The Trouble with Witches

by Shirley Damsgaard

  “Who the devil was that?” I exclaimed while I watched him disappear into the trees.

  “A rather strange man,” Abby replied.

  “No kidding. Do you suppose he’s homeless?”

  Abby shook her head. “It’s hard to say, but I think we need to find out who he is. He looked—”

  “Don’t say it,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.

  She said the word anyway. “Spooky.”

  “Seems to be a lot of that going around up here,” I said, putting the SUV in drive and pulling forward.

  A few moments later we arrived at the cabin Rick had leased for our use. Surrounded by pine trees, it sat several yards away from the lane. It was gray with white shutters, and a porch extended out on three sides. A plaque in the shape of a pineapple, with the word “Welcome” painted on it, hung above the door.

  Getting out of the SUV, I grabbed Lady’s leash and snapped it on her collar. Free at last, she made a dive out of the back seat and ran the full length of the leash, her nose pressed firmly to the ground.

  After handing the leash to Abby, I went to the back and opened the tailgate. Two green eyes glowered at me from the depths of the cat carrier. I grabbed the carrier and hauled it to the porch. Unlocking the door, I walked inside and set the carrier down. With a flip of a switch, I released the door and swung it open. In a flash, Queenie sprinted out, her tail high in the air, and didn’t slow down until she reached the center of the room and well away from me—just in case I changed my mind about her liberation. She stopped there, and with a twist of her head gave me an indignant look. Then, sure that I’d been properly put in my place, she turned away, twitched her tail twice, and stalked off to investigate her new surroundings. I wouldn’t see her again until she heard the familiar rattle of cat chow.

  Glancing out the window, I saw Lady happily dragging Abby around the yard, sniffing the bottom of all the pine trees. With Queenie off somewhere, enjoying her sulk, I took the time to check out the interior of the cabin.

  I stood in one large room. Ceramic tile covered the floor and colorful rag rugs lay scattered about. The knotty pine paneling on the walls gave the room a soft, warm glow. The kitchen area, with cabinets, stove, and refrigerator, sat to my left, and to my right was a large scrubbed-pine table. The living area extended directly in front of me. An L-shaped couch covered one wall and curved out into the room. A wood-burning stove rested across the room from the couch, and behind the stove, large pieces of river rock, mortared together, covered the wall. On the other wall, a bank of heavy drapes stretched across the room at a right angle to the couch. Crossing the room, I pulled back the drapes. And my breath caught in my throat.

  The late afternoon sun dipped closer and closer to the thousands of pine trees ringing the lake, and already shadows shrouded the shoreline. And in those shadows, the still water caught the reflection of the pines and the sky above like a mirror.

  From a distance, I heard a strange call—a high, repetitive treble. I turned my head, seeking what made that unusual sound. To my surprise, I found myself standing on the deck outside the cabin, overlooking the lake. I didn’t remember opening the sliding glass doors and walking through them. Nor did I realize that Abby had joined me until I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  “It’s a loon,” she said softly as the call echoed again over the quiet lake.

  A sudden breeze stirred the pines that grew on the slope leading down to the lake. Their whisper seemed to answer the poignant call of the loon.

  While I stood there and listened, a sense of complete and perfect peace wrapped around me like a cocoon. With my eyes wide at the wonder of it all, I looked at Abby. “This is a place of magick, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice hushed.

  “Yes,” she said, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I believe it is.”

  The next morning dawned as bright and as clear as the day before. The rain Abby had predicted had missed us. Not wanting to leave the cat and dog in the SUV any longer than necessary the day before, we hadn’t stopped to get groceries. Now, we drove back to Melcher, a small town about eight miles from the lake, to go shopping.

  The store we found reminded me of the small corner grocery from my childhood in Summerset. Just like in Summerset, signs in the window of the small brick building advertised this week’s specials. A pop machine sat next to the wire rack dispensing the town’s local shopper. Bicycles in various sizes, owned by local kids, were propped against the building. I did see a difference, though, between this store and the one in Summerset. In addition to the other signs, this building had a sign advertising fresh minnows, leeches, and fishing equipment sold around back.

  When we walked in, I noticed a big community bulletin board. A large poster in the center caught my attention.

  Grabbing Abby’s arm, I pointed to it. “Look at that. There’s going to be a spaghetti dinner tonight at the city park to raise funds for the new Little League field. And look who’s sponsoring it.”

  “I see,” she said. “PSI. Rick was right about them contributing to the community. I think that event is one we need to attend.”

  Nodding my agreement, I followed Abby into the store. I pulled out a cart, Abby took the grocery list from her pocket, and we started wandering down the aisle, making our selections.

  I had picked up a bunch of bananas when I felt a trickle of power in the air. Looking away from the fresh fruit, I saw a Native American man standing not ten feet from us, looking at the vegetables.

  He was dressed in a faded blue work shirt and jeans and wore a slouched hat that had seen better days. A long gray braid hung in a straight line down his back. In his left hand, he carried a small shopping basket, half full. On his wrist, I could see a wide band made of white, black, red, and yellow beads.

  But it was his face that drew me; skin colored a dark copper, round with high cheekbones and a prominent nose. A proud face, and one that had seen hard times.

  I didn’t realize I was staring until the man looked at me with eyes so dark they were almost black. And in those eyes, I saw a power held tightly in check. A light flared in them, and I smiled, trying to cover my embarrassment at getting caught staring. A frown tugged at the man’s mouth and he looked away. I felt like I had been judged and dismissed as unimportant.

  Before I could point the man out to Abby, he turned away from the vegetables and started walking toward us, his eyes downcast. As he walked, he passed a group of teenage boys standing in front of the magazine rack.

  I’d noticed the group before spotting the man. They’d been standing there, flipping through the magazines and whispering. What they did next surprised me.

  As he walked past them, one boy took a step back and extended his foot, tripping him. Another boy mumbled something I couldn’t hear.

  I felt Abby stiffen beside me.

  The man righted himself, and with a single glance at the boys, kept walking. Abby made a move to say something to him, but he ignored her.

  I sensed Abby doing a slow burn, so it didn’t surprise me when she lifted her chin, drew herself up to her full height, and marched up to the group of boys.

  Unaware of her, they stood chuckling, patting the back of the boy who’d tripped the man. As if they were proud of what he’d done.

  “Young man,” she said in a clear voice that got their attention. “Do you always show such disrespect to adults?”

  The boy stepped away from his friends. “What’s it to you, old lady?” he asked with a sneer on his face.

  I’ve known my grandmother all my life, and I’ve heard her called many things. I also knew that anyone who called Abby old did so at their own peril.

  With a look that would scorch bark off a tree, Abby reached out and took the mouthy young man by the arm.

  Oh my God, she’s going to zap him.

  I watched the young man’s eyelids open wide while he stared at Abby. His friends wisely took a step back as their friend stood mesmerized by her eyes drilling into his.

&
nbsp; Suddenly, she released him, her point made. He staggered a bit, but his friends gathered round, steadying him and looking nervously at Abby’s retreating back.

  When she reached me, I whirled the cart around, away from the group of boys. “Abby,” I hissed, “why did you do that?”

  “That young man needed to be taught some manners,” she said emphatically.

  Abby always had been big on manners.

  I glanced quickly up and down the aisle. The Native American man stood several feet away, watching with a sour look on his face. He frowned at me, turned, then disappeared around the corner.

  “But did you have to be the one to do it?” I muttered in a harsh whisper.

  She wiped the hand she’d used to grab the young man on her pant leg before answering me. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  I narrowed my eyes and looked at her. She didn’t sound too sorry to me.

  “What did you do to him?”

  “Oh,” she said, finding something fascinating over my right shoulder to stare at, so she wouldn’t have to look me in the eye. “Just nudged his conscience a bit with my thoughts. He’s really not a bad boy; just trying to impress his friends. I planted a suggestion that, next time, he should find a more positive way.”

  With that, she grabbed the cart and started down the aisle, leaving me to follow.

  I did. Shaking my head all the way.

  Maybe if I hadn’t been so focused on Abby, I would have noticed that the Native American man hadn’t been the only one watching us.

  Seven

  When we arrived at the cabin, Lady met us at the door, her tail swishing the air, her need obvious.

  “Lady has to go outside. I’ll put away the groceries if you want to take her for a walk, Abby,” I said, and placed the sack I carried on the counter.

  “No,” she replied, putting her sack down and handing me Lady’s leash. “Why don’t you take her?”

  I took the leash. “You sure?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. I didn’t have time last night to put much away in my bedroom, and I’d like to organize the kitchen while I’m at it.”

  I should’ve known. When it came to her kitchen, even a temporary one, Abby tended to be picky. She viewed it as the heart of any home, and wouldn’t be content until she had everything organized.

  “All righty, then,” I said, and snapped the leash on Lady’s collar.

  “Wait,” she said, stopping me and crossing to the cupboard. Removing a spray bottle, she handed it to me.

  I looked at the unmarked bottle. “What’s this?”

  “Natural bug spray. I’ve heard the deer flies are nasty up here.”

  After spraying my arm, I sniffed. Not bad, lemon. I coated all of my skin left exposed by my shorts and tank top, then sprayed Lady.

  Once outside, Lady discreetly took care of business, and we set off down the lane in the opposite direction of the main road. I wanted to see where the road led.

  A slight breeze stirred the air, and overhead I heard the cawing of crows. A thick stand of pine grew on either side of the lane, blocking any view of cabins or the lake. It seemed that Lady and I were totally alone.

  She ran from side to side, pulling the retractable leash out as far as it would go. Nose pressed to the ground and tail wagging a happy rhythm, she acted like she couldn’t inhale all the new smells fast enough. She was so intent on smelling everything that she startled a blue jay pecking in the tall weeds. The angry bird took flight, scolding the intruder all the way. Lady, as startled as the blue jay, plopped down on her haunches, and with her head cocked to one side, stared after the bird.

  I laughed at the look on her face. “What’s wrong, girl? That mean old bird scares you?”

  Laying her ears back, she stood and wiggled her way toward me.

  “It’s okay.” I bent down and scratched her ears. “He’s gone.”

  Reassured, she resumed her hunt for new smells.

  The lane narrowed, while the trees encroached closer and closer to its edge. I saw bugs swarming in the air ahead of us, but Abby’s spray kept them away. Finally, I saw a steep path off to my left, and through the trees, the lake shimmering in the sunlight.

  “Shall we go see what’s down by the water?” I said aloud to Lady.

  She answered me by bounding down the path. I followed, trying to keep my footing on the packed dirt as Lady pulled me forward. We came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, and to my surprise, I saw we weren’t alone after all.

  A young girl, about thirteen or fourteen, sat on a large rock at the lake’s shore. From my spot behind her, I saw long blond hair tumbling down her back. Gangly arms, sticking out from the short sleeves of the white top she wore, were braced against the rock. I heard the rhythmic splash of her feet in the water and the clear notes of a song that she sang to herself. A soft, happy, almost wordless song I didn’t recognize.

  “Hi,” I said, my voice breaking into her song.

  Her head snapped around, and violet eyes, unlike any I’d ever seen, widened in surprise. She jumped up from her perch on the rock and stared at me, like a wild thing when suddenly confronted. She had a small build, all arms and legs. And her incredible eyes were set in a pale, delicate face.

  She reminded me of a wood sprite.

  Uncomfortable under the girl’s intent gaze, I broke eye contact and looked around, trying to think of something to say to break the silence growing larger with every passing moment. I spied a shiny object hanging from the tree branch between where I stood and the girl. It appeared to be a silver necklace shaped like a spider’s web with a bright red stone placed dead center in the web.

  “That’s pretty,” I said, my hand moving toward the necklace.

  “Don’t touch it!” She scrambled toward the tree, and grabbing the necklace, shoved it in the pocket of her baggy white shorts.

  Now that she was over her initial surprise, the girl didn’t seem to be intimidated by me at all. She gave me the once-over, then turned to Lady, who’d been sitting at my side with her tail thumping the ground. “Nice dog,” she said, glancing at me before returning her attention to Lady. “Is she friendly?”

  “Oh yeah. Lady doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘stranger.’” I gave the girl a tentative smile.

  Ignoring me, she squatted down and began to pet Lady. “Who are you?” she asked abruptly.

  “Ophelia—”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, breaking in.

  “I’m on vacation with my grandmother,” I said, trying to keep my voice patient.

  She looked up at me, her eyes suspicious. “Lots of lakes in Minnesota. Why did you come to this one?”

  Great, I’m being interrogated by a kid. Well, two can play that game.

  I ignored her question and asked one of my own. “What’s your name?”

  She focused again on Lady. “I’m called Tink.”

  Not “My name is Tink,” but “I’m called Tink.” It struck me as an odd way to tell someone your name.

  “Is that a nickname?”

  She answered my question with a shrug and continued to pet the dog.

  I tried once more to engage her in conversation. “Do you live around here?” I asked in my most friendly voice.

  Another shrug. “Maybe,” she replied in a cocky voice.

  Friendly didn’t work, so I retreated to sarcasm. “You’re not real talkative, are you, kid?”

  Before she could answer, a man’s voice from the top of the hill called out. “Tink, are you down there?”

  As she rose to her feet, a look of dismay crossed Tink’s pale face. “I’m here,” she yelled back.

  I turned to see a man, also dressed in white, loose fitting clothes, come down the hill. Thin face, rather aesthetic looking, with dark hair shot with gray. He had a goatee, also dark with gray streaks. But I couldn’t see his eyes. They were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. The sandals he wore on his feet made his progress diff
icult. He slipped, and halfway down slid until he reached Tink and me.

  “Where have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you,” he said, laying a hand on Tink’s thin arm. “And where’s your necklace?”

  With a repentant look, Tink reached in her pocket and pulled out the necklace. She handed the shiny spider’s web to the man.

  Taking it from her, he slipped the chain over her head. “You know you’re not supposed to take the necklace off, don’t you?” he said as he straightened the web till it hung straight. He stepped back and looked her over. “You’re clothes are dirty, too,” he remarked in an even tone, eyeing the grass and mud stains on her once pristine top. “You’ll have to change as soon as we get back.”

  Silently, with her head down, Tink nodded.

  Not wanting to hear this guy continue to ream the kid, I cleared my throat.

  He looked away from Tink to me. “Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me to ignore you. It’s just…” His voice trailed off as he glanced back at Tink. “We were worried about her,” he said, his eyes returning to me.

  “I understand,” I said, holding up a hand.

  “I’m Jason Finch,” he said, taking my upturned hand and shaking it. “And you’ve already met my niece, Tink.”

  “Ophelia Jensen.” So, not a foster child, but a relative, I thought releasing his hand.

  “And this is your dog?”

  As he said it, he reached out toward Lady, but before he could touch her, she backed away from his outstretched hand.

  Embarrassed by Lady’s reaction, I gave the leash a small tug and pulled her closer to my side. “Sorry, she acts that way around strangers sometimes,” I lied.

  Lifting her head at my lie, I saw Tink raise her eyebrows, but she remained silent.

  “Staying here at the lake?”

  “Yes, just down the lane.” I pointed to my left.