Frightened, but not only that.
“To see me?” Jennifer was expecting no one. Could someone have sent for Doctor Goodman? “Is he in the parlor?”
“She came up here with me,” Bess said, seeming to grope for the right words. She was saved the necessity of further explanation. Before she could say more, the door was pushed open and Mrs. Hodges came into the room.
“In the parlor? Oh, my,” she said, laughing. “It’s only me, dearie. No need to be formal. You know, this is a pretty room, ain’t it?”
Jennifer could feel the skin tingle on the back of her neck. “What do you want?” she asked coldly.
“What do I want? Dearie, I’ve come to see you. Isn’t that enough?”
“Do you want money?”
“Money? Why, you offered me that before, didn’t you? Didn’t need it then and don’t need it now.” Mrs. Hodges looked around at Bess. “You don’t need to stay.”
“No, stay, Bess, do,” Jennifer said.
“I’ll stay too,” Helen said, coming into the room. “There’s nothing you can say to Jennifer that we can’t hear.”
“Seems to me like you were a lot happier to see me last time I come here.” Mrs. Hodges face took on a sly expression. “Of course, the girl child was still here then, tormenting you.”
“What do you mean?” She and Bess and Helen exchanged glances.
“She’s gone, now, ain’t she?”
“What makes you say that?” Jennifer asked.
“She is gone, that’s all. And I know how, too.”
“If you think that I....”
“Don’t matter who. It’s done, is the important thing. And seeing as you all seem to be so close together, I guess we all know what was done.”
Jennifer gave her an icy glare. “Whatever you think you know, you have no proof of it. None anyone would believe. Now, if you want money, I will arrange for some to be sent to you. I have none on hand. But I forbid you to enter this house again. If you do, I shall have you whipped and sent away.”
Mrs. Hodges threw back her head and cackled with glee.
“Whipped,” she gasped, hardly able to speak. “Whipped, she says. Oh, my, dearie, you are a riot, ain’t you? She’s going to have me whipped for coming into my own home.”
It was like a slap in the face. Jennifer’s cheeks burned. At the same moment, Mrs. Hodges laughter stopped as suddenly as if it had been cut with a knife.
“What did you say?” Helen asked.
“I said, my home,” Mrs. Hodges said, her expression no longer even amused. “My shack caught on fire. I don’t have a home there now, and since we’re all such good friends, helping one another out and all, I knew you’d want me to come here and consider this my home.”
“No,” Jennifer said. “I will give you what jewelry I have. It will fetch a good price in New Orleans, and if you’ll send me your address, I will see that you receive assistance regularly, but you must not come back here.”
She went to her dresser for her jewel case and brought it back, but Mrs. Hodges just ignored it. Instead, she went to the little upholstered chair by the bed.
“My, this is comfortable,” she said. “I hope you’ve got a room as nice as this for me. Oh, and thank you, but I couldn’t go to New Orleans, dearie, I’m no good at traveling anymore. Besides, I’ve lived here all my life, I wouldn’t know how to get along in the city. No, us birds of a feather got to stick together. That’s what I always told Liza. Course, she wouldn’t listen, thought she could just ditch me when she got what she wanted. But you saw where that got her. I told her, first time she asked for my help, I said, if you don’t want to stew, don’t get in the pot. But she wouldn’t listen. No, we’re friends now, all four of us, it seems. And don’t anyone be forgetting, what I did for Liza, and for you, dearie, I could do again.”
“You’re threatening me with another of your dolls?” Jennifer asked.
“Now, I wouldn’t want to put it just like that. But things could happen, is what I’m saying.”
“Yes,” Bess said, stepping forward. She put her hand in the pocket of her apron and brought out the witch’s bottle her Auntie Doreen had given her. “Just think what would happen if I was to plant this out in the yard.”
Mrs. Hodges eyes went wide. “Where did you get that? Give that to me.” She reached to snatch the bottle from Bess’ hand, but Bess was too quick for her. Mrs. Hodges glowered at her for a moment. “’Sides, it’s got no power. You got nothing of mine in it.”
“Are you so sure? Last night, before your shack burned down—did you remember to empty your chamber pot?”
Mrs. Hodges looked frightened, her eyes going from one to the other of the women in the room. “You’re just trying to scare me.”
“Suit yourself,” Bess said. “I’m going down now and bury this bottle. You can stick around and see what happens, if you want to. If I was you, though, I’d want to get as far away as I could, as quick as I could.”
There was a long moment of silence. “If I go,” Mrs. Hodges said finally, “you’ll wait a spell before you bury that?”
Helen looked at the clock on the mantle. “We’ll give you two hours.”
For another moment Mrs. Hodges glared angrily at the three of them. Then, muttering under her breath, she waddled toward the door. “Just remember, there’s powers and then there’s powers.”
“No threats,” Helen said. “If anyone in this household takes sick, we’ll know just what to do.”
With one final, venomous glance, the swamp witch was gone.
* * * *
Later, Walter discovered that Liza had vanished.
“Maybe she went back to the swamp,” Jennifer suggested innocently.
Walter went to see, and came back with the news that Mrs. Hodges’ shack had burned to the ground, and there was no trace of her or Liza.
“They must have gone off somewhere together,” Helen said. “She was a strange girl, Walter. I always looked for her to vanish again someday.”
For a bit, Walter looked gloomy and dispirited, and Jennifer wondered if he might still be under some kind of spell Liza had cast on him.
“Just so long as you don’t go and disappear,” he told Jennifer, taking her in his arms.
“There’s no magic strong enough to make me do that,” she said.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Victor J. Banis is the critically acclaimed author (“...a master storyteller”—Publishers Weekly) of more than 200 published novels and numerous shorter works in a career spanning nearly a half century. A longtime Californian, he lives and writes now in West Virginia’s beautiful Blue Ridge region.
BORGO PRESS BOOKS BY VICTOR J. BANIS
The Astral: Till the Day I Die
Avalon
Charms, Spells, and Curses for the Millions
Color Him Gay: Being the Further Adventures of That Man from C.A.M.P.
The Curse of Bloodstone: A Gothic Novel of Terror
Darkwater: A Gothic Novel of Horror
The Devil’s Dance
Drag Thing; or, The Strange Tale of Jackle and Hyde
The Earth and All It Holds
The Gay Dogs: Being the Further Adventures of That Man from C.A.M.P.
The Gay Haunt
The Glass House
The Glass Painting: A Gothic Tale of Horror
Goodbye, My Lover
The Greek Boy
The Green Rolling Hills: Writings from West Virginia (editor)
Kenny’s Back
Life and Other Passing Moments: A Collection of Short Writings
The Lion’s Gate
Moon Garden
The Pot Thickens: Recipes from the Kitchens of Writers and Editors (editor)<
br />
San Antone
The Second Tijuana Bible Reader (editor)
Spine Intact, Some Creases: Remembrances of a Paperback Writer
Stranger at the Door
The Sword and the Rose: An Historical Novel
This Splendid Earth
The Tijuana Bible Reader (editor)
The WATERCRESS File: Being the Further Adventures of That Man from C.A.M.P.
A Westward Love: An Historical Romance
The Wolves of Craywood: A Novel of Terror
The Why Not
