“I don’t believe it,” I cried, shooting to my feet. “Everyone said he died of a fever. Was there a fever going around?”
“Yes…” She hesitated. “The Robbins’ boy almost died from it, but Mother saved him.”
I slapped my leg. “There you go…you didn’t kill him…if anything he died from his own wickedness,” I insisted.
Abby reached out and took my hand. “But I’ll never know for sure, will I?” She squeezed my hand tightly. “I’ve lived with the uncertainty all of my life, and it’s one of the reasons why I’ve tried so hard to teach you restraint.”
“And you have,” I exclaimed, dropping to my knees in front of her. “When Brian’s killer came after us, I wanted to use the powers to hunt him down, but I didn’t. You stopped me.” I stared at her intently. “Now Sharon Doran wants to harm you. Don’t you have the right to protect yourself?”
She let go of my hand and stroked my cheek, her eyes full of love. “Protect, but not destroy. I want you to always remember the difference. I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. They tried to destroy you,” I argued, “and you were simply protecting yourself.”
“No, I wasn’t. I wanted the old man dead, I wished for him to die, and he did,” she answered, convinced her words were true.
I rose to my feet and began pacing the room. “I don’t care what you say. I don’t believe you can kill someone just by wishing.”
“Ah-hem,” Lydia cleared her throat to get my attention. “What about Oscar?”
Abby’s eyes flew to Lydia. “What about him?”
Lydia nervously fingered her amulet. “Ophelia found a poppet right before she discovered him dead. It had a nail through the stomach.”
“Poohey,” I exclaimed, sliding to a stop. “Great-Aunt Mary said he’d had stomach problems for years and died of a hemorrhage.”
Lydia lifted an eyebrow and said nothing.
I resumed my pacing. “Even if Sharon did hex him to death, he wasn’t a witch…he couldn’t defend himself like you can,” I said, spinning toward Abby.
She seemed to shrink in the chair in defeat. “I committed a crime against that family,” she said with resignation. “If Sharon wins now, maybe this feud will finally end.”
“You’d sacrifice yourself?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
I was so angry at her and her selflessness that I wanted to throw a childish temper tantrum, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I tried another argument.
“If Sharon wins, what do you think is going to happen to the people in this valley and in these mountains? They’re already scared of her, and by besting this family, it will only add to her reputation.” I stared at Abby in defiance. “She will do what she wants, when she wants, and nobody will say a word against her. Is that what you want?”
“She’ll be punished in the end,” Abby said meekly.
I felt like shaking her. Nothing I said seemed to penetrate what she believed was inevitable. What could I say that would put the fighting spirit back in her?
I had it.
Throwing up my hands, I stopped my pacing. “If this is the way magick works, I wash my hands of it once and for all.”
“It’s your heritage. You’re one of the chosen,” Abby hissed. “You can’t ignore it.”
“Oh yes I can…I walked away from it once before, remember?” I said, reminding her of the time following Brian’s murder and my struggle to come to terms with his death. “Magick didn’t save him and now, if we can’t use it to save you, I want nothing to do with it.”
“What about Tink?” she asked, distressed. “You have to help her learn how to use her gift.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t. We’ll ignore that she can contact the dead—eventually she’ll get over it.”
“Being a medium isn’t something one ‘gets over,’” she insisted, with more strength in her voice now.
“I’ll teach her how to suppress her talent…I’m good at bottling things up—I have experience.”
“You must not do that. You’ve grown so much over the past couple of years. You can’t go back to the way you were after Brian died.”
I watched her eyes cloud with fear. Good, she believed I’d do what I said.
“Why not?”
“If you deny your gifts again and force Tink to do the same, that child will never know a day of happiness in her life. She must be allowed to follow her path.” She frowned. “And you must help her. You can’t give up.”
I shrugged, looking down at her. “Why not? That’s what you’re doing.”
Turning on my heel, I did one of the hardest things I’ve ever done…I walked away from my grandmother.
My bravado failed when I crossed the living room and saw Aunt Dot and Great-Aunt Mary sitting at the kitchen table. Great-Aunt Mary’s head whipped toward me and her resentful blue eyes caused my steps to falter.
“What have you gotten yourself up to now, girl?” she demanded. “More trouble, I suppose.”
Terrific. Another battle. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my chin and walked over to the table to face her.
“I didn’t start anything,” I insisted, “but I intend to end it.”
“Humph, I told you to stay out of it.” She looked me up and down, and I saw in her eyes that she found me lacking. “I’ll protect this family.”
Abby had always required that I show respect to my elders, but I’d had it with her. “You’re not doing a very good job,” I said, pulling out a chair.
At my words, I heard Aunt Dot’s sharp breath.
I glanced over at her as I plopped down. “I’m sorry, Aunt Dot, but she’s not,” I said, tossing the poppet on the table.
Seeing the poppet lying there, she began to wring her hands while Great-Aunt Mary stared at it as if she were looking at another snake.
“Where did you get this?” Great-Aunt Mary asked through clenched teeth.
“On the outcrop overlooking the valley,” I replied.
She poked at it with a crooked finger. “Explains Abby’s illness.”
I was tired of hearing it. “Oh, please,” I scoffed. “A figure made of clay can’t kill.” I gave her a level look. “Or as you pointed out, one made from a potato.” I turned my attention to Aunt Dot, then back to Great-Aunt Mary. “You’ve both said Sharon Doran’s magick didn’t amount to much, so why think her tricks would work against Abby?” I leaned forward. “Especially when I made…”
My voice trailed away as a thought occurred to me. The disappearing runescript.
Hooking my arm over the back of my chair, I stared at Great-Aunt Mary, and for once she looked away first.
“You wouldn’t know anything about a little piece of wood with carvings on it, would you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“I told you,” she grumbled, “I protect this family.”
Looking up at the ceiling, I rolled my eyes. “Of all the shortsighted—” I cut myself off and looked at her again.
“The runescript wasn’t an attempt to usurp your position in this family. I was only trying to help.” I kept my voice even. “How did you find it?”
“One of Gladys’s boys was helping me change the bedding.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I had him bury it,” she huffed.
“That’s just peachy, isn’t it?” I asked, leaning forward. “Why wouldn’t you let me try and keep Abby safe?”
“It’s not your place, it’s mine,” she said with vehemence.
“Look,” I said, scrubbing the side of my face in frustration. “I’ll say it one more time…this isn’t some kind of competition. And don’t you think we have enough of a challenge fighting Sharon without fighting each other?”
“You’re a novice,” she uttered, the contempt she felt coloring her words. “And if you expect me to trust you when all you’ve done is let—”
She broke off as Lydia and Abby entered the kitchen. Lydia, with one hand on Abby’s arm, reached out with the other and moved
a chair away from the table. After settling Abby on the chair, she took her own place at the table.
Aunt Dot sprang to her feet and hurried over to the stove to fetch Abby a cup of tea. Her face was wreathed with a smile as she placed it in front of Abby. “I’m so happy to see you out of bed,” she cried, taking her seat again next to Great-Aunt Mary.
“Are you feeling better?” Great-Aunt Mary asked in a voice much kinder than the one she used with me.
“A little,” Abby answered with a smile of her own. “I’m sorry to have worried y’all, and I’m sure I’ll be feeling my old self again soon.” She turned her smile toward me. “Ophelia wouldn’t have it any other way,” she finished with a note of pride.
Great-Aunt Mary let out a snort.
Abby ignored her as her attention moved to the poppet still lying on the table. “I see Ophelia showed you what she found.”
Great-Aunt Mary’s hand shot out and grabbed the poppet. “I’ll take care of it,” she said, slipping it in the pocket of her apron.
With a shake of my head, I leaned back in my chair. “I want to know everything about the Dorans,” I said, addressing her.
A frown crossed her face. “I think you already know more than you need to.”
Not letting her rile me, I waited her out.
The silence grew until finally Abby leaned forward, looking at Great-Aunt Mary with unwavering eyes. “Please…you know more about what happened after the attack than I do. Tell her. You may not have faith in her, but I do.”
Great-Aunt Mary shifted uneasily as she made a tsking sound. “I suppose I don’t have any choice,” she said with a glance at Abby’s determined face. “I take it you know about the standing stones.”
I nodded. “Why did the family deed it to the Dorans?”
Turning her gaze from Abby, her eyes hardened as she stared at me. “After the incident, I came home right away. If she only would’ve told me…” She paused. “Annie was beside herself. She was so afraid that if anyone learned about what the Dorans had done, the valley would erupt in violence.” Her eyes moved once again to Abby and her voice softened. “You know your mother wanted them to pay for what they did, don’t you?”
Abby nodded. “But she didn’t want innocent blood shed over it.”
“That’s right.” Turning back to me, all the softness slipped away. “We thought when the old man died, that would be the end of it. And it was…until Granny Doran showed up on our doorstep one day with her snot-nosed youngest on her hip, demanding retribution for the death of her husband.”
I was shocked. “She knew about what happened at the standing stones?”
“Yes.” Great-Aunt Mary answered curtly. “She probably had been the one to encourage them.”
I felt my eyes round with amazement.
“She said she’d sic the law on us, that she’d see to it Abby was driven from the valley.” Great-Aunt Mary swallowed hard. “We couldn’t let her go around telling tales, getting people all riled up.”
“You weren’t afraid of something like Salem happening here, were you? Witch hunts ended—”
She held up a hand. “There’d always been those that’d looked sideways at us. We didn’t know what she might talk them into doing. We feared a mob coming for Abby in the middle of the night, so…” She shrugged a thin shoulder. “…we gave her what she wanted.”
“The clearing with the standing stones,” I stated.
“Yes. Everyone knew it had always been a special place to our family, a place of power. She thought she could take that power for herself.”
“Ack, it didn’t work,” Aunt Dot piped in, her distaste sounding loud and clear. “Once the land passed out of our hands, the clearing changed from a benevolent place to something just as evil as the Dorans.”
“Sharon mentioned a vow…what was that about?” I asked.
“When did you talk to her?” Great-Aunt Mary asked quickly.
“After I found the poppet,” I replied calmly.
“You confronted her?” Her voice carried a rising note of alarm.
“Of course I did.” I cocked my head, with a look of determination on my face. “I’m not going to ignore her threatening Abby.”
“What did you say to her?”
“I told her that we would protect our own.”
Great-Aunt Mary’s eyebrows shot up. “We took an oath never to harm their family, and we’ve stuck by it…”
“We have the right to defend ourselves.”
“We’ve had peace in this valley for over fifty years…” She paused, her eyes flashing with anger. “…until you came along and stirred everything up.”
“Hey,” I said, defending myself, “we’re here because you wanted us here.”
“Well, I didn’t expect this to happen—old wounds getting picked apart—I thought you’d mind your business.”
“Great-Aunt Mary,” I said as I leaned forward, “this family is my business.” My eyes traveled to each one of the four witches gathered at the table with me. Sitting back, I crossed my arms over my chest. “So ladies, what are we going to do about Sharon Doran?”
Twenty-One
Our little council of war reached a stalemate. It had developed into a standoff between Great-Aunt Mary and me. She wanted to simply reinforce the protective spells that she’d cast. I wanted to take a more proactive approach and find out more about Sharon Doran. She fought me on every point. Honestly, I didn’t know what the woman’s problem was. Did she worry that I might abandon my life in Iowa, uproot Tink and move here in an attempt to challenge her for the leadership of the family? Why did she see me as the threat and not Abby? Oh, yeah, she liked Abby.
Finally, fed up with all the arguing, I rose to my feet and left the house. My presence had just seemed to inflame the situation. Maybe without me there, Abby could get Great-Aunt Mary to listen to reason.
As I crossed to the kitchen door and grabbed my sweatshirt, I saw a small look of triumph cross Great-Aunt Mary’s face. She thought she’d won, that I’d given up. She thought she could browbeat Abby into agreeing with her on how to handle Sharon Doran.
Well, she underestimated my grandmother and she underestimated me. Either with her cooperation or without it, I intended to find a way to stop Sharon Doran.
This mess began years ago, at the clearing with the standing stones. What ancient people had built the circle and why?
Had their understanding of magick been so strong that even now, centuries later, their power still lingered in the stones? Was it their power that Abby had tapped into? Was it enough to kill? What if Sharon was now using it to fuel her own magick?
All I had were questions, but I needed answers. I couldn’t fight her if I didn’t understand her power, and although I’d sworn never to return to that cursed place, I found myself headed in that direction.
As I tramped along, the vision I’d had of Abby’s attack nettled me. I didn’t want to go through it again. I needed to see a time long before the violence I’d witnessed. But could I do it? Was I strong enough to control what vision came through?
“Jeez, Jensen,” I muttered to myself, “quit worrying about it and just do it.”
When I reached the clearing, the same unease pricked at me. I stopped and once again imagined a golden bubble, only this time it wasn’t as fragile as a bubble. No, I imagined an impenetrable shield.
Keeping my eyes down, I took my first hesitant step, then another and another, until finally I was at the standing stones. I paused between two of the upright stones and took a deep breath.
Energy pinged against my shield like rocks hitting a window, and I felt a shiver of fear tickle the back of my neck. What would happen once I dropped it?
Looking down, I noticed a small group of red pebbles lying at my feet. I bent down and selected seven. Seven pebbles—seven standing stones. A protective circle. It might work.
I walked to the center of the standing stones and carefully made a second circle with the small stones. Satisfied, I
stepped inside and sat cross-legged in the center. With a deep breath, I tried to connect with the energy coursing below me.
The images sprang forth in my mind. Night…stars slowly fading overhead as the sun began its journey across the sky. A soft summer breeze stirred the air. The first sounds of birdsong mingled with voices chanting in an unknown tongue. Shadows just beyond the edges of the stones. They shifted and took shape.
An old man, his face weathered by the elements, stood in the center of the circle. Long white hair drifted over shoulders covered in buckskin. Seven dark red feathers of a hawk fluttered on the side of his head. In his outstretched hands he held a gourd rattle, and in the other a hoop. As the rays slowly inched across the center of the circle, the chanting rose in volume and intensity. Suddenly the rays shone directly on the old man, making his hair appear to glow with a light of its own. A cheer rang throughout the clearing.
Solemnly, he lowered his arms, and two young men, also dressed in buckskin, approached the center, heads bowed. Their extended hands carried bows and arrows as if they were offering them to the old man. Silently, he touched the weapons with his hoop.
Next to approach the shaman was a young couple. Their moccasined feet silently crossed the hard ground, and their hands were tightly clasped together. A benign smile crossed the old man’s face as he lightly rested the hoop on the young man’s head. Turning, he did the same thing to the young woman.
Slowly, reverently, other shadows formed as they approached the old man and received his blessing. And as they did, a sense of peace surrounded me.
I let my eyes drift open and the vision vanished.
Looking around, I felt a deep weariness that this sacred place had been used for violence. The people who had once conducted their most scared ceremonies here knew of its defilement, and it was their rage that hummed in the air, weighing down on anyone who ventured near. That’s what Abby had called forth, and it was still there, waiting just beyond the edge of the standing stones.
Shaken by my vision, I didn’t want to face Great-Aunt Mary, so I kept walking, past the Aunts’ down the road to Lydia’s. As I neared the edge of Lydia’s yard, I saw Dad and Tink sitting on the porch playing some kind of board game. Mother was nowhere to be seen, but Lydia was tossing a ball to Jasper. Seeing me, she gave the ball one last throw and walked toward me.
The Seventh Witch Page 14
