Sins of a Witch

by J. J. Neeson

  “Fine,” Dr. Brent relented, setting her proposal down. “I’ll allow it, but only because it’s a masters. Don’t think you’ll get away with something like this for your PhD.”

  Relieved, Nikki stood, grabbing the canvas shoulder bag she used to transport her papers. “Good. Gotta go.”

  “To start your research, I hope,” he said as she darted for the door. “Most of your peers had their theses approved in April. You’re behind.”

  “I’ll start my research later tonight. I have somewhere more important to be this afternoon. There’s a rally to raise awareness of crimes against women in Mali.”

  Dr. Brent grunted, causing Nikki to stop in her tracks and her fury to rise. “You don’t think it a worthy cause?” she challenged.

  “The cause is worthy. Your strategy is not. The only way the women in Mali will be safe is if someone steps in to protect them.”

  “That’s exactly what we’re calling on the Mali government to do.”

  “The Mali government couldn’t give a rat’s behind about a rally staged in Baton Rouge. Your time is precious, especially as a grad student. Think bigger.”

  She turned back to the door. “You sound like a woman I know back home—Mrs. Florence.”

  “She knows what she’s talking about. Tell her I said so when you go home for that gypsy festival of yours. And tell Samuel Robles to hurry back to us. The Department of Physics and Astronomy isn’t the same without him.”

  Nikki didn’t reply. She raced out the door. But with Broken Ridge on her mind, a frightening insight overpowered her, enough that she had to reach for the wall of the dimly lit corridor for support, catching her breath.

  A hunter had been unleashed by the storm.

  Chapter Three

  It wasn’t a library. It was a mausoleum, a tomb for the secret knowledge of mankind to remain buried. Conflicted, Reigh stood on the white marble steps and faced the Gothic doors outside the library, trying to decide if knowing the origin of the rune was worth the risk of losing the comfort the rune brought her. There was no instance when the rune had first appeared, at least not within her memory. It had always been there, guiding her, protecting her. Despite Thorston’s warnings, she trusted it.

  Realizing the power of her trust, she opened the doors, confident that whatever she discovered in the library, it would only help her to understand all the strange things happening around her. It wouldn’t destroy her faith in the rune.

  “Wow,” she murmured. “Caesars Palace, eat your heart out.”

  The library was four floors high, each connected by a large central staircase that was much more exquisite than the steps outside, the railing engraved with graceful lattices that swirled around the marble as if they were the tracings of a ballerina’s footsteps. Countless rows of books lined the floors, as was to be expected, each illuminated by the sun shining through a clear glass dome above. Within its grand, open design, the building was noble, but there was a surprising intimacy within its walls, supported by the modern recliners and cubicles that surrounded her on the ground floor.

  “Welcome,” a man with skin so dark and flawless she thought she could sink into it greeted her. He was smartly dressed in a red cashmere sweater and slacks, with glasses over his amber eyes, the light inside those eyes as grounded as the earth. “I’m Kaylock. You must be Reigh.”

  “Good guess,” she said hesitantly, wondering how the hell he knew her name.

  “Small town,” he answered, though she didn’t ask. “And I’m friends with Samuel, Lu’s husband. We’re on the same bowling team.”

  “Okay,” she said, allowing her guard to drop a notch, but not completely. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to spy. I’m the librarian. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  The librarian. She should have known. Kaylock was all sophistication, so much so that it was hard to imagine him being cheered on by Samuel and his other teammates within the stench of sweat and booze at a bowling alley.

  Unsure of where to begin, she looked up at the staircase and all of its floors. She would prefer to search in private, but she suspected she would need Kaylock’s help, not unless she wanted to become the needle in the haystack. “I’m looking for a book on runes.”

  He was on it. “There are many types of runes. Each type is a variant of a language created by the ancient Germanic people, but—”

  “This type,” she said, lifting up her sweater to expose the small tattoo on her back—the diamond with the fishtail. She was in no mood for a lecture, and it made the task of explaining the rune to Kaylock a lot less daunting.

  He blushed shyly. “That would be the Othala rune. It’s of the Elder Futhark, the earliest of the runic alphabets.”

  She let her sweater fall. “Thorston said it was Norse.”

  Kaylock lit up. “Thorston is in town? It’s not like him not to drop by...”

  “His friend died. Dodger. He’s been preoccupied with the funeral.”

  “My sympathies to Thorston,” he said mournfully. “Dodger was a childhood friend of his.”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  He turned his attention back to the rune. “It is primarily Nordic, or Norse, a symbol used by the people of Scandinavia and the lands they conquered.”

  “You mean the Vikings?”

  “It’s a bit more complex than that, but yes, for the sake of simplicity.”

  “My grandparents were from Norway. They died before I was born, and my mom doesn’t speak much of them. I think it’s too painful. But she did mention to me a few times that if it wasn’t so cold there, she would have moved me to Norway when I was little.”

  “That would be appropriate, given that the Othala rune symbolizes inheritance and ancestry.”

  “It does?” She was a little dismayed. She’d thought it represented something much more florescent and revealing. She already knew her grandparents were from Norway.

  Kaylock read her mind. “Cheer up. Our ancestry is powerful. We are the blood of our ancestors. Every desire, every tragedy, every glory—essentially everything our ancestors ever lived and fought for—is regenerated through us in our DNA. The power we carry because of our ancestors is incredibly prevalent.”

  Reigh didn’t entirely understand what Kaylock meant, but she had a feeling she would, and someday soon. “Is there anything else you can tell me about the rune?”

  “I’m afraid not, nothing of great significance. An alteration of the rune was used in a negative context during the devastation of World War II, but the rune was around for nearly a thousand years before its symbolism was abused. Its history far surpasses its relatively recent misuse by the Germans. That’s about as far as my knowledge reaches. But I have a book in mind that will help you with your research of its true Nordic history. Would you like to see the book or use a tablet?”

  “I have no clue what that means,” she said blankly.

  He led her to one of the cubicles she’d seen entering the library. On top of the sheltered desk was an electronic tablet. “All of our books are available to read in digital format. Each station is set up to give you ultimate privacy as you read. Or you can sign a tablet out and read on one of the couches, but it can’t leave the library.”

  “Oh. That’s pretty awesome, but no thanks. I would prefer to take the book home to read. I’ve always done better with paper than I have with screens.”

  “Very well. The book you need is on the third floor. I’ll show you.”

  The marble railing of the staircase was soft against her hand, like satin. It cooled her beneath her flannel, which was light but still a poor choice for the Louisiana heat. As they passed the lower floors, she noticed that many of the books on the shelves were quite old, their leather covers crippled with age and their pages yellowed. And they all seemed to be marked under History.

  On the third floor, from a shelf in the corner, Kaylock pulled out an enormous book similar to the others she’d pass
ed. Its leather cover scratched her skin when he set it in her arms, and it was heavy, causing her to stumble forward.

  “Easy,” he said, steadying her. “Sure you wouldn’t prefer a tablet?”

  “I’ll manage.” She straightened herself, finding her balance. “Thank God I drove into town today to pick up groceries.”

  “I can carry it downstairs for you.”

  “No. That won’t be necessary. Like I said, I can manage.”

  Kaylock stepped back. “You’re strong. I get it.”

  Reigh laughed. “I’m just used to doing things myself. I hope it’s worth it.”

  “It is. That book is an encyclopedia of all things Nordic. Whatever answers you’re in search of, they’re in there. Somewhere.”

  “Good, because answers are what I need.”

  Returning to the staircase with Kaylock a few steps behind her, spotting her in case she stumbled beneath the weight of the book again, the answer to one particular question gripped itself to her like a vice. Damn Thorston for infecting her with his doubts.

  “Is the rune good?” she asked when they reached the front desk.

  “No,” Kaylock answered truthfully. “But it’s not bad, either. It just is. People created it. People make of it what they will.”

  A Native American woman walked into the library, grabbing his attention. She was a knockout, with striking light brown eyes hooded by heavy lashes and full lips, currently downturned as she hurried past them. The extra weight she carried around her voluptuous figure only enhanced her beauty, like Marilyn Monroe when she was at her prime.

  Reigh smiled at Kaylock, who fixated on the woman like a puppy to a shoe. “Somebody has a crush,” she said.

  He quickly looked away, shy once more. “Her name is Tallie. She comes in here now and again.”

  “You should go talk to her.”

  He was aghast at the idea. “She’s a patron. It would be highly inappropriate.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Don’t hide behind such a lame ass excuse. You approached me as soon as I walked in.”

  “That’s because you’re new to town.”

  “Maybe she’s new, too.”

  Kaylock glanced once more in Tallie’s direction. “No. We went to school together.”

  “You mean like college?”

  “Elementary school. Then middle school. Then high school.”

  Reigh sighed on Kaylock’s behalf. “You poor thing. This isn’t just a crush. This is love.”

  “No, it’s really not,” he protested.

  “Tell me you haven’t been pining after her since you were a little kid scribbling with crayons?”

  He couldn’t. “Some things are just not meant to be.”

  “I don’t believe in fate,” she said. “I believe in purpose and meaning, but not fate.” Briefly, she thought of her twenties, wasted in America’s playground. “We’re accountable for our actions. We have to take responsibility for them.” Much lighter, she added, “And that means winning the heart of someone you love by talking to her.”

  Kaylock didn’t seem entirely inspired by her words, but he was entertained. “I’m glad you’ve come to town, Reigh.”

  “Me too. Now, do I need to apply for a library card or anything?”

  It was his turn to laugh. “This is Broken Ridge. We don’t use that system here. The book will find its way back, whether you return it or not. They all do.”

  ***

  Freak’n hell, what was I thinking wearing a flannel today?

  If this was Vegas, she would have stripped down to her black padded bra. Instead, not wanting to make too bold an impression so early in the game, Reigh dropped the book Kaylock had loaned her into the backseat of her convertible then reached for a plastic water bottle in the glove compartment, taking a long, nourishing sip.

  “Reigh?” someone called out to her.

  She froze in place, her heart fluttering. It was impossible. He sounded just like...

  Turning around, a man with fox-colored hair and eyes so dark they were colorless approached her. It was ridiculously absurd, but there he was, dressed in a suit that made him appear much older than the boy he had once been.

  “Calder?” she asked, the words sounding strange as they left her mouth. “It can’t be you.”

  He was equally mystified. “I think this heat is playing tricks on me. The Reigh I know is in Vegas, likely getting ready to go prowl the nightclubs with her girlfriends in search of a free hit.”

  Reigh frowned. “Those days are over.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said sincerely. With the greatest of affection, he placed a hand against her cheek and brushed away a strand of her pale blonde hair, like he had many times throughout the years of their friendship. Then he stepped back. “Sorry. I just had to make sure you were real.”

  “I could say the same about you. This doesn’t make sense.”

  Seeing Calder, standing so close to him, caused a flood of emotions she struggled to control. Though he came and went, weaving in and out of her life throughout the years, they’d known each other for almost a decade. In the entire world, in all of its secret corners and hidden beauties, in all of its devastations, even in its ordinariness, he was the only true friend she had. He was her one person.

  And she had abandoned him.

  “I’m here on business,” he told her, searching her light grey-green eyes. “But what are you doing here?”

  “I’ve moved.”

  The hurt that flickered across his face was painful to stomach. “I didn’t know,” he said somberly.

  “I didn’t have time to tell you,” she tried to explain, crushed with guilt. “I just had to go. Vegas was destroying me.”

  “But we might not have seen each other again.”

  He had been her one regret when she’d left Vegas to rot in its sparkling dust. He had every right to be upset. She should have left him a note. Written her phone number in the sand and told him to finally buy a phone. Put a message in a bottle and left it floating in the waters of one of the city’s many fountains. Something. No matter how ridiculous, something would have been better than nothing. Something did not make her out to be uncaring.

  “I’m so sorry, Calder. I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

  “It’s okay,” he reassured her, even though she knew it wasn’t, hearing the betrayal in his voice. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, but you look great. A lot healthier than you did in Vegas. You were right to leave.”

  Classic Calder. He was so patient, especially when it came to her. “I left, and you found me. I’m so glad you did,” she said sincerely. “It would have pained me never to have seen you again. It must be fate.”

  “I certainly hope so.” He paused, smiling at her. “But I thought you didn’t believe in fate.”

  “I don’t. But I have no other way to describe seeing you here in Broken Ridge.”

  “Then let’s call it providence,” he decided. “Two souls guided back together by a higher force.”

  Guidance. Reigh glanced down at the book sitting in her backseat. Those thick yellow pages could reveal the mystery of the rune, but she was beginning to wonder if perhaps it was no mystery at all. If maybe its purpose stood before her now.

  “Want to have dinner with me tonight?” he asked.

  They had gone for dinner many times before, usually cheap buffets or the diner near her apartment. But this invitation felt different. It was much more meaningful. They weren’t two kids trying to understand the twisted world around them anymore. They weren’t in Vegas. They were here, in Broken Ridge. Suddenly, Calder didn’t seem so untouchable.

  “Okay,” she agreed. There was no reason her new beginning couldn’t start with an old friend and a first date. “I’d like that.”

  He looked as if he’d been waiting years to hear her say it. “How about we meet at the river dock at seven?”

  “The dock is pretty large. How will we find each other?”
/>   “Don’t worry, I’ll find you,” he assured her. “I always do.”

  ***

  Stunned by her encounter with Calder, Reigh stopped for groceries, but she was barely able to focus. She dropped a can of pickled beets into her basket instead of green beans, and then she tried to pay the cashier with her driver’s license instead of her debit card. After the cashier pointed out her mistake, she punched her pin into the keypad, praying her calculations were correct and she had enough in her bank account to cover the bill. She did, but probably only barely. Like a zombie, she returned to her convertible.

  Calder is in Broken Ridge, she thought, her hands on the steering wheel as she gazed forward, unmoving. That cannot be a coincidence.

  When another car beeped at her for her parking space, she pulled away and drove to Lu’s house. She arrived at a pretty colonial-style home with an extensive front lawn, in which two twin girls and their younger brother jumped through a sprinkler. Lu sat on the porch with what looked like a blueprint of an engine unfolded across her lap.

  “I brought dinner,” Reigh called out, holding up a grocery bag as she crossed the lawn.

  “Reigh!” Lu greeted warmly, setting the blueprint down. “What a nice surprise.”

  “It’s just a few cans of chicken soup. Alms for the sick. But it looks like Abigail is doing better,” she said when she reached the porch, not sure exactly which of the girls was Abigail.

  “Family remedy,” Lu disclosed. “But nothing is more healing than a loving gift. I’ll serve it to the kids for supper tonight. Thank you. Want to join us?”

  “I would, but I have to get ready for a date.”

  A cloud of dissatisfaction hovered over Lu. “Not with Thorston, I hope. He’s trouble.”

  “He’s hurting,” Reigh told her. “His friend Dodger died. He’s at the funeral.”

  The cloud immediately disappeared, replaced by compassion. “That’s terrible. Poor Thorston. Dodger was a lone wolf, but they were like brothers.”