Anna heard a distinctive bark. Jackson’s one-off bark. It meant he’d encountered a stranger. She saw a blur of tan and black fur and turned to her left. “Jackson, come now! Suka, come!”
Passing through a small stand of ponderosas, she saw what Jackson had barked at. A rail-thin woman was standing before a headstone, hands in her pockets, head bowed. Anna pulled closer. The dogs ran toward the Jimmy, then drifted off again, cutting paths through the snow. The headstone was small, with some kind of ornament on top. A child’s grave. Anna drew in her breath. What had she interrupted?
She started to back up slowly on the snow-caked road, steering her way back to where she’d taken the last turn. The woman heard the tires slip and grab in the snow and turned. Monica Fisk. Anna hit the brakes.
19
Anna got out of the Jimmy and walked around the front of it, her eyes on Monica. “I’m sorry, I was trying to find my dog and a friend’s dog. They ran this way.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s good to see you.” Monica smiled and worked her way through the snow toward Anna, at one point sinking in to just below her knees and keeping her balance by thrusting her arms outward like a tightrope walker. “Do you think this snow’s ever going to stop?”
“Doesn’t seem like it. I miss our bright blue Colorado skies.”
A moment later Monica answered Anna’s unasked question. “This is our first Christmas since we lost the baby.” She stood next to Anna and looked back toward the small headstone crowned, Anna could now see, with a sleeping lamb. “I lost her at five months, late for a miscarriage. Her name was Emma Marie.” Monica turned away from the headstone, her face lined in quiet sadness. There were dark rings below her eyes, making them seem even larger, and her skin had a pasty, almost translucent look. She looked like she hadn’t been sleeping.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. That means something coming from you.” She flinched, as if she’d startled herself. “I don’t mean to intrude. You remember Darlene mentioned your husband the first day you came to the store.”
“I remember. Darlene made sure I’d remember.” Anna looked around for the dogs and spotted them ahead, by a knot of bare lilacs. They’d made their way closer, still running. She didn’t see another car in the cemetery. “Are you with Jason?”
“No, he doesn’t like to come.” She kicked at the snow then stomped it off her boots. “He wants to forget. Which is fine by me.” Her face hardened. “Darlene offered to come with me. She likes it here. It’s the most witch-friendly place in town, she says. Her coven meets here on sabbats. They even joke about what a great place this would be for animal sacrifice.”
“Somehow that’s not very funny.”
“No, it’s not, but maybe they aren’t really joking. Anyway, Jason’s working now, keeping himself busy.”
“You’re pretty busy too from what I’ve seen. How many of those smudge sticks do you make a month?”
“Easily three hundred.”
“Good grief.” Anna did the mental math in her head. At only five dollars a stick that was fifteen hundred dollars, and the larger sticks sold for fifteen apiece. Clearly there was big money in witchcraft.
“I also make small herbal wreaths, herbal tinctures, things like that.”
“Can I ask you something?” Anna pushed her glasses back up on her nose. “Have you and Jason ever thought about opening your own store or a storefront on the Internet? There’s a big market out there for anything herbal.”
Monica dropped her head back, a groan of aggravation escaping her lips. “I’ve tried. I’m tired of working for Darlene. Jason doesn’t want to take the leap. He says we’re not in a financial position right now. I say if we sold everything we sold Darlene on our own website we’d make twice as much money as we do now. And we need the money.”
“Maybe if you crunched the numbers for him. Priced the website, figured in your transportation savings, added up what you’d bring in per month for even smudge sticks alone.”
“I wouldn’t make those anymore.” An expression of determination spread across her face. “Not a single one. Nothing anyone would use in a damn spell. There’s nothing wrong with wreaths and tinctures, but I’d never make another one of those sticks.”
“I did wonder if you liked making them.” Anna understood how Monica felt. Most of the sticks were bought by people Jazmin’s age or younger. The sticks, the athames, the mirrors—they were all Pied Piper devices, drawing the young and foolish. Darlene’s older customers had probably been hooked, like smokers, at a younger age.
Monica used her right foot like a broom, brushing away the snow where she stood. “The trouble is, we make more of a profit on those sticks than on anything else. Since Rowan showed me a faster way to make them, I can do fifteen large ones or twenty smaller ones an hour if I have to.”
“That’s amazing.” A handful of snowflakes drifted by. It had started snowing again.
“I do have to thank Rowan for that. He took the time to show me.”
“It seems like Jason and Rowan are good friends.”
“They’re friends, yeah. Jason enjoys Rowan’s company, and I hate to take that away from him since, well, the baby, but I wish he’d find his own place.”
“His own? Does Rowan stay with you?”
“In our garden shed. He didn’t mention that?”
Anna shook her head no.
“Darlene said he needed a home and asked us if we had room. It’s almost a cottage. Insulated, heated. It’s not the best place, but he stays rent-free.”
So that’s how Rowan afforded the lattes, Anna thought. He didn’t pay a penny in rent. That left a lot of money at the end of the month—at least more than he’d have paying the steep rent of a Colorado mountain town. Anna suspected the arrangement was wholly Jason’s idea and Monica played along to keep him happy in what was a very unhappy time for both of them. “It must be hard to have a permanent guest.”
“Rowan doesn’t even stay in the shed anymore, and I did it up for him. I put curtains up, everything. He eats with us, he watches TV with us. It’s like he can’t be alone for ten minutes. And Jason is using Rowan as a buffer, I know. We’re going to butt heads over this because I’m not going to take it anymore.”
Monica’s words began to tumble. Finally released, they cascaded like pebbles down a canyon wall, grabbing more pebbles as they fell, growing louder and faster. “I want Rowan out, and I want to get away from Darlene and that store, but we can’t do that if Rowan’s living with us. He’ll always be a connection to that place. There’s no reason for us to be involved with Darlene, or Rowan. We can do this on our own.” There was fire in her eyes. It was clear she meant it.
“I think you can, too,” Anna said. “If you ever need advice on setting up a website, let me know. I have a friend who’s pretty Internet savvy.”
Anna caught sight of the dogs. They had run within calling distance, still cutting circles and figure eights in the snow. She called out their names. They drew closer but kept moving, tigers loosed in the snow. They were loving it, and Anna loved seeing Jackson so quickly his old self again and getting some much-needed exercise.
“I’d love to have a website,” Monica said.
Anna focused on Monica. “I’m sure my friend could help you get started, and I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”
“The first thing I’d have to do is get Jason unplugged from that store.”
“Is he that attached to it?”
“He thinks Darlene’s a great woman. She’s overcome huge odds, getting thrown out of her house when she was only a kid, starting her own business, which is about to double in size. And now she’s helping the little people. That’s us, by the way. And Rowan and Jazmin. Jason thinks of us that way, like we’re little people and can’t make it without her help. He thinks he’s hitching his wagon to a star.”
Anna struggled with her emotions and bit her tongue. She wanted to tell Monica about Darlene’s house
in Telluride, about what had to have been a hefty divorce settlement, but it wasn’t her place. The truth was that Darlene had hitched her wagon to a star. She’d received a big old lift up the ladder in the form of her ex-husband’s money.
Still, Anna could understand some of Jason’s admiration. Darlene had escaped the pit of a difficult childhood and clambered her way to the top. She probably worked sixty, seventy hours a week. That was admirable. But the rest of it? Far from admirable.
“Look at those two go,” Monica said, twisting left then right as she followed the dogs on their mad frolic among the headstones. “Which one is yours?”
“The German shepherd mix.”
It struck Anna that Monica had no idea what her dog looked like, and she wasn’t trying to avoid Jackson like Rowan had. She couldn’t have been involved in the attack on her dog. Anna hadn’t suspected her in the first place, but now her feelings were confirmed.
In any case, she thought, Monica was too timid, and though Darlene frightened her, she wasn’t like Jazmin, desperate to please her employer. Desperate to avoid her, maybe. Monica had a good heart. Just yesterday she’d covered for Jazmin during her supposed coffee break and kept her from Darlene’s angry clutches.
“Monica, do you know anything about Jazmin’s family? Or why she moved to Colorado by herself?”
Monica thought for a moment before answering. “I think I’ve only heard her talk about her family once. She said something about a sister in Montana, but that’s about all. I don’t think she even mentioned her sister’s name, at least not to me. Those two, Rowan and Jazmin, they don’t like their pasts. I think that’s why they get along so well.” She brushed flakes from her black hair. The snow was falling faster, the sun beginning to dip behind the mountains. “I should get going. Jason’s waiting for me at the store.”
“Why don’t I drive you? I’m going downtown anyway to take Suka back.” She tossed her head in the direction of the dogs.
“Thanks, yeah. It wasn’t snowing when I left. I thought it would be a nice walk. I should have known better.” She stepped carefully toward the Jimmy, brushing more snow from her hair on the way.
“The passenger door’s open.” Anna called for the dogs and dropped the tailgate. After making a few wide circles about the Jimmy, the dogs darted for the SUV, leaping like show horses into the back.
Anna churned slowly down the cemetery road, pulled onto Elk River Road, and pressed down on the accelerator. She hoped she could drop Monica off behind the store and drive off unseen. She had plans to confront Darlene, but on her own terms, and with Monica in the car, this wasn’t the time. On the other hand, Rowan had mentioned something about an anti-Christmas party tonight with Darlene’s coven. Perfect.
“It gets dark out so fast now,” Monica said, watching hills and trees drift by her window.
Anna followed Monica’s gaze out the passenger-side window. The last of the sun’s rays flashed like firecracker trails through breaks in the pines. She focused again on the road and held firmly to the steering wheel.
“Can I ask you something?” she said. “I’ve been trying to figure out a few things. Darlene had Jazmin put two photos of houses in the genealogy packet I took to Susan Muncy. One of the photos had ‘1734 Cochrane’ written on the back. At first I thought it was the address of the house, but it isn’t. Any idea what that means?”
“Oh, boy.”
Anna looked to her right. Monica took a deep, silent breath, a debate raging inside of her. “Monica?”
“Okay, then. You have a right to know.” Monica worked her way sideways in the seat to face Anna. “Jason told me Darlene had two photos for Susan’s family tree, but he didn’t tell me what they were. I’ll tell you what I know. Cochrane is probably Robert Cochrane. He was a British witch, died decades ago. I’m pretty sure he was a traditionalist because he didn’t like wicca. Which is why Darlene likes him. The 1734 has to mean the 1734 Tradition. Some people think 1734 is the old craft, you know, not new age stuff. It’s based on Cochrane’s teachings, though, so how old can it be?”
“Does it date to 1734?”
“No, the numbers are supposed to mean something to traditional witches, like in numerology. Cochrane’s version was a little different. He called the tradition the Clan of Tubal Cain.”
Anna had heard of Tubal Cain, the biblical descendant of Cain, but never the Clan. The name reeked of self-important foolishness. “Do the witches in this tradition have to be hereditary?”
“I don’t think so, especially since Cochrane lived in modern times. How far back could he go?”
“So 1734’s a group under the broader umbrella of witchcraft?”
“Basically. It’s like a variety of witchcraft. Like Stregheria, which is Italian witchcraft. Or Welsh witchcraft, shamanism, a lot of different traditions. I don’t know most of the names.”
“You know a lot.”
“I pick a few things up from Jason, and I’ve heard Darlene and Rowan argue about different traditions.”
“What do they argue about?”
“Darlene’s very traditional, and she lets Rowan know it. She’s right, he’s wrong. He’s all eclectic and she thinks that’s childish. Though he’s going druid now—partly to make her happy, I bet. At least druidism is old. In a way she looks down on Rowan and Jazmin, and I’m not sure Rowan picks up on that. Jazmin does, though.”
“So what would be the connection between 1734 and Darlene?”
“Maybe just that she’s traditional and the 1734 Tradition is supposed to be too. Or the 1734 witches think they’re a cut above, like Darlene does.”
Anna let up on the accelerator. She was suddenly aware that the sun had dropped behind the mountains and the sky, the air all around, was tinged with pink. She wanted to stop the car in the street and hold on to the moment. But in two minutes it would change, becoming just another lost sunset, and she had to get Monica back. “I’m going to go around and take the long way back to the store.”
“Good. I don’t mind if Darlene sees you drop me off, but I don’t want her to see me talking to you.” She gave Anna an apologetic smile. “I know that sounds silly.”
“I understand. There’s no need to start trouble if you can avoid it.”
Anna made a left on Logan and another left onto Alpine Avenue, heading south again, away from downtown. The new-fallen snow formed a thin layer atop the old ice and snow, like talcum powder on a sheet of glass, making driving treacherous. She clenched her jaw. She wanted to be at home, and she still had to drive to Christmas Eve services at her church in a couple hours.
“Was there something on the back of the other photo?” Monica asked. “You said there were two photos of houses.”
“I already figured out that one.” Should she mention Charles Walton? It would only add to Monica’s fears about Darlene.
“Did it look like an address?”
Anna knew there was no way to avoid the second photo. Monica wanted to know. “It looked like an address, but it was the name and date of death of a man who lived a long time ago.”
Monica gaped. “Who?”
“Have you ever heard of Charles Walton and the Valentine’s Day murder in England?”
Monica continued to stare. She broke the silence. “Yeah, I have. Darlene put that in the envelope with your genealogy? Why would she do that?”
Anna lifted a shoulder. “A threat? That’s all I can think of.”
Monica slowly nodded. “To threaten Tom Muncy.”
“Tom?”
“Name me your committee liaison or else. Muncy’s afraid of Darlene too.”
“But Tom never saw the photos. I gave them to the detective in charge.”
“I’m sure the detective would have asked Muncy about them.”
“But how would Darlene know Tom would be talking to a detective?”
“Huh.” Monica hooked a strand of hair with her finger. “I don’t know.”
“And would Tom even know what the message meant?”
“Maybe he could figure it out, like you did.”
“I think Darlene already had something on Tom. Enough to get him to appoint her, I mean.”
“That doesn’t matter. Darlene doesn’t leave anything to chance. She’d rather go too far than not far enough.”
Anna made another two turns until she was heading north and toward the store. The roads were getting worse and she wanted to get back to Summit Avenue as soon as possible. She had a couple of minutes left to ask about Darlene. “Monica, this is important. You told me that Darlene learned the craft from her grandmother. Do you know anything more about that?”
“Her grandmother was a well-known witch, like Darlene. Her name was Evelyn Hargrave. She learned witchcraft from her mother and grandmother then spent some time in England and France. She made some famous friends.”
“Julian Brandon, for one.”
“I noticed she showed you Brandon’s book. She hasn’t let me or Jason see it, and she only showed it to Jazmin and Rowan once, so she wants you to feel privileged.”
Anna chafed at the thought. “Great. What’s a witch doing with an occult book?”
“Darlene likes power, any way she can get it. And if her grandmother liked Brandon, she would too. I also think she likes having a book Brandon signed. It makes her special.”
“Why didn’t her grandmother give the book to her daughter, Darlene’s mother?”
Monica straightened herself in her seat and smoothed out the front of her coat, as if in preparation for seeing Darlene. “From what Rowan’s told me, Evelyn and Darlene’s mom hated each other. Darlene’s mom tried everything to keep Darlene out of witchcraft, and when she couldn’t, she threw Darlene out of the house. I think her mom was desperate and thought throwing her out would scare her into leaving witchcraft.”
“It had the opposite effect.”
“It did, yeah.”
“Is her mom still living?”
“I don’t know, she never talks about her. What I know I got in bits and pieces from Rowan, listening to him talk with Jason.”
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