Portal. That’s what Jazmin had called the black mirror. Anna had no doubt that evil searched for and found portals, and there was no better portal than a willing subject. It didn’t matter that Darlene’s claim to be a witch was ludicrous, what mattered was that Darlene believed it—and craved all that it meant to her. She’d invited evil into her life, and evil always answered. Even Jazmin and Rowan, who seemed to care more that wicca and paganism were a substitute family, had opened their lives to evil.
“Anna, you said they couldn’t find a wren,” Liz said. “Why a wren?”
“That’s what the song calls for. The wren is the king of all birds.” Anna tilted back her head, looking at the star atop the tree, trying to recall the lyrics of an old Celtic song Sean sometimes played on mandolin. “St. Stephen’s Day was caught in the furze. Though his body is small, his family is great, so I pray you good lady, give us a treat.”
“I’ve heard of that,” Dan said, holding a match to the newspaper. When it caught fire, he shut the wood stove’s door most of the way, leaving a small crack to pull in air over the logs and up the pipe. “Isn’t that an old Christmas carol? Or post-Christmas, I guess. St. Stephen’s Day is on the twenty-sixth, right?”
“Right. In Britain children would hunt for a wren on St. Stephen’s morning. They’d kill it, tack it to a holly branch or pole of some kind, then take it from house to house, begging for treats. If they didn’t get a treat from someone, they’d bury the wren at their doorstep. It was supposed to be a bad omen for everyone in the house.”
“That’s disgusting,” Liz said.
“Sounds like a mentally disturbed version of Halloween,” Dan said, holding his ash-covered hands aloft. “Okay if I open a bottle of wine?”
“Absolutely. I’ll have the apple wine on the counter.” Anna pointed toward the kitchen, “and you two can have whatever you want.”
Liz reached behind her and pulled one of the fleece throws from the back of the couch onto her lap. “Why would witches leave you anything having to do with Christmas? Not that this was very Christmasy.”
“The whole wren thing is about pre-Christian sacrifice,” Anna replied. “When the Celts sacrificed their king, they also sacrificed a wren. Christians wanted to stamp out the practice, so they associated it with St. Stephen and it eventually died out.”
“It’s barbaric. And why would witches want to replay some Celtic sacrifice?”
The logs snapped loudly and Jackson moved from the stove to Anna, squeezing himself between her feet and pressing his body against the armchair. Anna leaned forward and kissed him on the top of his head while scratching his shoulders. “Maybe druids do,” she said. She thought of the yellow snake tattooed to the back of Rowan’s neck.
“Druids now?” Liz said.
“Remember Rowan? You met him in the Buffalo. He told me he’s moving toward druidry, or however he put it.”
“Good grief.”
“I wonder how they killed the bird,” Anna said softly.
Liz shuddered.
“Apple wine,” Dan said, handing Anna the wine glass. “Pinot noir for us.” He handed Liz a glass and took a seat next to her on the couch.
“Thanks, honey.”
They sat in silence, listening to the snap of dry logs in the wood stove, taking slow, small sips of wine. After a minute Dan said, “Any idea which one of the nutjobs wrote that note?”
“It could be any one of them,” Anna said.
“It looks like it was run out on a printer, on blue laser paper, then cut to a small square with scissors. I don’t know how something like that could be traced, even if the police intended to do that.”
“Which they don’t.”
“No, I don’t think so, either.”
“Why not?” Liz asked.
“It’s a dead bird,” Dan said. “It’s not on top of their list. Anyway, the officer’s not looking for druids. He told me it was probably a dispute with a neighbor.”
Anna chuckled hollowly. “Yeah, my closest neighbor is Helen, an eighty-year-old widow. She kills birds in her spare time. And my other neighbors just pretend to get along great with me. They’re really pagans, and they probably did that chalk pentacle on my doorstep too.” She took a gulp of wine.
“I didn’t see anything on the step,” Liz said.
“I washed it off.”
“Good.”
“Speaking of notes,” Anna said, rising from her chair, “let me show you something.”
She returned with the note that had been pinned to Jazmin’s couch with an athame, the same athame, she explained, that Darlene had told Detective Schaeffer Anna stole. “Jazmin said it was written in a witch’s alphabet. I haven’t found out which one yet.”
“You didn’t give this to Schaeffer?” Dan asked, examining the note.
“I forgot.” Anna shrugged. “I was too busy thinking about Darlene, who by the way was doing some kind of witch choreography in the parking lot outside the Municipal Building.”
Liz and Dan waited for an explanation.
“She was trying to scare me. Showing up at the police station when she knew I was talking to Schaeffer, dancing around the parking lot in celebration of the ancients or something. She lives to scare people.”
“But how did she know you were talking to him?” Liz asked.
“That I don’t know.” Anna sat down at the edge of the armchair, giving Jackson another reassuring pat. “But she’d talked to Schaeffer not long before, telling him I stole that athame. She might have waited around in the parking lot, hoping he’d give me a call and I’d show up.” She lifted one shoulder. “So maybe she waited, did her thing, then went to open up her store.”
“I don’t know about that,” Liz said, drawing the throw around her waist.
“I know one thing I can find out,” Anna said, rising again and taking the note from Dan. “You two relax, I’m checking out this witch’s alphabet business.”
Anna switched on her computer and waited for it to finish booting. She was glad Liz and Dan were one room away. Her nerves couldn’t take any more late-night surprises, and for comfort, nothing beat another living, breathing human being under the same roof.
She typed “witch’s alphabet” into the search engine and immediately found what she was looking for. The correct term was “magical alphabet,” the writer of the article noted. The alphabets were more often used by practitioners of the occult, as a code to keep their words from prying eyes. There were several such alphabets—the Enochian alphabet, Malachim alphabet, Theban alphabet, even one called Passing the River.
Anna scrolled down the page and found an alphabet with the same curls and repeated shapes as on the note—so many letters that looked like the letter m with different appendages. The Theban alphabet.
Anna almost laughed aloud. There was no magic about this alphabet. It looked like an occult version of the sort of secret alphabets children used in school. It had twenty-four symbols, each corresponding to a letter of the English alphabet, with two symbols taking on double duty and standing for two English letters each. One symbol indicated a period. The only difficulty for the uninitiated was that so many symbols looked alike.
Ten minutes later Anna had translated the note. She walked back into the living room, took her seat, and read to Liz and Dan from a notepad. “We are your family. Small in numbers, great in power. Do not betray us.” She looked up at her friends. “Just like the wren. ‘His body is small, his family is great.’”
“That’s incredibly creepy,” Liz said. “And this was stuck in Jazmin’s couch? That skinny girl I saw at the town council meeting?” She waved her hands vigorously, as if she’d just come to an important decision. “It’s plain as day you’ve got to stay away from these people. I know they’re trying to mess with you and you’re ready for a fight, but let it be, Anna. Stay away from them.”
“Liz, she has to defend herself,” Dan said. “When you’re self-employed your reputation is everything, and Muncy’s in a posi
tion to do a lot of damage.” He turned to Anna. “Liz told me Muncy threatened you,” he explained. “And now Liz is getting text messages demanding she remove your ad from her website.”
“I’m not removing it,” Liz said adamantly. She looked back to Anna. “I’m not.”
“I know,” Anna said. “I’m sorry you’ve been drawn into this.”
Liz made a never-mind motion with her hand. “There’s something wrong with at least one of these people, Anna. Maybe all of them. Tom, Darlene, that guy with the beaded hair. But maybe if you back off, they’ll back off.”
“I haven’t got any backing off to do,” Anna said. “I’m not the one leaving pentacles and dead birds on doorsteps. I’m not walking around downtown telling people that Tom’s involved in something illegal and his business license has been revoked.”
Liz and Dan exchanged puzzled looks, as if one could tell the other what Anna meant by her last remark. When Anna explained what Tom Muncy had told Gene Westfall, Dan exploded.
“You could have his rear in a sling! He’s a member of the town council. You told Detective Schaeffer about this, I hope.”
“It’s the first thing I told him, before the whole athame thing came up. He’s going to have a talk with Tom.”
“Good. I’d watch Muncy, though. I’d threaten him with a lawsuit if he says one more word. I’d make him pay for your poster, too. Was it ruined?”
“Yes, but I already gave a new one to Grace to give to Gene. He promised to put it in the window. He was very apologetic.”
“What did Grace say?”
“Let’s just say she’s not fond of Tom Muncy right now.”
Liz took the last sip of her wine and cradled the glass in her hands as she watched the fire, its orange and deep blue flames dancing atop the log. “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough,” she said.
“Who are you talking to?” Dan asked.
“You.” She looked at Dan then over to Anna. “You too. Do you understand what someone did tonight? What kind of person does that?”
“What kind of person would nail a helpless little bird to a piece of wood?” Anna said. “That’s all I’m thinking about, Liz, and I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that question.”
12
Anna woke the next morning to the faint sound of scraping coming from somewhere in front of the house. A flutter of alarm passed through her as she grabbed her glasses from the nightstand and looked at the clock in her bedroom. Just after eight.
Dan and Liz were probably in the kitchen making coffee and pulling pans and cups from cabinets, she thought. But the sound seemed to be coming from outside the house. She slipped on her Wranglers and a navy turtleneck sweater and headed down the hall, the cold wood floors biting at her bare feet.
There was no one in the kitchen, no coffee in the pot. Jackson ran to the front door, his face an inch from the knob, his tail doing helicopter twirls.
Anna peered through the curtain and found the source of the scraping noise. Dan was shoveling her driveway. More snow had fallen overnight, leaving a good six inches on the drive, an amount even she couldn’t ignore. A bitterly cold winter morning, and her friend was shoveling her driveway. She smiled. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have his own driveway to shovel. She opened the door and let Jackson out.
“Good morning!” she said. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”
“Hey there, Jackson,” Dan said as the dog bounded up to him. “I love shoveling,” he said to Anna. “And I love winter mornings. I’m enjoying myself.”
“How about some coffee? And where’s Liz?”
“Liz is still sleeping. Coffee sounds great.”
“You got it.” Anna shut the door, catching a glimpse of Jackson rolling in the snow as she did. Every dog she had ever owned loved the snow, but Jackson most of all. The greatest joy in his dog life—Anna could see it in his face—was running through the snow. People who claimed dogs don’t smile had never seen Jackson.
“Liz?” Anna called down the hall in the direction of the guest bedroom.
“I’m up,” Liz called back. “Two minutes. I desperately need coffee.”
“Coming up. I can’t believe I slept so late.”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Liz shouted from behind the door.
In the kitchen Anna began scooping hazelnut coffee into a filter. Thoughts of last night, the little bird and the police, came back in a fierce wave. She felt acid rise to the back of her throat. It didn’t help that she hadn’t had dinner last night. She switched on the coffee maker and the scent of coffee began to fill the room, settling her stomach. The smell of coffee always did that for her.
“Good morning.” Liz made a beeline for the coffee maker. “Dan still outside?” Her dark hair was still gathered at the back with one of her hairclips, but more stray tendrils had fallen out here and there, giving her a pleasantly rumpled look.
“Yes, he is. And let me tell you, you’ve got a good man there.”
“Don’t I know it.” Liz smoothed her sweater. “Most of the time.”
“Breakfast?” Anna said, digging through a lower cabinet for her omelette pan.
“Much as I’d like you to make us breakfast, we need to get home. Someone’s coming to the house at nine to sweep the chimney. I’m going downtown after that, and I’m making a stop at the town clerk’s office. I told you I could get more information. Want to meet for lunch at the Buffalo about one-thirty?”
“You bet. What kind of information?”
“I’ll find out when I get there. Someone who works there contacted me. She seems eager to talk about Muncy. Boy is it fun running a website.”
“I just remembered I’ve got to run the Christmas bulletins over to the church later this morning,” Anna said, setting the omelette pan on the stove top.
“This will be the first Christmas Eve service without Emily,” Liz said wistfully.
“She’s not staying in the dorms, is she?”
“No, but she wants to spend Christmas Eve with friends in Castle Rock. We won’t see her until late on Christmas Day.”
The front door banged open and Jackson ran into the house, his nails clicking double-time on the floor before he lost control and slid up to Anna. Dan stomped his shoes on the doorstep, popped them off on the mat inside, then walked to the kitchen, rubbing his hands together and making an exaggerated face of pleasure as he headed for the coffee maker.
“What would we do without coffee?” Anna said. “We’re all addicted, you know.” She poured coffee into two mugs and handed them to Dan and Liz. The kitchen fell silent as the three concentrated on their coffee, relishing the first few sips. Dan walked a few steps to the small dining table at the kitchen end of the living room and sat down with a sigh.
Anna looked down at Jackson, who was sitting near her feet, his body swaying slightly to the wag of his tail. “You have to stay home today, boy. Want your breakfast?”
“We’ve got to run.” Liz took a last large gulp and set her mug on the counter. “Chimney guy this morning,” she reminded Dan.
Dan groaned. He took another few sips of coffee before relinquishing his mug and putting on his shoes. “Anna, let us know if the police find out anything about that note.”
Anna noticed he’d avoided mention of the bird. None of them wanted to think about what they’d seen last night.
“And call us if you hear anything outside your house again.” Liz waited a beat for emphasis. “Don’t do anything crazy, like opening your door.”
Anna took Summit Avenue on her way to Faith Chapel on the east side of town. It made for a longer drive, but Summit stayed relatively dry long after the town’s unplowed roads iced over in the freeze-melt-freeze cycle. Every tree and shrub from her house to downtown was sheathed in frost. Even the grasses were a velvety white.
Near the Buffalo Café she spotted Jazmin on the street, walking west, probably toward Darlene’s store, she thought. Jazmin saw Anna’s Jimmy and stopped dea
d in her tracks. She hopped once, as if she’d stepped on something hot, then waved frantically.
Anna slowed, intending to go on after giving Jazmin a good stare, but the look on Jazmin’s face caused her to press on the brakes and pull to the curb behind a pickup with a large Christmas tree in its bed.
She rolled down her passenger-side window as Jazmin stepped gingerly across the unshoveled sidewalk up to the Jimmy, looking furtively from side to side and across the street. Jazmin crouched at the SUV’s door so that Anna could only see her from the mouth up. “Let me get in, please,” she said. “I have to talk to you and I don’t want anyone to see me.”
Anna waved her into the Jimmy. Jazmin flung herself into the seat and bent low, her head almost touching the glove compartment in the dashboard. Anna gritted her teeth. Jazmin was acting like Monica had, crouching low, hiding. She’d had about enough of this foolishness. She checked the rearview mirror and pulled from the curb, heading east. “I’m driving to my church to deliver some bulletins,” she said to the back of Jazmin’s head. “You can talk on the way.”
Already annoyed that she’d given into what were probably misplaced feelings of sympathy, Anna felt her anger and resentment building. The girl had actually flagged her down. On her way to church, no less. “If you think you can handle being near a church,” she added. “It not being your path of tolerance and crystals and light. I wouldn’t want you to burst into flames.”
It was a cruel thing to say, Anna knew, and her words hung on the air and rang in her ears in the moment of silence that followed. “I’m sorry,” she said, keeping her eyes on the road. “That was uncalled for.”
“I don’t blame you,” Jazmin said softly. She sat up. “You probably think I’m awful. I guess you heard about the text messages we sent to ElkNews.com.”
“Yup.” Anna stared ahead, alert for patches of ice. “Shouldn’t you be at work now?”
“I left to get coffee.”
“This is going to be one long coffee break.”
Anna Denning Mystery Series Box Set: Books 1–3 Page 10
