by Abby Knox
“Well, if it isn’t the Satanic bitch,” he sneered as she approached.
Also not easy on the ears.
He was still wearing the ridiculous shirt, of course. Ridiculous because Morgan could sense he’d never spent a day hunting in his entire life. Then there were the hiking boots, dad jeans. A serious case of hat head. He had a reddish complexion, which she had over time learned to attribute to men with dangerously high blood pressure and bad diets. Never spent a day in his life hiking in nature.
“I came here to apologize,” she said.
“For what? Being a cunt?”
“For tossing my hot coffee on your hand and burning you,” she said. “And can I just say that for a religious guy, you have a really foul mouth?”
“You didn’t toss hot coffee on me,” he said.
“Well then how do you explain where those burns came from?”
“How do you think?” he asked.
Morgan swallowed. Was everybody in Birchdale suddenly a fucking expert on witchcraft? First Adam had somehow known she carried a wand. Now this asshole and his assumptions.
She continued. “I got up close to you to try to de-escalate the situation. As soon as I saw you reach for your gun, I splashed hot coffee on you.”
“Then why wasn’t my hand wet?”
“Listen, I know you and your type are really in love with conspiracy theories and all that, but sometimes, actually most of the time, a coffee burn is just a coffee burn.”
“You got a real uppity opinion of yourself if you think I have been spending that much time thinking about you.”
She sighed. “I came here against my better judgment and against all sense in the universe to apologize to a bully. Because even though you think I’m a Satanist or whatever, the truth is, all I do is try to honor and respect nature and not to harm it. So, I didn’t mean to hurt you, but maybe I shouldn’t be sorry. But I still need to shake your hand.”
“Why?”
“Because I just need to. Because I’m trying to put some positive energy out in society, I guess.”
“You got that crazy talk down pat. You’re one of them freaks out in the woods, like I said.”
“We are a collective of artists who provide live historical demonstrations for the education tour groups from all over the country. If you don’t believe me I can show you our tax-exempt number from the IRS. Now come over here and let me shake your hand before I reach in there and slap you.”
Hank finally relented and approached the bars. He offered her his bandaged hand, which was odd, but that was good enough. She waited for him to wince in pain. But none of that happened. He just stood there, staring at her.
“Well, now what? You want a kiss, lady?”
She couldn’t stand the curiosity.
“I was just wondering how your hand is doing,” she said.
“It’s fine,” he said.
That’s odd, she thought. “May I take a look?”
“Why? Are you a doctor?”
She smiled at him for the first time. “Maybe, in a way.”
“Oh, you mean like a witch doctor?”
“You’re funny.”
He held out his wrapped hand and she very carefully, through the bars, unwrapped it. It was completely healed.
She worked quickly to re-wrap it and her thoughts raced. Why would he be healed already? Was a magical injury supposed to be healed already, or was there something else at work? This made no sense.
She hated to admit this, but she needed to consult her younger Sisters in the coven.
10
Adam
Watching that woman walk out the door was unacceptable.
On the other hand, simply watching her walk was a major turn-on. She had that deadly hip sway, even in sensible shoes and that weird crinkly skirt with the petticoats or some shit underneath. Somehow she made that hippie look sexy.
But after the antics in his office, he knew he was never going to get his hands inside her skirts again. Smooth move, Detective. He had pissed her off, and she had every right to be pissed.
Did he really need to torture her like that, especially when he already knew the answer to his own questions?
As he questioned her about the incident at Kava, he couldn’t help but alternate between staring lustfully at her and pretending to be professional. That gauzy blouse and her bare tits underneath were making a mockery of his practiced polite manner with witnesses. All he wanted to do was throw her down on his desk and feel her tight around him. Grip those juicy hips of hers and lock himself in. Leave his seed all over her and inside her. Those nipples were begging him to massage them into stiff little pink peaks.
But shit, all she could do was talk about the perp. Like that guy was some kind of charity case; she’d felt it was her duty to speak to him.
That guy was a tool, with a capital “T.” If only she knew. He didn’t want that asshole looking at her, let alone talking to her. And when she’d shaken his hand, Adam had nearly lost his shit. It was all he could do to keep from kicking the crap out of that guy.
She turned to leave without saying anything to Adam, but he felt professionally obligated to have one more talk with her before she left.
“He’s not safe.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, I can handle myself, Detective.” Her sultry voice was too much to bear.
“You’re a target now. His people are going to show up any minute to bail him out, and I don’t trust them.”
“So don’t let him out.”
“If he makes bail, I have to. I’m not a judge and this was a misdemeanor, if anything. He didn’t actually point the gun at anyone.”
Before letting her go, Adam handed her his card. “Ms. Hibbins, please call me right away if he or any of his people try anything. Or just…please call no matter what. I wouldn’t trust that guy.” Especially not around his woman.
Adam wondered what Morgan would think if she could hear his thoughts about claiming her as his woman.
Then, as if she had heard him, a female voice cut through the fog in his brain. “I am nobody’s woman.”
He looked over, and Morgan was already out the door. She hadn’t said a word, but she had spoken right into his mind.
Game over. Adam’s mind was made up. He was on guard duty from here to kingdom come. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight until after all this Halloween business was over.
As if he had any other choice. She was, in fact, his woman. She just didn’t know it yet.
11
Morgan
As Morgan she entered the natural medicine store, Birdie shook her head at Morgan before she had even made it all the way through the door.
“No, girl. No. You are a mess right now. Doing damage spells out in the open in broad daylight in the middle of Main Street, on a holy-roller no less. Don’t even bring that juju in here.”
“You know about them?”
Birdie’s head went from shaking back and forth to nodding up and down. “He and his crew came here with their signs and protested because they think I sell occult books and shit.”
Morgan looked around and didn’t see any other customers shopping for vitamins before she said, “But you do, Birdie.”
“That is not the point. You think I want those animals to know we do the real thing? You want that kind of attention?”
Morgan sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. But listen, I had to do something. He was going for his gun. What do you think might have happened if I didn’t intervene?”
Birdie looked her up and down as she fiddled with the clanking charms on her silver necklaces. She sighed. “What do you need, Morgan?”
“Advice. How would someone’s skin heal from a magical wound, like a second-degree burn, in less than an hour?”
“And how would you know that his wound is healed?”
“Because I saw it.”
“And you saw it how?”
“When I went to the jail to apologize for injuring him.”
“I know. I just need you to look it up for me, if you can. What can cause this kind of thing?”
Birdie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll do it. Now out with you. I’ll let you know what I find out tonight. You’re coming to pass out candy to the kids?”
Morgan promised to come back to town as soon as she was finished making her chandelier for tomorrow night’s feast.
12
Adam
He told the desk sergeant he’d be spending the rest of the afternoon out tracking down leads on a cold case. He didn’t say where. One of the perks of being a detective, the subordinates didn’t ask too many questions about where you were. Being able to wear street clothes also helped keep you on the down low.
He watched Morgan enter the herbal remedy store on Rose Street, and sat on a park bench across the street pretending to read a newspaper. He was there for a while, so he had time to think.
Not really able to concentrate on the newspaper, he wondered what she might be buying in there. He hoped she wasn’t such a bleeding heart that she was actually buying medicine for the perp’s injury that she had caused. He understood why she felt bad, but the lady really had to let that go at some point.
Then something in the newspaper caught his attention. The local paper had a quarter-page advertisement on the back page, inviting the public to a “service of healing,” whatever that meant. In the ad was a photo of the leader, Hank Snow. Adam shivered in disgust. The advertisement encouraged participants to arrive at the church at sundown on October 31. Tomorrow.
What the hell were they planning?
Adam’s hunch was something big and not at all holy was going to be going down on Samhain.
Shit.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a girl who had walked up to the park bench without warning. He was startled for a second, then saw it was a young girl. Slender, almost bone thin. Long, straight hair and long, prairie-style dress. She wore no makeup and no jewelry. She was holding a piece of paper.
“Can I help you?”
“Hello, sir, my name is Makayla and I would like to invite you to join us at a service of healing with us and our Reverend Snow at the Church of the Messenger.”
Adam looked around. Sure enough, standing back down apiece on the sidewalk was another woman, older than this girl Makayla, keeping a careful eye on her young charge.
Typical of zealots, putting young innocent children out front to do the hard work, making it less likely that their targets will act rude or outright ask them to leave.
Adam kept a poker face on and asked the girl some polite questions, trying not to seem like he was trying to glean information for any other reason than curiosity. He took the flyer from the girl and assured her he would see her there.
Elated, the girl nearly skipped off to join her older companion to hone in on their next target.
Adam watched them leave and stuffed the flyer into his pocket.
So far this Church hadn’t broken any laws, though, Adam had to remind himself. A bad hunch was not enough to get a judge to issue a warrant on this church.
Morgan exited the herbal remedy store and headed east. When she was about a block away, Adam followed. Her next stop was an antique store. He assumed this was going to take a while.
He knew he was going to regret his next move, but he took out his phone and punched the name in his contacts folder that said “Mom.”
“What a pleasant surprise! Calling me back so soon with good news? When’s the wedding?”
“No, Mom, that’s not it.”
“Pity.”
“I have a history question.”
“…and by history, I think you mean a witch question?”
“Come on, Mom, I’m trying here.”
“Fine, what’s cooking, doll?”
“Have you ever heard about weird shit happening whenever a lunar eclipse coincides with Halloween?”
“Define ‘weird shit.’”
“Like, creepy cults popping up. Religious zealots suddenly getting more vocal about targeting people with…different lifestyles? More violence?”
“Oh, you mean like holy-rollers getting their panties in a wad about Halloween? I might have heard of that.”
“Don’t be facetious, Mom. This time it seems like it’s exceptionally wadded-up panties.”
“Well, what’s going on?”
“There’s this group that’s suddenly cropping up everywhere in town, making a big push against Halloween and the Samhain festival. They seem to be especially targeting the Sisters community, putting up posters, claiming the occult is out to snatch all the children or whatever. They’re getting some pushback, and we had a minor incident this morning. They seem to be really up in arms about this Colony Hill thing everyone is going to.”
“Honey, yes. Every time there’s a lunar eclipse, people act crazy. The blood moon makes everybody crazy, here and in the spirit realm. And during Halloween season and Samhain, it’s an even bigger deal. So it’s really a good time to harness our power, both for good and bad, and it scares some people who think they know about witches. Some of the Normals might try protection spells or other things, or even dark magic spells because they think it’s cool to dabble in that kind of thing. But Normals are so weak at it, there’s often a delayed reaction. They really don’t know what they’re doing.”
“But why would these church-goers mess with all of that, if they are just holy-rollers?”
Adam’s mom paused a moment, then said, “Darling, watch closely the people who loudly judge the behavior of others. There you will find their guilt, and you will find what they are actually hiding in plain sight.”
His mom’s words gave him a ripple of gooseflesh. “OK, Mom.”
“I will do some digging and I’ll get back to you, honey. And Adam?”
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Be careful. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
He must have waited a full 20 minutes before Morgan emerged from the antique shop with a huge, loaded shopping bag. And then she continued east, and it looked as if she was heading home. Against his better judgment, he followed.
13
Morgan
Everything had gone a little too wonky today, there was no way she could concentrate on shopping after everything that had happened. So, she told herself she would only spend a few minutes antiquing.
Twenty minutes later and a hundred dollars poorer, she made her way home with a bag full of last-minute decorating ideas for Samhain. She had found some cool old jars she could use for hurricane lamps and some old boating rope she thought she could incorporate into her curly willow chandelier. She didn’t know how, but it would work.
With each step, her mind pinballed between remembering she still needed to clean up and burn sage around the She Shed after last night’s escapade, and wondering if the detective could be summoned again tonight, and if so, could he also manage to wear his gun and his badge, just because? Maybe she might even learn his name.
Control your mojo, Morgan. You do not want to summon him again just yet. Let it breathe. Keep conjuring the same guy and you’ll lose the whole “no strings attached” thing you are going for. And can he even be trusted? He is a Normal, and he might freak out at the first sign of real magic. That would not be good. Besides, just because he is devilishly handsome with a nice cock does not make him trustworthy. Does it? Maybe you should let it lie and try to conjure another spirit entirely and forget about the detective.
Or maybe she could just dig his contact card out of her handbag and learn his name.
Along the path home, Morgan passed over the footbridge that led to a fork. When she reached the fork at the other side, a strange noise startled her. Instead of turning around, she simply paused and remained quiet. She listened. The
re was the sound of the creek, the rustling of leaves, but something was not quite right. Perhaps it had not been a noise. Maybe it was a spirit that didn’t belong here, fracturing the sounds of nature around her.
She decided against proceeding along the path directly home. Whatever was following her, she needed to shake it…or them.
Morgan turned left instead and headed into the woods, completely off the beaten path. But she knew these woods so well she would easily find her way home. Just to be safe, she used a camouflage charm. A total invisibility spell was too powerful, too risky for her when she was feeling this tired and emotionally spent. Covering her tracks in the dirt, blending with the trees and dampening her aura would be enough to deter anyone with ill will.
In the middle of the woods, she took out her wand and cast an aura charm in an attempt to identify her follower by whatever energy he or she might be giving off. Slipping her wand out of her garter belt, she waved it in the air. A single spark emanated from the end of her wand, and then a scent overwhelmed her. It was the detective.
She did indeed have a stalker, but it wasn’t a bad guy after all.
Morgan hurried her steps through the woods, careful of the roots and the gnarly undergrowth as it was getting dark. If the detective wanted to follow her home, then he would have to give chase. As she strode through the woods, she remembered to cast a temporary breech charm so any visitor with pure intentions could find Colony Hill.
If she and Adam were going to christen the newly renovated She Shed in the real live flesh, she had to get herself ready. Take a bath? Shave? Perhaps. Or perhaps the detective would like to bed her with her natural musk from this flight through the woods. She would soon find out.
About 30 minutes later, Morgan was safely home and doing what she should have done last night: burning sage and sweeping up. She covered up the less-than-sexy smell of burning sage with some lavender-thyme essence to make the She Shed more welcoming to her approaching visitor.
