The Seventh Witch

by Shirley Damsgaard

  Abby’s face drained of color while her eyes fastened on Lydia. “Where? Where did Edward fall?”

  Lydia licked her lips nervously. “The clearing,” she replied softly.

  Abby gasped and her eyes filled with tears. “The past…I can’t escape it, can I?” she asked with finality.

  Lydia took a step toward her. “Abby—”

  But before anyone could stop her, she spun and fled out the door.

  I went from perturbed to pissed off. Shoving my hands on my hips, my eyes raked over Aunt Dot and Lydia.

  Their shoulders slumped.

  “I want to know what happened…now!” I exclaimed.

  Straightening, they exchanged a look and their expressions hardened with stubbornness.

  “I told you I don’t know,” Lydia muttered, brushing past me as she headed for the kitchen.

  Aunt Dot rose and hobbled after her. “I don’t remember,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Bullshit,” I muttered to myself. Noticing Tink’s wide-eyed look, I turned to Mom for help.

  She shook her head and placed a hand on my arm. “Let it go, dear. Your father’s okay.” She let out a long breath. “In a few more days, this celebration will be over and we can go home. Everything will go back to normal.”

  I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be that easy. I’d seen the haunted look on Abby’s face. I pivoted and ran out the door to find her, but she’d disappeared. Pausing, I chewed on my lip while I thought about what I should do next. There was only one answer: Great-Aunt Mary. She wouldn’t feign ignorance as Aunt Dot had…she might tell me where to go, but she wouldn’t pretend she couldn’t remember. All I needed to do was persuade her.

  I gave a snort. Right. I was so good at diplomacy. It wouldn’t matter…soft words wouldn’t work with Great-Aunt Mary. With that woman, a frontal attack was the best approach. Gearing myself for the confrontation, I marched down the road back to the Aunts.

  Entering the house, the first thing I saw was Great-Aunt Mary and Abby sitting at the kitchen table. Abby was crying softly while Great-Aunt Mary made comforting sounds.

  I felt a tinge of hesitation at the idea of intruding, but quickly tamped it down. I needed answers.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, taking an offensive stance.

  Both heads whirled in my direction.

  “You,” Great-Aunt Mary said, jabbing an arthritic finger in my direction. “You stay out of it, girl. All your snooping around is bringing nothing but trouble, and I for one—”

  Abby clutched Great-Aunt Mary’s other hand, interrupting her. “That’s not fair. Ophelia has nothing to do with this. It happened long before she was born.”

  Great-Aunt Mary’s eyes shifted to Abby and her face softened. “You’ve babied her all of her life,” she insisted. “Even though she was one of the chosen, she didn’t want it, and you let her have her way.” Her attention flew back to me and her eyes narrowed. “Now she thinks she can barge in here and do whatever she wants.”

  Abby pulled her hand away, drawing Great-Aunt Mary’s focus back to her. She rose. “That’s not true. Ophelia isn’t to blame—I am,” she said, wiping away her tears. “And it’s time the price was paid.”

  Great-Aunt Mary pulled herself upright and squared her shoulders. Anger simmered on her face. “The price was paid.”

  “Not really,” Abby murmured as she turned, then walked quietly back to our bedroom.

  After she vanished down the hallway, Great-Aunt Mary fixed her anger on me, still standing in the doorway.

  “Are you happy now?” she spat out at me. “You had to poke the hornets’ nest, didn’t you?”

  Shock at her unfairness stiffened my spine, and I glared back at her. “I haven’t done anything,” I cried. “Dad and Tink were the ones rambling around in the woods, not me.”

  She pointed a knobby finger my way again. “You’re the one asking all the questions, getting into a fight with Sharon Doran—”

  “Hold it,” I said, cutting her off. “I did not get in a fight with Sharon Doran. She was the one who approached me.” Crossing my arms, I continued to glare at her. “And as far as asking questions? Sorry, but when someone threatens me and my family, I like to know the reason why.”

  Spinning on my heel, I slammed the door behind me and took off across the yard. I should go back and comfort Abby, I thought. She’d seemed so defeated. But I couldn’t stand the idea of being in the same house as that old dragon. I’d go back and talk with Abby once I calmed down.

  I kicked at the leaves as I marched along. Indignation at Great-Aunt Mary’s accusations boiled through me. The only thing I was guilty of was trying to protect Abby, and to do that I needed to know why the Dorans hated us. But no one was talking, the runes weren’t working, and my dreams weren’t much help either. I felt like I was shooting in the dark. I knew the enemy, but not why she was the enemy. It was frustrating the hell out of me. Before I knew it, I was at the edge of the clearing where Dad had fallen.

  I stopped, and once again the leaden atmosphere of the place weighed down on me. Bowing my head, I took a deep breath and imagined a golden bubble surrounding me. A bubble so thick that nothing could penetrate it. The weight lifted, and I took a tentative step toward where Dad had gone down. Then another, and another, until finally I stood over the spot.

  Squatting, I examined the ground. Yup, a gopher hole. Dad had stepped in it in his haste to catch up with Tink. I raised my head and looked at the ring of trees surrounding the clearing. Tink’s dowsing rods had acted crazy right about here and started steering her toward the other side of the clearing and the trees. What lay on the other side? Doran land.

  I stood and walked slowly toward the woods. It was odd…I didn’t grow up in these mountains, but I had in Iowa. People back home were as tied to the earth as these folks in the mountains. I understood how they felt. Land was precious, almost a sacred trust to those who owned it, and it wasn’t parted with willingly in most cases. So why did my family sell a piece of it to the Dorans? A family that they hated? It didn’t make sense.

  Stopping at the edge of the clearing, I bowed my head and let my eyes close. Again I imagined my golden bubble.

  I opened my eyes and confidently stepped into the woods and onto Doran land.

  Sixteen

  My shield held, but the weight of whatever lurked in the woods pressed down on me. My steps slowed and my feet felt heavy, as if I were slogging through snow. And quiet, the woods were so very quiet…muted and still…not even the leaves rustled. Silent as a cemetery. And just as dead.

  A trickle of fear eased down my back and every nerve jangled. I should go back, but I felt driven forward. Then I stepped out of the trees. My stomach twisted.

  I stood in the clearing from my dreams, and as in my second dream, when Sharon had seduced Ethan, it was vile. A trickle of dark water ran down moss covered stones into the stagnant pool where dead leaves floated on its surface. Weeds grew everywhere. In the distance the standing stones, once proud and glowing with an inner light, were being smothered by the clinging kudzu and turned into nothing more than green mounds. Only a glimmer of red stone peeked out here and there from beneath the thick leaves.

  Staring at the stones, my throat suddenly clenched as if the kudzu held me in its suffocating grip, too. Unable to bear the choking sensation, I strode over to the stones and began ripping away the woody vines. I stopped.

  Lightly stroking the exposed stone, I felt a hint of recognition as a picture of Dad’s carved rock flashed in my mind.

  The same ancient people who’d built the burial mound had created this circle.

  With a sense of urgency, I pulled and snapped the kudzu. More and more of the red stone began to show, while the ground at my feet became littered with broken vines and twigs. And as I did, it seemed the stone beneath my hands flickered with life. Exhilarated, I worked faster until finally a large section was free.

  Sweating and with fingers stained green, I took a deep breath
and laid my forehead against the cleared stone.

  An old familiar jolt arced through my body, paralyzing me, while the images formed.

  A girl…no, a young woman waltzed through the standing stones, gathering wildflowers. Wearing a simple cotton dress, her features were muted by shadows, but her long auburn hair still glistened in the dappled light. Auburn hair? What had Aunt Dot said about auburn hair? Annie…Annie had auburn hair. Were these images of my great-grandmother?

  A small smile formed on my lips as I watched her in my mind and the connection I felt with her grew. I sensed her joy, her happiness, but the feeling abruptly fled. She wasn’t alone…others waited and watched beyond the circle of stones…two men, one young, one old, spied on her from the shadows.

  The old one wore a slouched hat low over his eyes, but he resembled the grizzled man who’d appeared in my second dream. Hiding behind one of the stones, he lifted a hand and pointed to the far side of the clearing. The younger man nodded and silently moved in that direction. The old man went the opposite way.

  I knew what they were doing. They were circling around the young woman, intent on trapping her. I watched in horror while, using the stones as cover, they crept around the outside of the circle and blocked her escape.

  Lifting a hand, the old man signaled and together they rushed her. The young man grabbed her and threw her to the ground, trampling her basket.

  Her scream echoed again and again.

  I felt their hands on her, pinning her to the hard earth. I felt her head snap from side to side as she fought them. I felt her hands striking out at them. I heard the ripping of material. I heard her cries. A harsh wind blew over them as thunder shook the air and the earth rocked and the pellets of rain beat down on her.

  Helpless to stop the vision of something that happened so many years ago, a sickness boiled in my stomach. My cry joined hers as a crack of lightning shot out of the sky, striking a tree and setting it ablaze.

  Suddenly, the scene in my head vanished like a candle extinguished and another voice reverberated in the clearing.

  “What in the hell is wrong with you?”

  I opened my eyes to find myself staring into gray ones filled with concern.

  Ethan stood in front of me with his hands on my shoulders. My fists lay curled on his chest. Confused and shaken, my eyes flew around the clearing. When had he appeared? I’d been alone when the vision overtook me…I thought. Had I been held so fast by the past that his presence hadn’t penetrated my consciousness? Had he witnessed me having a vision?

  No, no, I couldn’t handle this, handle him, right now. I took a stumbling step backward, turned and ran.

  My feet flew across the hard ground, across the clearing. Away, I had to get away from that place. I heard heavy footsteps closing in behind me. As I reached the edge of the woods, hands on my shoulders spun me around, and I would’ve fallen had they not caught me, holding me tight.

  I struggled, but the fight went out of me as wracking sobs shook my body.

  Ethan continued to silently hold me until I couldn’t cry anymore. Spent, I gave a feeble push and he released me. I sank to the ground and covered my face with my hands.

  In an instant I felt him next to me. Gently pulling my hands away, he took a canteen from his belt and poured water over them.

  “You’ve really skinned up your hands,” he said, removing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the abrasions. “What happened and why were you beating the crap out of that rock?”

  Taking the cloth, I took over drying my hands. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I think you need to,” he persisted. “Look, I don’t pretend to understand this psychic stuff, but you weren’t ‘here,’ Ophelia. And whatever you saw really upset you.” Sitting back in the grass, he watched me carefully. “I heard yelling…and when I got to the clearing, I saw you pounding against that stone.” He shook his head. “When I tried to stop you, you started pounding on me.”

  Glancing at his chest, I saw little smears of red against the blue of his shirt. Blood…my blood from the scratches on the side of my hands.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, mopping my face with a clean corner of the handkerchief. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t,” he replied softly, “but you sure scared me. I didn’t know if you were going to snap out of it.”

  I drew my legs up to my chest and rested my chin on my knees. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look it,” he stated.

  Letting out a shaky breath, I stared back toward the clearing. “The stone circle? It’s a crime scene from a long time ago.”

  The cop in him came to the surface. “How long?” he asked.

  Trying to do some swift calculations, I came up with an answer. “Over seventy years,” I replied in a flat voice.

  He lightly touched my shoulder and I shied away. Dropping his hand, he leaned forward. “If it’s an old murder, there’s no statute of limitations,” he said quietly.

  I knew Ethan was trying to comfort me, make me feel better. And I appreciated he wasn’t questioning what I might have seen. He knew I’d witnessed a crime from a time long gone.

  But the vision hadn’t been of a murder. I knew I’d been witnessing a rape.

  Refusing to answer his questions, I left Ethan standing at the edge of the woods and began my trek back to the Aunts. I tried to set aside the sickness I felt and reason out what I’d seen.

  Based on the way she was dressed, the incident had happened decades ago. I’d felt a kinship with her. She had beautiful dark red hair. It had to be Annie.

  For the past few days I’d poked and prodded, wanting to learn the reason for the long-standing feud with the Dorans. Now I knew. They’d attacked my great-grandmother, and I regretted that I’d ever sought the truth. Ignorance would have been better.

  But I couldn’t help wondering. The attack explained the grudge my family held against them—right now I felt my own hostility simmering deep inside—but why did they hate us? And how did they come to own that section of land?

  Times were different back then. Sympathies didn’t always lie with the victim, and even though I knew Annie had done nothing to provoke the attack, there might have been those who’d seen it differently. Had the family deeded the land to them as a bribe? As a payment to keep their mouths shut and not risk the ruin of Annie’s reputation? Why hadn’t Annie’s father simply meted out his own rough justice to the men who’d hurt his daughter? And had the attack happened before or after Annie’s marriage to Robert?

  What if it occurred before the marriage? What if…?

  My knees began shaking and I stumbled to the nearest tree for support. Bile rose in my throat.

  “Don’t go there, Jensen,” I whispered, swallowing hard.

  My hand clutched at the tree, its rough bark cutting into the scratches on my palm. I hated that place, hated what had happened there. I’d like nothing better than to grab a torch and set fire to the whole clearing. Burn away the evil with cleansing flames.

  But no…I couldn’t do that. The best I could do was make it through the rest of this visit, counting the days until we could all go home and leave the ugliness behind.

  “Whatever happened among those standing stones was a long time ago,” I said aloud as I stepped away from the tree. “Leave it buried.”

  Lydia had been right. I should’ve listened.

  I walked into the house to find Aunt Dot preparing an early supper. She took one look at my face and rushed over to me.

  “Land sakes, child, what happened to you?” She grabbed my hands and held them out in front of me, looking them over. “You’re covered with scratches.” Leading me to the table, she sat me down then crossed to the cupboard. She took a crock from the shelf, returned, and after cleaning my hands with a damp cloth, began to slather salve on my abrasions.

  “What happened?” she repeated.

  “Nothing, I stumbled and fell into some thistles,” I lied.

 
; “Humph,” she snorted, “seems to be a lot of falling going on around here all of a sudden.”

  “Where’s Great-Aunt Mary and Abby?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Sister’s resting before supper, and Abby isn’t feeling well—”

  “She’s sick?” I jerked my hands back, cutting her off.

  “Just a touch of the flu,” she assured me. “Tea and a little toast will set her right.”

  I quickly rose. “She’s in bed?”

  Aunt Dot nodded.

  “I’ll go back and check on her.”

  I left Aunt Dot sitting at the table and hurried back to the bedroom. Pausing at the door, I saw Abby’s still form lying on the bed next to mine. The shades had been drawn, casting the room in gloom. Crossing to the bed, I laid a hand on her forehead to check her temperature.

  Her eyes popped open and she smiled.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  She scooted up in the bed and patted the space next to her. “You haven’t. I wasn’t asleep.”

  “Aunt Dot said you have the flu?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  She flapped her hand, dismissing my concern. “No, I think I’m simply tired. This trip has been more of a strain than I’d anticipated.”

  Part of me wanted to ask her what she meant, but I remembered the resolution I’d made in the woods—to leave the past buried. Instead I grinned and took her hand in mine. “It will be over soon, and then we can go home and life will be back to normal.”

  A slight smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am. We can go back to all the teenage drama, Tink’s puppy shredding toilet paper, and hearing more than we need to know about Darci’s love life,” I joked.

  Abby chuckled. “It sounds good, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh yeah,” I answered with a vigorous nod.

  Her face grew serious in the faint light. “I’m sorry this trip hasn’t been what you expected.”

  “Hey, it hasn’t been bad,” I said with forced brightness. “Great-Aunt Mary’s only given me the heebie-jeebies once.”