by Lisa Shea
I got around to the back kitchen door. I grabbed at the doorknob –
The door swung open before me.
I was absolutely sure Marc would have locked all the doors before going to sleep. The door didn’t look forced, but nobody had answered my knocks or calls. I wasn’t taking any chances.
I called 9-1-1.
They were quick.
I was still on the phone with the dispatcher when the patrol car rolled up. I hung up and pointed the two officers to the open back door. One said, “Go sit in the car.” Then they vanished inside.
I knew the wisdom of their request, but I stayed right where I was. Where I could at least hear what was going on.
They covered the ground floor first, but apparently found nothing. I could see them regroup and head up the stairs.
Silence –
Silence –
A tumult of noise, thrashing and breaking and voices raised high. I stood in the doorway, petrified, knowing I shouldn’t go up but desperate to want to help, to see, to know –
Heavy footsteps came thundering down the stairs.
A shadowy figure drove right for me.
I screamed.
Blackness.
Chapter Thirty
My head was throbbing.
I put my hand to my head.
I met with something cold and lumpy.
A low voice sounded by my side. “It’s an ice pack. Just leave it there. It’ll help.”
I blinked my gummy eyes open.
It was the middle of the night. I was in a strange bedroom. There were curtains decorated with meteors. Across from me was a large tapestry showcasing a beautiful witch on a broomstick sailing across a large, crater-pocked moon.
I groaned, and only part of the pain came from my head.
I was in Alex’s Bryane Browninge shrine of a bedroom.
Marc chuckled by my side. “Sorry, I can’t do anything about the décor.”
I turned my head.
I jolted up in shock at the sight. “Jesus Christ, are you all right?”
The jolting up was a big mistake. My stomach flipped upside-down and inside-out. Marc caught me and gently eased me back to lying down. “No sudden movements,” he advised.
I more carefully turned to look him over.
Clearly he’d been in a fight. His shirt was ripped in several places and was spattered with blood. One eye was partially closed. There was a bruise on the other cheek. Who knew what other injuries were hidden by the clothes.
His mouth half-twisted up in what might have been a smile. “I was in Mom’s study, looking through things, and they must have snuck up behind me. They must be practiced. Normally I’m not caught unawares like that.”
“It probably didn’t help that you didn’t get much sleep last night,” I pointed out. “Since Monday night, really. You’re running on fumes.”
“In any case, they clocked me pretty good with something heavy. I still fought, but it didn’t take them long to put me out for the count. I guess that’s when you started calling.”
“I had a dream,” I explained. “That you were hurt. On the boat.”
His brow lifted, but he nodded. “Good thing that you did. Clearly the person was after something. They were still here when the police arrived.” His brow creased. “Speaking of which, I believe the officers told you to wait in the patrol car.”
I carefully crossed my arms before my chest. No sudden moves. “And I bet if the situation was reversed, that you would have gone in with them.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I am, after all, a trained officer of the law.”
“And I’m not, which is why I waited outside. But I definitely wasn’t going to retreat. I wanted to be nearby in case of trouble.”
“Which you were,” he pointed out.
I flushed. “All right. Maybe I should have waited to the side of the door. But I was afraid to go in. And I was too concerned to move away. So I guess that was sort of my compromise position. I figured I could run either way, depending on the situation.”
“And instead …”
My blush deepened. “Well, I didn’t expect him to run that fast. By the time I realized what was happening, he’d plowed into me.”
“Well, fortunately it’s just a minor knock on your head. The medic says you’ll be fine. Still, I should of course watch for signs of a more serious concussion.”
“And you?”
He shrugged – and winced. “No broken bones. A bunch of bruising, but I’ll heal.”
“Any idea what they were after?”
He shook his head. “The place was torn apart. It wasn’t methodical. The perp didn’t take a book out, examine it, and put it back in place. That’s how a search should be done, you know. It ensures you go through everything. This? It was a mess. Even if they knew what they were looking for they could easily have missed it because of their own mess they were making.”
“And you’re sure they’re gone?”
“The patrolmen are watching out front. We’ve added a deadbolt on the back door. They even had some cool wireless motion detectors at the station that they brought over. The first floor’s covered. Someone tries to come in, we’ll know about it.”
His eyes twinkled. “That also means you’re sort of stuck here for the night. That all right?”
I shakily put my hand up to his cheek. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”
He put his hand over mine.
Time eased.
* * *
I blinked my eyes awake. My head was only at a dull throb now, and the stars and moons seemed slightly less garish in the gentle glow of morning. Marc was still in the chair by my side, his eyes closed, a gentle snoring easing out of him. The purpling mottling on his face gave him a rough-worn look.
I reached over and rested my hand on his.
His eyes flashed open, and then he eased as he took me in. The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. “How are you doing?”
I nodded. “Better, I think. At least it seems I can move about without my world instantly turning upside-down.”
I carefully shimmied myself up into sitting. “How about you?”
He carefully pressed a finger into his cheek bruise and winced. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be sore for a few days. But I’ll get through it. Still not even close to that time a horse threw me into the river, when I was trying to reach that lost hiker. Took them three days to find me. Turns out the hiker was fine, after all. A few hours after my accident they’d come across some hunters and were brought right out.”
I swear, that man had been through every challenge imaginable.
I asked, “Have the police figured anything out about who clocked you?”
He shook his head. “The guy wore gloves. No prints or DNA that they could find. They’ll go over things more thoroughly, now that it’s light. Who knows, we could get lucky. But I don’t think the guy got what he was after. The police say he was still searching when they got here.”
“So, whatever it is he wants, it’s still here.”
“Or at least the guy thinks it’s here.”
I gave that some thought.
There was a high, prolonged screech from outside the front door.
Marc chuckled. “I think Alex’s home. Probably Roger, too. I’ll go down and have a chat with them.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
He shook his head and leaned over. He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.
My world eased back. Quieted.
He smiled. “Stay put. I’ll bring breakfast up in a little while.”
It was hard to refuse an offer like that.
* * *
The eggs were delicious. Alex lent me some clothes which fit, and then she and Roger were off at an animal shelter examining dogs. I wasn’t sure that adopting a dog on a whim was really a good idea, but they had charged out the front door on their mission before I had a chance to dissuade them.
That left me and Marc alone w
ith the study.
I sighed as we waded into the mess. “I see what you mean. They really did a number on the room. And you’re right, they were just making things worse for themselves. If they were looking for a note, or a letter, it could easily have gotten further lost in this clutter.”
He looked at the shelves. They were half-empty now, since the other half of the items were strewn on the table or floor. “Maybe the point wasn’t the items at all.”
I blinked in surprise. “What. You think they just wanted the items off the shelves for some other reason?”
“Well, we know the Corwin house was occupied by Jonathan Corwin until he died – and his descendants lived there until the 1850s.”
“Someone’s been doing some reading,” I teased him. “But you’re right that the descendants held onto it for a while. The current gambrel roof wasn’t original – I remember that from the tour I took a few months back. It was added by his grandson’s widow. So that must have been the wife of George the second. He was Jonathan’s only grandson.”
“And George is the only one who created great-grandchildren for Jonathan,” pointed out Marc. “So it must have been those kids who continued living in the Corwin house. But all three of them together as adults? Probably not. So now we have the Corwin flock spreading out a bit. Living in other places.” He tapped the side of the shelf. “Maybe even in this house.”
I blinked. The house was certainly quite old, but that wasn’t unusual here in Salem. Quite a number of houses dated back to the 1800s and before. I hadn’t thought anything of it.
I asked, “Do you think Josephine would have known?”
“Many people who live in historic homes love to research their past. To find out who lived there before and what they were like. I wouldn’t be surprised if Josephine had all of that sort of detail.”
I blinked. “Gertie and Prudence’s house is also quite old. I wonder if it’s the same situation. And that might explain why Sarah and Anna ended up at these two houses. Each spirit decided to watch over a different part of their family. But over time their memories faded and they forgot their past. All they remembered was that they were associated with the house somehow.”
He nodded. “I imagine Cassandra could do some researching through the land records to figure that out. We could build a tree of who the descendants were and where they lived.”
He wriggled one of the shelves. “But we still haven’t figured out …. Ah.”
The single shelf came free from the wall, leaving a double-high gap in the unit.
The back wall was unpainted wood, made out of old planks.
He began pressing at it in various locations.
I pointed. “There. That dark knot.”
He examined it.
He pressed it.
A metallic clink sounded, and a crack appeared on the right, which we now could see was the edge of a movable square.
He gripped that edge and carefully pulled the square toward him.
We both peered within.
The space was only about six inches deep. It had been created within the wall itself – the back side was the hallway. Nestled into the space was a square wooden box, on its end, about a foot square by four inches deep.
Marc carefully reached in and drew the box out. He brought it over to lay on the desk in front of the window.
Now that the box was in the light, we could make out its details more clearly. The lid was beautifully carved with curling leaves and delicate roses. The center of the box held an ornately carved letter E.
There was a brass lock at the front of the box. It was tightly engaged.
I looked back into the wall space. “Is there a key anywhere?”
He moved back to peer around. “I don’t see one. And given the dust which settled around the box, if a key had been in here and recently taken, we’d have known about it.”
We went back to stare at the box.
He said, “I could try to pick it.”
Nervousness tremored through me. “Maybe we should wait.”
He raised an eyebrow.
I looked up to him. “We’re going to have this séance tonight with Bryane and the others. I think this box is somehow related. And if it happens to have … I don’t know, something … inside it, I’d feel better if Bryane was there to lend a hand. This is his area of expertise, you know.”
He looked at the box for a long moment.
At last he nodded. “I suppose the box belongs to both me and Alex. So in that sense, she should be present when we open it.”
He looked around and found a hemp shopping bag with thick handles. The box fit perfectly within it.
Silence fell around us. At the myriad of unanswered questions.
At last I said, “Seeing this room this unwound makes me unhappy. Josephine always liked things in order. I don’t suppose you’d mind if we –”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t mind at all. Let’s get started.”
* * *
Dusk was just descending as Marc and I pulled up in front of BeWitch central. Beyond the house, I could see the silvery shimmer of the full moon just at the horizon, preparing itself for its entrance.
Marc lifted the bag as he stepped out of the car. “Seems we’re right on time.”
I looked over the array of cars already in the driveway. “Or everyone else wanted to be early,” I murmured.
We walked side by side up the walk to the front door.
I rapped with the knocker.
A moment, and Wilma pulled the door open. Tonight she was in a knee-length dress of midnight blue. It matched her burgundy lipstick perfectly. Her blonde hair was drawn up into an elegant updo.
I’d opted for function over form for tonight. I was in jeans and a short-sleeved black polo shirt. Marc was in jeans and a dark blue Henley. We both wore sneakers.
Her gaze sparkled as she took in Marc. Her voice became throaty. “Marc. It is so good to see you again.”
He nodded. “Wilma. You remember Amber.”
She barely glanced at me. Her eyes were solely for Marc. “Do come in. Everyone is ready in the Gathering Room.”
We followed along behind her. The rest of the house seemed wholly empty. Apparently any other staff had been sent home. It was just our group for the night.
We reached a door in a hall. She pulled it open. Stairs headed down. It was fairly dark, with low LED lights faintly illuminating each step. I kept one hand firmly on the railing.
Down we went.
The main room was actually quite impressive.
It was large, seeming to take up the entire footprint of the main house, with wooden spiral-carved pillars strategically placed for support. The most central space was wholly clear of the pillars. The floors and walls were polished mahogany. A fully twelve-foot in diameter circle was marked out on the floor with a two-inch ring of white marble. Within that were golden lines showing north, south, east, and west. One quadrant had the symbol for fire, one for water, one for earth, and one for air. The very center of the circle was an iron circle inlaid in the floor on which sat a low cast-iron stand with a metal bowl on it. The bowl held richly smoking herbs. White sage was in the mix, if I could judge by the scent.
Along the outer walls hung twelve elegant tapestries, one for each of the zodiac symbols. I saw that they were on movable rods. They could be rotated through their course as the seasons changed.
Glistening tiny lights were strung across the ceiling, almost giving the sensation of a starry sky above us. Most of the room was in shadow, with the flickering firelight coming from the central bowl.
I could see, as my eyes adjusted, that the shapes around the ring were people sitting on cushions. There was Alex and Roger. Bryane was across from me, and I had to guess that the two cushions to his right were intended for me and Marc. Wilma moved to the cushion on his left. And over there were Gertie, Prudence, Cassandra, and –
Cool focus eased into me.
Dalilah was sitting there alongside Cass
andra in a midnight-black tunic, her gaze shining in satisfaction. She was sitting right alongside Marc’s cushion.
It was even more obvious to me now that the two women were in the same room. Dalilah and Wilma. The Wadjet girls. The blondes with their oval faces and their obsession with Marc.
Clearly they were related to each other.
I murmured in curiosity, “Just how do you happen to be here, Dalilah?”
She beamed. “Marc told me to do whatever I could to help Gertie and Prudie. So I asked, and asked, and finally they told me where they were coming tonight. I knew it was fate that I had to come along, too!”
I found I wasn’t surprised. She had done her best to keep an eye on things from the very beginning. I could see that now.
I moved over to our cushions and settled down next to Bryane. Marc took his seat at my other side, tucking the hemp bag behind him. I got the sense that Dalilah snuggled herself over a little closer than necessary toward him.
Irritation jabbed at me, and I drew in a breath against it.
Cassandra gazed around the circle. “Shouldn’t we have thirteen people present for a proper séance? I only count ten.”
Bryane’s eyes shone with serenity. “We will be just fine. Trust me.”
Alex giggled. “Of course we trust you, Bryane. You are the master!”
Bryane reached forward to a small console before him and pressed a button. Ethereal music began playing. I recognized it as track six from his collection of Séance Music Guaranteed to Draw Spirits.
He intoned, “Let us join hands.”
The cushions were perfectly positioned so that each of us could easily hold the hand of our neighbors. I had my left hand in Marc’s and my right in Bryane’s. The thought of Marc’s other hand nestled in Dalilah’s sent a wave of annoyance through me.
I pushed it down.
Bryane said, his voice resonating in the wooden space, “The circle is now made. Whatever happens tonight, do not release the circle. We have the white marble circle outside us and the cast iron circle within. Both add layers of protection. But we are the core.”
The music swelled. I imagine he’d done this so many times that he knew exactly how to phrase his sentences to match up with them. Besides, he’d often told me when we were younger that protective circles were not about physical constructs. They were not about white salt or marble or chalk or anything else. Those were simply reminders of what really mattered – our personal energy.
