The Witch's Eyes

by Iris Kincaid

  Gillian smiled. “Well, it’s a little hokey, but the FSBO manuals recommended having the smell of freshly baked cookies in the air. Gives people all kinds of domestic fantasies. Doubles your chance of getting a good offer.”

  “And . . . are we going to be able to eat these strategic cookies? Eventually?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ll put a bowl out for the buyers, but I’ll definitely be setting some of these aside for us.”

  “Sweet, so, how long have we been married?”

  “You know, I came up with this story that we’ve been married for three years, and that you’ve had a job teaching overseas all this time, Hong Kong, so it was a long-distance marriage. But now, you’re back in the States and ready to move to Oyster Cove, but this house is too big for us. I think most of our buyers will be from Boston, looking for a summer home. They won’t know me or know that my boyfriend was living here with me for two years.”

  This was news to Vaughn. He did his best not to react.

  “And I thought I could explain that while most people in town assumed that he was my boyfriend, he was in fact, an old college buddy. Or would it be more plausible to say that he and I actually were close and that you and I had a very open marriage?”

  “Well, aren’t we the adventurous ones.”

  “Then if I run into any of these people a few months after the sale, I can just say that we discovered we weren’t compatible living under the same roof. Which is completely believable. I mean, ninety percent of all couples have an expiration date attached to them.”

  “That’s true.”

  “And then I thought, you know what? The fewer lies we tell, the fewer we have to remember.” They chuckled together. “So, when the buyers come, you greet them and let everyone know that you’re part of the selling team. Simple. They’ll just assume that it’s a pretty normal situation.”

  “Good plan. So . . . boyfriend? I take it that he’s out of the picture?” Vaughn kicked himself internally. This wasn’t any of his business.

  Gillian hesitated. Should she tell him the whole tragic story? He was doing her such a big favor. It felt wrong to hide this from him.

  “He died. Really soon after we broke up. It was pretty big news around here. You remember hearing about the murder outside the liquor store?”

  “I sure do. That was your boyfriend? I’m . . . I don’t know what to say. That’s awful. Uh, broke up, did you say?”

  “Yeah. And I know it’s bad to speak ill of the dead, but . . .”

  “Oh, go ahead. Speak ill.”

  “He was sleeping with another woman for at least our last six months together. I was . . . disabled—long story—and couldn’t take care of my own affairs until recently. He opened up credit cards in my name and maxed them out. He used my disability checks to pay for car notes for him and his girlfriend. And he refinanced this house twice. So, I went from no mortgage to losing my home.” There. That wasn’t so bad. At least, it was all true.

  Holy smokes! All of a sudden, having his fiancée dump him seemed like a minor disappointment. She hadn’t ruined him financially. What an absolute loser. No wonder Gillian thought that trust was for fools. He concurred. It’s a lesson everyone should learn. But what a lousy way to learn it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The open house was well attended. There must have been at least fifty buyers. There were also quite a few familiar faces, the most unnerving of whom was one of the scary Hatch sisters. She sidled right up to Gillian and stared intently at Gillian’s eyes, nodding in recognition.

  “My dear, how good to see you again.”

  “Umm . . . I don’t believe we’ve met. I did meet your sister Minerva, though.”

  The witch arched an eyebrow. “Clever girl. I am Mallory Hatch. Commoners can never tell us apart. Aren’t you the special one?”

  They were identical sisters. And Gillian shouldn’t have been able to distinguish them. But the micro-differences between them were easy for her to detect.

  “So . . . you’re in the market for a house?”

  Mallory smirked and looked around the house disdainfully. “We hope to be seeing more of you, young lady.” And with another dismissive look at the house, she was gone.

  In retrospect, that was not the low point of the open house. Through the walls of her house, Gillian could see Simone and Keith climbing out of her red convertible and coming up the driveway. This was unbelievable. What were they doing here? How dare she show her face in this house again? But Gillian had to stay calm. She couldn’t blow her cool in front of all these potential customers.

  Simone and Keith breezed in, arm in arm. Gillian tried to head them off at the entrance. Keith greeted her.

  “Hey, Gillian. Congrats on the new eyes. We heard about that over at Café Au Lait. Isn’t that something? Too bad Byron didn’t live long enough to hear the happy news.”

  Gillian was not in the mood for their congratulations. “What are you doing here?” she said between clenched teeth.

  “Byron borrowed a lot of things from me. You know, because we were buddies. But now that he’s gone, I think I’m entitled to get some of my stuff back. So, I intend to have a look around for it.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “A few books on investing, a Rolex, a few Armani ties, golf clubs. I know the golf clubs still have to be here. You gave him a hard time about coming back to pick up his things.”

  “I changed the locks,” Gillian said dryly. “There’s a box of his stuff that I was going to send to his mother, including some of those things you mentioned. Take what’s yours and get out of here. It’s in the closet of the main bedroom.” Gillian looked at Simone threateningly. “She knows the way.”

  Something about Gillian’s newfound sight took any clever retort right out of Simone’s mouth. “Keith, can we just hurry this up?” She tugged him toward the stairs.

  What an aggravating day. Hmmm. What was her banker and his wife doing here?

  “Mr. Dillard. This is a surprise.”

  “I just wanted to see how things were going. I would love to see this whole matter resolved quickly and as advantageously for you and the bank as possible. Ideally, there will be a smooth transition of ownership, without a single payment missed.”

  Aha. That was his concern. He sniffed the air and smiled approvingly. “Cookies. Well done. I see you followed the FSBO guidelines to the letter. Chocolate chip?”

  “Oatmeal chocolate chip.”

  “Oh, my favorite. Any left?”

  “On the kitchen counter.”

  “Wonderful. Don’t let us keep you from your customers.”

  As Mr. Dillard walked away, Gillian’s involuntary skills kicked in and she noticed a dark mass inside her banker. Oh, no. It was very similar to the tumor that she had spotted in the child at the hospital. How could she alert him without it sounding crazy? She resolved to give Dr. Svenson a call. Oyster Cove was a small place. Undoubtedly, he’d be able to locate Mr. Dillard’s doctor to call him in for tests.

  A middle-aged couple from Boston stopped to say goodbye to Gillian on their way out.

  “What a lovely home you have. And you must be so excited to have your husband back from Hong Kong. Good luck to you both.”

  “Thank you,” Gillian said, trying to keep a straight face. Vaughn had obviously been up to a bit of mischief.

  *****

  The house was finally cleared out. There were officially only twenty minutes left for the open house. Vaughn and Gillian recounted the most promising customers. But then her sharp sight sought two final visitors who could not have been more unwelcome. How was she going to explain Good Cop and Bad Cop to Vaughn?

  But surprisingly, they weren’t coming to the front door. They were heading straight to the backyard, to the garage. Gillian quickly excused herself and hurried out to see what was going on. By the time she reached them, they were headed back down the driveway. Bad Cop had gloves on and was holding an axe carefully in his arms.

  “What i
s that? What are you doing?”

  “We’re just attending an open house. Open to the public, right? Which is handy, because we really didn’t have grounds for a warrant yet. Would you like to comment on this axe we found in the garage?”

  “I’ve never seen it before in my life. Did you two . . . did you two just plant that in my garage?”

  “You’re accusing us of planting evidence?”

  “Are you accusing me of murder?”

  Bad Cop shrugged.

  “Anyway, that’s not the murder weapon.”

  “Oh, yeah? And exactly how do we know that?”

  “Show it to your forensics guys. The tip of that axe will not match the shape of the wound.”

  “You’re pretty hard to get answers out of, but I’ll try again. What makes you think that you know the exact shape of the victim’s wound? It was buried under blood and hair when you last saw it, and I know you don’t have access to police records.”

  Gillian’s special abilities kept digging her into a deeper and deeper hole.

  Good Cop tapped Bad Cop on the shoulder. “We really should be getting back to the office. Sorry to bother you, ma’am.”

  As they left to go, Gillian remembered to ask, “You went straight to the garage. What made you even think that something was there?”

  Good Cop thought they might as well ’fess up. “Anonymous tip.”

  Someone had just planted evidence on her property. Why hadn’t her witch’s eyes caught that? Someone was trying to frame her!

  From the living room window, Vaughn watched the officers depart. Gillian returned, looking ticked off.

  “Time to break out the cookies. Then, I think you probably have a fascinating story about what the police were doing here,” he suggested.

  His tone was kind and sympathetic. What the heck. Gillian told him everything. Vaughn had been plenty outraged at the dead boyfriend after finding out what he had put Gillian through. But even in death, Byron was tormenting her, forcing her to battle this false murder accusation. She was really being put through the wringer, and obviously, she was never going to trust another man again in her entire life.

  *****

  Delphine arrived for Gillian’s first real lesson. The cat insisted on attending, and Delphine was not surprised to see him.

  “His name is Morte. He was Lilith’s familiar, of course. He has looked into her eyes tens of thousands of times and recognized them as soon as he saw you. He doesn’t know why she is gone. He doesn’t know why someone else has her eyes. But he was devoted to her, and I think that you can expect that same level of devotion.”

  “Morte. That actually means death in French.”

  “It actually means death as regards to this cat.” Delphine chuckled.

  “She named her cat Death. Who does that?”

  “Lilith was the most powerful witch I have ever or will ever meet. Her powers dwarfed every other witch in Oyster Cove by a mile. So, as you can imagine, she could name her familiar whatever she pleased.”

  “What does a familiar do?”

  “He magnifies your abilities. Hones them, focuses them. And has something of a sixth sense all his own.”

  “He’s a really good bodyguard. He attacked a wild boar for me.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way. But he can sense you’re much weaker than Lilith was. And he knows that you need his protection. His attachment to you is already strong.”

  Gillian didn’t mind that. “I think I’ll call him Morty.”

  Lilith had been impatiently waiting for the lesson to begin. But this was insufferable.

  “Morty! That is the name of an old man playing shuffleboard. Tell her she can’t just go around changing the name of a great familiar.”

  “He’s not going to be the same familiar to her that he was to you. Let them have their own relationship.”

  “So, she was the most powerful witch. Does that mean that he’s the most powerful cat?”

  “Rather the opposite. Lilith was so strong that after a time, she really didn’t need to draw strength from him. I believe his own abilities stagnated. But you challenge him to be useful. I think he’ll enjoy being needed very much.”

  Gillian scooped the cat into her arms and started rubbing his tummy.

  “Can we get this lovefest over with?” Lilith groused. “The Hatch sisters are out there. They must be investigated. And she must be able to protect herself.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You are too impatient, Lilith. Commoners fear our ways. Let me start with a gentle lesson.”

  “She needs Rah deet esculpa finon. For her own good.”

  “Soon, Lilith. Very soon.”

  Delphine returned her attention to Gillian. “You’re an artist. You know I am one as well.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen the stuff in your boutique. It’s absolutely gorgeous. You’re a wonderful artist. I’ve heard about you for years, long before I knew that you were a . . .Wow. Does your being a witch have anything to do with how talented you are?”

  “Well, I have always been a witch, dear, so I have no point of comparison. But you will.”

  “I will what?”

  “Find out if being a witch makes you a better artist. Show me your tools.”

  Gillian complied shyly. “I’m a graphic artist, really. I’ve never called myself, you know, a real artist.”

  “But you have painted.”

  “Just as a little hobby.”

  “I cannot be deceived, Gillian. You are an artist. Pick up that wand.”

  Gillian realized that Delphine was pointing toward her favorite paintbrush. She picked it up.

  “Hold it across the palms of both your hands. Close your eyes. Right now, your strength is concentrated in your eyes. You need to draw it forth, let it spread into your hands. Into this wand. Say this spell aloud. Hay see jetar gela.

  “Hay see jetar gela.”

  “Repeat it. Over and over. Until you can feel your power flowing. It will feel like a river running through you.”

  “Hay see jetar gela. Hay see jetar gela. Hay see jetar gela.”

  Gillian had feared that there would be no response. And that apprehension made her realize how very much she did want this to work. Especially if it would help her to become a real artist. She had lied to herself for so long about how badly she wanted that dream.

  But she was feeling an undeniable tingle, almost as if she could feel her own blood flowing. Her whole upper body was becoming warm, hot, filled with energy. And she could see her own colors changing. But instead of flowing outward, they were retreating inward, doing something inside her.

  The paintbrush became hot in her hand. Delphine smiled triumphantly.

  “It has become an extension of you. It has become a conduit for your heart, for your imagination, for the power of your eyes. Now go do your art and see what you have become.”

  “This is a diversion,” Lilith chided. “What is to be accomplished by any of this?”

  “Her powers must not only be of benefit to you, Lilith. They must be a benefit to her as well. You asked me to motivate her. Can’t you see she is starting to embrace her new self?”

  As argumentative as she was inclined to be, Lilith could not deny that Gillian looked positively entranced.

  *****

  Vaughn played hardball with prospective buyers at a follow-up meeting at the house, as Gillian watched, impressed.

  “Nope. We can’t go that low. But I totally respect what you’re looking for. It’s just not a good fit for our particular situation. Oyster Cove is booming and this is a prime location. But, best of luck to you,” Vaughn said.

  “But what if this is your best offer?” the wife asked.

  Vaughn smirked. “It won’t be.” He stood up to show them out. The couple exchanged a look.

  “We can go up another $30,000,” the husband added hastily.

  “Now that’s almost in the ballpark. We have your number. If we don’t get a better offer these next two wee
ks, we’ll give you a call.”

  “Well, even if you do get a better offer, you’ll call us, won’t you? Give us a chance to top it?”

  “Oh, you bet. We’ll keep you in the loop.”

  They thanked him profusely and left.

  “Very smooth. You know how to play hard to get,” Gillian said appreciatively.

  “It’s all a game, and my former life made me very good at playing those kinds of games. I’m glad it came in handy for a good cause.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly earned above and beyond our little exchange of labor. And yet, I have one more thing to propose.”

  Gillian was already tugging on Vaughn’s heartstrings more than he ever would have admitted. The answer was yes. Whatever the proposal was, the answer was yes.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I want to do a portrait. I mean, I want to see if I can do a portrait. If that’s something that I can do well. Will you pose for me? It’ll take a few hours. Some painters work off photos, but I’d like to do most of this live. And then, I’ll have a copy to add to my portfolio and show potential new clients, and you will have a Gillian Swann original, free of charge.” Gillian blushed a bit at presenting herself as a credible artist, but Delphine had planted the seed of hope in her.

  “I would love a Gillian Swann original. Seriously. I’m stoked. Where? When?”

  “Oh, at your convenience.”

  “What’s wrong with right now?”

  What a great sport he was. It was almost as if they were becoming good friends.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Gillian set up her easel on the beach. The sound of the waves always managed to coax her creativity to the forefront.

  “So, no moving or talking for the next two hours? Is that the plan?” Vaughn asked.

  “We’ll have some moving breaks. You can go right ahead and talk. I think it will help me figure out what I want to do.”

  “I don’t want to bore you. Any particular topic?”

  “Yes. Your book is done. What’s next? I really get the strong feeling that you’re not all that keen on getting back into advertising. So, what do you want to do with your life? Is that a big enough question to keep us occupied for two hours?”